Katy Trail Day 3: Sedalia and Boonville

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I snuck back to Meriwether for breakfast because, of course I did.

I wanted to go see a part of the trail on the west side of Missouri, and I'd passed signs for the Missouri State Fairgrounds for years, so my next trip was to Sedalia, about 60 miles southwest of Columbia. It was a mixed bag.

The restored train depot in Sedalia is the nicest facility like it on the Katy. The museum for the railroad is great, as is the gift shop, and well worth the drive. The trailhead is not as nice, however.

First, I biked west, a section of the Katy that's a lot more like a suburban bike tide. You pedal through backyards and over highways, not reaching quiet until you get near the state fairgrounds. It's pretty, but not my favorite. So I stopped at 6 miles. The other direction, however, was even more disappointing.

At Sedalia, the trail takes a hard right turn -- onto the street. I hopped in my car and followed the signs looking for a spot when crushed gravel, off-road cycling would return. Twenty minutes later, all the way through town, I was still looking and convinced I'd made a mistake. I hadn't. The trail path was pretty well-marked. But only about 30 minutes later, at the edge of a corn field, did I spot the return of the real Katy. There was basically no parking, however. So I decided to skip it and drive onto Boonville, halfway back to Columbia, my next scheduled stop. I had driven nearly three hours and biked 6 miles. This had me in a bad mood.

Fortunately, Boonville more than made up for it. First off, I pedaled across another great Missouri River bridge. Uh oh, I realized, as I freewheeled it down a long ramp on the other side. I have another big climb coming up.

There is an old, flat train bridge across the river in Boonville, but it hasn't been repaired yet, so cyclists have to divert across surface roads here, too. The detour is short, but the highway bridge is steep. The town is hard at work raising money to turn that bridge into a part of the trail.

Back across the river -- I must have crossed the river 25 times during the week -- the weather finally broke and I was finally warm. And the files stretched out for miles. I forgot all about my Sedalia blues. Then, one of many great surprises on the trail: New Franklin. Missouri's history is rich, I keep learning. Here, the Santa Fe Trail was born. This spot was the gateway that opened up the U.S. to trade with Mexico, and also to the Oregon coast. I get more chills.

Back to Boonville, I fight my way up the bridge and back to my car. After a great lunch at Main Street Cafe, which is straight out of central casting, and drive for just a minute to the restored Boonville Depot, which is the real trailhead in town. There's another museum -- with fantastic simulations of equipment used by Lewis & Clark.

I pedal west this time and learn one of those lessons you learn when you are out in the middle of nowhere by yourself and have nothing to do but think. I'm riding slow, my smartphone tells me. The miles just aren't flowing smoothly. Am I exhausted? I don't feel any worse than yesterday. But I just don't have it. I fight through three long miles, and turn around, for a total of 6, which completes my day.

Then, as I turn around, it hits me. I was pedaling uphill the whole time. Now, I'm racing back towards Boonville at a great clip, and it's easy. On a rail-trail project, the grades are so slight, you can miss them. But gravity always wins. Even a small grade, over a long time, really takes the wind out of you. And it made me think: How often in life are you pedaling uphill and don't know it? On the other hand, how often are you benefiting from a nice tail-wind and you don't realize that? I write a lot about people in financial trouble, and I often encounter critical types who love to get judge-y with my subjects. "If they are in debt, it's their own fault" types. And I thought: How many of them have been pedaling downhill all their lives, and don't know it? Sometimes, we don't realize others have been fighting a headwind all their lives, or a slow-steady uphill climb. You just never know. Judging others is a mistake.

After Boonville, I've nearly caught up to my goals. My plan is to make it to 90 miles by the end of tomorrow, then ride those last 10 miles on my way out of town, back in Augusta where I started. I celebrate by driving to the Les Bourgeois winery, near Rocheport, which spots an amazing blufftop A-frame where you can watch the sun go down. I end up watching a very happy squirrel chow down on pumpkins. And a great sunset.

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