I rode on to Richmond where I turned east on 10 to follow the trail of early American explorers Lewis and Clark.  Just in case you spent too much time daydreaming in 5^th grade, Lewis and Clark were commissioned by President Thomas Jefferson to explore, map out and find a water passage to the Pacific Ocean.  They departed their camp in May of 1804 with the “Corps of Discovery” and headed up the Missouri river.   Highway 10 parallels the north side of the Missouri River. 

 

  With the only two things on my loosely planned agenda behind me, Hauns Mill and breakfast, I was now free to meander along through Missouri and enjoy the countryside, the roads and the sunshiny beautiful day that was brewing. 

 

   Highway 10 was a pleasant ride in that it rolled through the woods and then over the countryside. I rode past a farmer working his field on his combine. 

I ambled through old towns taking in the slow paced life of each. 

   A man was scraping his old “fixer-upper” home readying it for paint. I passed by the local soccer fields where a girl’s soccer game was imminent.  The girls, clad in their brilliant colored matching uniforms, were all gathered around in various groups dancing and bopping around and just generally goofing off. 

 

   I caught up to a train that was paralleling my road and I watched it as I slowly overtook it.  Just as I passed the front of the train my road went into a lazy S turn up and over the overpass crossing the tracks.  Right at the apex of the bridge the train shot under me and I could feel its thunder.  That was exhilarating! A bit further some fathers were unloading some go-carts with their young sons at a local go-cart track. 

 

   I was thoroughly enjoying my ride.  There was no schedule, nobody with me that I had to appease with their ride plans.  There was no particular route.  My only guidelines were that I had no guidelines. I turned down any road that caught my eye, stopped and took pictures when I liked and lingered for as long as I wanted. 

Sometimes when I ride I feel like I’m special.  I feel like I am the one everybody is looking at and admiring as I ride by just by virtue that I am on a bike in my cool leather jacket and I have some place to go.  I am “Motorcycle guy.”  No sir’ee. I’m not just sittin’ around stagnating, I got stuff goin’ on! 

 

   On this day after passing through town after town, rambling across the countryside it occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one enjoying his weekend.  Everybody in their own little community, in their own way was enjoying their leisure time with their families, with their hobbies, with their projects or homes. I was just a passing shadow observing a typical American weekend.

 

  I turned south on highway 41 and crossed over the Missouri River ambling my way toward Boonville and then picked up scenic highway 179 to take me to Jefferson City, Missouri’s capital. 

   It was getting to be late afternoon and I was determined to not let what happened the night before happen again.  Apparently the Fall season brings out the campers so I would have to find some place to put in a little earlier in the evening.  I blew into Jefferson City and blew out just as fast on my way toward “Lake of the Ozarks” where I knew from previous rides there was plenty of camping. I rode highway 54 south and bailed off as it neared the lake and rode across Bagnell Dam and into the tiny overly developed tourist town of Lake Ozark then met back up with 54 just long enough to slip into the Ozark town of Osage Beach.  I wandered into the thick of the “Lake of the Ozarks State Park” and found my way to a beautiful campground on the edge of the lake.  It was still daylight… no “No Vacancy” signs insight, it looks like I may have pulled it off. I stopped at the little check in gate registered and meandered on through the campground in search of my little 30 x 30 section of the Ozarks for the evening. 

 

   After finding just the right place I set up my tent and was about to journey back to Osage Beach for some dinner when I spotted a couple on a Goldwing just setting up camp a few sites away from mine so I stopped in and visited with them for a few minutes.  Dan and Loretta were on a weekend retreat from Springfield, Missouri.  After exchanging our stories I continued my quest on toward town and dinner. 

 

   You know, it seems that amongst motorcyclists a lot of the fun of riding is finding that great little place to eat after riding all day.  Usually it’s that way for me too but for some reason I really just wanted to keep it quick, easy and uneventful. I toured the main drag of town scoping out all the fine restaurants and at the same time observing all the people bustling about with their motorhomes, campers and motorcycles.  It seems to be a pretty popular idea to escape to the Ozarks for weekends breaking all ties with our hectic urban lifestyles.  I finally settled on a KFC dinner before heading back to my own piece of the Ozarks for the evening. 

 

   I unloaded the rest of my gear, hit the showers and welcomed the feeling of clean clothes after my day on some of Missouri’s dusty back roads at Hauns Mill. It had grown dark and was a beautiful pleasant sweatshirt evening and a walk was in order.  Let me tell ya’  I didn’t realize how big this campground was until I began to walk it.  It was all well and good though since part of my daily routine at home is a two mile walk.  This walk was extra good.  As I walked I thoroughly enjoyed steeling glances at all the campers as they all had their campfires going and were enjoying cookouts or playing cards or games.  Some were just sitting around visiting while others were roasting marshmallows.  One young mother had a guitar and was serenading her young son and husband with a Stevie Nicks song. I paused awhile and listened from the road.  I would have liked to walk over and joined them for a bit at their fire and listen to her.  I sauntered on my way and made a loop of the entire campground and found myself back at my tiny camp.  No games, no fire, no company.  I wandered back over to Dan and Loretta’s campsite and found them sitting around their campfire so I joined them for a while.  We had a very enjoyable visit about our trips and our families.  We exchanged email addresses and I hope to run into them again. 

 

   There is something that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside while laying in your sleeping bag in your tent in the forest smelling the trees and the campfires. Smelling the subtle mustiness of the sleeping bag and tent and feeling the cool air around your head.  After a long day on the bike exploring I wasn’t able to consciously enjoy those things for very long.