June 13, 2018. Eureka, MO to Pocahontas, Illinois

M82.9 miles. I took a butter knife with me to cut through the humidity as I walked out of the Rv at 7:30 a.m. to start what figured to be my last day in the saddle. Pam had a hell of a time trying to find a campground that was in my mileage range that could accept big rigs. More about that later, however.
Not very far into the ride out of Eureka, I turned north onto MO 109, and was met by a very impressive climb to start my day. It was made easier by the fact that I was pretty sure that it would be my last big climb. The only thing that was more harrowing than the climb was the descent. I was in a shoulder, about two feet wide, with a ditch on my right, and rush hour traffic, complete with triaxle trucks, blowing down the road in my left. My Garmin told me that I hit 38 mph myself. That's ok when I have an entire lane or wide shoulder, but there really wasn't much room for error, and a pothole or chunk of debris in that little shoulder, and I was in the ditch. With Buddy's wedding coming, a picture of me in a body cast leaning up against a tree in the Bisking's back yard, flashed through my brain, but all ended well.
Then the next stretch of about ten miles was on multiuse trails with nice asphalt pavement and shading tree canopies. The one trail was  not a rails to trails for sure, because it got downright steep as I made my way up to Old State Road.
The last time I rode through St Louis, I didn't really hit the best parts of town, and  thought St Louis was pretty much a hole. Well, this time, I came in through the nice suburbs. It was more or less a straight shot for about 20 miles once I got on Clayton Road, which was just mile after mile of beautiful homes, nice neighborhoods, carefully designed strip malls, and country club golf courses. Many of the trophy wives were out for a jog on the paseos (jogging trails). I did not see a single fast food place along the entire stretch, because k was getting hungry.
Once I descended into the city of St Louis, the road quality went to hell, but traffic wasn't bad, and it wasn't long before​ I was in more older, but nice neighborhoods with dedicated bike lanes. Then it was into a huge city park with bike lanes, jogging lanes, golf courses, lakes, monuments, playgrounds and lots of green space, with the tall downtown buildings in the distance. I could not see the famous arch though.
That's when things took a turn for the worse, but one I'm getting used to. I heard a POP-HISS! Flat back tire. Damn. It wasn't a slow leak this time though. The belts in the tire had blown out, and I had a major problem. That tire was not repairable. An old trick would have been to fold up a dollar bill and cover the hole on the inside, but instead I googled bike shops, and Mike's Bikes was 1.4 miles away. I walked the distance, and got a new tube and tire, are at a Subway, all very close to downtown. When I got rolling again, I was on the east side of St Louis, and once I passed St Louis University, I got into the bad section of town. Nine out if every ten buildings were in some state of abandonment and disrepair, most caving in or burned out. The streets were deserted, and the roads only got worse. I've never bounced across so many railroad tracks in my life. I had to walk across some of them. There was quite an industrial area, which led to the Mississippi River, where I picked up the McKinley Bridge bike trail, which is one of very few ways a bicycle can cross legally. The RT 66 route takes its course across the Isle of Rocks bridge, which I believe is further north. Speaking of the 66 route, I totally bailed on that trail, and just took the easiest route, which was definitely the Google maps route. It didn't even try to take me on any dirt roads or grown over pipeline trails. Once across the bridge, my route was about exactly what I did previously, except for the very end. The route mostly was on the Madison County Transit Trail System, which is a very impressive rails to trails system, with nice asphalt and a great tree canopy when it wasn't cutting through soy bean, corn, and wheat fields. I was running parallel with some busy roads but I really had no idea where I was. I was making great time, and feeling good, all the while contemplating that this was the last ride of the trip, and that Buddy was getting married. I could push on for another day or two, but I decided against it, because Illinois and Indiana are the easiest, and quite frankly, the most boring part of the trip. If I wasn't going to be able to finish it, it seemed like a good time to pull the plug. While I'm in good shape, I plan on continuing some long biking rides where ever I may be this summer.
When the bike trails ended, and I got back out onto the roads, I was really lost. There were small towns, I crossed I 70, going south when I thought I was riding north, I rode some on US 40, then on Illinois 143. I was way out in the country, in a place where there was farming, but I couldn't fathom how Pam found a campground in this area. It turns out that it was a fishing and hunting type camp with two lakes, and 99% permanent sites. There really weren't any gravel roads leading to our site. Pam had just driven through the grass, to our power pole. And I did the same, and it just seemed weird to end up in a place where I've never been, never will be again, and didn't know where I was at the time. It was sort of sad to put the Surly Ogre on the back of the Jeep, but I was ready to be done in some ways also. We were pretty close to I 70, which is a straight shot home, so we were done. We've never been parents of the groom before, so that is alot to look forward to. Let's do it.

June 12, 2018, Sullivan, MO to Euricka, MO

37.44 miles. I worked overtime yesterday, so we could have an easy day at the KOA, hit the pool, and relax before taking on downtown St Louis tommorow. RT 66 pretty much followed closely to I 44, with some side trips through small towns. It began rolling, as usual, but there was nothing serious to test my beat up legs. I took it easy, and gradually got my wheels back, especially as things leveled out. About half way through the ride, 66 descended into the Borboeuse River valley, which I had never heard of. I crossed the bridge and began a long, gentle climb out of the valley. The shoulder was really wide for 66, and the busy traffic was not an issue. The road peaked out at Gray's Summit, which would be the highest point on the trip. Then the fun started. The long downhill ended with a nice level ride through the town of Pacific. The shoulder of the road in town was not real clean, and you guessed it, flat tire number six. It was a very slow leak, and I just pumped it up and tried to go as far as I could before I needed to do it again. I pumped it up one more time, and the town of Pacific blended into the town of Eureka, after a short ride along some bluffs, similar to the ones I saw on the KATY Trail, which is a bit north of here. As soon as I saw the Eureka city limits sign, the KOA appeared, before the main part of the town. Six Flags amusement park is only a mile or two away, but I didn't even know it. Pam and I hit the pool for a few hours, during the hottest part of the day, with about ten of our closest  juvenile friends and their families.
At about five o'clock, we cleaned up a little and went into town to hit a bike shop to get a tube, and eat at a sports bar, before calling it a night. The bike tech thinks I've been getting flats because the rim trim between the metal rim and the tube was crinkled up. He worked on it, and hopefully got it straightened out.

June 11, 2018 Waynesville, MO to Sullivan, MO

80.0 miles. As I write this, I am exhausted. Today may have been the toughest 80 mile ride of my life. I was gassed at 35 miles, but I kept going. I don't know if it's cumulative fatigue, my age, or the fact that it was the hottest day of the year in this area, or the stifling humidity, but it took all that I had to finish. Pam offered to come and get me, but it was just time to man up, because I don't know if I will ever do this again. The fact that I got through today without cramping up, is testament to the 'Extreme Endurance' pills that I have taken the last couple of times I've ridden long distance. I discovered these pills at Landis bike shop in Phoenix, and they are loaded with the minerals I need to keep from cramping, and they also keep lactic acid from forming, which makes your muscles sore. That's why cumulative fatigue gets my vote as a reason I bonked. There was just no juice in the legs, especially on the hills. And, oh, what hills there were! I only climbed 3200 ft, but there were three hills where I climbed 250-500 ft in a mile, or a little more. It was epic tenderization of my quads.
Now, for the details. I was out the door at my normal 7:30 a.m. or so. I had a sweat going before I got out of the campground. It was near 75 degrees and 75 % humidity. The first six miles were pretty much downhill into Waynesville, but the first of the big climbs from downtown Waynesville to St Robert, took more of a toll than I would know. As I was leaving town, I got the fifth flat tire if the trip. I have no idea what caused my back wheel to go flat, but it set me back about a half an hour.  I was sweating so bad I had a hard time getting things together, and it wasn't yet 9 a.m. US 66 was not in the best of shape for this entire ride. There were some stretches of origional concrete in the early one third of the trip, but they weren't in the greatest shape. It felt like I hit a frost heaves or a crack every twenty feet for 80 miles. That's an exaggeration, but you get the idea. My butt only has so many positions I can sit in, and even my wrists bothered me for the first time in this trip. I stuck with the RT 66 biway signs, and even took stretch of 1926 to 1941 road that was really rough, because I wanted to find out what Devil's Elbow was. It was a bend that went around a hill with a wall holding the road up. It then descended quickly to a nice river, and an old bridge with a new surface. An old, origional stretch of four lane road, provided the second big climb of the day. It didn't look terrible, but it felt terrible. When I got to the top of the hill, old 66 was eaten up by I 44, and the 66 biway signs disappeared for the first time in Missouri. I was baffled at first, but I broke out the Adventure Cycling Assn. map for one of the few times I've had to, and the road veered quite a bit away from I 44, on RT J, to P, to T (Missouri roads often have letters instead of numbers, and they really don't  make much sense to me) RT P took me down, and rode along quite a stretch through what I believe was the Mark Twain National Forest. Huge oak and pine trees kept the road semi shaded. It was mostly flat and quiet, and I even saw a deer cross the road in front of me. It was definitely the coolest part of the ride, in both senses of the word. P took me through the small town of Newburg, and there was a pretty good climb up to the small town of Doolittle. From there I was back on 66, and the biway signs reappeared. I ran parallel with I 44 until another leg smashing climb into Rolla. At this point I stopped for lunch at an Arby's, and tried to cool off and regroup. I was only 35 miles into it, and I was running on fumes. Rolla had a nice college, Missouri S & T, which I had never heard of (Science and Technology), but it had a huge and nice πka house, which is my fraternity, and in the past I have seeked the houses out on the campuses I explored.
The last half of the trip just went on forever. There was zero wind all day, which made it seem hotter. I dreaded every uphill, and took quite a few short breaks in each small town. It really leveled out ( as much as Missouri does), but the damage was done. I limped into the Flying J parking lot, which is where we stayed, in Sullivan, nestled amount the big trucks, after 8 1/2 hours to do a measly 80 miles. What a struggle it was.

June 10, 2018 Strafford, MO to Waynesville, MO

73.81 miles. All of the bad wind days that started this trip are turning into a string of good wind days, just like they were supposed to be. The prevailing south west wind is doing its thing. Not so much blowing me across Missouri, as much as keeping me cool on what has been some hot days, and giving me just a little push. Once again , the weather was supposed to be in the middle 90's, with high humidity, and it did not fail. I rolled out at 7:30, with winds at my back and temps in the low 70,s.
The first third of the trip was headed mostly northish, it seemed, and I had plenty of shade from the tall trees on the east side of the road. The scenery was more forested, and less farm land than previous days. Small towns dotted the route every 10-15 miles, and the area was steady with residential homes along old 66. The hills were very apparent, as I climbed about 3000 ft. for the day, but the downhills seemed just a little longer than the ups. If someone rode the route that I rode today going east to west, they would have climbed 700 ft more, into a headwind. Which begs an answer to the question: " Why would anyone want to start the route 66 trip in Chicago, and go west?" When I was still riding with Ben, we came across a young guy who was headed east to west. We met him near the Oklahoma/Kansas/Missouri border, and he went on about how hilly Missouri was. Duh. If you start your trip at the Mississippi River and climb to the Great Plains, it's gonna be tougher than if you come out of the high desert, down to the Great Plains, and on down to the Mississippi, in St Louis. After you do all that climbing, headed west, you are greeted with the desert Southwest of New Mexico and Arizona, where it is 110 now, and getting hotter.  This guy we met was named Graham, and he really didn't think his trip through. Youth is so wasted on the young. But I digress.
Now, back to my trip. 66 finally was void of the damn rumble strips in the shoulder, but that's because there were no shoulders. Nor was there traffic. It was Sunday morning, but even so. As close as 66 parallels I 44, there is no reason to be on meandering 66 unless ur a local. The rumble strips were replaced by frost heaves and cracks, but they weren't terrible.  I made the larger town of Lebanon for my 50 mile marker, but did not stop for lunch, as I packed a couple of sandwiches, which I ate as I rode. I did stop to refill some water bottles and wet down my sweat band, as the heat was starting to crank.
Somewhere near the sleepy town of Sleeper, I came across two curious things at the same time. There was a sign that said "bridge closed ahead.   Three miles. There was also a biker that seemed to be debating what to do, because the 66 biway signs were putting us in to I 44. These two developments caused me to stop and chat with the guy. He was French, with very silver hair, which made him look like he was pushing 70 years old. He had a heavy duty little bike with a single wheeled trailer, and a gas motor on the bike to assist him. His grasp of our language was pretty good, but not great. As we were talking I noticed that he had two, basically flat tires. I guess he had been stopping as often as needed and pumping up his Slime filled tubes, so he didn't have to change them. As we were chatting, a pick up stopped and told us that we could cross the closed bridge on bikes, just not cars. Frenchy was happy about that because he hated the interstate, and I, who love the interstate, couldn't resist the temptation to cross a closed bridge. He insisted that I go ahead, while he pumped up his tubes, so with a fist bump, I was on my way.
Three miles later, after some wicked downhill where I hit nearly 40 mph, I came to the bridge. By the old age of some roadside signs pleading to fix the old bridge, not replace it, because of the historical value, I could tell that the bridge has been closed for a long, long time. I lifted my Surly Ogre (that would be the name of my bike) over the guardrail blocking the bridge, and as I dodged potholes, looked longingly at the clear water of the  Gasconade River flowing below, and entertained the thought of going down to it and basking in it's coolness. It was hot, but I kept my eyes on the prize, and kept moving.  The far end of the bridge was also blocked by guardrail, but the pavement had been torn up to show the same concrete surface, with the little curb, that I described riding on through a large part of Oklahoma. The history of the bridge hit me when I saw the origional pavement, so I hope they refurbish the bridge, not replace it. It will probably cost more to refurbish it than tear it down and start over again. As I was starting up the equally wicked hill on the other side of the bridge, I looked back and saw Frenchy, who had recruited someone from somewhere to help him lift his cumbersome bike and trailer over the guardrail. I figured he would catch me soon, as I muscled up the hill, but I never saw him till my trip was done ( more on that later).
The last 25 miles to my destination of Waynesville was more hills, and much of the same ol, same ol, until I rumbled down a pretty big  ( like two/three mile) hill into Waynesville. I stopped at a convenience store to turn on the GPS and see where the campground was, when Pam called at the same second I was getting my phone out. She told me that I had blown past the campground and went about five miles too far. (She can track me on a special app that we have)   It wasn't much of a decision that I wasn't going to climb back up that hill, so she came and got me (Such a great wife and support person). In the meantime I googled the nearest Dairy Queen, and it was only three miles further down the road, so we decided to get lunch.(as I was loading my bike in the Jeep, ol Frenchy came rolling by, about 20 minutes behind me I would guess. I wonder how many times he stopped to pump up his tires). It was about 2:30, so we were both hungry, but the damn DQ was shut down, as often happens in these small towns, with lots of restaurants that we might have eaten at. Fortunately, there was a Sonic right next door, so that, it was. We backtracked the eight miles to home base. The campgrounds in Missouri basically suck, and I missed ours because it's sign only faced one direction. The other way. And it was down in a hollow off the road. Pam sat outside and tried to figure out next campground, and totally struck out, so tommorow night may be spent at a truck stop. Did I mention that the campgrounds in Missouri are few and far between, and that the ones we can find, suck? Just a word to the wise, who read this blog.

June 9,2018 Carthage, MO to Strafford, MO

74.55 miles. Another early start (for me), around 7:30 a.m.  I grabbed some breakfast, and rode back to RT 66 through town, even though GPS told me that there was a shorter way. ( Yea right.....on some cow path). 66 started out wonderfully, as the first 20 miles I rode was on brand spanking new asphalt. Nice shoulder, not even line painted yet. I rode past a festival of some sort that they were just starting to set up in the town square, near the Courthouse in Carthage, and past a kids fishing tournament at a lake just outside of town. The roads rolled very gently because I climbed over 2000 ft for the day, but smooth surface and a tailwind make the hills seem smaller. I only switched down to the granny gear on the front sprocket twice. The scenery was non descript hay fields, either cut and bailed or not, corn and soybean, cattle, lots of farm houses and ranches, made of the roundish stone that must be plentiful here. There were lots of signs and billboards reminding you to fear God and fear hell. Small towns and ghost towns were the only things I saw. There was exactly one convenience store/gas station from Carthage until I hit the outskirts of Springfield, 60 miles later. Traffic picked up as the day went on, and the road gradually deteriorated as far as bicycling after those first 20 miles of fresh asphalt. The road was fine, but the shoulders got narrowed down to about two feet, and then, the rumble strips in the middle of the shoulder began. I rode out in the road and just did my best as traffic was at it's worst when I had the rumble strips. That seems to be a Missouri thing. Adventure Cycling has been working with States on that very problem, but Missouri hasn't done much. With the old 66 route coming through their state now, at least they hadn't put them in where the new asphalt was.......yet.
Springfield is a town of 160,000 people, and was very easily navigated just by following the blue,  Rt 66 biway signs. Downtown was nice, with a neat square in the middle of town, Missouri State University, and I saw the crowd arriving at the convention center for an indoor football game against the Tulsa Roughnecks. Drury University is here as well as Evangel University. I sorta get the feeling I'm in Bible thumping country. Ten miles east of Springfield, I ran parallel with I 44, past all the trucking companies that weren't working because it was the weekend, I came to the town of Strafford, where Pam was wedged into a very narrow site at the Strafford Rv Park.
Overall, the cloud cover was pretty good today, but there was a big, badass, cloud just ahead of me when I pulled into the Rv Park, but even though Pam had gotten damp a little earlier, I felt exactly two drops. I may complete this entire, shortened trip, without getting wet. Traffic was really light through town, probably because it was a Saturday, but 66 had more truck traffic than I expected on both sides of Springfield.

June 8, 2018 North Miami, OK to Carthage, Missouri

48.06 miles. Campgrounds that can handle our stegasaurus are few and far between in this area. My choices, after consulting with my trip concierge, (Pam) were 50 miles, or 100 miles. I chose 50. The wind was good, the cloud cover was apparent at times, I had the time, just not the desire. Temps were going to be in the high 90's, with heat index near 100, so I decided not to kill myself. With the realization that I'm not going to finish this trip, I've lost motivation to pound day after day. I'm good with where ever I stop, and the reason for stopping is as good as it gets, with our son getting married.
Ben and I rode out at about 8:30 after I grabbed a breakfast sandwich at the casino, and filled up all the water bottles with the type of ice that I like. ( Crushed.....it lasts longer than cubes). We were on the same road, but it seemed to have many different names. 66, 69a, among others. We passed thru the small village of Quapaw, and then it was mildly rolling  through the very Southeast corner of Kansas, and into Joplin, Missouri. Ben and I parted ways on Main Street in Joplin. He was headed north to ride the Katy Trail across the state to St Louis, and I was staying the course on old route 66. Joplin was smaller than I thought it was, but Webb City, and other towns stretched along 66 all the way to Carthage. I got onto a limited access road, for a few miles between Webb City and Carthage, but I soon tired of it, and walked my bike through some grass to get back on 66. Once I got to Carthage, I let Google maps guide me through residential areas until I found the Red Barn campground, where Pam had set up shop, near I 44. It was a short day, so I took advantage of my free time to lay around in the air conditioning and do some down time. We couldn't get the Rv door open to get the water hoses out, so Pam called a mobile Rv mechanic, and we got that operable, though not fixed. Then we ate supper at a little RT 66 diner that wasn't on 66, and Pam did some wash while I faded off to an early finish.

June 7, 2018 Catoosa (W. Tulsa) OK to North Miami, OK

87.07 miles. I woke up pretty early and went into the Hard Rock to fill my water bottles with ice, went to McDonald's and had egg McMuffin s until Ben got ready and met me to roll for the day. There was a cloud cover, which lasted all day, and a tailwind was a surprise that also lasted all day. We were barely out of town on old 66, when we picked up a local biker named Pete. He rode with us for about 8 miles, chatting up a storm about his love of bicycling, as we rode down a really nice shoulder, until he peeled of to head home. The nice shoulder stayed with us for just about the entire trip. We were making great time, ( I was gabbing to Ben the entire way...don't know what got into me), and rolled into the town of Vinita, at about the fifty mile marker, in about four hours. We stopped at a store to have lunch, and several cowboy/farmer types were checking us out like we were Martians. They wouldn't make eye contact, let alone speak, but you could tell that they felt we were very unusual types. We probably are in this area, Oklahoma is just a little different when it comes to bicyclists. Earlier we had one pick up truck slow down for us, even though we were on the shoulder, he put on his flashers, passed us slowly, turned his flashers off when he got past us, then resumed his regular speed. And we were on an eight foot wide shoulder! Pretty funny. They just don't have much of a clue as to what to do with us!
We had a storm trailing us for most of the day that dumped four inches of rain in OKC, and had cars floating down the streets, but it went south of us, and we got nothing but the welcomed cloud cover. We passed through many little towns that brought back memories of my last ride through the area. We ended up at the Quapaw ( pronounced  O gah Pa) Casino, which was just north of Miami, where we have stayed a couple of times (in town). Pam found it in her casino camping book. FREE pull through sites with 50 amp power and water, for as long as three days. Ben was allowed to set up his tent in the grass right next to us. There are several small casinos in the area, each belonging to a different tribe. At the Buffalo Run casino, three miles back towards town, I noticed the sign advertised that Grand Funk Railroad was playing.... Tonight! I jumped on that right away. Plans changed. Pam had been cooking supper, but we cancelled that until after the show. I don't how how much Ben knew about GFR, but he went with us. It was worth every penny, as thoroughly enjoyed seeing a band that still sounded great, but are probably near the end of the road. Yesterday, at the Hard Rock, we missed the Charlie Daniels band and Marshall Tucker by a day. We considered hanging around, but the show was sold out. After the show, it was still light outside! We came home, had our supper, and called it a night. Life is not worth living if you can't be spontaneous!