St. Joesph, Missouri to Chillicothe, Missouri 87 miles and 3050 feet of climbing

Today's ride through the beautiful Missouri countryside was just as I remembered it four years ago. One rolling hill after the next as far as the eye could see. Lush green groves of trees, large meadows, cows, horses, and vast fields of corn, soybeans, and wheat. Even though the rolling hills require more climbing, I will gladly take that over a flat and less interesting landscape any day. I was struck by the natural beauty of Missouri four years ago, and my opinion of it has not changed. My mother grew up on a farm in upstate New York. Today's ride reminded me of visiting my Grandparents in her hometown of Goshen, New York, about two and a half hours north of New York City. The landscape there is so similar. Winding country roads, lush hills and valleys and farms. 

At the daily "route rap" (their term, not mine), our tour director announced that it was a very special day. She told us that it has been a Crossroads Cycling Adventures tradition to regroup at the first SAG, stop on the outskirts of Maysville, Missouri. Evidently, the town's historical society puts out a nice spread of food and drinks for the riders every year. This year they even arranged for a large group of 1st and 2nd graders from the school to come out and greet us. Also, there is a large Mennonite community in the area, and we were told that they typically provide some incredible baked goods for the event. There is also a museum run by the historical society that we were encouraged to see. 

As I listened to our tour director go on about how this was such a big deal for this town, all I could think of was, 

"Can we please get on the road while it's cooler?"

The more miles you can get in while it's comfortable, the better, and we had 87 miles in front of us today. 

The first 35 miles to Maysville were wonderful. The early morning is perhaps my favorite time to ride. 

Upon arriving on the outskirts of Maysville, we all stopped at the elementary school and greeted the students who had been shepherded out to meet us. Our tour director got the required promo pictures for her website, and then we dutifully rode two by two into town, where a handful of historical society members were there to greet us. They had some tables set up with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bottled water, and other items for our refreshment. One lady was serving up the sweet rolls provided by the local Mennonites. Evidently, the Mennonites rarely come into town, but they do have a bake shop somewhere down the road. 

I got bottled water and a sweet roll. I can say, without question, that it was one of the best sweet rolls I have ever eaten. I guess that shouldn't surprise me; I've always heard that the Lord works in wonderous ways. 

Praise the Lord.

As the stop in Maysville dragged on, the tour director got more photos for her website, and I continued to think, 

"It's getting hotter and hotter the longer we sit here."

Well, I wasn't the only one who was thinking like that. Jill from the UK looked at me and said, 

"I've already said, 'Hello and Thank You' to 3 people here. That's my allotment for today. I need to move on." 

I said, 

"Jill, you sound a bit cynical. You've been hanging around me too long."

She said, 

"Dave, come to England; we're all cynical and sarcastic. Come on, let's you and I get going up the road."

And with that, we slowly made our way up the block and out of town. 

I will admit to thinking that this act of defiance could give the tour director grounds for my dismissal from the tour. But I told myself that if she confronted me, I would just blame Jill for asking me to go with her. Jill is an international client, and I have noticed that international clients are very important to the tour director. Musicians, not so much. 

In riding with Jill for some miles, I found out that her husband is a cardiologist and avid cyclist. He races, and she mentioned some extremely grueling gravel bike endurance event he recently did in Iceland. 

I stayed with Jill for about 10 miles, and then she stopped to take a drink of water and told me to go on. 

After a while, I saw the tour van parked up ahead. As I approached, the tour director said she had ice water and some sort of thing filled with ice that you can put on your neck to keep you cool. I said thanks, but I was doing OK. I'll admit to feeling a little relieved that she didn't give me an ear full about not informing her that Jill and I were leaving early from Maysville. 

The next stretch of the ride, until the final SAG at 71 miles, was beautiful, hilly, and hot. I was happy to come around a bend in the road and see the SAG stop. After refilling my water bottles, drinking lots of cold water, and eating 3 or 4  Red Vines ( yes, the red vines candy), I was ready to ride the final 16 miles into town. 

We are staying at the same hotel I stayed at four years ago when I was here.

The dinner window we have is between 5:00 PM and 6:00 PM at Applebee's right next door. 

I had to do some laundry, so I didn't get to the restaurant until about 5:50 PM. The only seat left in our group was with Payton, the young mechanic/ firefighter from Illinois. The one who wasn't around when my bike had its problems. As I've mentioned before, I think Payton is a bright young guy who is well-intentioned and striving to do a good job. 

As we both ate, we chatted about his firefighter job back in Illinois and some other things.

At one point he said, 

"I'd like to ask you what you think about this Crossroads Adventure Cycling tour compared with your tour with American By Bike four years ago. What things are different, what they did, and what we're doing. You know."  

Oh my. 

I suppose that if I was a prudent person, I would have given him the completely false, politically correct answer that this tour was basically the same as the one I did with America by Bike and it's really great to do this again, blah blah blah.  

I am a prudent person in many aspects of my life, but enduring verbal abuse from a tour director whom I paid thousands of dollars to is not one of them. Hence, I told Payton the sad story of Dave's disabled bike and the clown show that ensued.  If tomorrow I'm taking a Greyhound bus from Chillicothe to St. Louis for a flight home, you'll know why. 

He listened and seemed genuinely empathetic as I explained the complete lack of help I got from these bozos and the subsequent ridicule I was subjected to by our insecure and incompetent tour director. 

He assured me that everything I said would remain between him and me, and at this point, I have no reason to doubt him. I don't think he would have asked me that question unless he really wanted to know how my two experiences compared. I don't think the clowns filled him in fully on what transpired while he was gone.  

With all that being said, I'm still enjoying the rides every day very much; just re-read the first paragraph of this post.