The frog was having a quiet sunset conversation -- Uh-yep, uh-yep, uh-yep -- and the forest across from our RV site was turning dark. My eyes started playing tricks on me, seeing little flashes of light. By the third or fourth flash Al was seeing them too and I finally remembered fireflies. It’s amazing how two otherwise sober adults can get excited about calling out firefly flashes—one to the right, a couple to the left, look at that one up high. A bit later, Wikipedia confirmed my recollection that although fireflies are found worldwide, in this country they aren’t seen much west of central Kansas. The coolest thing, though, was the image of the insect, which matched the one I’d found on the outside of the rig before dinner. A pretty little animal, and he lights up too!

The sticky heat that had been pursuing us across the country abated for a few days and we were finally able to sit outside, the first time in around three weeks. We could actually turn off the A/C at night and listen to that frog and to the cicadas. Lazy Day Campground in the almost non-existent hamlet of Danville, MO, (exit 170 off the I-70) is probably the nicest privately-owned RV park we have ever encountered. Lots of trees, nice ornamental plantings scattered throughout the park, neatly mown grass, sparkling clean restrooms that have been imaginatively painted by our hostess, and best of all, country prices which were especially welcome after the uptown rates we paid in St. Charles. It made a good place to stay off the highways during the July 4th holiday.

This is the pond opposite our site where the frog lives.












We settled here to continue our mission of riding segments of the Katy Trail, with rather mixed results. Fortunately, we weren’t in a hurry to leave. Our first day riding using Lazy Day as a base, we got ten miles down the trail and had just turned back when I got a flat tire. Rescuing me and getting the flat repaired took up the rest of that day. This is the trailhead at McKittrick where we started and where Al ended while I waited ten miles up the road at Bluffton where some folks have a nice little rest area adjacent to the trail where you can sit in the shade, get snacks and even camp, which might have come in handy if Al hadn't been so speedy getting back to me.






Our next day was lost when Al decided he really did need to finish fixing the faucet on the kitchen sink, the repair from hell, which you will understand better when you realize that the RV factory builds these things from the floor up with absolutely no provision for maintenance. “No maintenance” was not an option when either the water is turned on and there is a geyser in the kitchen which spews all over the dinette, or the water is turned completely off to everything, including the bathroom. We’re not camping here, folks, so running water is part of the deal. An access hole cut in the back of the dinette seat turned out to be the ultimate solution for reaching the required location. Both of these were relatively low-cost items, if you discount Al’s labor. Then there is the matter of the generator fuel pump. Well, it will be nice to have the generator back on line and a new fuel pump is a whole lot cheaper than buying a new generator.

While waiting for the generator to be repaired, we made a reconnoitering trip to a couple of trailheads along the Katy Trail. We had been to Rocheport before on a previous trip, but hadn’t made it up into “downtown”, if you can call it that. This is the residential section of Rocheport, population 208, and the right-hand image is the trailhead, which seemed like it had a larger population at times.








During a lengthy conversation with a local resident at the trailhead, she recommended we lunch at a restaurant called Abigail’s, which was downtown just a couple of blocks away.





Warning: Food descriptions ahead. Abigail’s is in a lightly restored 19th-century building with high ceilings and exposed brick walls. The menu is posted on a whiteboard and changes daily. We started with a shared bowl of chilled melon and peach soup which was heavenly. I wanted to go out and buy a blender so I could make it, but where would I store another appliance? I ordered something called a wild rice and apple pancake on greens with brie and assorted nuts. This was almost as wonderful as the soup and was pretty much exactly as it sounds except that the brie was a pair of thick slices that had been lightly grilled. There were also dried cranberries scattered with the nuts (primarily pecans and pine nuts) and the greens were dressed with a raspberry vinaigrette. Al ordered a turkey/bacon/swiss quesadilla, good but more pedestrian except for the small bowl of diced, spiced peaches that accompanied it which were exceptional. The dessert menu was delivered handwritten on a 3 x 5 inch piece of notepad paper. Al had been reading that gooey butter cake is a St. Louis regional favorite, so of course we had to order a piece. Even though it wasn’t what I would call a cake, it was mighty delicious. More like a large piece of a bar cookie that consisted of a brown-sugar laden crust layer and with a gooey cream cheese filling on top. I looked up the recipe on the internet and it starts with a cake mix, but doesn’t end up like a cake. I don’t know how one person could eat the serving we were given. I forgot to mention the iced tea, which was heavily minted and also had citrus notes in it and was excellent without any sweetening at all.

The next day, we drove to the trailhead at McBaine and rode the bikes west to Rocheport. This stretch is the most popular segment of the trail and for good reason. For several miles the trail runs along a shelf above the Missouri River and below a series of small limestone bluffs. This is the only area where we saw numerous benches placed for sitting and viewing the river, which was at flood stage and was really rolling by. We had hoped to take the canoe trip from Rocheport, but with the high water this was not available. We had no more than arrived at the trailhead in Rocheport and seated ourselves at an outdoor table at the Trailhead Café than our acquaintance from the previous day cycled up with her dog. She had a late breakfast and we had an early lunch (Portobello mushroom and feta sandwiches with a split side of sweet potato fries) and more good conversation ensued. This was also a good people-watching location since the Trailhead Café also does a large bike rental business. People come in and rent a bike, ride for ten minutes down the trail, decide they’ve done enough, and come back. One lady we had seen not more than a mile down the trail came back complaining about her saddlesores, but that may have been the result of the cute little sunsuit she was wearing as much as her inexperience with cycling. At any rate, the amateurs were quite amusing as was the range of bicycles on offer, from comfort bikes and an upright three-wheeler through two-wheel recumbents, three-wheel recumbents, tandems and a home-made recumbent built for two riding side-by-side. Everybody was having a good time.

This part of Missouri features steeply rolling and mostly heavily wooded hills above the river bottoms which is where most of the agriculture takes place. There are many little teeny towns, especially along the old rail route. At some point in the past, these town had a reason for being there, but today they are largely fading. Despite this, the residential yards are mostly well manicured and except for empty businesses, even the little towns are amazing attractive. Our next ride started from one of these little towns, Portland, which was quite a bit closer to “home” than Rocheport, although with the way the roads wind through the hills it seemed like it took us forever to get there. Of course, we had lingered over coffee sitting outside the rig, enjoying the weather, so we didn’t exactly get an early start. This part of the trail obviously gets a lot less usage as there were weeds growing up between the “ruts”, but there was an abundance of wildlife including lots of indigo buntings and cardinals, an amazing number of frogs ranging in size from small to tiny, and even a turtle that eyed us warily as we passed by slowly. We rode through dark tunnels of over-arching trees through temporary swamps formed by the high waters of the Missouri and surprisingly enough didn’t get any mosquito bites. Other segments were in the full sun, running along the cornfields of the bottomlands, paralleling the river highway. I was more than ready to quit for lunch when we reached Mokane.

A fellow cyclist directed us into town, two blocks off the trail, to the small local grocery store which also serves sandwiches and coffee and has some tables around which the locals gather to swap lies. We sat down with our braunschweiger, tomato and onion sandwiches (on dreadful bread) and proceeded to get an education on the area from a coffee-drinking local who was obviously just looking for someone to talk to. Catfishing was excellent in the river, because of and not despite the high water, but he also has a couple of catfish ponds and a crawfish pond (for bait) on his property. Crop prices are up so the farmers are hurting as badly as the city folks. People came in and out of the store, buying cold drinks by the singles and beer by the case, swapping greetings with our new friend, pausing to share a tidbit of gossip. By the time we left, he had a whole group of buddies gathered around discussing something of local import, but they all paused to wish us a good ride back and warn us about the heat. Nice folks, these Missouri people.

One day when we didn’t feel like riding and thunderstorms were forecast, Al made a solo side trip to Fulton, MO, which is about half an hour west of our park, to see the Winston Churchill Memorial and Library. Why, you might ask, would there be a monument to a British politician in a little town in Missouri? Long story, but it turns out that he was invited to speak at the little Westminster College in Fulton in 1946, while he was out of power right after WWII. Harry Truman, that great Missourian, who was president at the time, said he would introduce Churchill if he accepted the invitation. What a two-fer for those people who attended the speech. And what a speech, because this was the famous one in which Churchill described the Soviet Union as bringing up an Iron Curtain across Europe, giving us that incomparable Cold War metaphor. When the Berlin Wall came down, the government of East Germany donated some sections of the Wall to the Monument, where they stand today next to a massive bronze statue of Churchill. Al thought it was a fine museum, which includes an actual English Church designed by the famous architect Christopher Wren which was moved here stone by stone.