Day 31, Wednesday, May 21

From Rochester Falls we expected to have an easy 44-mile day, our shortest day of the trip. We prefer riding a little farther, but our distance is often dictated by where we can find a place to camp. In this case, we found a Hipcamp sure in Maryville. (Hipcamp is like AirBnb, but for camping.)

The day started well enough. The whole route was nothing but Missouri's rolling hills, and we had a few miles on gravel early on, but it was nothing we had not seen before.

Around mile 18 we had an unexpected surprise. Once again, we ran into a "Bridge closed ahead" sign. This time, Missouri DOT added a helpful tip: "Find alternative route."

With no idea what that alternative route should be, I looked at the map: if we took County Road 86 north one mile, and County Road 85 west three miles we would be back on route. It would be four unexpected miles of gravel but there was nothing else to do. 

CR 86 going north was fine. CR 85 was fine, too, until the gravel disappeared. For reasons known only to the county roads department, they elected to stop laying gravel years ago.

The dirt was fine, too, until we reached the bottom of a hill where the road had not died from the previous rain. We both managed to ride through the deepest mud, but our tires were caked. As soon as the ground was a little more firm we started walking the bikes. Mud continued to accumulate on the tires until the rear wheels completely seized up, mud between the fenders and tires preventing them from spinning. 

I yelled a few profanities at Missouri, a state I was tired of being in. It did not help: we were still stuck. 

At this point we elected different strategies. John was strong enough to keep pushing his bike despite the rear wheel not rolling. I did not have the strength for that, so I removed all four panniers and walked them up the hill a few hundred yards, them went back for my bike.

By the time I pushed my unloaded bike up to my panniers, John was already past and several hundred yards ahead, but struggling. He wanted to get to next intersection, where we could see gravel was back on the road. He did not want to clean his bike until then. 

I thought if i cleaned my bike I could walk it to the intersection. So I removed the rear wheel and cleaned it and the fender. Without the weight of me or my bags, the wheels did not get clogged and I was able to roll the bike the quarter mile to the intersection. Of course, I had to walk back and get my bags.

By this time John had gotten to the intersection and cleaned his bike, too. We took a little break for a snack and some water, but when we got back on the bikes we realized just how much the effort had cost us. We were exhausted, but we still had 22 or 23 miles to go, through the damnable rolling hills of northwest Missouri.

We did all this without a decent breakfast, and nowhere on the entire ride to have a meal or even a cold drink. We were fueled entirely by Clif Bars and warm Gatorade the whole way.

By the time we rolled into Maryville we were famished. We finally got something to eat besides a Clif Bar, then rode the last two miles to our camp for the night. 

The camp was in a field next to a paintball on facility. It was nothing special, just someone trying to make a little money letting people camp there for $13 per night. There was no shower, but they left the restroom open for campers, and we were able to charge our devices. 

And we were able to walk one and a half miles into town for one of the most well-deserved meals of the trip. The brew pub was closed, either because it was Wednesday or because we were in town, so we made do with a quiet restaurant called The Palms. The bartender confirmed what we were thinking, that the Palms is a bit livlier when Northwest Missouri State is in session.

We tried to get a Lyft back to camp, but there were no drivers available in all is Maryville. We walked. After a difficult day, we went straight into our tents, right around our standard bedtime of 8:00 PM.