biking trail – Page 4

Truman Park

It’s warmer today, and brighter. My winter coat flaps open and feels intermittently like a mistake, until a sudden cool gust makes me glad to have it.

Birds call, dogs bark, voices drift lightly above the background drone of midday traffic. The sky is a patchwork of blue with occasional brushes of sunshine.

Fifteen minutes they said. I’m somewhat skeptical. I tried this before in January. This trail is supposed to connect to Saint Stanislaus, I never found it when I looked before, but it was later in the day, and the sun was setting early, so my chances seemed better today.

Follow the red blazes and 15 minutes of steady hiking should get me to the paved connecting trail. I mentally adjusted that to at least 20, since there’s nothing steady about my endless discovery of a new photo op.

It’s actually there! One startled toddler, running ahead of his parents, and several somewhat scary sets of muddy railroad tie steps, and I emerge from the woods and onto the trail.

Swampy low lands and the half flooded trail hum with the drone of frogs and the clatter of the woodpeckers dinner bell.

The sunshine is steady and warm by the time I walk back, and the coat is now tied around my waist.

The park is filling with walkers and bird watchers and a teenager kicking a ball around.

Mostly still distant, we smile and nod and move on in our quiet worlds.

Riverwoods Trail

The river side of the trail is open, at least a good part of the way. I don’t know when was the last time it was. The Missouri River hugs the banks and splashes over in random puddles. It brushes just beneath the edges of the bridge, completely drowning the banks of the summer fishing hole.

The nearly apocalyptic look of the tangled brush and tumbled limbs seems somehow appropriate on the first day of official 30 day lock-down of the county.

Scrambling up ledges and ducking under branches to skirt the puddles, we make it about half way around before it’s just too thick to go on.

I was really a little unsure about coming out today. They did say walking was fine, but did they mean only a neighborhood park?

Brand new signs, that both welcomed and warned, answered the question for the handful of carefully distant co-visitors we met.

Spring marches on, caring nothing for the fears and questions we hold.

It flows in with the river and the scent of fresh air and the promise of life renewed.

Busch Memorial Conservation Area

Spring; in tiny delicate hints whispering behind piles of leaves and twigs

Abandoned bunkers and rusted street lights line an old gravel road off of Lake 33. The whole area is dotted with little lakes and ponds and trails. The skies are warm and turquoise blue. It feels like early summer, but still looks at first glance like deep in the fall.

Knee high, half -hidden spring is slipping through the brush, ready to burst into bloom.

Pere Marquette

The river is high and spooky still on the drive along the bluff; a shining mirrored glass of cliffs and skeletal trees.

The trail at first is freshly graveled and silty soft. It gently sinks when I stop for a picture of crusted snow in a crevice of a tree, a hint of the mush to come.

It’s starting to feel almost warm, and I’m reconsidering my thick winter coat as we climb the stone steps and the narrow trail to the top of the ridge. But it the breeze is blowing and it’s gently cool under mare’s tail skies at the top. Brilliant sunshine sets off the brush in glowing bronze.

From the overlook deck, frozen backwaters sparkle and flash, explaining the stillness of the river.

It’s a thickly muddy slide back down the river view trail. More foot traffic? A couple more hours of warming sun? A hidden run off stream? I have no idea why this side is so much muddier, but the best strategy seemed to be a scrambling acceptance of scrapping and laundry to come.

Sunset glow and clouding skies shift the pre-spring breezes back to mid-winter chill.

Groundhog’s Gift

Apparently, the groundhog predicted an early spring today. While I’ve never taken much stock in his thoughts, and the forecast for later this week suggests winter is tightly clinging to our part of the hemisphere, I’m delighted to accept the mid winter gift of sunshine and 60 degrees today.

Finding a park to enjoy it in was an incredibly popular challenge! After giving up on a few hopelessly crowded options, I wound up back down I-44 at Route 66. It was full of bikers and strolling families today, but the back trail was relatively quiet.

The thick sweater I wore, with the hope of not needing to drag along a coat, was almost too warm itself.

Brilliant sunshine, gentle winds, the splashing of the river, and the clatter of a woodpecker; a beautiful start to the wild ride that is February.

Mort Jacobs Park

Thirty one parks in thirty one days. I’m a little surprised I actually managed to pull it off. I thought I was going to have to start dividing some larger parks into multiple sections or extending my work day distance limits to get the rest in this week.

I’d never even heard of this one before, but it turned out to be only a couple of miles away. It’s set within a quiet neighborhood next to a school.

It was busy with squealing, giggling children on a modern new play structure, and several dog walkers.

One older gentleman seemed a little suspicious of me. He was friendly enough, but definitely wanted to know what I was doing there with a camera. He headed on around the trails with his dog after we talked a few minutes, but I noticed he didn’t leave until I did.

I wasn’t offended. It was nice really, to see that level of interest in looking out for the neighborhood. I’m always careful not to include any children in my pictures and to keep my distance, but he was going to make sure I did.

It’s really designed as a neighborhood park. There’s parking, but not a lot. Most of the paths lead directly off residential streets. An occasional car passes, slowly and carefully, but there’s no other traffic noise. It’s a peaceful, beautiful, wide open space to drift slowly into the weekend.

Frontier Park

The park grounds look amazing, even in depths of winter. This whole area was flooded last spring and had to be reseeded. The grass is thick and green and almost completely filled in again.

The river seems high and dark and swift under clouded skies, but it stays within its banks. Occasional splotches of thick mud on the pebbled trail seem far more than snow melt, and suggest some recent flooding.

The trail is level and gently curved. It’s lined every few yards with benches that focus on the river and various historical markers and the old train depot.

It’s mostly foot traffic. I don’t know that bicycles are actually forbidden, but with the Katy Trail only yards away across the grounds, it would be rather pointless.

And that, is a whole other story of its own. Our amazing Katy Trail, 237.7 miles of continuous biking and hiking from one end of the state to the other.

The park is peaceful and beautiful all on its own, but then leads right across the street to the old St Charles historic district.

History lives; in costumed characters for seasonal events, local shops, and old brick streets to wander after a stroll by the river.

Whether the presence of Grandma’s Cookies is a benefit or a stumbling block, I’ll leave to personal opinion.

Creve Coeur Lake

Creve Coeur is way more than after work stroll level, and will probably be the subject of future posts as well. For today, I wandered around the waterfall side of the path that circles the larger lake.

Although mostly frozen, there was a surprising amount of water still flowing and splashing over the stones of the waterfall.

The lake is grey and choppy. It seems high for this time of year. Gulls swoop and call over the open waters and a goose skims long and low just above the surface.

The shallow waters near the bridge are still and frozen on both sides of the trail.

I’m shocked by the number of people out of this icy day. Dog walkers and joggers, okay, but bicycles?

I love riding in this park, but the thought of the damp cold wind on their reddened faces doesn’t even sound fun today.

I’ll take my quiet walk for now, stopping for shot of an interesting tree or a soaring birds, rubbing my frozen fingers, and shrugging deeper into my puffy down coat.

Fort Belle Fontaine

Peek-a-boo sunshine, teasing like a giggling child, turns the prairie trail into silty mush. Birds call and rustle in the brush, but dart away before they can hardly be seen. A woodpecker taunts us from the top of a wooden electric pole, hiding within the wires and posts.

Beautiful WPA structures, including the stunning grand staircase, overlook the Missouri River. Ice still lingers on the shaded stone of the spiraled steps as I creep down each level. I think a few times, I should stop; just get some river pictures from where I am and move back into the sunshine.

I’m so glad when I reach the base, that I did it. The rush of the river and the call of the seagulls are practically all that breaks the stillness.

Even the voices of other hikers and the occasional drone of a far away airplane seem muted.

The gulls dart and swoop over the water, then dive to skim the surface. Two robins peck at a pile of damp leaves, so intent they barely seem to notice I’m there.

The trail whispers the stories of its decades of history, then pauses to allow me to sketch my own line.

Grant’s Trail

Saturday busy and not much time, but I managed a short walk on a section of Grant’s Trail. It’s paved and mostly level, a wonderful bike trail I’ve been on many times before in the summer.

It’s blustery cold under the thickly clouded skies, but it’s also one of the most active trail I’ve seen this month. Although hardly crowded, there are multiple bravely layered joggers, some excited dogs walking their somewhat less enthusiastic humans, and even a couple of bikes.

The Tesshire Drive section I’m on, is lined by ball fields and apartment buildings, with several footpaths leading onto the trail.

Wooded stretches cut the winds and echo with the chorus of birds. Side trails lead to museums and parks to explore on another day.