We had a late start due to maxxing out the motels' luxuries. We milked the breakfast buffet (or rather, we biscuit n' gravy-egg-cereal-bagel-waffle'd the buffet... As a result we had to sit very still for a while until we had to vacate the room. We finally waddled to our bikes and hit the hot and busy road. Still off our Trans-Am maps, Matt did an impressive job of navigating us over highways and byways to Washington, Missouri. We swung by the local library for wifi access and further guidance towards our inspirational Katy Trail. While I blogged, Matt checked out the local visitors' centre. He returned with full Katy Trail maps and fatally, directions to the local micro-brewery. Suffice to say, our bikes remained locked at the library while we found ourselves sampling IPAs by the MIssouri river. Our campsite destination for the evening was a further 10 miles away, but as a local band strummed blue-grass and we'd each aquired a new favourite beer, we decided to linger a while.
An hour or so passed before the sleepy bar became busy, and we learned that an annual canoeing event; the 'The Great River Rumble' had just paddled into town for the night. Matt got chatting to the 'Head Honcho' of the Rumblers, an energetic and very friendly guy who we both warmed to immediately. We bought Rex a beer and he brought us up to speed; each year hundreds of paddle-enthusiasts of all ages congregate at some riverside in the US and spend the next 7 days paddling down it. They gain special permission to camp by the riverside each night and local community organisations such as the Scouts welcome and cater for the River Rumblers. The following morning they were to be sent-off by the Mayor of Washington. The Rumble is a huge logistical exercise; with all the participants' camping gear being transported between stops by a huge truck. The River Ramblers who began to occupy the bar were all outgoing, adventurous types; just getting warmed up for an open mic later that evening.
Rex was enthused by our own cycling adventure, and emphatically insisted we camp with the River Rumblers (Rex's wife, Dianne, later called us 'Road Rumblers'!) Matt and I headed down to the Rambler tent community which had sprung on the Washington city-park riverside. Having observed others doing so earlier (despite signs warning of strong currents)-we took a dip in the Missouri river. It was warm as a bath but good to wash the day away and something to tick off the random experiences list. While wading in the Missouri, we met a gentleman from Kansas City, Dave, who had paddled from Kansas to get rumbling. He 'didn't want to alarm us but they'd just seen a water snake'. Emboldened by the local brews, I reassured him that I was Australian and could wrestle a croc. We got chatting to Dave and he sited a bumper sticker his canoe bears, which reflects the attitude of the average Rumbler: 'A hug in public is like peeing your pants in public; everyone can see it but only you can feel the true warmth.'
We felt the Rumble warmth in the much appreciated form of the Rumble Shower, a famous part of their tour kit. After the Missouri, the shower was an infinitely more hygenic prep for open mic night. We arrived at the bar in time to see Rex get up with his guitar. Dianne bought us a beer and yelled at her husband to 'Play some Rock!'-in her cool Chicago twang. But this was country music country; the other musicians were on harmonica, banjo and guitar while a few ladies stood nearby just itchin' to do some harmonising. Rex played a few bars of Deep Purple for our benefit, then succuumbed to Country Road and Fly Away. It was a fun night and once again, we felt amongst friends just hours after rolling into town as strangers.
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