The World Cup starts in two days, and I need to do around 150 miles to get somewhere near the game. It was time to ride hard. But first, in the morning, I had coffee, oatmeal, and finished the last pint from last night’s growler. All of which are pure energy, or so I tell myself.
The initial riding was wonderful, with numerous rock bluffs and historical markers. At one point, there were some Native American icongraphs on the river bluffs. I am happy to say I noticed them before I read about them on the sign. Ah the power of observation (really its the inconsistencies within the environment).
Then I came to the only tunnel on the KATY. I had to film myself riding back and forth, the first time I’ve staged a video this trip. It turned out well, if for no other reason then it helps bring back the memory of doing it.
While taking a break near an abandoned tile factory, another cyclists passed by me. He was the first cyclist who was riding a Surly Disc Trucker, just like my Horse. He was only out for the week, and as we talked, it turned out he had gone to school in Dayton. I keep meeting people who have some link to some area of my life. It is truly remarkable.
That night, I headed to Knob Noster State Park, off the KATY and closer to Kansas City (it was a 95 mile ride from where I started). I really like saying the name; it must be the alliterative nature of it. Shortly after I arrived, I met my neighbor, a power line technician who lived in Kansas City. He had brought one daughter to 4H camp, and the other daughter and he were camping there for the week. He left in the morning to go into town for work, and camped at night with her. A pretty neat arrangement, and one I never would have considered. He told me he enjoyed camping in the RV outside of town, and that it was a welcome difference from every other day.
While I was preparing dinner, the eldest daughter came over to invite me for brat burgers. Of course I accepted and enjoyed two burgers, two ears of corn, and fried potatoes, as well as hours of great conversation. Both had plenty of suggestions for places I should stop in the future, although the most interesting was in Salina, KS. Called Cozy’s Inn, it is the home of the original slider, and White Castle had supposedly ripped them off.
At one point, I ran out of beer and made back to camp to grab another. To my surprise my things were scattered about. I had been hit by some crafty raccoons. Those bastards got two of my precious Snickers. I packed everything else up and went back to my neighbors. For the rest of the night, we took turns throwing rocks at the sneaky bastards as they tried to get our post dinner trash.