Day 117: Lake St Louis, MO

By the time we reached downtown St Louis it was 6:30 am, sunny and 81 degrees out.  But there was very little traffic, which made it easy to get through what could have been a chaotic mess.  About an hour into Alea's ride the traffic started to build as we neared I-170, but then things calmed down once we were past that, and the same scenario repeated once we neared I-270.

As cities go, it was one of our less stressful urban experiences, due in large part to hitting the road before traffic had built up significantly.  We saw quite a bit along the way that we would have liked to have explored, but the high heat and humidity meant that we couldn't leave Lana alone in the van for more than a few minutes at a time.  In fact, our fuel mileage has dropped a couple tenths of a mile per gallon in the past few days, because whoever is driving needs to leave the engine idling quite a bit so that the air conditioner can keep them cool while they wait for the cyclist to catch up.

No telling why... 

But there is a large collection of locks adorning the bridge crossing the Missouri River.

Once Alea left St Louis and crossed the Missouri River, our route followed the Katy Trail, a cinder surfaced, converted rail line that now extends from St Louis to Kansas City.  She rode on the trail as far as Weldon Spring, MO, and her total mileage for the day was 41 miles.  When she finished riding around noon it was 91 degrees out and with humidity that easily exceeded 75%.  The heat index later that evening at 8 pm was 108.

There was some storm debris on the Katy Trail...

We spent the night at the home of Beverley (Malone) Lundak in Lake Saint Louis, my second cousin and the second closest cousin of my Malone line (I have only one closer Malone cousin, Linda Kaye Waltman, a first cousin, whom I've never met).  I met Beverley while researching my Malone book, and a few years ago she was kind enough to invite me, my mother and my Aunt Pat to her house to celebrate Pat's 95th birthday, something that Pat enjoyed to no end.  And I suspect Beverley enjoyed it just as much, as Pat was likely the only living family member who had a living memory of her grandfather, Clarence Lafayette Malone.  Clarence had lived just around the corner from Pat and my grandfather (Paul Edward Malone) when they lived in East Saint Louis, Illinois in the early 1920s.

Me, Alea and Bev.

Beverley lives with her granddaughter Nickie (sp?) and great grandson Jackson.  Plus there was Chico (a rather portly Chihuahua mix [I'd guess part rat terrier or something similar]) and Max, her 30 year old parrot.  We kept Lana and Chico apart, due to Lana's tendency to be a bit of a bossy pants around smaller dogs.  But that was fine, because Lana was totally engrossed by Max, who in turn was not at all intimidated by Lana's quivering stares.

"Pretty bird..."

It was amusing in the evening when Max got in a talkative mood.  Of course Lana has no clue where sound comes from (being deaf in her left ear), and the new voice had her quite perplexed.  Especially once Max started whistling, and even more so when I started whistling back to him.  They kept each other entertained for hours.

Staying the night in Bev's house marked the end of our streak of 174 straight nights sleeping in our camper.  We had planned to park outside her house, but the logistics were a bit impractical given the excessive heat, so we caved in and parked the van and camper across the street (we were not about to try to sleep in it without air conditioning).

Bev's hospitality was incredible, greeting us with a platter of fresh fruit and pitcher of iced tea, and with tacos and peach pie in the evening.  And of course plenty of dog treats for Lana.

It was great to have several hours to talk with her, sharing with her what has happened in our lives since the last time we met, and to learn a bit more about her family in return.