Missouri’s Katy Trail, a crushed limestone, multi-use bike trail

By Nic Halverson
Sun contributor

In light of the ongoing debate about whether or not to pave the Sleeping Bear Heritage multi-use bike trail that will soon run through the National Park, we solicited this perspective from an avid rider on Missouri’s “Katy Trail”.

If I learned anything the first week I moved to rural Missouri, it was this: people here are not afraid of high-speed police chases in stolen cars. Headlines of fugitives showing up on farmer’s doorsteps and of wrecked, abandoned vehicles in ditches were so common, that I became convinced that lawless winds blow here. Jesse James, Bonnie and Clyde and the Dalton Gang — all infamous outlaws who blazed renegade trails of infamy both far and wide; all with Missouri ties. Coincidence? I’m starting to think not.

Maybe it’s this area’s rich history of bandits, moonshiners and marauding river pirates hiding in caves along the banks of the Missouri River — maybe it’s this spirit that is embedded into the local psyche, emboldening those with nothing left to lose. Around these parts, yellow flags with coiled snakes and “Don’t Tread On Me” slogans are quite popular, as is Libertarianism and government distrust, leaving me with at least one certainty. Anyone who feels that their freedom has been encroached upon — the first place they take to, are the back roads.

The roads out here are treacherous. There are no shoulders, and there are blind curves and switchbacks that skirt ravines deep enough to swallow school buses. The road signs routinely post over-estimated speed limits, almost encouraging drivers to take hairpin turns far faster than what is a safe, negotiable speed. Aside from squad cars in hot pursuit and shoeless fugitives trying to flag down a ride, alligator snapping turtles and wild turkeys lurching across the asphalt make navigating these roads by car a true test of will.

Navigating these roads by bicycle, on the other hand, is reserved for only those comfortable flirting with death. Sure, there are those nine lifers in their neon spandex and Italian road bikes who are undaunted by the hazards, but my backbone’s marrow is not that brave, and I am not of that breed.

However, throw me on a saddle in a brawling metropolis with late-for-work road-ragers, surprise car doors flung open, and glass glittering like diamonds littered on the pavement, and I’ll bike ‘till I’m out of breath. The flat, grid-system of (my old hometown) Chicago’s streets was the perfect terrain for my embattled single speed Fuji road bike from the late ‘70s. But here, high atop my ridge overlooking the Missouri River, the roads are too hilly to peddle with only a single gear, let alone contending with mutineers being chased by the law.

Yet I am not without a more serene, less life-threatening option when it comes to quenching my thirst for hopping the old Fuji. Nearly running through my backyard is the pride and joy of mid Missouri’s biking and hiking community, the MKT Trail, more commonly referred to as, the “Katy Trail”.

Running on a railbed corridor formerly used by the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad, the Katy trail is the longest “rails to trails” project in the United States, carving a 225-mile swath across nearly the entire state of Missouri, half of which follows Lewis and Clark’s trail. In 1982, the city of Columbia opened the first three-mile section of the MKT Trail on a spur of the railroad, making it one of the very first rails-to-trails programs in the United States. Now, nearly 30 years later, thanks in part to private donations, government grants and sales tax initiatives, the Katy Trail now stretches from St. Charles to Clinton, Missouri.

Since recently relocating to the unincorporated community of Sapp, 12 miles south of Columbia, the old Fuji and I have logged approximately 25 miles on the Katy Trail so far. And honestly, I can’t imagine any of those miles being more picturesque. Following the rugged shoreline of the Missouri River, the stretch I’ve ridden passes under towering limestone bluffs home to eagles and other birds of prey. The dense forest canopy provides comfortable shade and the cool air rolling off the bluffs and out of the caves offers well-needed relief from the relentless Missouri summers.

The path itself is composed of tight packed, crushed limestone. I admit, my first reaction to seeing the trail’s gravel path was a groaning, “My Fuji’s thin tires aren’t going to fair so well on this surface.” This sentiment, however, was quickly admonished once I started peddling at full clip and realized my road bike could in fact handle the crushed limestone.

It has come to my attention that up in beautiful Leelanau County, Michigan, the readership of the Glen Arbor Sun is currently embroiled in a healthy debate over whether to pave the Sleeping Bear Heritage Trail or use packed earth or crushed gravel similar to that found on the Katy Trail here in Missouri.

Though quite fond of Leelanau County’s majestic landscape and its even more majestic denizens, the fact that I’m not a resident might disqualify me from doing a kamikaze cannon-ball leap off the high dive and into your pool of public debate. Yes — “to pave, or not to pave” is certainly the question, but I’m not looking to necessarily provide an answer, but rather, share with you brief experiences my fellow Columbians and I have had with our own crushed gravel trail.

In 2006, after snagging $22 million dollars in federal grant money to develop alternative transportation solutions, a local city planner proposed paving a section of the MKT Trail, hoping the incentive would increase commuting on bikes. Instead he stirred up what Columbia Daily Tribune reporter, Matthew LeBlanc called “a public reaction hot enough to peal the concrete off a walking path.”

Much of the public resisted, flooding the mayor’s office with letters of opposition and petitions. Most cited speed and safety concerns, as well as the disruption of the natural environment as reason why they were opposed to paving.

With the vox populi being too loud to ignore, the proposal to pave the trail was eventually taken off the ballot.

Columbia resident Chuck Dobbins, 42, who bikes the trail about three times a week, says he prefers the gravel path because of its more leisurely pace.

“If it were paved,” Dobbins said, “there’d be a lot more congestion. And the speeds would increase, too. All of a sudden, instead of people doing 16 mph, you’d get roadies whizzing by at 25 mph.”

Though I have nothing against “roadies whizzing by at 25 mph”, I must say, I enjoyed the slower pace and lack of congestion on the crushed gravel. If anything, it made me stop and smell the roses more often.

Tribune editor Jim Robertson added that the biking community continues to favor a paved trail, and Dobbins agreed that pavement does have advantages, and is a lot cheaper to maintain, especially trail sections in vulnerable, flood prone areas near the river. Dobbins insists that, for many Columbians — especially the running community — the matter is settled.

(Comments on the Katy Trail’s website, BikeKatyTrail.com reveal mixed reactions. One rider wrote: “I have a road bike and would not consider riding it on the Katy. I do have friends that do though, but most use mountain or hybrid bikes. If the trail is wet your tires may sink into the trail a bit. There are wash outs that you may encounter and loose sections of gravel near the gates by cross roads.” … “I would not even attempt the trail on a road bike, unless you are just fond of lots and lots of flat tires,” wrote another. Regarding bike tire selection, ML Haag wrote, “Tire choice is a very important issue for enjoyment of crushed limestone-surfaced rail trails, including the Katy Trail. When I bring up the trail at my local bike shops here in the (Kansas City) area, the subject of experiences with flat tires seems to be a repetitive theme. — the Editors)

Though I was a skeptic at first, I definitely consider myself a convert to the crushed gravel. The slower pace, lack of congestion and absence of concrete just seem more conducive to appreciating the natural landscape. And who knows, if the trail were paved, that’s just another escape route for the local derelicts. The last thing I need while taking a leisurely Sunday ride, is some desperado breathing down my neck in a boosted Buick.