Katy Trail Connects Family to Missouri's Past, Future:
By Ligaya Figueras

Covering 264 miles on bike, in occasionally less-than-ideal weather, with two kids, a husband and a lot of pluck, writer Ligaya Figueras takes readers on Part II of her Katy Trail State Park journey. Her goal: in stages, bike the entirety of the longest rail-trail in the country with her family. What she finds along the way: connections of both the historical and familial kind.

(*Read Part I of Ligaya's adventures)

Among the many city paths, state parks, downtown bike lanes and back road hills that my family has pedaled in Missouri and Illinois, the Katy Trail State Park has become our favorite. The longest converted rail-trail in the United States offers a dynamic way to trace Missouri's history and pass on the legacy of our native state to our two sons, ages 11 and 7. On our latest bike adventure through rural Missouri, we would witness traces left by the area's first settlers and observe developments vital to the economic success of communities along the lower Missouri River.
 
The plan was to spend Easter weekend cycling 60 miles, beginning in Treloar and ending at the capitol city, Jefferson City. We had already covered 84 miles in our quest to bike the 264-mile state trail, including an overnight stay in Marthasville, near mile marker 77. This three-day trip, however, would test our endurance and resourcefulness as we would have no SAG support and limited access to bike shops and eateries.
 
We planned our packing in cubic-inches, carefully selecting tubes, patch kit, bedding and other gear that we would transport in panniers and on rear and front racks. My father-in-law generously provided shuttle service to Treloar, about an hour-and-a-half drive from our home in St. Louis.
 
Day One

Day One took us past the tiny towns of Bernheimer, Gore, Case and McKittrick. Towering bluffs topped with evergreens lined the trail's northern side. For many miles, a look to the south gave view to the river and to a few barges and tugboats that continue to play a role in Missouri's long history as a link between Eastern rail and western water traffic. Tiny green leaves and buds emerged from trees and brush, and purple Missouri primrose dotted the ground, heralding springtime.
 
During a rest stop, the boys spotted something moving along a rotting, fallen tree branch. My nature-lovers scrambled over to discover a couple tree lizards whose sun-basking we had interrupted. The slender creatures darted into a pile of dead leaves, but not before the boys captured some snapshots of their reptilian friends. This was practically our only animal sighting of the day; with below-50 degree temperatures and a blustery headwind, we passed just three brave trail-goers during the 16-mile trek to end in historic Hermann.
 
Hermann was founded in 1836 by the German Settlement Society of Philadelphia and their leader George Bayer, who envisioned the town to be a self-supporting refuge for German heritage and traditions. After a bumpy start, the town grew as a center of winemaking and riverboat traffic. These days, wine connoisseurs from around the country flock to the seat of Missouri's wine country to taste internationally acclaimed vintages and to spend the night at one of the best bed-and-breakfast destinations in the Midwest: the Captain Wohlt Inn.
 
I had called around to many a Hermann innkeeper, but the owners of the Captain Wohlt persuaded me that their establishment boasted the richest history lesson in all of town. Indeed, all four buildings in this peaceful haven—three brick homes and one wooden—were built between 1840 and 1892 and are listed on the National Historic Registry. The inn also boasts the only remaining hand-crafted wooden door in Hermann. The owners, Mat and Kent, have lovingly restored the eight rooms and four suites, decorating them with antique furnishings apropos to the theme of each room which the art-loving Mat has lined with original paintings. Of course, what our children enjoyed most was the candy bowl filled with M&Ms and the chance to zone out to cartoons in their own comfy bed.
 
Day Two

The next morning, I strolled through the city center past many restored German and Victorian-style buildings now listed on the National Historic Registry. After a hearty gourmet breakfast, Mat escorted us safely across the bridge over the Missouri River amidst heavy highway construction of the new Christopher S. Bond Bridge. Upon completion, the bridge will connect Hermann with the Katy Trail via an eight-foot bicycle/pedestrian lane separated from car traffic by a concrete safety barrier. Rarely does a bicyclist get to control traffic. So as the four of us pedaled across the bridge with a line of trucks behind us, we were charged with a most exhilarating sense of power and swiftly cycled the mile or so back to the trailhead at McKittrick to continue our westward journey.
 
The day was overcast and down-right cold as we pedaled against wind and flurries, across steel trestle bridges with wooden planks, and past miles of still-barren farmland. We breaked to picnic in Blufton on the Steamboat Junction Campground (mile 110.7) where the owner thoughtfully offered us hot cider even though the property was still closed for the season. Near mile marker 120, we marveled at Standing Rock, a huge boulder whose markings record high-water points from floods as early as 1903. Try as they might, the stone was too big for the kids to climb, so we hopped back on our bikes and pedaled onward. It was late afternoon and we realized that we would have to pick up the pace to make it the last 11 miles to the tiny town of Tebbetts before sunset. We heard the sounds of birds chirping loudly overhead and the crunch of weighted tires over the limestone path beneath as we buckled down for some serious riding. The only stop was in Portland to order a quick take-out dinner from the trailhead bar and grill—the only eatery for miles around.
 
By the time we pulled in to the Turner Katy Trail Shelter in Tebbetts, we were freezing and famished. Accommodations at the hostel which is run by the Conservation Foundation of Missouri include 40 bunk beds, hot showers, running toilets, a refrigerator, microwave, air conditioning, even a coffee maker. Weary Katy Trial hikers and bikers like us gladly buck up the $5 a night donation to keep the unmanned facility operational.
 
After dinner, the kids explored the upstairs portion of the two-story clapboard and were soon engrossed in a cutthroat game of ping pong. I, as self-designated logistics specialist, ventured across the street to Jim's Kountry Store on a mission for breakfast provisions. Jim prefers to stock beer rather than bagels, but he scrounged up enough so that we could make-do without starving. At bedtime, the kids proceeded to test the mattress on every top bunks, but by 2 a.m., their painstaking selection didn't matter—we were so cold in our thin layer of pajamas that the four of us doubled up on two bottom bunks.
 
Day Three

The third day proved to be the biggest challenge. To start, we awoke to frigid temperatures and a flat tire. Lucky for us, the shelter has a fantastic bicycle repair room where my handyman husband adeptly changed the rear tire while I took charge of layering the kids with every shirt, sock and glove that I could find. Out on the trail, there was no hiding from the 10-degree wind chill. We battled the headwind, frequently traveling as a flock to maximize drafting. The last 13 miles became less tedious when rays of sunshine and the scene of imposing bluffs reappeared.  With four miles left, we spotted the dome of Jefferson City's Capitol building and whooped victory. Playing the ETA game ("What time is it now, Dad?") diverted attention from our weary legs and wind-burned faces.
 
We arrived at the trailhead 45 minutes later and huddled together, a sleeping bag wrapped around us. As I looked out at the highway spanning across the Missouri River and into Jefferson City's historic civic center, I envisioned the beautiful new pedestrian bridge that the Missouri State Parks Foundation hopes to soon erect on the existing highway.  Proponents of the Missouri River Pedestrian Bridge Project hope that by making the capitol easily accessible for state park users—much like the current bridge project in Hermann—local businesses will see an increase in tourist spending. For now, cyclists must rely on a bike shuttle to cross the bridge safely.
 
As we awaited taxi service, my elder son traced his fingers along the display map, absorbed in thoughts of our memorable trip. Our journey may span merely inches on a road map, but logging 144 miles is no ride around the block.