Findin' Any?

Morel-hunting season has begun in Missouri. It’s hard to believe that I grew up in central Missouri and had almost no idea about this whole scene. My family’s food came from the grocery store and it came from people’s gardens. We were not big mushroom eaters, probably because my mom isn’t a big fan of mushrooms.

Once or twice, perhaps, we had mushrooms at the commons of Grandma Schroeder’s house (yeah, where I live now), if, say, Uncle Richard and Aunt Carole had had a bumper harvest in Moniteau County—enough for them to not eat up immediately; enough for them to bring to Jeff City and share as part of a planned rendezvous for the whole family, perhaps on a work day at Grandma’s yard—I can imagine that could have happened. I can imagine Grandma frying up some chicken and having some potato salad; I can see Aunt Carole frying up the morels just before serving.

I can imagine me looking at the gorgeous, hot, perfectly fried morels with skepticism, taking a bite, and finding them good.

But I don’t clearly recall it.

And even though I spent tons of time hiking and exploring the woods, I also don’t recall ever seeing a morel until I was more than full-grown and had moved back to Missouri in the late 1990s. That’s when Sue and I had started our “Year of the’s” and had two back-to-back “Year of the Mushrooms” (two, on account of the first year being abnormally dry and droughty, so there were few mushrooms to find). (By the way, our “Year of the” projects included all species in the group, not just edibles, so having two years dedicated to learning about mushrooms still only scratched the surface. It’s such a large, diverse group, it was like having “year of the animal” or “year of the plant.”)

I highly recommend having yourself a “Year of the.” Decide on something you’d really like to learn about, and just saturate yourself with it. Turn it into a year-long master’s program on that subject. Devour books about it. Talk about it with others. Look for lectures (and now, YouTubes) about it. Join a club that does it. Every time you go outdoors, look for it. If it’s an activity, like painting or playing an instrument, then try doing it every which way; go to concerts or museums; learn its history; take lessons; attempt related artforms. Spend a year seeing the world through the lens of that thing.

And it will stay with you forever. Like any part of your education, no one can take it away from you.

So as we enter morel season once again, I’d like to share with you one of my favorite morel-hunting stories. (Everyone has a ton of morel-hunting stories, right?) This was during our first Year of the Mushroom. Sue and I were still living in Columbia then, in a duplex in the Country Hill subdivision in southwest Columbia, near the Columbia MKT trail. We spent a lot of time on that section of trail between Columbia and McBaine.

Well, since we were saturating ourselves with mushroom consciousness, we were always on the lookout for morels. We couldn’t go outside without scanning the ground . . . looking.

If you haven’t hunted for morels, you don’t know what a dickens it is to try to see them. This time of year, the ground is covered with dead leaves that are the same colors as morels, plus pinecones . . . and little dead flower stalks from last year, and newly sprouted brittle ferns, and all kind of other odd things that cast reticulated shadows that look like the pockmarked pattern of morels, and catch your eye.

Anyway, we had taken to always carrying a wadded up plastic grocery bag in our back pockets “just in case” we found any mushrooms. (Yes, plastic is not optimal, but we’re talking “just in case.”)

So we got a little sidetracked. We stepped off the trail and down the shallow slope toward a nearby dryish creekbed. Again, . . . just in case. We didn’t have any luck, but as always, we enjoyed poking around. We didn’t have any reason to even pull our plastic bags out of our pockets; it was a bust.

But as we were doing this hunting, several well-coifed ladies had hustled by in their colorful new track outfits; I sensed them looking down at us, casting disapproving looks in our direction. Yes, we had roamed off the trail onto private land (I suppose). We might have even looked sketchy. I don’t think they had a clue what we were up to. Whatever; I don’t care what they might think.

Anyway, we finally gave up and were trudging back up the slope to the MKT trail, and at that point we met a fellow on the trail. He was loping along, but I don’t think he was there to get exercise. He looked like he was out for a nice walk, just kind of sauntering. He was fairly young, in his mid-twenties, I’d say, and he had on a pair of jeans, some worn work boots, and no shirt. He had kind of longish, dirty-blond hair. He looked to me like a native Boone Countian.

And he just half-smiled at us and said, knowingly: “Findin’ any?”

This, my friends, is one of the best things about morel hunting. It’s a club, and an offbeat one. It has nothing to do with race, class, ethnicity, religion, politics . . . anything, other than a taste for morels, a willingness to go into nature, and the thrill of the hunt. And a kind of time-honored competition, with a strong impulse not to divulge the precious locations of perennial troves.

. . . So, how did we respond to this fellow’s inquiry? We said, after a healthy, slightly less-than-innocent pause, “. . . no.” And we all kind of smirked and nodded, and we left him to wonder.

Happy morel-hunting, y’all. And if you’re “findin’ any,” I hope you leave a few for someone else!

Jar of Goodness 2.20.22: The Katy Trail

. . . The weekly virtual “gratitude jar.”

This week, I’m expressing thanks for Missouri’s Katy Trail.

Because even though it was really slushy, it was also really sunny . . . and great to be outside, walking.

Missouri River Pedestrian Bridge at Jefferson City

This morning was the groundbreaking ceremony for the long-awaited pedestrian addition to the Missouri River Bridge here at Jefferson City. I’m not an official journalist, I’m just a blogger, and an amateur one at that—but I’m thrilled that this project is moving forward!




Indeed, it’s a step forward on many accounts. It advances tourism in Jefferson City. It advances the connection of the Katy Trail State Park with neighboring communities. It advances safety for bicyclists and pedestrians as well as for the over 50,000 vehicle drivers that cross the river here each day.

(Nifty shovel, huh?)




In order to appreciate what we’re getting, you have to know what we have now. Right now, there are two bridges crossing the river—the one on the west is for southbound traffic and the one on the east is for northbound. When they built the second of these two bridges (the northbound one), back in 1991, they didn’t take possible pedestrian or bicycle traffic into account.

Meanwhile, also twenty years ago, the Katy Trail State Park was launched. Indeed, they’re celebrating this rails-to-trails park’s twentieth anniversary this month! It follows the old MKT railroad line from St. Charles clear to Clinton, Missouri.

It passes by Jefferson City right across the river at a point they call “North Jefferson”—but which many of us locals still think of as “Cedar City.” Cedar City was destroyed by the Great Flood of 1993.

Anyway, Jeff City has annexed the former town, but there’s really not much there beside the MFA, a golf range, some big soccer fields, and the Katy Trail access point.

So a problem arose: Even though the city built a nice bike trail connecting the cross-state Katy Trail to a point nearer to the Missouri River Bridge, bicyclists had hell to go through before getting across the river to Jeff City proper.




And that’s bad for tourism! And it’s dangerous, any way you slice it. The temporary solution has been to add a “bike lane” to the northbound (wider) bridge. But . . . that lane must function for bicyclists traveling both directions.




Now, if you’re a grown-up, responsible bicyclist, every fiber of your being should rebel against the thought of riding on the left side of the road, against traffic. But that is what you’re “supposed” to do if you are heading south, toward town. Argh!




And God forbid you should have to pass another bicyclist going the opposite way! —But of course, that rarely happens, since most bicyclists don’t want to attempt this ugly crossing.




Seriously—the traffic on the bridge is posted at 60 mph—which you know means many people are traveling at 70 mph. Including huge trucks.




You can’t tell from a car, but you can tell when you’re walking: Those big trucks make the bridge rumble and shake. They pass you in a whirlwind, stirring up grit and litter, creating a suction that threatens to pull you away from the shoulder. No joke.




So they finally did it—all these agencies, governments, and organizations put their heads together, and the work is beginning next week. (They would have begun this week, they said, but for all the rain.) A local company from Fulton, OCCI, Inc., won the bid.

The project is going to cost $6.7 million—the money’s coming from MoDOT, the City of Jefferson, the DNR, and the Missouri State Parks Foundation. That last is a private, nonprofit organization formed to raise money for Missouri State Parks. There was a 20 percent local match.

The Missouri Department of Transportation is naturally in charge of this project, as it pertains to Missouri Highways 54 and 63, which merge at this point to get across the river.

But, as Mayor Landwehr pointed out in his brief remarks, this has been a three-times complex project—complex engineering, complex funding issues, and complex in terms of policy, the drawing together of the governments of Callaway and Cole counties, the City of Jefferson, plus the state agencies for highways and state parks.

He also noted the good the pedestrian access will do for Jefferson City, “connecting the dots” of the Katy Trail with the State Capitol (which is a huge tourist attraction), the 12.5-mile Jefferson City Greenway system, and, one day, a development on Adrian’s Island making it friendly for public recreation.

It also makes it much easier for residents of Jefferson City to ride directly to the trail, instead of having to load their bikes into a vehicle and drive there. And that, my friends, will make Jefferson City—particularly the old-town portions near to the bridge—into a more desirable place to live.

And you know the Jefferson City CVB is thrilled about this project—there are thousands of riders on the Katy Trail, and it would be grand to have them spend the night in Jeff, eat at one of our fine restaurants, do a little shopping . . . !

So the plan is to attach an eight-foot-wide pathway against the east edge of the easternmost (northbound) bridge—which provides enough room for a couple of bikes to pass, as well as pleasant views of the State Capitol and the river. There will be a couple of places where you can stop to take in the sight.




Here is a view of the east side of the bridge, where it is going to be attached:



It must have been fun for them to figure out how to handle the trail on the north side of the river, since the bikes would have to cross the highway somehow. To accomplish this, they’re going to build a multi-staged ramp so that trail riders can get from bridge level down to the ground, then ride under the bridges to the nearby (and scenic) Carl R. Noren river access. (Which is managed by the Missouri Department of Conservation—see, I told you this is a complicated project!)

I took a picture of one of the artist-renditions of what the ramp will look like. I'm sure you can see this better on the MoDOT Web site:



From the river access (boat ramp), the trail will lead to the existing Katy Trail “North Jefferson” access point.

I don’t know about you, but as a native Central Missourian, I treasure the Missouri River, and from a young age, I have always assumed that one of the main reasons for bridges is for you to get a good look at all that water rushing below, and the landscape around. It has seemed unnatural that Jefferson City hasn’t done much to monopolize on its several potentially fabulous river views.




Mayor Landwehr pointed out, I think correctly, that the Missouri River is our own “big nature.” “We don’t have Rocky Mountains or an ocean here. But we have the Missouri.” And yes, it is unique.




As I stood there listening to the speakers at this morning’s groundbreaking, my eyes were incessantly drawn to the river going by in the landscape beyond them. It is hypnotic, it is inevitable, and it is somehow gentle. More people ought to look at rivers, and the pedestrian bridge is one step in the right direction.




They say it will be complete a year from now!




Meanwhile, they cautioned, lanes will be narrowed, traffic will be forced to slow down, and you won’t be able to get on the bridge from Main Street. I say: No problemo! Bring on the bike path!

Claysville Store and Café

Fall is here, so you’d better get goin’ if you are planning on eating at the Claysville Store! And fortunately, this is a lovely time of year for the visit.

The Claysville Store—a restaurant with a simple menu of pan-fried chicken and country ham, often barbecue, with all the fixin’s including desserts—is only open from February to about the middle of December, so you’d better start picking a weekend to enjoy a dinner there.

It’s a homey little place, the inside of an old country store, with beadboard paneling, shelves holding quaint old antique kitcheny stuff, and bluegrass music playing in the background.




The “town” of Claysville is actually just a memory, instead of an actual burg. During the steamboat era, the Missouri River ran right by the town and its railroad tracks, so the Claysville Store was a busy shipping and railing point for southern Boone County.

Then the river moved, and the railroad went defunct. Claysville shriveled up. But then the state of Missouri created the Katy Trail State Park, which breathed new life into many old railroad towns. Locals are now able to make an honest buck off of bicyclists, hikers, and other tourists eager to explore rural Missouri along the old railroad line. B&Bs have sprung up in formerly derelict old buildings; neat little cafés, antiques shops, and bicycle rentals and repair places occupy storefronts that used to be empty and dusty.

Claysville is one of these places—and you have to applaud the folks who have grabbed this opportunity to resurrect such a place. While a stereotype of small-town folks is a reluctance to try new things, these people are reinventing their communities. This is economic revitalization at the grass roots. Let’s cheer them on! Let’s give them some business!

Mark Hooibrink, who owns the restaurant with his wife, Laura, explained to us that since they rely so heavily on Katy Trail traffic (bicyclists, pedestrians) for business—and since getting there by car can be kind of dicey in snowy weather—they simply close the restaurant during the off season. He and his wife both have full-time jobs, anyway (which explains why their café is only open on weekends and at select other times). They’ve been known to close the restaurant for family events such as weddings and the like.

So memorize these hours, and then think about calling ahead, anyway, to make sure they’re really open: Saturdays, 4–8 pm; Sundays, 12:30–4 pm. One day we rode past Claysville on the trail, and they had a sign out that advertised a “Wednesday special” of pork steak with potato salad and baked beans.

As I said, they offer dinners of homemade fried chicken or country ham, and these come with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, coleslaw, apple sauce, and lovely, delicious biscuits.




You can order dinners separately (prices range from $7.50 to $8.75) or family-style, where it’s $11 to $13 per person, all-you-can-eat, including drinks. The least-expensive entrées are the mixed dark- and white-meat chicken dinners, and the most expensive are the all-white-meat dinners. Ham and chicken combo plates are intermediate in price.




I should mention that their country hams are from Burgers’ Smokehouse, over in Moniteau County, and it’s simply the best. Hooray for them using a local ham producer!




The Claysville Store also offers barbecue, when they expect a good turnout or when the mood hits them. Or sometimes there’s another special of the day.




They’re also famous for their pies and cobblers—the varieties of the day are handwritten on a board in front of the store; the desserts are $2.50 each. Blackberry cobbler is one of our favorites, and yes, you can get it with ice cream for an extra fifty cents. The cobbler is served hot, just the way you like it.




Beverages include tea and sweet tea, lemonade, and soda.

In the past year or so, the restaurant’s dining area has been expanded, with a projection screen and room to accommodate groups of 60–75. So it’s perfect for small conferences or retreats.

I understand camping is also available, but I strongly suggest you call first to confirm availability.

The last time I talked to them, the Hooibrinks were planning renovations to a nearby historic home, hoping to provide week-long getaway rentals—a guesthouse with a stocked refrigerator, something like a B&B.

They really enjoy offering friendly hospitality along their little stretch of the trail, and like Good Samaritans, they have been known to provide complimentary emergency services for hikers and bikers who’ve experienced sudden health issues or equipment trouble. I encourage you to give them some business for that reason alone.




As for the chow, it’s all just your basic, good, homemade, down-home cooking, salty, rich, and sweet, immensely satisfying. Afterward, you can walk off part of that big dinner by enjoying the trail. If you walk to the east a couple of miles, the forested section of trail opens up and rejoins the Mighty Mo, and there are three sites with benches offering you a tremendous view of the shimmering river.

Or, if you want to make a mini bike trip of it, you could drive your bikes to Hartsburg, pedal the (approximately) three easy miles to Claysville (or beyond; whatever you want), and then, on the return trip, have a late lunch or a dinner at Claysville, then pedal back to Hartsburg by dark, in time to catch a live bluegrass jam and enjoy libations at the Hartsburg Hitchin’ Post. (Ah, but that’s another post . . .)

How to Get There

By car, it’s off of Highway 63: About 25 miles south of Columbia (or about 5 miles north of Jeff City). Turn west on Claysville Road and drive about 2 miles. It’s a red building to the left. They have a big sign.

Via the Katy Trail, it’s between Hartsburg and North Jefferson City, at mile 149.8.

Keep their phone number handy so you can confirm they’re open: 573-636-8443.

The Claysville-Ashland Connection

For fun, here’s some trivia on the town’s name: Robert L. Ramsay, in Our Storehouse of Missouri Place Names, informs us in so many words that southern Boone County was occupied by Kentuckians and others who were mighty proud of statesman, Speaker of the House, founder and leader of the Whig party, and four-time presidential candidate Henry Clay, who helped give us the War of 1812 as well as the Missouri Compromise. Among many other things.

Thus Claysville was named directly for Henry Clay, and the city of Ashland, just to the north, was named for Henry Clay’s estate in Lexington, Kentucky, which was also named Ashland. In fact, the folks at Ashland named their town in 1853, the year after Clay’s death. Remember: Boone County is in Missouri’s Little Dixie!

Katy Trail Ride: Boonville to Pilot Grove

One of the truly cool things about Missouri is the Katy Trail State Park, a rails-to-trails project that has resulted in a recreational trail more than 200 miles long, stretching from St. Charles in the east to Clinton in the west, hugging the Missouri River much of the way.

It’s not paved, but it has a hard-packed surface of fine limestone gravel, perfect for walking, running, and biking.

Since we have lived in Columbia and Jefferson City, we know the sections near those towns the best. Our “beaten path” ranges from Boonville to New Franklin, Rocheport, Easely, Wilton, McBaine, Hartsburg, North Jefferson City, Tebbetts, and Mokane.

Saturday, with our friends Tim and Jane from Boonville, Sue and I rode a part of the trail we hadn’t ever traveled before.

We started in downtown Boonville, right near the renovated historic Hotel Frederick (and Glenn’s restaurant), and rode southwest to the little town of Pilot Grove. And back. The round trip was about 23 miles.

It’s really nice how Boonville has routed the trail through town, past monuments, historic buildings, past the big pink riverboat casino, and through a park commemorating the railroad.




The section heading out of Boonville has a slight uphill grade, which was kind of a drag on the outbound flight, but is pretty sweet on the way back.

Even though the trail diverges from the river, there are some really nice-looking spots along this section of the trail. Lots of pastoral scenery. Very calm and pretty. And at this time of year, the trees are starting to turn, and the crisp, cool air kept us from getting all sweaty. (Which is a slight understatement—I was very glad to have a jacket on.)

Heading into Pilot Grove, there was a beautiful arbor of trees that formed a natural tunnel over the trail. I had to stop and take a picture.




This is also the part of the trail that goes over I-70 on an old railroad bridge. Pretty cool! Of course we had to stop and watch the cars and trucks zoom by below. Some drivers tooted their horns at us.




Except for a few places where walnut trees had dropped nuts on the trail, and some stretches where small branches littered the ground and got stuck in my bike—plus a few country-highway crossings—overall it was a quiet, safe, pleasant ride.

Alas, there was not much to do on a Saturday afternoon in Pilot Grove, though the trail facilities were nice, the Katy Trail signs were informative, and it was fun to ride around the small community and see the houses and the horses.

Bicycling, because it’s so much slower than driving, affords you scents and sights that become blurs to a motorist; if you’re observant, you can tell by the smell in the air whether you’re in a patch of cedars or walnuts, riding by a sun-bathed pasture, or cruising past a sludgy-slow, late-season creek.

The Katy Trail, no matter which part you’re on, allows you to see parts of the state you just can’t see from a car. This state park is essentially a ribbon that allows you to see behind the scenes of farms and small towns. You see the countryside views you would have seen years ago from a train; you’re not seeing the fronts of the properties, but the backs—the fields, the forests, the wildlife, the river . . . and once you get past the trail hubs, very few people.

If you have a bike that hasn’t been out of the garage for a while, oil it up and take it out to the trail on one of these nice autumn days. Put out as much or as little exertion as you want, and you’ll be surprised at the distance you can cover and the things you’ll see.

Cooper’s Landing

We went to Cooper’s Landing yesterday afternoon. What a great decision that was!

This is my first post about Cooper’s Landing; I am sure there will be more. It’s just upriver from Easley, which is south of Columbia on the river. If you drive to Easley and turn right (north or northwest), then Cooper’s Landing is your next stop. Unless the road’s washed out again, that is.

Fortunately, there’s more than one way to get to Cooper’s Landing, as it’s a popular fuel, groceries, and concessions stop for boaters on the Missouri as well as campground and eatery for bikers along the Katy Trail. So you can drive, boat, bike, or hike to Cooper’s.

And once you get there, you won’t want to leave. Here’s why.

1. The river. There are great views of the Missouri. Ahhh. Watchin’ the big muddy river slide by, with the sun highlighting every dimple and swirl on its surface. The trees. The primeval smell of the forest. The sound of the water lapping rhythmically against the docks. (Are we there yet?)

2. Excellent live music. There’s a small area for performers under a beautiful big sycamore tree, with chairs, benches, and picnic tables all around. Bluegrass, folk, country, acoustic, rock. Check out their calendar to see who’s playing. Yesterday afternoon, it was Pippa Letsky and a couple of her friends, playing that kind of bluegrass filled with such impossible woe that your own troubles seem light in comparison.

3. Libation. Note: they do not allow you to bring in your own beverages (see, selling beverages and food is how they get income) (and don’t worry, their prices are reasonable and they have a good selection). And bless their hearts, they have big recycling bins for all the bottles and cans. They care about the environment!

4. Food! They have a restaurant so they can serve regular kinda food, like burgers, breakfasts, and other home-cooking, but there’s also Thai food available! Chim’s Thai Kitchen is in a trailer on the premises; the food is served on paper plates and you eat it at a picnic table. So what an awesome idea, huh? We’re at Cooper’s Landing: “What are you in the mood for?”

Note: as with the beverages, they don’t want you bringing in your own food; don’t bring in a cooler at all. Again, they do offer something for everyone, and the prices are decent, so there’s no need to bring your own.

5. Family atmosphere. Seriously—even though a diverse and not squeaky-clean crowd passes through Cooper’s Landing, I’ve never seen people behaving in ways you wouldn’t let your children see. (Though I’ve never been there much after dark or on nights when rock bands play.)

6. It’s peaceful and casual. Everyone’s been pedaling all day, or boating out on the river, or trapped in some dreaded office, or something, and we’re all here to get away and relax. Camping and fishing clothes are fine. A Hawaiian shirt means “dressed up” here. Be comfortable. Wear sunscreen and Deet, perhaps, but never a tie.

As I said before, it’s easy to get to, whether you’re driving, biking, or boating. And now you can see, once you arrive, you won’t want to leave. The only solution, then, is to come here more often.

Again, check out their Web site for upcoming events and music. If you’re looking for a relaxing place to kick back, Cooper’s Landing is a great place to start.