A long incline

A cool breeze and more moderate temperatures greet us as we leave our hotel. Before we start our 38-mile journey to Boonville, we visit the Katy Depot in Sedalia. It is a wonderful museum that recounts the history of how Sedalia became a railroad town. It also reviews the history of one of its most famous residents, Scott Joplin. 

This welcome diversion delays us a bit, but no matter. We have the entire day in front of us.

Winding through the quiet streets of Sedalia, we spot the remnants of its railroad past but are quickly led to vast fields of corn. They carpet the rolling hills to our left. The trail in this part of the state cuts through four different fields: corn, grasses, peas and fallow. The rich black soil is a testament to the heady growth we see. 

Within a half hour, we hit a series of inclines that feel as if they will never stop. It is ironic that we passed the highest point on the trail the prior day, but now we climb seemingly for hours. The salivation of this climb is that it is through a tunnel of trees that shade each and every upward push. 

This oasis is also home to many birds and animals looking for shelter and shade that does not exist in the adjacent fields. We hear and spot many birds as well as a large black snake that crosses the trail.

This journey is an isolated one from civilization. There are few sounds save that of animals. Crossing roads, we rarely see a vehicle coming from either direction. We just see the trappings of agriculture in silos, barns, tractors and the like.

There is a sweetness in the air that reminds me of honeysuckle but I am unable to identify it. The ground is littered with choke cherries, a few of which are propelled into my leg by my front tire. 

The climb takes us through large cuts of stone, which crumbles into an adjacent ditch, and the upper canopies of mature forest as the bed has been built up over 40 feet from the ground. 

Biking on gravel can be a challenge as its uneven composition forces us to find the most packed and loose-stone free lane. There is a considerable effort, even downhill, to hold the line. 

With the noon sun approaching, a light haze fills the air punctuated by the perfume of a skunk. Time for lunch.

After a filling meal in Pilot Grove, we have 1/3rd of our journey left. Soon we reach Boonville and we spot the Missouri River off the old Katy bridge.