Kirkwood to Waterloo

Miles today: 20.04
Ave speed: 11.21
Max speed: 25.95

Total miles: 2,599.17

I spent a long week in St Louis, visiting family and friends, so this post includes the pictures and story of my visit, as well as the story of my short ride out. As I mentioned in my last post, my knee started acting up just after I got off the Katy trail, so a week of rest seemed like an even better idea with that in mind.
The week is a bit of a blur, since I saw quite a few people and am only relying on my pictures and weak memory. But I can tell you that after getting settled in at Angie’s (that’s my very first starbucks manager from Town and Country, MO), I met up with John (my very second Starbucks manager) and Kateri (an old floormate from the Webster University dorms, who now works for John). We had a nice evening of catching up, and I had a blast getting to know Angie’s two dogs, Cowboy and Belle, when I got home. By “getting to know” the dogs, I really mean that every time I came in the front door, regardless of how many times they had sniffed and pawed at me in previous encounters, I was trying to calm them down because a stranger that they’d swear they had NEVER seen before was in the house. Oh, dogs.

In the morning, I met up with Adam again. Remember Adam, from Columbia, MO? It turns out he was in St. Louis for a few days before heading to Salt Lake City for Thanksgiving. He showed me a great breakfast place called Local Harvest, and he also introduced me to a coffeeshop called Foundation Grounds. Local Harvest’s egg sandwiches hearken back to the breakfast sandwiches I used to get at a cafe in Minneapolis called the May Day cafe, and Foundation Grounds offers awesome pastries and food and bottomless cups of coffee for a reasonable price.

And so the first five or so days in St. Louis were filled with reading and knitting and coffee, dog-petting and gear-sorting and laundry-washing, and Nikki!

Nikki and I have been good friends since we met at Webster five years ago (holy crap! five years ago!), and I always enjoy the opportunity to see her. She showed me Schlafly Bottleworks, where they make the beer, and serve the beer, and keep St. Louis happy in both ways.

Schlafly made ME happy by letting me have a side of BEETS. You see, the beets normally come in the salad, but I didn’t really want a thirteen dollar plate of leaves just to eat beets… So I asked real nice and they brought me beets.

Then, in a continuation of the pursuit of St. Louis Institutions, we headed to Ted Drewes. Ted Drewes is a chain of frozen custard shops, where you can get just about any flavor combination you want. So I got one with peppermint and vanilla and a little bit of chocolate. I also ordered coffee, and proceeded to wait approximately ten minutes for my coffee. I guess that’s why they’re known for their custard and not their coffee!

I was really lucky, because John, my old manager at Starbucks, offered me his extra car to use. It was in the shop at the beginning of the week, but I had fun going with him to pick it up, which involved taking one car to one place, getting a different car, going to where the extra car was, driving this to that to there and back… I don’t even remember, but in the end I was driving a little red car with a manual transmission! Thanks, John.

One of my new favorite things about John is his household. He and his wife Kelly got married back in May, and I was lucky enough to be able to attend the wedding. Held at a motorcycle museum, the wedding was enough of a reason to want to hang out with John. It’s not just John and Kelly, though.

His household is John, Kelly, Chloe, Binkers, Napoleon, Orangina, Edgar…. dangit, I’ve been trying to remember all those names all week. I guess my memory isn’t invincible.

I love John’s house, because somebody always wants to be petted. Also, Chloe is one of the cutest dogs.

The next morning, after getting home ridiculously late, I got a text from John saying “Bob’s here!”. So I shot out of bed after less than 5 hours of sleep, got in the car un-showered and un-caffeinated, and booked it to Starbucks.

Who’s Bob, you ask? I’ll tell you first that this is Bob’s grandson Cade.

And this is Bob.

Bob is one of the most important regulars I have ever had at Starbucks. When I was studying music at Webster University, he came to as many of my concerts as he could. He was the comforting face in the audience as I sang the part of Mary in an advent production. He was my St. Louis grandpa, asking after me every morning I worked.

And after I left St. Louis in 2008, he continued to ask after me. Over the years I have gotten texts from John–“Bob wants to know when you’re coming to visit”–reminding me that Bob is one of my biggest supporters. When I left St. Louis, he gave me a buckeye off of a buckeye tree, and told me that they’re very good luck. I still have that buckeye.

Bob is an amazing guy for a lot of reasons. I can’t explain the lift I felt in my heart when I walked into Starbucks and saw him sitting there. He’s pretty ill and has lost quite a bit of weight, but he looked great. And so I spent a good long time catching up with him, meeting his daughter Julie, and making funny faces at Cade.

And then I returned to Angie’s to try and sort out my life.

I had put my panniers through the wash (for the first time ever), and their contents were strewn about the guest room in a truly willy-nilly fashion. But I had to achieve the Sorting of the Gear, because I had things to send home with my mom, who was coming to visit me!

On Thanksgiving day, I didn’t do a whole lot, save for a visit to Walmart for some toiletries. My feast involved a Totino’s party pizza, and for dinner some frozen P.F. Chang’s orange chicken (yes, I had the foresight to thaw and cook before eating). I wasn’t feeling well that day, and napped for a lot of the day. And then I got a call from Nikki, who was out playing darts and having a few drinks with some coworkers. So I dragged myself out of bed, because I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to throw sharp objects.

Once there, we enjoyed a drunk Brit named Francis who slipped into an Irish Brogue once he had enough Mexican beer in his system–a true international, I tell you. I played darts for the first time, and then was the first to leave after my mom informed me that she was arriving in St. Louis! Wahoo!

So down to the hotel I went, where I was greeted by gifts!

 

Why yes, folks, that IS a dinosaur cup. And those cookies are amazing.

My family had arrived pretty late, and were all tired from driving all day, so we only hung out for a little bit that night, and I moseyed my way home and crashed in bed. But in the morning we were all ready for some real hanging out, and we met up at Kaldi’s coffeeshop for breakfast.

You guys. I haven’t seen these people in three months. I rode over 2,000 miles on a bicycle since the last time I saw them, and my little sister started the 8th grade, and it was so, so neat to see them while on my trip.

One plan my mom and I had for our time together was to get the bike checked out, since it hasn’t had a proper tune-up since before the trip. You all have seen it fully loaded, but this is what the bike looks like.

John’s brother-in-law owns the bicycle shop in Webster Groves, so naturally we wanted to give them business. And so to the Hub we headed. I forgot to mention that I met some bikers at Kaldi’s, and one of them ended up being an employee at the Hub. So we walk in, and there’s Tyler, and it’s a real bike shop. I love those.

You’ll notice that some bikes at the back appear to be levitating, and perhaps performing some sweet stunt like a wheelie or a bar spin. My bike is one of those sweet bikes, the one below the clock. It’s actually not doing anything awesome, it’s just on a repair stand getting ready for its check-up.

So anyway, beets.

Just kidding. We dropped the bike off, and I think we may have run some errands, and then I took my family to Schlafly for dinner! Everybody had a delicious meal, and my mom and Mike got to try Schlafly beer, and my mom even got an edible cactus to grow at home! After that, we went to the best place ever in all of Missouri.

City Museum!

City Museum cannot be easily described. It is a playground made of sculpture. It is a wonderland of steel and wood, water and slides, climbing and falling, ball pits and rope swings and architectural elements and old printing press slugs.. it’s a place to observe for those who cannot climb, and a place to climb and explore for those who can.

Oh, and there is a gift shop that apparently sells giant frogs.

One of our favorite places to hang around at City Museum is the aquarium, where there are turtles and fish.

Caiti had a blast outside climbing in the hamster tubes of metal grate, playing with little kids in the ball pit, and generally tuckering herself out. I had already been sufficiently tuckered out, so I just watched and enjoyed. I led my family homeward, then made my own tired trek to Angie’s.

When I got up in the morning and opened the front door, there was a package waiting for me!

This package isn’t super notable, until you look at the postage!

And then open it up, and discover the waterproof gloves with liners inside! You see, my big trouble the last few months has been wet hands. My head stays pretty dry thanks to my jacket’s awesome hood, and my feet stay fairly dry thanks to my gore-tex shoe covers, but my stinkin’ hands! Once they’re wet, they’re cold, and they never dry, and they never warm up. So Evan to the rescue again. I didn’t even know they MADE waterproof gloves with fleecy liners. I was about ready to put plastic bags over my hands, but instead I got a really, really nice surprise from Salida.

Then I met up with my mom for coffee at Foundation Grounds. While we were there, Tyler at the Hub called, and my bike was done!

He replaced the front brake pads, front cables, trued the wheels, cleaned my cranks, straightened out my shifters, overhauled my front hub, and cleaned the gunk out of my junk! Err, the junk out of my crunk! He cleaned my chainrings and cogs and the bike looks SPIFFY.

If you are ever in St. Louis and want amazing service, and fabulously nice employees, go visit the Hub on Lockwood in Webster Groves! Their website is here.

My mom and I had an afternoon out together, which was good for both of us. I love my whole family, but I think you’ll understand when I say that my mom is my mom, and hanging out with just her is pretty special.

After driving all over creation, getting my phone screen fixed and buying a different sleeping bag (upgrade! from a 45 degree down bag + fleece liner + thermal liner + emergency foil to a 0 degree down bag), we went to Fortel’s Pizza Den and picked up dinner. My mom had brought an apple pie with her to St. Louis, so we ate that too. YUM.

Certain members of the family tried toasted ravioli for the first time in their lives that night, too. We watched part of a movie, and enjoyed just chilling at the hotel, and then I went home to bed again. In the morning we were to meet up for our final breakfast together, and they had to head back to real life before work and school on Monday.

So morning came, I drove to the hotel, and sure enough, they were still packing up. There is this trait in my family that all the girls possess. Perhaps it’s a trait inherent in all females everywhere… But we just can’t seem to be ready on time.

Slowly but surely, though, it happened. The van was ready to be packed.

And finally, after loading luggage, beginning the caravan only to have it immediately broken by honking horns and waving arms and a phone call–“turn around! Mike forgot to take his medicine!”–we were on our way. Sort of.

I was confused when I pulled up BEHIND my mom’s van, after she had to turn around, go back to the hotel, and I went straight for the restaurant… But life is filled with wonders and mysteries.

Breakfast was delicious, I had fresh fruit and salad and another egg sandwich, and coffee… oh, coffee… and we got a nice girl to take our picture outside.

Then we drove back to the hotel where it was time to say goodbyes. I am always smacked by an intense sadness AFTER cars have driven away, one the person I’ll be missing is actually out of sight, and so it was difficult to get into the little red car and drive away from the big pink van with the knowledge that it would be at least another month before seeing any of them again. This is the life on the road, I guess.

Nikki was still around, and I didn’t plan to leave that day, so we got dinner later on in the evening. Hacienda is a nice little mexican restaurant, and I love their food, but I had to laugh when I found this still-labeled lemon in Nikki’s Sangria. I’m really glad I didn’t get anything with fruit in it.

Then we were tired, so we got coffee and Nikki found this giraffe. That’s her favorite animal.

And after we had visited a global market and bought far too many sweets, it was time to say goodnight to Nikki and head home to bed yet again.

In the morning, I had to stop into the Alpine Shop where I had gotten my sleeping bag, because I was interested in getting a scarf. One of the employees there also helped outfit me with new insoles for my shoes; I’m hoping they’ll help with the knee pain. To put a cherry on top of the whole visit, another employee named Trip who apparently keeps bees in his backyard gave me backyard honey! So I have more carbs, more arch support, and more neck warmth, all thanks to the Alpine Shop in Kirkwood.

Then I headed to John’s to drop off the car and get some shoulder visitation from Binkers.

John was really kind and drove me through East St. Louis, a not-so-nice area, to the other side of the river. And so, for the first time on the trip, I crossed state lines… in a car.

The rest of the afternoon is pretty sad. John dropped me off at a little park, we said goodbye, and I rode off. There was a decent shoulder, but as soon as I started riding, I could feel my knee pain coming back. I had gotten a late start, and wasn’t able to push too hard because of my knee, and so by the time it was getting dark I hadn’t gone very far at all.

I spent a good hour outside a gas station in the dark in Waterloo, IL, trying to figure out where the heck I was going to sleep. Waterloo is another one of those bigger, spread out cities, and it has a major highway running through the middle, so it wasn’t super safe to be haunting around trying to find a place to sleep, so I started making phone calls. I called an old friend from Webster who lived in Waterloo, but couldn’t get ahold of her. I called the Methodist church and left a message, I called the Baptist church and then the cellphones of the pastor and assistant pastor, and then I called the dispatcher at the police station.

If I haven’t imparted this upon you yet, this idea of fear and unease at not having a safe place to “own” for the night, a place where you are allowed and welcome, I will try again. When it is at or below freezing, and there is not a speck of earth that carries a welcome sign on it, and you don’t really have the money to just pay somebody to take you in, the world suddenly becomes a whole lot less friendly and a whole lot more lonely. The dispatcher sent out an officer to chat with me, because she didn’t really understand what the heck I was trying to tell her over the phone. When he showed up, it took me a minute to explain. I am riding cross-country on this bicycle raising money for a youth shelter in Minnesota. Yes, it’s legitimate. I am just wondering where it’s legal to camp, or if I can warm up at the police station for a few minutes. At this point, I begin to wonder about every conversation I’ve heard between someone experiencing homelessness and someone with authority who has a warm home that they are just inconveniently outside of for the moment. The request for warmth or safety is a pretty simple one.. and at this point I am baffled at anyone’s confusion over so simple a plea.

This is where the magic happens. My phone rings, and the baptist pastor is calling me. I have two options. I am more than welcome to camp outside the Baptist church, and Pastor Steve will tell the Deacon, who also happens to be the Chief of Police, that I’ll be there. Otherwise, since I am having trouble with my knee and it might be nice to have a warm bath or shower, would I let the Baptist church put me up in a motel for the night?

Then the police officer’s phone rings. We are both on the phone, me trying to tell the pastor that really, I can just camp, even though part of me wants to say, “yes, please, I would love a motel room, I hurt and I’m cold and I’m tired”, and the police officer and the deacon discussing my situation.

The officer says to me with a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone–“Abbi, I’m on the phone with the Chief of Police. He wants to know if you’d be interested in a motel room. They’re more than happy, and we all realize you’re in a bit of pain.”–and finally I give in. Pastor Steve takes down my name and date of birth, the police officer tells me just to bike a few blocks, that he’ll drive slowly so I don’t get lost, and why don’t I just leave my bike in the PD garage for the night. It’ll be safe, and he’ll give me a lift to the motel.

So into a cop car I went, after yet another scary situation turned blessing, and slid around on the hard plastic seat and mused at being inside a cop car. The officer expressed how honored he felt to have what seemed like a celebrity riding in his car. How amazed he was to actually be talking to one of those people you only see on the news. How proud of me he was.

Listen, guys… I’m just a girl on a bike with a sore knee. Anyone can find a part of the world that needs help…

But there I was, the subject of somebody’s awe. And then we pulled up at the motel and he made sure I was all settled, and then I found the ice machine and got to icing.

That pretty much sums up St. Louis and Waterloo. I fell asleep nervous about the next day of riding, and hopeful that ice was my magic cure, and dreamt about the cops.

A huge thank you to the Waterloo Police Department, and First Baptist Church of Waterloo. You guys have no idea how much the tiniest efforts mean.

Kirkwood to Waterloo

Miles today: 20.04
Ave speed: 11.21
Max speed: 25.95

Total miles: 2,599.17

I spent a long week in St Louis, visiting family and friends, so this post includes the pictures and story of my visit, as well as the story of my short ride out. As I mentioned in my last post, my knee started acting up just after I got off the Katy trail, so a week of rest seemed like an even better idea with that in mind.
The week is a bit of a blur, since I saw quite a few people and am only relying on my pictures and weak memory. But I can tell you that after getting settled in at Angie’s (that’s my very first starbucks manager from Town and Country, MO), I met up with John (my very second Starbucks manager) and Kateri (an old floormate from the Webster University dorms, who now works for John). We had a nice evening of catching up, and I had a blast getting to know Angie’s two dogs, Cowboy and Belle, when I got home. By “getting to know” the dogs, I really mean that every time I came in the front door, regardless of how many times they had sniffed and pawed at me in previous encounters, I was trying to calm them down because a stranger that they’d swear they had NEVER seen before was in the house. Oh, dogs.

In the morning, I met up with Adam again. Remember Adam, from Columbia, MO? It turns out he was in St. Louis for a few days before heading to Salt Lake City for Thanksgiving. He showed me a great breakfast place called Local Harvest, and he also introduced me to a coffeeshop called Foundation Grounds. Local Harvest’s egg sandwiches hearken back to the breakfast sandwiches I used to get at a cafe in Minneapolis called the May Day cafe, and Foundation Grounds offers awesome pastries and food and bottomless cups of coffee for a reasonable price.

And so the first five or so days in St. Louis were filled with reading and knitting and coffee, dog-petting and gear-sorting and laundry-washing, and Nikki!

Nikki and I have been good friends since we met at Webster five years ago (holy crap! five years ago!), and I always enjoy the opportunity to see her. She showed me Schlafly Bottleworks, where they make the beer, and serve the beer, and keep St. Louis happy in both ways.

Schlafly made ME happy by letting me have a side of BEETS. You see, the beets normally come in the salad, but I didn’t really want a thirteen dollar plate of leaves just to eat beets… So I asked real nice and they brought me beets.

Then, in a continuation of the pursuit of St. Louis Institutions, we headed to Ted Drewes. Ted Drewes is a chain of frozen custard shops, where you can get just about any flavor combination you want. So I got one with peppermint and vanilla and a little bit of chocolate. I also ordered coffee, and proceeded to wait approximately ten minutes for my coffee. I guess that’s why they’re known for their custard and not their coffee!

I was really lucky, because John, my old manager at Starbucks, offered me his extra car to use. It was in the shop at the beginning of the week, but I had fun going with him to pick it up, which involved taking one car to one place, getting a different car, going to where the extra car was, driving this to that to there and back… I don’t even remember, but in the end I was driving a little red car with a manual transmission! Thanks, John.

One of my new favorite things about John is his household. He and his wife Kelly got married back in May, and I was lucky enough to be able to attend the wedding. Held at a motorcycle museum, the wedding was enough of a reason to want to hang out with John. It’s not just John and Kelly, though.

His household is John, Kelly, Chloe, Binkers, Napoleon, Orangina, Edgar…. dangit, I’ve been trying to remember all those names all week. I guess my memory isn’t invincible.

I love John’s house, because somebody always wants to be petted. Also, Chloe is one of the cutest dogs.

The next morning, after getting home ridiculously late, I got a text from John saying “Bob’s here!”. So I shot out of bed after less than 5 hours of sleep, got in the car un-showered and un-caffeinated, and booked it to Starbucks.

Who’s Bob, you ask? I’ll tell you first that this is Bob’s grandson Cade.

And this is Bob.

Bob is one of the most important regulars I have ever had at Starbucks. When I was studying music at Webster University, he came to as many of my concerts as he could. He was the comforting face in the audience as I sang the part of Mary in an advent production. He was my St. Louis grandpa, asking after me every morning I worked.

And after I left St. Louis in 2008, he continued to ask after me. Over the years I have gotten texts from John–“Bob wants to know when you’re coming to visit”–reminding me that Bob is one of my biggest supporters. When I left St. Louis, he gave me a buckeye off of a buckeye tree, and told me that they’re very good luck. I still have that buckeye.

Bob is an amazing guy for a lot of reasons. I can’t explain the lift I felt in my heart when I walked into Starbucks and saw him sitting there. He’s pretty ill and has lost quite a bit of weight, but he looked great. And so I spent a good long time catching up with him, meeting his daughter Julie, and making funny faces at Cade.

And then I returned to Angie’s to try and sort out my life.

I had put my panniers through the wash (for the first time ever), and their contents were strewn about the guest room in a truly willy-nilly fashion. But I had to achieve the Sorting of the Gear, because I had things to send home with my mom, who was coming to visit me!

On Thanksgiving day, I didn’t do a whole lot, save for a visit to Walmart for some toiletries. My feast involved a Totino’s party pizza, and for dinner some frozen P.F. Chang’s orange chicken (yes, I had the foresight to thaw and cook before eating). I wasn’t feeling well that day, and napped for a lot of the day. And then I got a call from Nikki, who was out playing darts and having a few drinks with some coworkers. So I dragged myself out of bed, because I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to throw sharp objects.

Once there, we enjoyed a drunk Brit named Francis who slipped into an Irish Brogue once he had enough Mexican beer in his system–a true international, I tell you. I played darts for the first time, and then was the first to leave after my mom informed me that she was arriving in St. Louis! Wahoo!

So down to the hotel I went, where I was greeted by gifts!

 

Why yes, folks, that IS a dinosaur cup. And those cookies are amazing.

My family had arrived pretty late, and were all tired from driving all day, so we only hung out for a little bit that night, and I moseyed my way home and crashed in bed. But in the morning we were all ready for some real hanging out, and we met up at Kaldi’s coffeeshop for breakfast.

You guys. I haven’t seen these people in three months. I rode over 2,000 miles on a bicycle since the last time I saw them, and my little sister started the 8th grade, and it was so, so neat to see them while on my trip.

One plan my mom and I had for our time together was to get the bike checked out, since it hasn’t had a proper tune-up since before the trip. You all have seen it fully loaded, but this is what the bike looks like.

John’s brother-in-law owns the bicycle shop in Webster Groves, so naturally we wanted to give them business. And so to the Hub we headed. I forgot to mention that I met some bikers at Kaldi’s, and one of them ended up being an employee at the Hub. So we walk in, and there’s Tyler, and it’s a real bike shop. I love those.

You’ll notice that some bikes at the back appear to be levitating, and perhaps performing some sweet stunt like a wheelie or a bar spin. My bike is one of those sweet bikes, the one below the clock. It’s actually not doing anything awesome, it’s just on a repair stand getting ready for its check-up.

So anyway, beets.

Just kidding. We dropped the bike off, and I think we may have run some errands, and then I took my family to Schlafly for dinner! Everybody had a delicious meal, and my mom and Mike got to try Schlafly beer, and my mom even got an edible cactus to grow at home! After that, we went to the best place ever in all of Missouri.

City Museum!

City Museum cannot be easily described. It is a playground made of sculpture. It is a wonderland of steel and wood, water and slides, climbing and falling, ball pits and rope swings and architectural elements and old printing press slugs.. it’s a place to observe for those who cannot climb, and a place to climb and explore for those who can.

Oh, and there is a gift shop that apparently sells giant frogs.

One of our favorite places to hang around at City Museum is the aquarium, where there are turtles and fish.

Caiti had a blast outside climbing in the hamster tubes of metal grate, playing with little kids in the ball pit, and generally tuckering herself out. I had already been sufficiently tuckered out, so I just watched and enjoyed. I led my family homeward, then made my own tired trek to Angie’s.

When I got up in the morning and opened the front door, there was a package waiting for me!

This package isn’t super notable, until you look at the postage!

And then open it up, and discover the waterproof gloves with liners inside! You see, my big trouble the last few months has been wet hands. My head stays pretty dry thanks to my jacket’s awesome hood, and my feet stay fairly dry thanks to my gore-tex shoe covers, but my stinkin’ hands! Once they’re wet, they’re cold, and they never dry, and they never warm up. So Evan to the rescue again. I didn’t even know they MADE waterproof gloves with fleecy liners. I was about ready to put plastic bags over my hands, but instead I got a really, really nice surprise from Salida.

Then I met up with my mom for coffee at Foundation Grounds. While we were there, Tyler at the Hub called, and my bike was done!

He replaced the front brake pads, front cables, trued the wheels, cleaned my cranks, straightened out my shifters, overhauled my front hub, and cleaned the gunk out of my junk! Err, the junk out of my crunk! He cleaned my chainrings and cogs and the bike looks SPIFFY.

If you are ever in St. Louis and want amazing service, and fabulously nice employees, go visit the Hub on Lockwood in Webster Groves! Their website is here.

My mom and I had an afternoon out together, which was good for both of us. I love my whole family, but I think you’ll understand when I say that my mom is my mom, and hanging out with just her is pretty special.

After driving all over creation, getting my phone screen fixed and buying a different sleeping bag (upgrade! from a 45 degree down bag + fleece liner + thermal liner + emergency foil to a 0 degree down bag), we went to Fortel’s Pizza Den and picked up dinner. My mom had brought an apple pie with her to St. Louis, so we ate that too. YUM.

Certain members of the family tried toasted ravioli for the first time in their lives that night, too. We watched part of a movie, and enjoyed just chilling at the hotel, and then I went home to bed again. In the morning we were to meet up for our final breakfast together, and they had to head back to real life before work and school on Monday.

So morning came, I drove to the hotel, and sure enough, they were still packing up. There is this trait in my family that all the girls possess. Perhaps it’s a trait inherent in all females everywhere… But we just can’t seem to be ready on time.

Slowly but surely, though, it happened. The van was ready to be packed.

And finally, after loading luggage, beginning the caravan only to have it immediately broken by honking horns and waving arms and a phone call–“turn around! Mike forgot to take his medicine!”–we were on our way. Sort of.

I was confused when I pulled up BEHIND my mom’s van, after she had to turn around, go back to the hotel, and I went straight for the restaurant… But life is filled with wonders and mysteries.

Breakfast was delicious, I had fresh fruit and salad and another egg sandwich, and coffee… oh, coffee… and we got a nice girl to take our picture outside.

Then we drove back to the hotel where it was time to say goodbyes. I am always smacked by an intense sadness AFTER cars have driven away, one the person I’ll be missing is actually out of sight, and so it was difficult to get into the little red car and drive away from the big pink van with the knowledge that it would be at least another month before seeing any of them again. This is the life on the road, I guess.

Nikki was still around, and I didn’t plan to leave that day, so we got dinner later on in the evening. Hacienda is a nice little mexican restaurant, and I love their food, but I had to laugh when I found this still-labeled lemon in Nikki’s Sangria. I’m really glad I didn’t get anything with fruit in it.

Then we were tired, so we got coffee and Nikki found this giraffe. That’s her favorite animal.

And after we had visited a global market and bought far too many sweets, it was time to say goodnight to Nikki and head home to bed yet again.

In the morning, I had to stop into the Alpine Shop where I had gotten my sleeping bag, because I was interested in getting a scarf. One of the employees there also helped outfit me with new insoles for my shoes; I’m hoping they’ll help with the knee pain. To put a cherry on top of the whole visit, another employee named Trip who apparently keeps bees in his backyard gave me backyard honey! So I have more carbs, more arch support, and more neck warmth, all thanks to the Alpine Shop in Kirkwood.

Then I headed to John’s to drop off the car and get some shoulder visitation from Binkers.

John was really kind and drove me through East St. Louis, a not-so-nice area, to the other side of the river. And so, for the first time on the trip, I crossed state lines… in a car.

The rest of the afternoon is pretty sad. John dropped me off at a little park, we said goodbye, and I rode off. There was a decent shoulder, but as soon as I started riding, I could feel my knee pain coming back. I had gotten a late start, and wasn’t able to push too hard because of my knee, and so by the time it was getting dark I hadn’t gone very far at all.

I spent a good hour outside a gas station in the dark in Waterloo, IL, trying to figure out where the heck I was going to sleep. Waterloo is another one of those bigger, spread out cities, and it has a major highway running through the middle, so it wasn’t super safe to be haunting around trying to find a place to sleep, so I started making phone calls. I called an old friend from Webster who lived in Waterloo, but couldn’t get ahold of her. I called the Methodist church and left a message, I called the Baptist church and then the cellphones of the pastor and assistant pastor, and then I called the dispatcher at the police station.

If I haven’t imparted this upon you yet, this idea of fear and unease at not having a safe place to “own” for the night, a place where you are allowed and welcome, I will try again. When it is at or below freezing, and there is not a speck of earth that carries a welcome sign on it, and you don’t really have the money to just pay somebody to take you in, the world suddenly becomes a whole lot less friendly and a whole lot more lonely. The dispatcher sent out an officer to chat with me, because she didn’t really understand what the heck I was trying to tell her over the phone. When he showed up, it took me a minute to explain. I am riding cross-country on this bicycle raising money for a youth shelter in Minnesota. Yes, it’s legitimate. I am just wondering where it’s legal to camp, or if I can warm up at the police station for a few minutes. At this point, I begin to wonder about every conversation I’ve heard between someone experiencing homelessness and someone with authority who has a warm home that they are just inconveniently outside of for the moment. The request for warmth or safety is a pretty simple one.. and at this point I am baffled at anyone’s confusion over so simple a plea.

This is where the magic happens. My phone rings, and the baptist pastor is calling me. I have two options. I am more than welcome to camp outside the Baptist church, and Pastor Steve will tell the Deacon, who also happens to be the Chief of Police, that I’ll be there. Otherwise, since I am having trouble with my knee and it might be nice to have a warm bath or shower, would I let the Baptist church put me up in a motel for the night?

Then the police officer’s phone rings. We are both on the phone, me trying to tell the pastor that really, I can just camp, even though part of me wants to say, “yes, please, I would love a motel room, I hurt and I’m cold and I’m tired”, and the police officer and the deacon discussing my situation.

The officer says to me with a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone–“Abbi, I’m on the phone with the Chief of Police. He wants to know if you’d be interested in a motel room. They’re more than happy, and we all realize you’re in a bit of pain.”–and finally I give in. Pastor Steve takes down my name and date of birth, the police officer tells me just to bike a few blocks, that he’ll drive slowly so I don’t get lost, and why don’t I just leave my bike in the PD garage for the night. It’ll be safe, and he’ll give me a lift to the motel.

So into a cop car I went, after yet another scary situation turned blessing, and slid around on the hard plastic seat and mused at being inside a cop car. The officer expressed how honored he felt to have what seemed like a celebrity riding in his car. How amazed he was to actually be talking to one of those people you only see on the news. How proud of me he was.

Listen, guys… I’m just a girl on a bike with a sore knee. Anyone can find a part of the world that needs help…

But there I was, the subject of somebody’s awe. And then we pulled up at the motel and he made sure I was all settled, and then I found the ice machine and got to icing.

That pretty much sums up St. Louis and Waterloo. I fell asleep nervous about the next day of riding, and hopeful that ice was my magic cure, and dreamt about the cops.

A huge thank you to the Waterloo Police Department, and First Baptist Church of Waterloo. You guys have no idea how much the tiniest efforts mean.

What I’m up to!

Hey all!
It’s been a week of rest, so I apologize for the lack of blog posts. There’s still one I owe you, in which I make it safely to St. Louis! My family arrived here last night, minus one sister (miss you, Bridget! Keep Minnesota under control while we’re away).
I used to attend college at Webster University, near St. Louis, so I’ve been able to catch up with some old friends and Starbucks coworkers. I’m blessed to have a place to stay (thank you so much, Angie!) and a car to drive while I’m here (thanks, John!). Coincidentally, both of these gifts come from former Starbucks managers.
I’ll be back on the road Monday morning, after much-needed rest–my knee started acting up when I reached St. Louis, so some time off the bike was necessary, and waiting in St. Louis is convenient in many ways. My family drove from Minneapolis, so had I gone further I wouldn’t have any long-term places to stay, and they would’ve had to drive further.
We have plans to see some sights (the zoo, and City Museum–you should check that out if you’re ever in St. Louis), and to hang out this weekend. I haven’t seen them since the end of August, and am overjoyed to be seeing them now.
With that, I apologize for such a quiet week! Know that I am safe and happy. My hope is that you all are, too, and that as we all enter the holiday season, everybody finds themselves among loved ones and staying warm.

Marthasville to Kirkwood

Miles today: 55.46
Ave speed: 10.14
Max speed: 25.73

Total miles: 2,579.13

Waking up with the sun feebly lighting up my tent (or so I thought, given that a floodlight allowed me to see both my fingers in front of my face and the entirety of the rest of my tent all night), I took a deep breath, knowing that St. Louis was in my near future. After blasting across Missouri at what I consider to be a record pace, St. Louis seemed to be a sort of finish line, a milestone containing many friends and acquaintences and old coworkers and a place to sleep for a week.

So I crawled out of my tent optimistic. After all, I still had 30 or so miles of flat trail before the hills of St. Louis. And this park offered a pavilion, which offered an outlet conveniently above some sort of vending cart. My imagination allowed me to make it a kitchen counter. My kitchen has an outlet. Cool.

And so I made coffee. I made quinoa. I charged both my phone and my iPod, all from the convenience of my kitchen. And after the seemingly mammoth task of getting camp broken down (I’ve been sleeping in beds for too long, folks…), I was finally ready to go.

Goodbye, little park. You were so good to me. It’s my own fault that I decided to set my tent up in the shadow of a waving American flag, and it’s thusly my fault that I slept fitfully due to the moving shadows being cast on my tent ALL NIGHT. It’s your fault only for having the floodlights.

Goodbye, Marthasville. You were also good to me, even though I couldn’t find a sign with your name on it until I was leaving you.

Hello, Katy Trail. You are good to me only in daylight. This is partially my fault, because technically I am not supposed to use you at night, and it isn’t your fault that you go through a creepy forest.

Anyway, enough hellos and goodbyes. It was a gloomy day, and just as windy as the last, but the wind seemed to be blowing differently, or maybe my resolve was stronger. I would get to St. Louis if it killed me. If I died, I guess they’d probably take me there anyway.

The good thing about the clouds was that they obscured the sun and kept a nice chill in the air, and they were pretty. Unfortunately, the wind only seemed to die down when the sun peeked through, and there wasn’t much of that happening. Onward I rode.

 

I reached Augusta, where I had planned to camp the night before, and admired its little kiosk.

I passed this strange relic of the former railroad on whose bed I was now riding. It appears to be an elevator or holding tank of some sort, though I’m not sure if it was meant for grain, coal, fuel, rocks… It was very ominous looking right next to the trail, hulking over innocent passers-by.

In addition to the unnatural hulking structures, there were also big rocks. My fear with these guys is that a piece will fall down and crush me on the trail. I’m full of mildly rational fears.

A little ways down the trail, I met up with BJ and Mike, who were out for their weekly ride. They alerted me to a trail closure, and told me to follow them. I guess the folks with the big machines were fixing a bridge, and I didn’t really want to get dumped into the drink, so I went with BJ and Mike.

They were really cool! It was nice to chat about Missouri–they just moved closer to the trail from Washington, MO, and continued their former riding club’s tradition of Saturday morning rides (off the Katy), by starting their own ride! Kudos to you guys for staying on your bikes.

I knew I was getting close to St. Louis proper when I started passing under big bridges. This one was still several miles from my exit, though.

One of my big annoyances on the Katy trail involves nicely paved roads running right next to my gravel trail. It can be really tempting to get off the trail and onto the road, where I’ll have less rolling resistance, but alas, I am safer on the gravel.

After bemoaning my trail riding for a long time, I saw my exit! I rode a little double switchback up to bridge level, enjoying the pavement under my tires.

And then, from the parking lot onto which I was spat by the trail, I beheld my river crossing. The Page Avenue Extension Bridge.

Trafficky, no? Luckily, it had a nice walled-off sidewalk. With a nasty wind in my face, I started across.

This big fence prevented any sort of nice picture of the Missouri River, but in the interest of giving an accurate depiction of my trip, this is what I was looking at.

There was a lot of wind involved in my crossing, and then suddenly I was on a bike trail, winding through a park. In Creve Coeur.

Don’t worry, though, it was still ungodly windy. And then the hills started! I moseyed my way across town, finding bike lanes only to watch them end abruptly at a busy intersection, rolling up onto sidewalks only to find a rocky patch of nothingness as the sidewalk ended (Shel Silverstein would enjoy this city), bemoaning my loss of the Katy trail.

A few times, I rode up a hill, slowly, slowly, slowly, and as I rode, a sharp pain shot up the front of my knee. In those moments, I felt as though I had just messed up something in my knee, and wondered if I was going to be okay. But knowing I wasn’t there yet, I only allowed myself enough time to get over it, and kept riding.

At one point, I was stopped at an intersection trying to figure out where to go, when a couple on a tandem rolled up. They advised some roads for me to take, and I was glad to have cyclist help. The cars are an entirely different entity here, who neither notice, nor accept, and especially do not embrace, cyclists. It’s no small wonder to me that they are so intolerant, despite “Share the Road” signs stuck in the sidewalk every 500 feet or so.

As I waited to cross, another cyclist pulled up. Jeff rides the city often, and was very encouraging of the route the tandem cyclists had suggested. He was also very excited about my trip, and I hoped to see him around town again.

Maybe an hour later, I finally got to Kirkwood, after countless stops and “ow, my knee”s and hairy crossings of roads and sidewalk bail-outs and silent curses at idiot drivers. Oh, St. Louis, you vex me.

Kirkwood is the town where my old manager, Angie, lives. She is the person who hired me at Starbucks back in 2006, when I first started with the company. She offered up a bedroom, and I accepted, so while I waited for her to get off of work, I went to my old hang-out spot, Kaldi’s Coffee.

The coffee at Kaldi’s is delicious, and I found out that their food is, too. A cup of coffee, sandwich and amazing salad, and I was ready to tackle my evening.

It turned out that Angie lived only a mile and a half or so from Kaldi’s, so I rode up to her house, and then met up with some old friends for a few drinks.

I’ll be in St. Louis all week, folks, and man, is it good to be here.

Portland to Marthasville

Miles today: 40.18
Ave speed: 9.86
Max speed: 13.82

Total miles: 2,523.67

When I emerged from the trailer, breakfast had been cooked, and I got to eat eggs and bacon, garlic toast and strong coffee. The sky was filled with popcorn clouds, and the frost held onto the grass and made the porch slippery.

I got a ride back to Portland, and was able to snap a picture of Tom, Paul and Dennis–Floyd was at his house, Mike was at his house, and I think Frank and his gang were all at their house. Even without a picture of everybody, I’m thankful for their support as a team of dads.

Luckily, I didn’t have to ride more than fifty feet to be back on the Katy trail this time. I was riding next to the river bluffs today, and they rose up hundreds of feet in the air in places.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Unfortunately, the wind was not beautiful. You can’t tell, but I had a fairly steady South-ish wind all day, that when deflected by the bluffs, and manipulated by the presence of the water on the other side, felt more like a really pushy headwind.

At one point, I saw a lone cow on a hill, but could only get her to look at me over her shoulder.

 

My plan was to get much further, perhaps to St. Charles or even St. Louis, but the wind was really frustrating, and I knew it’d be dark before too long. So I called the Community Center in Marthasville, MO, and asked to camp in their park.

Melva, who I spoke with on the phone, was very kind. I guess they see a lot of cyclists through there, so she knew the routine. And so, after a satisfying dinner of chicken fingers, I set up camp in the park, just in time for another awesome sunset.

Before bed I made some hot chocolate. I was super chilly, but apparently it was only 52 degrees. I think that all of this not camping is turning me soft!

 

So, snuggled up in my sleeping bag and fleece liner, I turned in early. Like, 7:30pm early. You see, when the sun goes down by 5pm, there’s really no reason to stay awake when your home has no lights or electricity. Besides, I was downright pooped from my windy ride, and the wind was forecast to do the same thing the next day.

It was nice to camp again and use my stove, and so although I was disappointed not to have gone further, I was excited to be “roughing it” a little.

Columbia to Portland

Miles today: 59.47
Ave speed: 10.54
Max speed: 23.71

Total miles: 2,483.49

Adam made pumpkin oatmeal for breakfast (easy: as far as I can tell, it involves a can of pumpkin, plopped into a pot of oatmeal, and stirred up), and some really strong coffee. I dawdled, not really wanting to haul my bike down the stairs, but finally we managed to get me on the road.

The first several miles of my trip are undocumented in photographic form, because they were spent being honked at by motorists, pulling off of the road to avoid certain death by BAT-SH*T CRAZY motorists (excuse my language, but seriously. no, SERIOUSLY.), and climbing steep hills that took the energy straight out of me.

Once I finally made the decision to take the highway, I was so relieved to see a shoulder and a rumble strip. The only problem with these big highways, though, is that they’re noisy, and it was windy.

But I chugged along, and before I knew it, I was seeing signs for the Katy trail again. Wahoo!

Getting off the highway, I followed diligently the directions my iPhone was giving me, until I reached what appeared to be a dead end. Whoops.

Sure enough, though, I turned onto a messy little road, flew down a hill, climbed back up one, and was still on track. More dirt roads led me toward my new favorite way across Missouri.

 

The Katy trail! The difference between the dirt roads and the Katy trail, the really important difference, is that dirt roads are allowed to be hilly. The Katy trail is an old railroad bed, so it’s flat as flat can be. I like flat. I don’t like hills. And so there you have my number one reason for liking this trail.

I had a fantastic view of the Missouri river almost all day.

The number two reason that I like the Katy trail is that it used to be for trains. I love trains, and so naturally I was really excited when I saw that the railroad bridges are still intact.

 

As I got close to a town, I saw this company called “ABB”. I envisioned myself spray painting an “I” at the end of it in the dead of night, but I’m not that bad.

I had to stop and rest for a bit, and my bike asked to have its picture taken. The bike insisted on being in the sunshine, though, so it didn’t turn out too well. While I was stopped, I tried to figure out where I was going to stay that night.

I had vowed not to ride in the dark anymore, given my intense fear, but somehow I found myself riding, at night, down the trail. At some point I passed a historical marker called Standing Rock, which apparently looks really cool during the day, according to Google. It looks like this at night.

As I’ve already expressed, it’s tough to take pictures in the dark. But I eventually settled on a town called Portland to stay for the night. I had spoken with the bartender at the establishment in town, Mary, and she said I could pitch my tent out front where it was safe.

I found myself talking with five hunters who piled out of a pick-up truck, clown-car style, and after a good hour and a half of banter with Mike, Floyd, Paul, Tom, and Dennis, I was offered a trailer that sits on Mike’s property as an alternative to pitching my tent outside. The guys all have kids my age, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to sleeping outside a bar, so I accepted.

And so we drove, and drove, and drove. Out of cellphone range, down dirt roads and through potholes and into the woods. Finally, we reached a hunters’ oasis, where I saw for the first time in my life a deer strung up to…dry? I can’t say I really understand the world of the hunter. I then met Mike’s good friend Frank–they’ve known each other since they were young–and his sons Joe and Steve, and their friend Frank (yes, two Franks). We all chatted around the table for a long while, and finally I turned in for the night.

Once inside my safe little trailer-haven, I turned on two heaters, and snuggled up under a whole lot of blankets, because when I first opened the door, I could see my breath inside. Brrr.

Within an hour, though, I woke up pouring sweat. Apparently two heaters was one heater too many, and I slept fitfully all night, battling heat and the bright moon coming in the window, and just before dawn, the sound of Mike’s brother rustling around in the pop-up camper next to my trailer, getting ready to go hunting. Mike didn’t know he was going to show up, and so I certainly didn’t, either. Fortunately, though, he was no bad guy, and I made it through the night unscathed, and more than appreciative of my new friends.

Warrensburg to Columbia

Miles today: 98.92
Ave speed: 10.83
Max speed: 29.29

Total miles: 2,424.02

By the time I woke up, Barb was already chirping about the house (she’s a very early riser), and David was awake, too. They were surprised when I emerged from the bedroom fully dressed for cycling, but I find that getting all packed before breakfast makes for a smoother departure.
And so, we ate a delicious breakfast of eggs and oats and greens, and I took the obligatory picture.

You’ll notice that Barb is in cycling clothes, and has her bike at the ready. This is because we were going to ride out of town together!

And so we headed out at a fairly good clip, and I pretty quickly overheated. As I get into Missouri, I’m getting really excited to see signs that say St. Louis on them, even if it’s still over two hundred miles away.
You see, I went to college near St. Louis for a bit, and I’ve got a few friends there. It also happens to be a decent spot for my mom and younger sister to drive to for thanksgiving! Also, Sedalia is the town where I pick up the Katy trail, my flat route across Missouri.

We passed Knob Noster, which I just find to be a funny name for a place. 

It was really nice to ride with Barb for the first ten or so miles, because she had some funny stories, and the companionship for a brief time was refreshing. But Knob Noster was her turn-around point, and so up an exit ramp she headed, to cross the bridge and come back down the other side (going in the opposite direction, of course).

I entered the county which contains Sedalia, and enjoyed a really wide shoulder all morning.

In case you were wondering, and I’m sure you weren’t, I get sick of the same snacks all the time, and have been working on a loaf of blueberry bread for a few days. And so, bread in hand, I rode along, smiling mouthfuls of masticated grain and berries at the passing cars.

Just as I thought I might hit Sedalia, I didn’t. Instead, it was La Monte. If that’s supposed to mean “The Mount”, they’re dead wrong. Flat as a pancake, save for a couple rolling hills.

And then, there it was! Sedalia!

I went into the Walmart (I have no idea why I’ve been in so many stinkin’ Walmarts lately!), and got some chocolate milk and used the restroom. The problem with being in or near larger cities is that there’s no place to stop and go to the bathroom, because there are always people, or cars, or houses nearby. Embarrassing.

While I was outside Walmart, I got a call from my sister Bridget, who’s 16 months older than I am. She had just given her first college paper presentation, and she felt like it went really well. We discussed the merits of fear in academia–I’ve always felt that fear drives my best performance when it comes to academic matters. It is when somebody is most afraid of screwing up or being thought unintelligent that the most in-depth research is done. In short, I’m really proud of my sister. Wahoo! (Bridget, don’t forget to look at Belarus’ “president” Lukashenko to contrast the countries you’ve been looking at in class!)

Once I had finished my business in the big city, I hopped on a side street so as not to get creamed by cars, and at the far end of town, I found the trail!

Hellooooooo, gorgeous. I could hear the birds chirping, and the trail was well-groomed, and there wasn’t a car in sight.

Did I mention that the forest I was riding through was gorgeous, too?

Oh, and you haven’t heard this one since… ohh, Utah, or maybe Colorado.. But hey! Rocks!

An amazing thing along the Katy trail is when the trees part a bit, and you can see a field of cows grazing. In fact, I even saw some grazing IN the forest! I didn’t catch a picture of those ones, but here are some regular field-grazing cows.

A lot of towns along the trail have a little information kiosk. This was the first one I saw. Cute.

And to keep cyclists and walkers safe, we get tunnels! Hooray for being under the cars, but not squished by them!

At some point in the day, I decided that I was going to ride to Columbia. That’s nearly 100 miles. You see, I am a camp counselor every summer, and one of my former campers, who is in her first year at Mizzou, informed me that her birthday was the very next day.

I thought it would be really cool if I could make it to Columbia in time to take her to birthday lunch, so I resolved to ride in the dark if I had to. The route to Columbia is all bike trails, so there wouldn’t be any danger of vehicular traffic.

As dusk began to fall, so did my desire to take pictures. But these silos looked cool through my eyes. It seems the camera didn’t have the same opinion of the sunlight glinting off of them.

Night had nearly fallen when I hit a bigger town, and rode past this casino. I gave a tiny bit of thought to stopping for the night, on account of I’m afraid of the dark, but the casino seemed noisy and bright, and not a good place to stop.

Instead, I kept going. As I crossed the Missouri river, I enjoyed a gorgeous end-of-sunset.

What transpired from there involved a whole lot of darkness, a whole lot of cursing under my breath at scary creatures, very little relaxed biking, and zero pictures. At one point, I decided to take surface streets, just so I could be near humans somehow. Imagine all of those nice pictures of the trail from earlier in the blog, and then imagine yourself plummeting through the darkness with a bright headlight that casts shadows everywhere, and the sound of rabbits and opossums scurrying away, and no idea what might be lurking in the forest…

And then imagine that you find a route to take involving streets, and you are told to take Nebo Cemetary Rd., and only after turning onto the unlit dirt road do you discover that it is actually called MOUNT Nebo Cemetary Rd., and it is very hilly, and at the top when you can’t go a moment further without passing out from exhaustion, and absolutely need to rest, you come to a stop next to a CEMETARY. IN THE PITCH BLACK. And so you force yourself onward and away from potential ghost attacks, despite your legs screaming at you to stop and rest…

Never in my life have I been so happy to get onto a narrow-shouldered county highway in the dark.

And so, 90+ miles in, delirious from extended fear and exhausted from the sheer mileage of it, I finally got to Columbia. My friend Garrett from high school has an apartment on the west end of town (thank goodness. It cut maybe 5 or 6 miles from my trip), and so with 98.92 miles on the computer, I rolled into his apartment complex. Then I met Scrum the cat. She does not like pictures.

And when I spied her looking at me through the spokes of my bike, she denied it.

Then I had a shower, I did some laundry, and I ordered copious amounts of food from Dominos. Including this bread-bowl pasta thing. YUM.

Garrett and I spent a long time catching up–he was friends with my sister in high school, we sang in the choir together, and our lives have all changed immensely since high school.

I didn’t get to bed until after midnight, and so by the time I woke up, Garrett had headed out for class, and Scrum was nonplussed at my desire for a picture. Again.

Katelyn and I had a birthday lunch date, and I was four or five miles from campus, so I got my butt in gear and started riding. I had just turned to go down the street toward the student center when I looked to my right and found the word “Rothbarth?!” coming out of my mouth.

After ten seconds of complete confusion, he said, “A….bbi? What are you doing??”

And so, I was reunited with Adam, a friend from Webster University.

Just then, Katelyn came walking up the street. Then I got to try and explain to both of them who the other one was. I snapped a picture of both of them, and then we all walked up the street together.

Adam headed back to his house for a while, and Katelyn and I attempted to have Chipotle for birthday lunch. Apparently everyone also wanted it for regular lunch, so we went elsewhere. Elsewhere is also known as “ingredient”. Which is also known as “really good lunch”.

I couldn’t help but continue to take pictures of the birthday girl, who is now 19! Nineteen! WOW! Happy birthday, Katelyn.

We had a lunch that would make any Chipotle burrito feel inadequate–my “yard burger” had chicken breast, applewood smoked bacon, swiss cheese and a mustard aioli (I think? mustard..something…), and her build-your-own had avocado, Buffalo mozzarella, and other delicious things on it. I was really jealous of the avocado and the mozzarella. Oh, and we both had sweet potato fries. Best lunch!

Then we went to get some birthday Starbucks, because I needed coffee after such a big lunch. We relaxed outside, Garrett came to pick up his house key and wish Katelyn a happy birthday, and then she had to get back to class. So I bid the birthday girl goodbye, and Adam and I met up again.

It was really nice to catch up with him, too, because so much has happened in both our lives since three years ago, when I left Webster. He is pursuing a master’s in Music History, and he’s looking at the University of Minnesota for a Doctoral program! I went there!

I will admit, I gushed about the merits of Minneapolis for a really long time. He rides a bike, though, and Minneapolis is REALLY bike-friendly. He’s vegan, and Minnesota is known for its network of cooperative groceries. He’s looking for a Doctorate, and they happen to have a means to get one of those in Minneapolis! Perfect fit.

We got coffee and talked coffee-shop employment (he worked for the Nordstrom’s E-bar for a long time, and I worked for Starbucks for five years, some of which was in the Mall of America), and swapped stories of customers gone bad, transactions gone sour, and the benefit of patience and a sense of humor when working in a mall.

After that, we headed to a little shop that’s also got a movie theater, and played scrabble over a couple of drinks.

There was a guy sitting right behind me, apparently building a castle of dominos. Just as I received a text from Adam–yes, sitting right there across the table from me–trying to tell me without causing a scene that someone was building a castle of dominos behind me…

CRASH CLATTER CLATTER CLATTER. Domino castle fail.

This happened approximately six more times. Don’t quit your day job, domino guy.

By the time our long scrabble game was done, we were both really, really hungry. We found this little Greek place, where I ordered a not-little Greek plate.

And so, belly full of chicken gyro, rice pilaf and salad, Adam and I headed back to his place, where my bike was waiting patiently. We had had to haul it up two flights of stairs earlier that day, and I was thankful it was already up there because we were both tired and full. So after another hour or so of chatting, I crawled into my sleeping bag on the couch, and he headed to bed, and all was right with the world.

Fundraiser Update

Hi all!
I awoke this morning to an iPhone notification. A donation just came through that pushed Abbi Across America past the $3,000 mark in money raised for Avenues!

As I ride, still in the 2,000s for mileage, I have had many days in which I’m lonely, I’m tired, I don’t want to get out of bed, or I can’t remember where I am.
Doing this day in and day out is not only physically taxing, it takes a toll on my brain sometimes. Just yesterday, I sent a plea for help out to those visiting my Facebook page: “motivation! Please! (preferably things that can be done while on a bicycle?)”

To wake up this morning having raised over 3,000 dollars with additional funds expected in per-mile pledging was another milestone. This trip is full of milestones. It’s amazing that those milestones are in the thousands (miles, dollars, flat tires)… Okay, I’m kidding on the last one.
I’m not saying that money is some kind of cure-all for my brain’s lagging motivation. What I am saying though, is thank you.
Thank you to donors whose accompanying comments brighten my day every time I scroll through the donor’s list, and remind me that this trip is bigger than me.
Thank you to every person who views the blog, donor or not. One of my other motivators is looking at site stats and seeing how many people visited the blog today. I imagine that several of the visits are from my mom, but that’s even better.
Thank you for every comment I’ve received on the blog and on facebook. Nobody ever needs to say anything more than “hey, good job! I’m proud of you”, but often my friends and family, and even people I just met somewhere on the road, say so much more. It’s this support network that keeps me afloat sometimes.

I know I’m not always super up-to-date with the blog. Staying with families is really fun, but I often find I’d rather be getting to know them than sitting in front of my iPhone, typing like a madwoman. And on the days that I end up in a motel room, I’m often trying to relax and catch up on sleep. Know that I’m trying. There are a lot of pictures uploaded, but the writing is what takes time.
So I guess this is just a post of recognition. I recognize all of you.

Thank you!

(The little girl is Arianna, from Osage City, KS. We spent a night and morning together braiding hair, eating pizza and coloring.)

Harrisonville to Warrensburg

Miles today: 47.41
Ave speed: 10.68
Max speed: 31.10

Total miles: 2,325.10

Leaving Harrisonville, I knew I had a warmshowers host in Warrensburg. Barb, whose house I was aiming for, had warned me in advance of roads I should avoid and offered several route suggestions. So I got out onto the open road, grateful that the wind hadn’t picked up yet.

Somewhere along the way, I had a thought. I’ve lacked motivation to ride, motivation to set goals, and at times, motivation to even continue the trip. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and so I found myself on an adventure.
I asked my iPhone for walking directions to Warrensburg. This resulted in the most direct route that could be traversed by foot. It meant, for me, a different surface.

As soon as I turned onto the first farm road, I could feel a sense of exhilaration at bucking my own trend. The goal in this trip, the ideal, has always been the smoothest pavement and the widest shoulder. Now I found myself riding freely down the middle of the road, passing fields of horses and cows, so close to the road I could stop and visit with them if so inclined.

I wasn’t so inclined, partly because the proximity of the animals to the road was equaled by the proximity of their owners. But I was happy to be off in the quiet, in the dirt, in the back country.

A couple of hours later, I was spit out on red pavement. For some reason, this seems a halfway point between dirt road and black pavement.

I can’t for the life of me remember what town I passed with this sign, but I liked it. Little town with a big heart. I’ve encountered a few of those.

I barely blinked, and the little town was gone. Back in the fields.

Then my pavement turned from red to black, and I popped through another blink-of-an-eye town, Gunn City.

There were more dirt roads in my future, and though my legs were getting a bit tired of the washboards and potholes, I knew that good things awaited me on the back roads.
Like this guy.

Or these guys!

And if you didn’t guess, I had many a tree-lined stretch. It was just gorgeous.

Then there were more cows! It was great to be so close to them, because pictures from far away aren’t all too entertaining. That, and I could hear them moo and shift on their feet as they nervously watched me pass.

Then I turned onto what I thought was a paved road. I was hopeful, because the little sign below the road name says “state maintenance begins”.

I soon found myself asking where, or when, or in what alternate universe, the road was being “maintained” by the state. Perhaps the sign actually meant that the current state of the road (read: utter crap) was in stasis. Who knows?

I was honestly thankful when I got to dirt roads again.

Then some more pavement, and the town of Holden. At this point I knew I was done with dirt roads, because I needed only take two highways the rest of the way.

The road surfaces weren’t bad, but the traffic was. There was no shoulder, and cars were constantly coming from both directions. I’m in the habit of getting off the road when there won’t be enough room for everybody (it seems I’m the lowest on that food chain), but in some spots the road just dropped right off. People seemed mildly patient, I guess.

Once I finally got to Warrensburg, I realized that it’s a college town. This means that there is generally a real coffeeshop and, hopefully, a real bike shop. So I went for the coffeeshop first, and had some amazing hot chocolate.

I talked on the phone with Kendra, one of my best friends in Minneapolis and my former roommate, and was excited to hear about developments in her life, and what’s been going on back in Minneapolis. Then I found the bike shop.
Michael and Kevin knew exactly who I was staying with, and we chatted for a long time about the biking situation in Warrensburg. They’re hoping to get a cycling team going, and more devoted bike lanes, as well as raised awareness of cyclists in general.

And after enjoying their company for a while, I set back out into the college town, and found my way to Barb and David’s. I was treated to a glorious sunset on the way.

Once I got there, I was immediately enveloped in conversation, and shown to my room. I got a comfy bed, and my bike even got to come in the house. Hooray! It’s always really nice to have my things within reach.

We ate a fantastic dinner of homemade minestrone soup, grilled cheese and salad, and I had a nice shower and did some laundry. It was great to get the dust off of my things and self after quite a while on dirt roads, and the bed with all its pillows and quilts felt really, really good.

Ottawa to Harrisonville

Miles today: 59.08
Ave speed: 12.58
Max speed: 32.88

Total miles: 2,277.69

Waking up to sunshine after a good night’s rest, I felt ready to ride again. First, though, I wanted to recognize Travis for his kindness the night before. Luckily there was a little survey where I could do just that!
I was delighted to find that the survey would be processed in a Minneapolis suburb near my own. Hopkins also happens to be my mom’s hometown!

I had bought a microwaveable breakfast bowl at walmart the night before, so I had a filling breakfast of eggs, potatoes, bacon and cheese. Then I went in search of a bike-friendly way out of town, and found it!

There was a path running parallel to the busy road I had taken the night before, so I cruised to the north end of town to pick the highway back up.

I saw a bunch of military vehicles in a lot, and envisioned the sign: “this could be your family’s next SUV!”

The morning was beautiful and sunny.

But not quite beautiful or sunny enough to make me think I was in Miami.

I had stopped to rest in the ditch, because there was no place else to stop, and I think people thought I had a wreck. A guy pulled over to check on me, and though I didn’t catch a picture of his face, this is the back of his truck as he drove away.

Five or so miles later, I hit Louisburg, the last city before the state line. The gas station there provided me with chocolate milk and a sense of Kansas closure.

I then saw something I’ve never seen. A sign let me know that I had only four miles to go!

Sure enough, four miles later, I saw the signs.

After struggling to get a picture of myself in front of the Missouri sign while dogs barked at me from the house nearby, a man hopped over his fence and offered to take one for me. Apparently, he does this a lot.

As if the universe knew how glad I was to escape the grasp of Kansas and its insane wideness, the next town seemed to be a statement. I’m free, man!

The next sign almost made me regret heading toward Harrisonville. I’d like to have seen just what it is that earns Peculiar its title.

But for just one mile more, I decided Harrisonville probably held more for me.

My assumption proved correct. I saw my first Jimmy John’s of the trip! If you’re not from the Midwest, Jimmy John’s is a sub shop that kicks Subway’s butt. So naturally, I had to go inside and see if a Missouri Jimmy John’s is like a Minneapolis one.
Indeed, they are identical in decoration. However, there is no bicycle delivery, a quality Minneapolis stores possess. But John and Matt were working!

It was fun to hang out and banter with them about track and field as a collection of sports, and not a single sport, among other interesting topics, but as pleasant as the banter was, their opinions about my camping options in Harrisonville were not at all pleasant.
I could camp in the park near the cemetery (uhh, no. creepy), or I could camp in the park further away from the center of town, where the cops aren’t likely to check for suspicious activity. In a town as big as Harrisonville and with dark quickly approaching, I decided not to take my chances with public camping.
And so back to a motel I went. The Harrisonville Inn and Suites is at the north end of town, across the street from a Quik (Kwik? Quick?) Trip, and a walmart just up the road.
I was able to do my laundry, have a shower, and get a Bluetooth headset from walmart! As much as I liked the other headset, it seemed to be having issues staying plugged into my phone. And so, bike safely indoors, laundry clean, and new gadget charging, I slept soundly yet again.