Happy Sunday morning. I’m enjoying mine with a brew and smug-feeling inducing carrot, apple and cinnamon porridge in my parents’ kitchen in Leicestershire. If I’d had to predict 2 months ago where I would be on June 11th my answer would have been west of Stockholm, but east of Copenhagen. Not much has really gone to plan in the last 7 weeks and for that reason the blog is now the most behind it has ever been. Jo will be writing to explain more about all of that, and i’ll be trying to catch up on the so far ignored bits of Thailand and Laos.
It has been good to have the chance to see lots of family and friends during our return to the UK. Being car-less that has meant we have spent quite a bit of time doing the same as being on tour. Riding bikes with panniers, staying only one night at various friends/family then going somewhere else, navigating new routes to get there. There’s been some brilliant cycling in Leicestershire, as enjoyable as anywhere in the world, so if you’re local, get out and explore some of the lovely roads. The area between Measham and Hinckley is especially good, pick the smallest roads and you will pretty much only see other cyclists, and loads of them.
Despite the fun at home, we very much feel that we need to finish (Finnish) the trip off properly, or as close to ‘properly’ as we can. There was never a fixed route for the ride, but 18000 miles was always in mind as a minimum distance – it’s what Guinness count as an around the world ride. Although we have not succeeded in our aim to cross Asia overland (we were always going to have some train help), we were pretty clear on still reaching this total. To make life easier with visas (and Jo’s almost full passport) we decided to restrict this final leg of the journey to Europe. Unlike the UK government, this week we made a plan for how we would tackle it.
If the original route had worked out, we would have arrived in Helsinki by ferry and ridden home. So we could fly to Helsinki, but that seems a little dull/easy/annoying with bike boxes. Instead, here’s a rough outline. When I say rough outline, I mean, here’s all of our planning to date:
Ferry Harwich-Hook of Holland : Ride to The Hague : Eat Dutch apple cake : Train from the Hague-Hamburg : Ride to Travemunde : Ferry to Latvia (I know, definitely NOT in the original trip schedule) : Ride to Tallinn, Estonia via Riga : Ferry Tallinn-Helsinki : Ride home from Helsinki.
Seems reasonable to me, though the menus need more work. We don’t have to fly and get two Brucie Bonus capital cities to visit. There’s at least 3 overnight ferries for pretending to be in an Agatha Christie novel. It should take about 7-8 weeks, back in time for the incredibly early school term start in Leicestershire, and takes us comfortably over the magic 18,000. Route advice always welcome if you have knowledge of the area.
Once again we have only a few days to go, and virtually nothing ready. Seriously. We currently don’t have a tent – somehow the poles got left in China. Yes, I agree, it is a wonder we got so far unsupervised. Friends should feel relieved at this point that for this trip we are not moving out of a house. You will not be required to install carbon monoxide detectors, search through piles of our disorganised paperwork, or felt the shed roof. This time we thank you instead for driving out of your way to see us, giving us places to stay, taking us to train stations, squeezing bikes in your cars and generally being kind and wonderful during the return we didn’t plan for.
As with Japan, we never planned to go to Korea. Until we read that there is an amazing network of mostly off-road, paved cycle routes that cross costs and one of these runs almost the length of the country from Busan in the south, where the ferry from Japan arrives, and Seoul in the north, from where we could fly to New Zealand. Sold. We were going to Korea. The morning we left Japan our AirBnB host had some words of advice. As with most conversations we had in Japan, he talked into his phone in Japanese and showed us the English translation. “Don’t cross the border by mistake”. We laughed. He laughed too. Then he repeated it. Even without his advice, we were pretty sure we’d be staying firmly in South Korea. As soon as we got on the ferry we realised how quiet Japan had been. The ferry, full of Koreans, was loud, and people were shouting and bustling about in a way that was not very Japanese. We found our cabin, which contained 12 cubby holes with futons and a blanket. Half of our roomies were asleep already. We realised Koreans were using plug adaptors for their phones. Hmm so we would have to buy adaptors before we could charge anything in Korea. We realised we didn’t really know much about the country we were about to arrive in. A quick google had search told us that Koreans drive on the right (Japan is left). Good to know.
It was dark when we arrived in Busan. The port area was impressive, and the ferry terminal itself very like Japan, right down to the fancy toilets and the 7/11. As we were foot passengers we had to walk the loaded bikes a long way, and for the first and maybe last time, took them on a moving sidewalk. Stepping outside however was quite the culture shock. We had a 15km ride to our warm showers host, and this was not fun. No bike lanes but only big, fast roads. We stuck to the pavement but it was slow going around all the pedestrians and people selling fruit off the floor. There was a lot of litter and a grubby feel to the city. Korea was different. Our route took us alongside a beach – one thing Busan is famous for is nice beaches – and the waterfront area was full of people having a Saturday evening stroll. It was the 5th November and there were fireworks. We never worked out if this was in honour of Mr Fawkes or just another Saturday night in Busan.
The next nine days were spent cycling the 650 kilometres between Busan and Seoul on the 4 rivers cycle route. It is quite an amazing piece of cycling infrastructure – paved, mostly off-road, mostly well-maintained, loads of facilities on the route (toilets, tool stations, shelters etc). And, as you would imagine when following rivers, mostly flat. Until it isn’t, and then it’s crazy steep. Every now and then the flat path moves away from the river, takes you up a short steep hill (usually 12-20% grade), and then you plummet back down the other side back to the river. There’s a 100km stretch in the middle when you leave one river and climb over a pass to get to the next river but that was nowhere near as strenuous as the short sharp bits.
There are bike bridges, bike tunnels, and even on the road, separate bike lanes. And there are regular ‘certification stations’ in old phone boxes where you can stamp each location on your cycling passport (or if like me you didn’t get a cycling passport, a piece of paper). So all you need to do to get from one end of the country to the other by bike is follow the arrows.
We did wonder if this would get a bit boring, and to be honest the first couple of days were a bit drab – Busan was ugly and went on for ages, and even beyond the city, it was all quite built up. As with Japan, Korea doesn’t seem to do visually appealing cities. So the view was often ugly grey high rise towers and industrial buildings. But this petered out eventually and after those first couple of days the scenery picked up, the sun came out, and life was all good. Riding on a bike route for all that time didn’t lose its novelty at all. Being away from the traffic was great. And autumn was in full swing, so the colours were spectacular.
Autumn also brought us a return to cold camping, last year at this time we were having some chilly nights in the tent in Europe, and Korea beat that. Our third night was the coldest, as we woke up to find everything covered with a thick layer of frost, including the bike computers. After de-icing it we could read that it said -6 (Celsius). Brrr. A great excuse to eat chocolate in your sleeping bag though.
The next couple of nights we escaped into motels. This included a motel with bike lockers on the ground floor, and our first love motel experience. After hearing about these ‘by the hour’ motels in Japan we were expecting seedy and run down, but this was modern, clean and excellent for the cyclist. Loads of space, a big bed, nicely decorated, a desktop computer, a huge bath, free toiletries, a personal garage to store the bikes…. (which was also useful for cooking dinner on the trangia). Everything is a bit secretive in that it is designed for you to drive in, park in a garage, take a private entrance to a room, check in automatically and pay by credit card without being seen by another human being. For us it was a perfect and fairly cheap way to get a good warm sleep.
Camping was easy as there are lots of parks and shelters just off the bike path and nobody seems to care about foreigners just pitching up anywhere. So after two nights of motel luxury we returned to the tent, and a couple of nights later realised that we were not that crazy camping in the cold after all. It was a Saturday night and we came across a camping area on an island in the middle of the river. It was packed. There must have been at least 80 other tents – families, young couples, groups – in November. In Europe you would struggle to find an open campsite, never mind anyone brave enough to camp. There were a few gas heaters visible, but as it was a walk-in campground, not many luxuries. Other than an ability to camp in all weathers, the other thing we learnt about Korean campers was their ability to maximise a weekend away camping. On our first night we pitched our tent at 4pm on a Sunday afternoon at a fairly full campground just outside Busan. An hour later we were cooking dinner and realised a few people were packing up, including our neighbours who were in the middle of a full on BBQ when we arrived. By 6pm it was dark, and more people were packing up. We woke up the next morning to two other tents left. If you go camping for the weekend with some Koreans, don’t expect to be home until late on Sunday night. And take an extra jumper.
We only really left the bike route to find food. This in itself was quite an experience. Somehow we only managed to end up in places where there were no pictures on the menu, just Korean. The first time we managed to order the only thing we knew how to say, bibimbap (fried rice and veg), with success. At the next place, when we were asked what we wanted to order we just shrugged our shoulders and smiled. This didn’t result in an order being taken, so I mimed that I’d like to look in the kitchen, after being shown a couple of huge pots of broth and meat I picked one and pointed at some rice too. We were a bit concerned when the first thing that arrived was a plate with tongs and a pair of scissors on it but luckily this was shortly followed by a bowl of seolleongtang (oxbone soup) and a demonstration of cutting the meat off the bone with the scissors provided. And many other small bowls of food including the tiniest fish I have ever seen and the usual kimchi (fermented cabbage in a spicy sauce). As we were finishing off the soup we were brought a tray of spicy meat. It seemed that the only foreigners in town should also try bulgogi (grilled marinated meat), with more demonstrations of how to eat it (take a lettuce leaf, put in a bit of meat, some sauce and a bit of rice, in the middle, wrap it up and shove it in your mouth). It was a bit spicy for me so I put a bit of extra rice in and was promptly told off with a good strong strike to the arm. It was lots of fun.
Continuing some themes from Japan, we saw more model people and bad English translations. In contrast to Japan, the vast majority of other cyclists we saw were recreational, usually on flashy road or mountain bikes. People didn’t seem to ride functionally (at least not in November, maybe they are all busy camping). We enjoyed that the bike path cycling outfit consists of covering as much skin as possible. As it got colder we realised the sense in this, and adjusted our clothing accordingly.
The bike path was fairly well used, particularly considering the temperatures, and as we approached Seoul on a Sunday afternoon we were weaving in and out of families, racers, and tourists taking selfies or falling off. Before we knew it we were in Seoul. It looked to be a cool city to explore but as we spent our whole day there hunting for bike boxes ready to pack the bikes for the flight, we only explored the bike shop scene. And became well versed in the subway system. This usually simple task was actually very difficult in Seoul as shops have limited space so don’t keep empty boxes longer than a few minutes. We must have visited 20 bike shops, split up at one point to cover different parts of the city, and ended up with 5 boxes, only one of which was full size. Our last night in Korea was spent eating a huge meal at the market for the equivalent of £2.50 and then dismantling our bikes in the narrow hostel corridor. Cycle touring isn’t all glamour.
Korea was fun. Being off the road was great, and the scenery on the whole was pretty nice (if not wow). Ten days was maybe long enough for us on the bike route, but there are attractions you could divert to if you wanted to spend longer in the country. Sticking to a cycle path gave us a certain perspective of Korea – spend more time in towns and cities and I’m sure it would be different. We highly recommend the 4 rivers cycle route, certainly if done in conjunction with a trip to Japan. Though we are not sure where the other two rivers went as we definitely only cycled along two.
Next stop New Zealand!
Thanks to Chris in Busan; and Jess and Tim for the (fake) chocolate digestives.
Tokyo was a lot of fun but after 6 nights it was time to get going. The ride out of the city was relatively painless, (See Boston, Zurich; Atonyms Naples, San Francisco) especially once we joined the Tama River cycle route. Uneventful cycling was made up for by other random stuff, including:
-Our first earth tremor in Japan. Let’s not say Earthquake because that’s a bit scary.
-I saw Mt Fuji then clouds hid it. Jo wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not.
-A fab food surprise. Bought a fridge bakery item that looked like chocolate flavour sweet bread with a very generous cream filling. Felt pretty weighty. Turned out it had a whole banana inside. That’s the stuff cyclists’ dreams are made of.
-Pensioners’ baseball training. Lots of old men arriving at riverside ball parks with full kit and bats in their bike baskets.
-Walking group Wednesday. If you don’t play baseball in the Tama river area, you join a walking group. Hundreds of hikers bemused by the British bikers.
-A friendly cyclist stopping us and asking us to wait a moment. He ran off the cycle path and came back with bottles of cold water for us. It was a hot morning and a really lovely gesture.
-A road cyclist passed us wearing a balaclava type garment with no eye or mouth holes. It was black. Creepy.
We left the river and rode uphill in a narrow valley, getting occasional glimpses of Mt Fuji as clouds moved. There was hardly any traffic and a noticeable drop in temperature as we got higher. We found an actual campground and had a long unproductive discussion in Japanese/English with the owner. After some time we worked out that he was telling us about a big power cut in Tokyo.
Early to bed, early to ride up hill. Apparently we were ascending a 1000m pass. There wasn’t much around in the way of food. Eventually we found an open shop and got bread for jam sandwiches. Then it got even colder and started raining. In the clouds we couldn’t we see far in front of us let alone see Fuji. It wasn’t a great deal of fun, and with a better weather forecast the next day we stopped riding early and enjoyed being indoors and having a Japanese bath at a youth hostel. It was a lot of fun eating at a tiny table in our room and arranging our bedding for comfy seating.
Cycling around Fuji’s five lakes the next day was much more enjoyable. At times there were clear views of the volcano and an amazing descent into a river valley. I was on the lookout for Shinkansen, but we were just by the normal train lines. We camped in an empty plot in a village and felt lucky to have found it. Nearly all the flat empty land here is used for growing rice and veg. Even really small patches have rows of leafy greens or a few fruit trees. We had asked permission from the next door house, and the friendly family later brought us out two homemade onigiri and a beer each. Mt Fuji and a beer in the tent – Happy Friday night!
The next morning we were drying the tent outside a Michi-no-Eki (like a service station, but with local veg, nice normal price food and no petrol) when a young man came over to chat. First he handed me a plastic bag from the nearby supermarket as he thought we had a long way to ride. It had 2 onigiri and 4 bananas in. He asked about the trip, and then asked if I thought Japanese people were friendly. He was really surprised when I said yes, and tried to tell me that they weren’t, having just given a total stranger a bag of food. It was like some of the comments we heard in the USA about the world/strangers being scary – from people who had just invited two (slightly grubby) strangers into their homes for the evening. Everyone should remember that the world is mainly full of kind people.
That evening more friendly Japanese people let us share their campsite pitch. We were pleased they did because this was no ordinary campsite. It was in a forest park, and all of these things happened:
-As we approached the campground we could see many coloured lights and lots of cars. It was a special illuminations display. For Christmas. It was busy and strange. There was twinkly music and tannoy announcements.
-We went for our first onsen (hot springs). Jo bought the tickets from a vending machine right next to a desk with a real person behind it. We then gave the tickets to the person, who told us something in Japanese. It was probably about shoes.
-Saturday night at the onsen is busy. You go into separate men’s and women’s ones and get naked. Then you have a really good wash at a little seat with a shower next to it. Only then do you go in the hot springs. Our tan lines looked weird.
-Most people put their pyjamas on after to drive home. We just walked back to our tent. It was lovely to get in sleeping bags fully warm and relaxed. At 8:30pm.
-The illuminations tannoy also had a speaker near our tent. At 9:45pm there was an announcement and Auld Lang Syne started playing in the style of a lullaby. Apparently this is the Japanese equivalent of the last orders bell. It played on repeat until the illuminations closed at 10pm. That’s a lot of Auld Lang Syne. Each time it got to the end of the loop we hoped it would stop – those fifteen minutes seemed very long.
We crossed a pass via a slightly smoggy 4.7km tunnel from our valley to another one with cool river cliffs and quieter roads. On a sunny Sunday afternoon it was the best cycling so far, but we quickly got into a busier area. Cycling in Japan seems to be either 1. Flat (ish) and along trafficky roads in highly populated areas or 2. Ridiculously hilly. The next day was almost all on a busy road with loads of traffic. To make life more interesting it had started raining heavily at about 2:30am. The tent got soaked, and then so did we packing it up. The trickle of a waterfall we had camped near was now a raging river. The rain bounced off the roads, we were being sprayed by trucks and water ran down inside our clothes. It was the anti-onsen. Slightly scraping the barrel for interesting stuff for that day, but we did enjoy a Japanese breakfast at a restaurant where you press a button to place your order. The staff didn’t even mind that we made a lake around our table.
The next couple of days took us to a castle, a lake and excitingly past real bamboo groves. Even better, we finally saw several Shinkansen. They look like Concorde and really are fast. Sadly they are not for bikes, unless you put your bike into a (regulation sized) bag. We pedalled all the way to Kyoto instead. There was time for one more little adventure. A police car pulled up in front of us with lights flashing and a Japanese loudspeaker message. Maybe they had seen us not waiting for the green man at crossings? Or perhaps we were flaunting some other road law? We definitely hadn’t eaten any bananas in parks that morning. A smiley policeman got out and asked (I think) for our Gaijin Cards (foreign residents ID). I offered passports, which he took and spent a long time copying the names and dates from. It was a relatively smooth process, after we established that Jo was Joanna Welford and not Joanna Britishcitizen. We also had fun numbering the months – not sure why UK passports do not have this information. At no point was our Japan entry sticker checked, or our passport numbers noted, but we all had a lovely time thanking each other and went our separate ways.
Thanks to: Nina & her Mum & Dad, the kind man with the tinyhouse, Gilles, Jacqueline & Robert.
It is often said that we have weird place names in the UK (Cold Christmas?). As we have got further West there seems to be a generic template for road names. Montana has got this totally sewn up. To create your own you just need the following… 1. A status adjective. Examples include: Lost, Tall, Dead, Hidden, Blue or Montana favourite, Big. 2. A relevant noun. E.g. Horse, Pine, Fir, Lake, Creek, Church, Bear, Market. 3. Place or geographical feature: Mountain, Hill, Forest, Pass, Valley, Ranch, anything unused from the list in 2. So you end up with something like: Lost Horse Creek Road. This makes directions very confusing. Imagine you are tired from the headwinds (yes, we still have those), probably hungry and definitely a bit sweaty. Someone is explaining that you take Tall Pine Ranch Road up to Hidden Creek Hill Trail then take the left fork at Big Fork or was it maybe Big Arm, or Big Sky?
Despite these navigational challenges we had a wonderful two weeks in Montana. Like so much of the USA it is very good at being exactly like Montana should be. Our first day’s ride was alongside a lake formed after an earthquake (naming guidelines: geological incident + geographical feature = Quake Lake). The sky was blue, the trees and mountains tall and the rivers populated with fly fisherman. We kept a close eye out for Robert Redford. For the first time in ages, the wind was helpful. When we turned north it blew us to Ennis, where we camped in the backyard of a whiskey distillery and had a picnic dinner outside the public library. Living the dream.
The next day we had some really good apple pie. Even better, it was at a cool old bakery in a gold rush ghost town. These two days of tourist attractions and information signs were really welcome after all the emptiness we had ridden through. Sadly the helpful weather didn’t last. Despite assurances (/lies) from west-to-east cyclists that they had loads of headwinds it wasn’t at our backs again and there was the odd thunderstorm to hide from. This gave us plenty of chance for ice cream sampling while sheltering outside supermarkets. Huckleberry became the new fave. Who knew it was even a real fruit.
We rode over a load of really big windy hills (Tall Windy Hill Road) and questioned our sanity and life choices. It was hot and the air really drying. Much like Wyoming. If you are a cycling keen bean and would like to recreate this sensation in the comfort of your own home you could try this. Ride your turbo trainer really hard on a high resistance next to a radiator whilst a few friends point their hair dryers at your face, set to high. Alternatively you can use your imagination… Say you were a grown up and drank a lot of dry white wine, maybe whilst at university when life was less sensible, then fell asleep without drinking any water, and then when you woke up the next morning you put your head in a fan oven, that would feel like cycling uphill into the wind in the western USA.
We took a rest day in tiny Wisdom, watched Wimbledon and the Euro Final, and wondered if you had to live in Wisdom before you could move to nearby Wise. For a whole day we sat on a sofa, or a chair, looked outside and the rain, and ate. It was amazing. A few days later we made it to Missoula, home of the Adventure Cycling Association. We were excited about this because long distance cyclists get an ice cream and their bikes weighed. Jo was especially looking forward to it as she was convinced that her bike was heavier. In actual fact it turned out that we are packing geniuses, Jo 94lb, mine 96lb. As we had just been to the supermarket and food goes on my bike we are probably about even most days. This weight didn’t include any water, so for the metrically minded the bikes and kit total at least 45kg each. As I mentioned, questioning sanity and life choices.
It was a few days ride to Glacier National Park. On the way we took in the Smoke Jumpers Visitor Centre and had an excellent tour. These firefighters wear kit that weighs about the same as our bikes and parachute into forest fire areas. Very impressive indeed. The awesome staff also rescued Jo’s tea flask and posted it to us in Republic, Washington. Amazing. We treated ourselves to some new gear cables and bike chains in Polson. Rock and roll. The route went along Flathead Lake where there was great swimming and even better in-season cherries for sale by the side of the road.
Lakes instead of showers continued in the National Park, but we didn’t mind because it was probably the best place we have been in the USA. Incredible scenery, waterfalls, wildlife, lakes. We decided to have a few ‘rest days.’ The big attraction for cyclists at Glacier is the ‘Going to the Sun’ Road. To get up to Logan Pass at about 2000m the scenic road is hacked out of the side of the mountains. As it was a rest day, we left the bags at the campground and took the shuttle bus to the top with our bikes. We rode down the East side, turned around, rode back up to the top and then down the West side to the camp ground, stopping to walk around a lake on the way. We found the perfect sports recovery drink – a Huckleberry beer (of course). You didn’t think it was an actual rest day?
The next day we went for a hilly walk (hike in American) to loads of waterfalls. It was beautiful. On the third day we were tired, so we decided to do 2 shorter walks and a shorter bike ride. On the first walk we saw a grizzly bear and cub in the absolute best situation. We were at a safe distance, there were loads of people around and we could have outrun at least 75% of them. It was amazing. The cub gambolled around whilst mum sedately crossed the person-boardwalk. Glacier rocked.
Montana had more great scenery for us before we left, but no more showers. We camped at Dickie Lake, hung out with some other cool teachers and swum in the lake for our wash. The next day was hot, windy and very pretty alongside Koocanusa Lake. There wasn’t much drinking water or shade and it was hard keeping cool. We had an essential dip in the afternoon to de-sweat. A kind Canadian family saw our heat induced fatigue and gave us some ice pops.
Montana’s parting shot was our first puncture (‘flat’) of the US. After 4000 miles we weren’t too upset.
Thanks to: The friendly Utah family in West Yellowstone, the vendors of the Big Fork Farmers’ Market, Tim & Carrie, Rachel & Kurt, AnnaMarie & Tom, Mike the mechanic, Suzanne & Pam for introducing us to Skipbo.
Along the route of an old train line, the Katy Trail is the longest rails-to-trails bike route in the USA. It was a big change from riding Route 66. Less cars, burgers and neon, more trees and wildlife. I had an important internal radio change, Chuck Berry to the Blues Brothers. Both great songs that became a little annoying after a couple of days.
Having visited the Lewis and Clark Centre on the banks of the Mississippi we would now be following the intrepid duo as their Corps of Discovery journeyed up the Missouri River. Commissioned by President Thomas Jefferson, Lewis was selected to lead the expedition to find navigable trade routes through the West. He in turn recruited William Clark and the two led a band of merry men on a testing two year trip to the Pacific and back.
Similarly intrepid, on the first afternoon on our well-surfaced and fit-for-purpose bike path, I scared myself by riding over a snake assuming it to be a stick. It was black and over a metre long. We would meet a lot of wildlife on the trail, especially where it was sandwiched between bluffs and the huge Missouri River. It was mostly scenic, mostly flat and has plenty of accommodation options so makes a great trip should you be in the area with a bike. We camped at a ball park and watched some intensely supported softball, and loved the Turner Shelter in Tebbetts. The snake incident inspired the invention of a new on-the-road game and there were information boards every 10-15 miles, so the Katy Trail kept our interest for it’s 240 mile length.
A fun day off in Columbia meant that one of our days in Missouri coincided with the eclectic Pedaller’s Jamboree, a cycling and music festival that moves along a thirty mile stretch of the trail. Invited to join some locals for the day, we shared the path with 3000 cyclists, including any number of tandems, papier maîche animal-ed bikes and inventive ways to carry beer.
As the cycling got more wayward and the falls more frequent we left the revellers and continued west, arriving to camp in a small and seemingly deserted town. At the park we met English cyclist Nigel, and found out why the town was empty. Everyone was at either a 60th wedding anniversary or a birthday party, or it might have been a 60th birthday and a wedding party, both of which were in earshot of the park. The birthday wrapped up early, but the wedding celebrations carried on into the car park courtesy of car radios, and eventually (worryingly) drove away. So Jo and Nigel told me. I was asleep.
Sunday was the least scenic and most hilly trail day, but the turtles, frogs and snakes still kept us on our toes. They were also some great stories on the info boards, including some underhand tactics by the the Katy builders to win the race to Indian territory against a rival railroad. They employed spies and disrupted the others progress by a number of methods. The best of these was sending an ‘official’ stocked with drink supplies to tell the rivals crews their construction was complete and it was time to party. The aftermath of the celebrations cost several days work time and the Katy company took the lead and the right to build the railroad through the territory.
We didn’t have a party, but we did eat a lot of pasta at the end of the trail in Clinton. Our final day in Missouri was the seemingly mythical Memorial Day. Since we have been in the USA people have kept telling us that things (attractions/campsites/shops/roads) will be open after Memorial Day. It was finally here and everything was closed for it. Alanis would see the irony I’m sure. It was a beautiful day of rolling hills, swamps, rivers and only two scary storms to hide from. We enjoyed some great company and pork chops in the evening. From the Museum that wasn’t to a bike party day via a wildlife-d trail Missouri was a lot of fun. A sign told us that we had entered Tornado Alley and we hoped to avoid a trip to Oz as we continued West and into Kansas.
Thanks to: The Turner Shelter, Adrienne, Adam, Loki & everyone, Ian, Ellen and the Jamboree crew, Kelly and Delora.