馬特·克羅斯曼 譯/何梓健 審訂/肖文

She was 60 or so， and pedaling her bike on the Katy Trail， a nearly 240-mile path across Missouri built on an old railway. She headed west， and I passed her headed east on the final morning of my four-day quest to ride the full route. Straw-colored hair marbled with gray fell out of her bike helmet. Crinkles shot from her eyes， evidence of a lifetime wearing that mammoth1 grin.

A little enviously， I found myself wondering， What happened， that day and in all the decades before， to make her smile like that？ What’s her secret？ I tugged on2 my brakes to stop， turn around and chase her down to ask. But I let her go. I’d rather imagine her answer.

That was on a Tuesday. I had arrived on the previous Saturday with three friends at the Katy’s westernmost trailhead in Clinton， Missouri， in a sour mood.

One of my fellow riders works in agriculture， and as we set out， he narrated the fields we pedaled through. Soybeans， he said， and then soybeans， and then—hey， look！—more soybeans. We crested3 no hills， rounded no turns. Nothing changed. Just miles of sameness. After months of chaos， I found the monotony comforting.

Deep in one field， we stopped for a drink. Two men from Colorado broke， too， and struck up4 a socially distant chat. We told them we were riding toward our homes near St. Charles， a historic community just outside St. Louis that’s best known as the launch point of the Lewis and Clark expedition5. We climbed back on our bikes. “Have a great ride，” one of them said， and in a light-hearted reference to their speed （slow） relative to ours （less so）， he added， “We’ll never see you again！”

I pushed the pedals with more verve6 after that. Usually I’m the one who sparks conversations. I ask about the city on your shirt or the team on your hat. On the Katy， people pestered me with7 questions. It started with the Coloradans. It continued for four days.

“Where are you from？”

“How far are you riding？”

“Those shorts are hideously tight—why are you wearing them in public？”

The idle small talk sprung a small leak in the anxiety I carried， and it slowly spilled out behind me. I didn’t realize I had given into isolation until I stepped out of it. Soon， instead of craving shelter from the storm， I ran like a fool into the rain， head tilted back， drinking big drops. I couldn’t wait to get to the next stop to yak it up8 with strangers I found there.

The Katy Trail has always been a through-way for travelers. For about 100 years following the Civil War， trains rumbled along tracks controlled by the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad （nickname： MKT， or Katy）. The route fell into disrepair in the ’70s. In 1987， the state adopted the corridor with a vision to establish Katy Trail State Park. A pioneer conversion of its kind， it remains the longest rails-to-trails bike path in the U.S.

Flat and wide， the Katy draws both families for short excursions and endurance athletes who want to pile on miles. （I fall somewhere in the ambitious middle.） Hikers， runners and bikers share the gravel path in spring， summer and fall， joined by cross-country skiers and even mushers in winter. Historic depots converted to trailheads pop up every 9 or 10 miles， so you can easily drive anywhere to park and hop on for a short out-and-back ride. One-way cyclists can hire a shuttle service—that’s what we did—or ride Amtrak9 with their bikes between Sedalia and Hermann.

After lunch on day two， we crossed high over the Missouri River at Boonville. The trail turned right and continued parallel to the river， as it would for the next 150 miles. That’s also where the Katy connects with Lewis and Clark’s route.

If you aren’t riding or running the Katy， you’re chasing an entrepreneurial dream along it. B&Bs， breweries， cafes and wineries dot the full length of the trail. As do some surprises： Drew Lemberger， an Army veteran who owns the Mount Nebo Inn next to Meriwether， has worked as a river guide， fishing guide， boat-maker and sommelier. I took a break from my ride to join one of his Missouri River tours. Being on the water （in a boat the captain built himself） provided an intimacy with the river that carried Lewis and Clark that I would have missed on the trail. Something of an ornithologist， too， Lemberger pointed out pelicans， geese and vultures. He nosed us toward a tree holding a nest. A bald eagle soared above， circled， then came in for a landing. Lemberger turned the boat back toward Rocheport， and as golden cliff faces peeled past， offered up some wisdom from a life spent on the Big Muddy10： “Never hang your fishing clothes next to your tuxedo11.”

The next day， our final morning， we stirred to life12 before dawn. We planned to cover 110 miles， so we couldn’t dawdle. The streets lay empty， the sun barely a rumor. The state Capitol dome watched over us from behind as we rode across the river back to the trail. The clouds waved an ominous ombre of gray to blue to purple， an apparent real storm replacing the metaphorical one that followed me the first day.

But the threat proved to be illusory. Gaps of light grew in the darkness. Pink freckles peeked through the clouds. The sun climbed high， warming my back as I passed the woman with the giant smile.

橫貫密蘇里州的凱蒂步道長(zhǎng)約240英里，建在一條舊鐵道上，一位花甲之年的女士正在這條小道上踏車而行。我計(jì)劃用4天騎完全程，就在第4天早晨我向東行進(jìn)之際，與西行的她擦肩而過(guò)。她戴著自行車頭盔，頭盔下露出麥秸色的頭發(fā)，其中摻雜了幾縷銀絲。她的眼角皺紋綻開(kāi)，證明她這輩子是個(gè)笑口常開(kāi)的人。

心生些許嫉妒，我禁不住想：當(dāng)天發(fā)生了什么，過(guò)去幾十年里發(fā)生了什么，讓她的笑顏如此燦爛？她有何秘訣？我捏下車閘一把停住，想掉頭追上她問(wèn)個(gè)究竟。然而我任憑她遠(yuǎn)去，寧可把她的回答留給想象。

那天是周二。上周六，我就和三個(gè)騎友到達(dá)了位于密蘇里克林頓的凱蒂步道最西端，當(dāng)時(shí)我心事重重。

同行的一名騎友從事農(nóng)業(yè)工作，啟程后，但凡我們?cè)竭^(guò)的田野，他都能娓娓道來(lái)。他說(shuō)：這是大豆，這也是大豆，這——嘿，快看！——還是大豆。沒(méi)有翻山越嶺，沒(méi)有峰回路轉(zhuǎn)，風(fēng)平林靜，一路如常。歷經(jīng)數(shù)月的煩亂，我覺(jué)得這種單調(diào)頗給人慰藉。

途經(jīng)一片田野深處，我們停下補(bǔ)充水分。偶遇兩個(gè)來(lái)自科羅拉多的男人也在這里歇腳，幾個(gè)人便隔著社交距離聊了起來(lái)。我們告訴他倆，我們幾個(gè)家住圣查爾斯附近，正往那兒騎，那是個(gè)歷史悠久的縣城，就在圣路易斯市外，因是劉易斯與克拉克西部遠(yuǎn)征的起點(diǎn)而聞名。聊罷，我們?cè)俅慰缟狭塑嚒Ｖ宦?tīng)見(jiàn)兩人中的一個(gè)說(shuō)：“一路順風(fēng)！”接著又輕松地補(bǔ)了句：“咱們?cè)僖惨?jiàn)不著了！”這是在打趣他們的速度（慢），跟不上我們（沒(méi)那么慢）。

休整后我踩起車更有勁了。平日里通常都是我挑起話題，我會(huì)讓人說(shuō)說(shuō)印在襯衫上的那個(gè)城市或是帽子上的那個(gè)球隊(duì)。在凱蒂步道上，我成了輪番發(fā)問(wèn)的對(duì)象。那兩個(gè)科羅拉多人開(kāi)了頭，之后連續(xù)四天都是別人對(duì)我發(fā)問(wèn)。

“你老家在哪兒？”

“你要騎多遠(yuǎn)？”

“你那短褲緊得嚇人——干嗎穿這么緊的褲子出門？”

這些閑言碎語(yǔ)讓我背負(fù)的焦慮裂開(kāi)了一條小縫，在身后一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)灑下。直到走出孤獨(dú)，我才意識(shí)到自己早已陷入孤獨(dú)。旋即轉(zhuǎn)念，風(fēng)暴中我不再渴望避風(fēng)港，而想像個(gè)傻子一樣跑進(jìn)雨里，高仰著頭，喝著瓢潑的雨水。我迫不及待要與下一站碰面的陌生人嘮上幾句了。

凱蒂步道是觀光客的必經(jīng)之路。南北戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)落幕后近一個(gè)世紀(jì)里，無(wú)數(shù)列車在密蘇里—堪薩斯—得克薩斯州際鐵路公司（昵稱MKT或Katy“凱蒂”）運(yùn)營(yíng)的鐵路上隆隆駛過(guò)。20世紀(jì)70年代鐵道敗落失修。1987年，密蘇里州要興建凱蒂步道州立公園，便接管了這條走廊。作為此類改造工程的先行者，凱蒂步道至今仍是美國(guó)最長(zhǎng)的鐵路改建自行車道。

凱蒂步道平坦寬闊，吸引著喜愛(ài)短途郊游的家庭和意欲長(zhǎng)途跋涉的耐力運(yùn)動(dòng)員。（我處于兩者之間，躍躍欲試。）春、夏、秋三季，遠(yuǎn)足、跑步和騎行者會(huì)在這條礫石小徑上同行;到了冬季，越野滑雪者，甚至雪橇手，也會(huì)加入進(jìn)來(lái)。每隔9到10英里就有一個(gè)步道起點(diǎn)，由歷史悠久的火車站改建而來(lái)，因此可以很方便地驅(qū)車在公園任何一處停靠，來(lái)一場(chǎng)短途往返騎行。單程騎手可以租用班車接送（我們就用了這一服務(wù)），或者帶著自行車搭乘全國(guó)鐵路客運(yùn)公司在錫代利亞市和赫曼兩市之間穿梭的列車。

第二天午飯過(guò)后，我們?cè)诓级骶S爾騎過(guò)高橋，跨越密蘇里河。步道右拐后與河流并行，這段里程延綿150英里。那里也是凱蒂步道和劉易斯與克拉克遠(yuǎn)征路線相接的地方。

如果不是在凱蒂步道上騎行或跑步，那就是在沿途追逐創(chuàng)業(yè)夢(mèng)。民宿、啤酒廠、咖啡館和葡萄酒莊遍布步道全線。這一路還有些意外發(fā)現(xiàn)：德魯·倫伯格爾是一名陸軍退伍老兵，經(jīng)營(yíng)著自己的尼波山旅館（就在梅里韋瑟咖啡廳隔壁），他還是游河向?qū)?、釣魚教練、造船匠和品酒師。我中斷騎行，參加了一趟倫伯格爾導(dǎo)覽的密蘇里河船旅。（乘坐船長(zhǎng)自己建造的小船）在水上徜徉，讓我與這條曾承載劉易斯和克拉克的河流親密起來(lái)，那是若只在步道騎行便會(huì)錯(cuò)過(guò)的一種親密感。倫伯格爾指給我們看鵜鶘、鵝和禿鷲，頗有幾分鳥(niǎo)類學(xué)家的模樣。他小心翼翼地帶我們駛近一棵筑有鳥(niǎo)巢的樹(shù)。只見(jiàn)一只白頭雕翩翩騰空、盤旋，然后緩緩著陸。倫伯格爾調(diào)轉(zhuǎn)船頭，向羅什波特駛?cè)?，掠過(guò)一片片金黃的崖壁，作為一輩子在“大泥河”上生活的人，他蹦出了一句人生箴言：“千萬(wàn)不要把釣魚服放在晚禮服旁邊?！?/p>

次日，也就是騎行之旅最后一天的清晨，天沒(méi)亮我們就出發(fā)了。我們打算騎110英里，所以不能磨蹭。街上空無(wú)一人，太陽(yáng)幾未現(xiàn)身。我們?cè)竭^(guò)密蘇里河重回步道，密蘇里州議會(huì)大廈高高的穹頂被我們甩在身后。云團(tuán)卷舒間不斷變換著色彩，從灰到藍(lán)再紫，感覺(jué)有點(diǎn)兒不妙，顯然正醞釀一場(chǎng)真正的風(fēng)暴，要取代第一天尾隨我的那一場(chǎng)隱喻的風(fēng)暴。

但結(jié)果表明，這種恫嚇不過(guò)是個(gè)錯(cuò)覺(jué)。黑暗中透出道道亮光。粉紅的光斑映出云層。艷陽(yáng)高照，暖我脊背，正是那一刻，我與那位笑容燦爛的女士擦肩而過(guò)。

（譯者為“《英語(yǔ)世界》杯”翻譯大賽獲獎(jiǎng)?wù)撸?/p>