A good night’s sleep, but again a few mosquito or chigger (thanks Jim) bites made for a little restfulness. Not much packing required, as again we didn’t unpack much, and there was nobody around to chat to as we checked out after a breakfast of cold pizza resulted in a quick getaway for a change.
The road immediately outside of the hotel was a little crazy as it was the Rolla I-44 intersection, but once through that, the cycle through the town itself was quite uneventful.
The day fell immediately into a similar routine to yesterday a big up followed by a big down, repeat a few times then reach a town or city as they like to call them in the US, even when there are only six inhabitants, including three lamas and a raccoon.
The roads remained relatively quiet, with 99% of our motorized friends giving is a very wide berth. Although that may be down to the amount of wobble on Deborah’s bike when she is going uphill. Getting within a few feet of that and you risk needing a paint job!
As we passed through Doolittle we were forced to leave Route 66 as ahead the road ends and there is no way forward other than use I-44, which is not an option for us at this point if the ride, although will be in a month or so from now (stay tuned in for that one!).
While the cycle remained as hilly as a hilly thing, the Mark Twain National forest gave us something different to look at as we peddled along.
Once we were through the forest we were presented with the most bizarre section of the old Route 66 so far, a full two-lane carriageway in both directions, constructed of concrete, in such as state of disrepair to confirm it was original Route 66, but completely devoid of other road users. In the miles that we cycled this dual carriageway we were passed by one other car, going so slowly we can only assume the driver was either as struck by the existence of this road as we were or was on his way to the mother-in-law’s house. This section of the road also has long ups and long downs, with larger holes in the road than we had experienced on the busier I-44 service roads/ business loops.
We had a brief stop off, or rather I did as Deborah continued cycling, at Uranus, which appeared to be some sort of all-in-one Route 66 tourist destination. We then followed Route 66 to a dead end, where an old bridge had been taken out of service and bypassed by a modern and boring alternative. We have thought about lifting the bikes over the barrier to cycling across the bridge, but due to the heat of the day decided against it for the sake of the additional 100m and risk of falling through the decaying wooden planks
Earlier I had commented to Deborah that the towns in Missouri didn’t compare favourably from a Route 66 perspective to Illinois, only to arrive at Waynesville. While we didn’t have as much time as would have liked in the town due to the need to put in the miles toward our night stop in Lebanon, it was clear that this town was proud of its route side heritage. As if choreographed, as we were leaving town we approached a lady waving us down to stop. Upon pulling over, we were introduced to Luge Hardman, the Major of Waynesville. A quick chat, a photo opportunity for us both, yes we are becoming that famous on Route 66 (we aren’t really!) and we were off, with a gift of a Route 66 Waynesville pin badge as a memento.
The remainder of the day became too much of a chase against the light so that we could find our hosts house before dark, pulling up at the bottom of the driveway of the address we had been given just two days earlier as dark was setting in.
We had a lovely dinner of pizza, salad and large helpings of conversation with James and Cindy, the couple we had met in a service area in Pacific just a few days earlier, before being shown to our bed for the night, their camping trailer in their back yard.
