Day 22, Coopers Landing to Sedalia, 70 miles

This morning we hit the Katy trail at the languid time of 9am; about 2 hours after the other cyclist-campers at the site. We were in no hurry to blast through such scenic cycling, so we ambled on and looked out for wildlife. Three deer took flight a few feet in front of us, which is sadly more that can be said of one squirrel... It must have been waiting some time for us to cycle up the deserted path then diving under Matts' front wheel. A squirrel having a lemming moment? He squeeled and took off into the bushes, leaving us without much to do but hope for him!

We stopped at Rocheport, an immaculate little town on the trail, for some breakfast but it was like a ghost-town. All the shops were closed but one, which probably should have been closed down! To be polite we ordered coffee, and the curious soft-spoken store keeper whispered about cyclists he's had through. His favourite were the father and daughter team on the recumbant, all the way from Idaho. Kirk and Zoe; we told him we'd met them in Virginia, and he gasped with excitement! Ah the legends of the road; I do enjoy the cycling community can operate purely by personal encounters and word of mouth; no wi-fi required. (She says as she blogs!)

Hungry, we pressed on to Boonville. There we found lunch and library for internet - this was the first library to offer us chocolate cake! We duly indulged, and didn't leave there for a few hours (olympics to check out etc.) Outside of the library was an old hippy type, selling Amish vegetables. So we stopped for some road-trip banter, tomatoes and cucumbers. Right-on!

Back on the trail, the ride continued as tranquilly as yesterday. To underline the serenity, we had our first live armadillo sighting! No waistcoat or tea but he let us photograph him before he scurried off (probably to the dry cleaners). Because the trail is so long and flat, you can see for miles ahead. As such, we spotted a figure pacing back and forth at a bridge on the horizon. We slowed down and Matt, as his his nature, stopped to see if there was anythng we could do to help.

We didn't catch his name, but I swiftly determined this guy was a crack-pot (genuine crazy guy on a bike). Within minutes he had offloaded his tedious views on 'The communists', America, Lance Amstrong (uses testosterone; he can cycle twice as fast)-then sunk lower into some racist comments about the president, and alarmingly 'how he'd like to drown the (unmentionable)... There arose one of those rare moments where Matt and I experience a culture-clash. British Matt feels compelled to be polite, and humour the fellow smack-talking cyclist. Conversely, Sal has an Australian-made, finely tuned Bullshit-meter and reserves polite behaviour for those who deserve it. Matt continued to be polite but was looking for a way out of this guys' rambling. He had no money; communists ran the country (yawn).  I only interjected when he asked where we were headed; cutting in with 'Dunno yet'. This riled the crack-pot who said 'Whattaya mean ya don't know - what is it with you people, crumpets, cup of tea? You have nationalised healthcare! You know that doesn't work!' -I replied 'I know!' (the NHS does work, but I wasn't about to wax lyrical with this guy) 'See ya!' looked at Matt and started peddling. Incidentally, just last night while chatting with the old boatman over Thai, he had warned us of what he termed 'cycling bums' who would hassle you for money. So it was opportune that today we would meet one.

A few miles on, 'we' (Royal)- decided that from hence forth, if I get a bs meter-reading I will interject with 'We're going to be late to meet Bruce, we better go now'. There are too many genuine people in this country to waste time being polite to kooks who talk about drowning Obama. Onwards and upwards!

We arrived at Sedalia to camp at the Fairground, which doubles as an RV/Campsite. Unfortunately we are just 8 days before the State-Fair, and the place is already more than half full of RV's trying to find a good spot. The fair would have been interesting (Pie tasting! Cattle shows! Pie tasting!) -however the road beckons. Before striking camp we hungrily made our way to 'Food for Less' and stocked up on dinner & breakfast. As we pulled up to the lights outside of the car park, there was a honk and wave from an RV stopped at the lights... Matt was first to recognise his compatriots, Kevin and Nadia, passing through town on their way to Kansas City. Of all the gin-joints! The flash of the familliar in a new town made us both grin. We waved back and laughed at the amazing coincidenceyo; you've got to love it when things like that happen!

The tent set up, we chowed down on some sanwiches and the amazing Amish vegetables (they really do beat Asdas). We settled down to some sleep but were ripped from our sleep by the clap of thunder. We lay there watching the tent light up every few minutes, as if we were camped in a strobe-lit club; counting the seconds between heavy metal thunder. I'm ignorant about such things, so asked Matt if our tent might conduct lightening. He was more worried about the tree we were camped under... So after a few more sleepy minutes of hesitation, we begrudgingly got up and moved our camp. Trudging over the strobe-lit field with bikes, then bags, then tent. Matt geniusly devised a rig which allowed us to set the tent up partically beneath a covered area on the Fairground, using the bikes to tether the tent. By 3am, we more or less got back to sleep. Awoken a few times by particularly violent thunder or the torrential rain which inevitably followed.