Slugsicles!

24 January

A SNAFU in the Freewheel had me leading from the D&R Canal parking lot in Kingston today. It kinda sucked because Mike and I usually ride to Pennington from home, but this was too far and too cold for that. The gravel and dirt parking lot was an icy, muddy mess.

The temperature was dropping from the mid-thirties, but the sun seemed to want to come out.

A handful of hearty Slugs showed up: the Mikes and Chris; and Honorary Slugs John D. and Jane on their fixies. This was a good crew to ride on a too-cold day with.

Overnight the forecast had changed to include 34-mph wind gusts. We headed for the Sourland Mountain anyway, pushing against the wind out in open fields for a small forever until we found the trees on Hollow Road.

As with nearly every other body of water around here, the Back Brook was covered in ice. I stopped near the bottom of the hill for pictures.

Looking upstream:





And downstream:



Mike B stayed back with me. I wondered if every road with the word "Hollow" in it in central Jersey runs next to a stream. Every one I could think of does.

I apologized to the crew waiting at the top. "I stopped for pictures," I said. Jane was excited about this. "It was so beautiful back there!"

The Fixies sped past us all the way up Long Hill. They braved the steep and curvy downhill of Zion. John said, "I kept it between 15 and 20 miles per hour."

Passing through Neshanic Station, Jane said that I should stop for a picture of the old bridge over the icy river. I thought about it, but there was nowhere safe to stop that would offer me a good vantage point, so we rode on. "There's more scenery up ahead," I told her, and we followed River Road eastward to cross the Raritan River's South Branch.

Before I could shout, "Stopping!" Jane called out, "Picture!" and we all stopped.

Here's the South Branch from the bridge, facing upstream:





And downstream:







That's Jane in the red jacket:



The scenery wasn't too great after that. My goal was to get to the Bagel B.O.P. (it stands for "Baked on Premises") on Amwell Road. I was looking for the most pleasant way to get there, which is no easy task considering it's nearly at the intersection of Route 206 in the middle of Hillsborough. I kept us away from the traffic, save for a quick quarter mile on Amwell Road.

Mike M wanted to try John's fixie. He rode it around the parking lot for a few minutes. Mike B and I lamented the potential loss of a Hill Slug to the Dark Side, the Fixie life.

He dismounted. "Whadja think?" we all asked.

"That was unnerving."

"Are you gonna get one?" I asked.

"Dunno."

"Uh-oh. He didn't say 'no'."

We were just about the only people inside the B.O.P. and we took our time.

Chris was the only one sitting down when I brought my muffin to the table. Still with his sunglasses on, he leaned across and peered onto the top of the muffin, his face inches from it.

"Cockroaches," I said.

"Chocolate chips. Not blueberries?"

Someone else said, "Mouse droppings."

I said, "Too big. Rat droppings. I know my mouse droppings."

Mike B felt bad about finishing off my muffin so he bought me another one to take home.

At least we had a tailwind on Amwell Road until we turned off onto Willow.

I was riding next to John, asking him about his gears. We both admitted we're clueless about calculating gear ratios. I never could work out why a smaller front chain ring makes pedaling easier but a smaller back gear makes pedaling more difficult. "I can't do all that physics stuff."

"Just remember E equals MC squared," John said.

"Sure. Energy equals Muffins times Caffeine squared." There's your biking physics lesson for the day.

We got back to the Canal at the Griggstown Causeway. The Millstone River, running narrow and fast, wasn't the least bit frozen. But the canal, in its lazy, slow way, was covered in ice.

"Coppermine! Coppermine!" Mike B was shouting.

I asked Jane and John, "You guys okay with that?" Stupid question.

"Feel like another climb?" I asked Mike M.

"I could be talked into it."

Mike B said, "Say 'yes,' Mike.

Mike M said, "Yes, Mike."

So we climbed Coppermine. The Fixies whuped our freewheelin' asses. Again.

We got back to the canal via Old Georgetown. I think the Fixies were riding their brakes on this one. It ends in a steep way.

I took more pictures at the canal by Old Georgetown.

Somebody made some "art" here.



Ice on the canal:






Chris went for his camera while I was shooting. I beat him to it. From left to right are Chris, Mike B, Mike M, John, and Jane.



After that we had only a quarter mile to go before getting back to the parking lot.

Mike and I stopped at Cheryl's on the way home and left the muffin in her door.