Remember That Time Everything Went Perfectly?

June 9, 2026

The Adventurous Life column.

The Katy Trail. I’ve jogged it, walked it, hiked it, watched the eclipse on it, camped next to it, and rid- den my bike its entire length twice, once in each direction. I have run over a snake on it, slammed my brakes to avoid T-boning a deer on it, and crashed in front of my friends on it when I couldn’t unclip my pedals fast enough to get my feet down.

All of which is to say, I have spent many, many hours exploring the Katy Trail—thestrip of crushed limestone that runs from Machens to Clinton. But among all those many hours, there was one very brief moment that completely changed my life and my career and led directly to my adventure-writing niche.

Crisp afternoon. Late fall. I was 70 miles in on the first day of a three-day east-to- west ride, almost to Hermann, the prettiest part of the 240-mile trail. The Missouri River ran slowly, as if the water itself was soaking up the beautiful surround- ings every bit as much as I was. The sun inched its way down on the far side of the river and cast the cliff face to my right in a warm yellow glow. As I rode, the sun’s reflection on the water followed me, as if it were a rope lassoed around my waist.

It was one of those times where, in the moment itself, you know it’s becoming a flashbulb memory. I wanted to freeze time, collect the images and sensations, and store them so I could relive it whenever I wanted. Finally, the sun sank below the trees, and the lasso-rope reflection exploded like an icicle hitting the ground after falling from a roof. I returned my gaze to the path in front of me and exulted in gratitude for all I had just seen and felt—the sweat on my back, the cliffs, the laughter of friends in front of and behind me. Everything was absolutely perfect.

Then, WHOOSH!

A skunk darted onto the trail in front of my friend Brent Mathany. Brent skidded to a stop. I dang near ran into him, and I dang near ran over the skunk.

Fortunately, the skunk didn’t spray us, so that encounter turned an already great day into an unforgettable one. I learned right then and there a lesson that transformed my career, and with it, my life: Go outside, do something fun and challenging, and your life will be full to overflowing.

It’s fitting that I was introduced to the adventures that can be had on the Katy Trail in Missouri, as it’s one of many world-class destinations in our state. Already in Missouri Life, I’ve written about the most remote spot in Missouri, where I got rained on in my tent; the lowest elevation in Missouri, which I couldn’t get to because of an overflowing river that threatened to whisk me away; and a thrilling UTV ride, which I had to give up on because I was afraid I was going to crash.

I hope to make adventure seem accessible because it IS accessible. I’m just a regular suburban dad. I don’t have any training. I have a willingness to fall on my face, and that’s about it. In fact, I prefer adventures in which I fall on my face because no great adventure story ever starts out with, “Remember that time everything went perfectly?”

I hope that when I come home with stories and sit down to write, my body will be sore, dirty, and exhausted, because that’s how I’ll know I had fun—that’s where the best stories come from.

Just so long as I don’t get sprayed by a skunk.

I have to draw the line somewhere.