In search of lunch

There is an unfamiliar chill in the air as we cross the Missouri RIver for the first time on our bicycles. A slight haze emerges from the Big Muddy under a bright, cloudless sky. We have an early start of 8 am today as we want to beat the heat as much as possible for the 51-mile trip  to Jefferson City.

Unlike our prior days, we are biking on the fertile bottomland of the river, giving us a flatter and less inclined surface to traverse. Much of the side vegetation is common with a surfeit of poison ivy, though mullein and thistles are a new introduction to my view.

Our early start was without a proper breakfast, necessary because of the sparseness of restaurants along today’s route. We pass through a stone tunnel and soon stop with glee and hunger at the Meriwether Cafe and Bike Shop in Rocheport for a filling meal that will propel us for the rest of the day. 

Following the river, and return journey of Lewis & Clark, we are trapped between large limestone and flint cliffs on our left and the Missouri River on our right. This, combined with a cocoon of vegetation, has the effect of air conditioning, enveloping us in comfort.

The cliffs look almost tropical as many different vines, some as thick as my arm, climb and obstruct the details of their erosion and decay. As the sun peaks in the sky, we stop for a scone  and water break. We are not confident about our chances for a good lunch.

Hoping for a sandwich at Cooper’s Landing, we are able to score only peanuts and an energy drink. The restaurant drought continues.

We are now entering the heat of the day and the canopy that has been cooling us is no more. Ted and I push on, silent and sweating, to reach the next rest stop before the humidity off the river becomes too extreme.

Vehicles throw up streams of dust as they speed down the dirt roads we cross. The rivers and creeks we pass over are much lower than they should be (or non-existent). Even plants in heavy shade are drooping, showing signs of drought. 

One of the stranger sights I have seen are the vast number of butterflies  feeding on animal scat on the Katy trail. From a distance, it appears they are sitting on a dark stone. Up close it is a different story. 

Just when we had given up all hope for lunch, we are blessed by the generosity of a travel guide for a group of bicyclists following the same path (and timing) as us. “Would you like a sandwich,” says Debbie. Ted and I nod happily, tired of our meager hardtack-like supplies. Revitalized, we are ready to finish the trail for the day.

And quicker than we realize, we approach the river and the final bridge that we must cross.