The Ozarks are an amazing feature of Missouri, it feels like I ride along a ridge in the mountains with views over undulating treetops as far as the eye can see. I haven’t seen so many trees in weeks. In prior states like Montana, one could see more than 20 miles away to know when I would arrive at an approaching town. In Missouri, I would have to spot the town water tower, but sometimes it would not appear until the last 3 miles of the ride.
My plan for the day is to get to Meramec Spring Park southeast of Saint James, about 150 miles. It shouldn’t be as hot as in the prior week and I’d like to spend some time out of the hotels.
Highway 7 east of Warsaw is a narrow winding road and I was particularly wary of the traffic but they were very gracious and gave me a wide avenue to ride. I arrived in Osage Beach surprised to see it is such a tourist attraction. I was unaware it was so popular, I should have put the pieces together when I saw most of the vehicles on 7 had more than one passenger. The lake is gorgeous and looks like it has 20 years to grow before getting overcrowded like my native Lake Norman. Old time stores selling crafts and ramshackle bars still adorn the roadsides and RV parks have lakeside access, something our Charlotte area lakes are losing. I stopped at a diner for a burger and shake and the owner and I talked about the area and my route. He was impressed with my daily miles and lamented he wanted to attempt the same feat but life would always get in the way of his desires. I like diners and will choose to stop at a diner over other venues typically because I find they have a unique menu. I unfortunately don’t understand the nostalgia since I am only 28, however I like the concept.
I was wrong about the heat, it was in the upper 90s again by midday, and another 2.5 gallons of Gatorade met its demise this day. I sweat profusely and it soaks my bike, I almost slipped off my bars one time causing the bike to jerk into traffic. Fortunately this time there weren’t any sideview mirrors to catch my error.
About 80 miles into the ride my typical difficulty in changing gears finally came full circle and I could no longer change gears at all. The rear derailleur was also stuck in the hardest gear. I wasn’t upset this time, I was still rolling and it was just another part of the ride. The mole hills in Missouri did become mountains though, and grinding over some of them forced me to the roadside to figure out what was wrong. I couldn’t see anything obvious on the back and decided to screw down the upper limits on the derailleur so I could at least get the gear a little easier to pedal. There was no cell service where I was west of Vienna and I could not find any shade either. I had to get somewhere to call in for remote mechanic service from the Spirited Cyclist! I finally made it to a gas station in Vienna and was grateful for the buy one get one free offer for 32 oz Frost Gatorade. I bought 6 of them.
I called the Spirited Cyclist for help, I was convinced my shifter was dead since it seemed the gearing had walked all the way off of the cassette. They were quick to correct my thinking when they suggested I check the tension on the cable. It was loose and I then checked the cable housing attached to the shifter, it fell off… Well, I was glad to have an extra cable but I felt the immediate need for a 2nd cable in case I screwed up installing the new one. Picture an accountant crowding a little piece of shade on the side of a gas station building, bent over his bike laid on its side baking in the midday sun. The asphalt was becoming wet with sweat dripping from the body, a futile attempt to cool off in the oppressive heat. I had observed Brian back in Denver attempting to adjust my gearing so I tried to mimic the same movements by running the cable through the shifter and down and out the back to the rear derailleur. It did not shift very well based on this approach after trying to adjust the gearing. I had made a stand on the rear pannier and by propping my tent under the front fork to make the adjustments easier. Another call to The Spirited Cyclist made me quickly realize the need to push the shifter on the outermost gear for the cassette. I could have broke my only cable if I had continued my previous path of installation. I had also discovered frayed head of the previous cable was lodged in the shifter and I fished it out with needle nose pliers. I was finally fixed up and ready to go. During this time a couple passersby offered their help. David Anderson was a local and told me about how the RAAM had just recently passed through the same road I was on which prompted him to stop and check on me. He was curious because he thought RAAM participants were supported (they are) and wondered why I was carrying so much gear. We shared a laugh about it and I told him about another motorist who profusely congratulating me for my “coast to coast” tour and how he heard about it on the radio. I guess some of the locals around here thought I was just another loser days behind on the RAAM course.
I had to make a decision between changing course to get to Rolla or continue to Saint James. Rolla had a bike shop but was further west than I wanted to go. I had no additional shifter cables and I was still a little concerned about getting my rear wheel trued. I decided to make for the Cape Girardeau shop at the Illinois border via Saint James.
I had a mental break on US-64 north of Vichy when I saw a rather long climb in front of me. I screamed and yelled at the pavement, there should be no climbs in Missouri. It was 3 miles of uphill with a scenic view at the top. I cursed the scenery and wanted to be home…
I made it to Saint James as the sun was starting to go down, I would not be able to camp this evening because I lost an hour due to the broken shift cable. I crossed I-44 and stopped at Finn’s motel. This motel would be the last time I would stay at a mom and pop place. I think the south has a different style as opposed to the places I have stayed in the West and Midwest. I had to argue with the lady to get a nonsmoking ground floor room, I think innkeepers don’t want to get double rooms to a single person. She pretended not to understand my English and was insistent I could just leave my bike outside next to the office while I stayed in a room upstairs. I told her I would stay elsewhere and suddenly my lucid language cleared the musty office air. My room was nothing special as expected, however I had to unplug the TV because it turned itself on, the toilet ran which I was able to fix, the toilet seat was broken, the lampshades had a peculiar bleached design splashed over the top of the shade, and all the appliances were run off a single extension cord. My neighbor was toothless and also had an RV she lived in parked in the lot. I could not understand her English and it seemed she talked in my general direction but it could have been for own amusement to have a conversation with herself.
I decided Pizza Hut would be dinner for the evening, a place where I have not been for more than 20 years and I did not know what to expect. When I was in elementary school in Lexington NC they ran a promotion if you read 100 books you would get a free personal pizza. I remember getting a few of those pizzas. Tonight would be a medium supreme pizza with root beer. Nice folks in Saint James, a host town for the Tour of Missouri which would start on Labor Day.
I noticed an additional tan line this evening, I was getting a tan through my jersey which stopped at the ridges of the bibs so it looks like I have a white Y down my back.
Tomorrow is 160 miles to the Illinois border where I’ll stop at Cyclewerx in Cape Girardeau for repairs. I have to get there before the 6pm close so I have to leave early.
My plan for the day is to get to Meramec Spring Park southeast of Saint James, about 150 miles. It shouldn’t be as hot as in the prior week and I’d like to spend some time out of the hotels.
Highway 7 east of Warsaw is a narrow winding road and I was particularly wary of the traffic but they were very gracious and gave me a wide avenue to ride. I arrived in Osage Beach surprised to see it is such a tourist attraction. I was unaware it was so popular, I should have put the pieces together when I saw most of the vehicles on 7 had more than one passenger. The lake is gorgeous and looks like it has 20 years to grow before getting overcrowded like my native Lake Norman. Old time stores selling crafts and ramshackle bars still adorn the roadsides and RV parks have lakeside access, something our Charlotte area lakes are losing. I stopped at a diner for a burger and shake and the owner and I talked about the area and my route. He was impressed with my daily miles and lamented he wanted to attempt the same feat but life would always get in the way of his desires. I like diners and will choose to stop at a diner over other venues typically because I find they have a unique menu. I unfortunately don’t understand the nostalgia since I am only 28, however I like the concept.
I was wrong about the heat, it was in the upper 90s again by midday, and another 2.5 gallons of Gatorade met its demise this day. I sweat profusely and it soaks my bike, I almost slipped off my bars one time causing the bike to jerk into traffic. Fortunately this time there weren’t any sideview mirrors to catch my error.
About 80 miles into the ride my typical difficulty in changing gears finally came full circle and I could no longer change gears at all. The rear derailleur was also stuck in the hardest gear. I wasn’t upset this time, I was still rolling and it was just another part of the ride. The mole hills in Missouri did become mountains though, and grinding over some of them forced me to the roadside to figure out what was wrong. I couldn’t see anything obvious on the back and decided to screw down the upper limits on the derailleur so I could at least get the gear a little easier to pedal. There was no cell service where I was west of Vienna and I could not find any shade either. I had to get somewhere to call in for remote mechanic service from the Spirited Cyclist! I finally made it to a gas station in Vienna and was grateful for the buy one get one free offer for 32 oz Frost Gatorade. I bought 6 of them.
I called the Spirited Cyclist for help, I was convinced my shifter was dead since it seemed the gearing had walked all the way off of the cassette. They were quick to correct my thinking when they suggested I check the tension on the cable. It was loose and I then checked the cable housing attached to the shifter, it fell off… Well, I was glad to have an extra cable but I felt the immediate need for a 2nd cable in case I screwed up installing the new one. Picture an accountant crowding a little piece of shade on the side of a gas station building, bent over his bike laid on its side baking in the midday sun. The asphalt was becoming wet with sweat dripping from the body, a futile attempt to cool off in the oppressive heat. I had observed Brian back in Denver attempting to adjust my gearing so I tried to mimic the same movements by running the cable through the shifter and down and out the back to the rear derailleur. It did not shift very well based on this approach after trying to adjust the gearing. I had made a stand on the rear pannier and by propping my tent under the front fork to make the adjustments easier. Another call to The Spirited Cyclist made me quickly realize the need to push the shifter on the outermost gear for the cassette. I could have broke my only cable if I had continued my previous path of installation. I had also discovered frayed head of the previous cable was lodged in the shifter and I fished it out with needle nose pliers. I was finally fixed up and ready to go. During this time a couple passersby offered their help. David Anderson was a local and told me about how the RAAM had just recently passed through the same road I was on which prompted him to stop and check on me. He was curious because he thought RAAM participants were supported (they are) and wondered why I was carrying so much gear. We shared a laugh about it and I told him about another motorist who profusely congratulating me for my “coast to coast” tour and how he heard about it on the radio. I guess some of the locals around here thought I was just another loser days behind on the RAAM course.
I had to make a decision between changing course to get to Rolla or continue to Saint James. Rolla had a bike shop but was further west than I wanted to go. I had no additional shifter cables and I was still a little concerned about getting my rear wheel trued. I decided to make for the Cape Girardeau shop at the Illinois border via Saint James.
I had a mental break on US-64 north of Vichy when I saw a rather long climb in front of me. I screamed and yelled at the pavement, there should be no climbs in Missouri. It was 3 miles of uphill with a scenic view at the top. I cursed the scenery and wanted to be home…
I made it to Saint James as the sun was starting to go down, I would not be able to camp this evening because I lost an hour due to the broken shift cable. I crossed I-44 and stopped at Finn’s motel. This motel would be the last time I would stay at a mom and pop place. I think the south has a different style as opposed to the places I have stayed in the West and Midwest. I had to argue with the lady to get a nonsmoking ground floor room, I think innkeepers don’t want to get double rooms to a single person. She pretended not to understand my English and was insistent I could just leave my bike outside next to the office while I stayed in a room upstairs. I told her I would stay elsewhere and suddenly my lucid language cleared the musty office air. My room was nothing special as expected, however I had to unplug the TV because it turned itself on, the toilet ran which I was able to fix, the toilet seat was broken, the lampshades had a peculiar bleached design splashed over the top of the shade, and all the appliances were run off a single extension cord. My neighbor was toothless and also had an RV she lived in parked in the lot. I could not understand her English and it seemed she talked in my general direction but it could have been for own amusement to have a conversation with herself.
I decided Pizza Hut would be dinner for the evening, a place where I have not been for more than 20 years and I did not know what to expect. When I was in elementary school in Lexington NC they ran a promotion if you read 100 books you would get a free personal pizza. I remember getting a few of those pizzas. Tonight would be a medium supreme pizza with root beer. Nice folks in Saint James, a host town for the Tour of Missouri which would start on Labor Day.
I noticed an additional tan line this evening, I was getting a tan through my jersey which stopped at the ridges of the bibs so it looks like I have a white Y down my back.
Tomorrow is 160 miles to the Illinois border where I’ll stop at Cyclewerx in Cape Girardeau for repairs. I have to get there before the 6pm close so I have to leave early.
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