The locals warn of a downed power line on Linvale Road
3 November 2012
Jim, Jack H., and John W. followed me into the Sourlands today. I didn't have a plan, just the idea to ride as far as we could get and to find somewhere that we could sit inside when the time comes for a rest stop.
Our first supposed road block was on Titus Mill Road at Pennington-Rocky Hill. I was about to go past it when Jack turned in. What was I thinking? When has a road closure or a bridge out sign ever deterred me? There was nothing in our way on Titus Mill.
We didn't see our first PSE&G crew until Stony Brook Road, where we stopped to chat with the foreman. When I asked about putting power lines underground in order to avoid all this, he said that it would be too expensive, and that if there were a problem, they'd have to "thump the line." (I just tried to Google that, no luck.)
He told us that the coastal substations have 8-foot-high fences topped with barbed wire. "There was seaweed on the fences," he said.
It was at the top of Stony Brook where we first started to hear the generators. Set back from the road, the houses were far enough away that we wouldn't normally have noticed them. Now, though, each sounded as if a lawnmower idled by the side of the house. I watched one man pour gasoline from a 5-gallon jug into his generator without even turning the engine off.
From Stony Brook we went to Mountain Church, and from there to Rileyville, where in two places, massive trees had been cut to allow one lane of cars through.
On Ridge Road a piece of tree pushed lines almost to the ground.
We turned left on Lindbergh; to our right a line sagged onto the road (zoom in).
We heard the generator at Peacock's before we could tell if the store was open. It was. "We'll come back," I said, and led the guys up Manners, Weliczawuzzywuzzywhateveritis, Cider Mill, Amwell, and back down Manners. At the corner of Amwell and Cider Mill, we talked to a woman walking her two Airedales. If the last hurricane and JCP&L were any indication, she'd figured she'd be without power for two weeks.
The sky over Manners Road was striking:
I stopped again at the downhill end of the Candlelight Alpaca Farm, where the animals that had evaded me and Sean during the summer were grazing and romping around on the back 40. I zoomed in for this picture so that I could show Sean later.
At the corner of Manners and Wertsville, a sign announced, "Peacocks is OPEN 8 a.m.-12-ish."
It was only 11-ish when, after close inspection of their generator, we walked in. Dark save for a light at the counter, the store's goods had been moved to the front of the room. The man behind the counter welcomed us in, showing us the spread of cakes, croissants, bagels, scones, and, of course, coffee. On the counter also rested a multiple-outlet cord, with two cell phones charging.
A half dozen people sat drinking coffee. One man was curled into himself. "You want to lie down?" a woman asked. "No," he said. "I'm not tired. I'm just cold."
This is Dudley. He has spots on his ears.
We climbed back up the mountain sideways, starting from Rileyville, where another power line was impressively downed:
This was at my feet.
If I'd stood in the middle of the cables I'd have gotten a much better picture of the twisted lines. However, there's only so much suffering I'm willing to put up with for my so-called art. My hair is curly enough, and my brain fried enough, as it is.
From Rileyville to Saddle Shop to Runyon Mill to Linvale, and I was focused so much on the road that I didn't even look north for the view.
On Linvale Road there was an impressive display to alert passers-by to a downed line. We saw this sort of thing elsewhere, but this was the best one.
.jpeg)
If you Google "blue bottle sculpture Crusher Road" you'll land on 25 December 2008's Hill Slug Chronicles. I can't even remember pictures I took my own self? Sheesh.
and back to Pennington-Rocky Hill Road, where the cross-wind almost knocked me sideways. I finally remembered to hand out the chocolate eyeballs I'd been carrying around for weeks (John had wondered what that rattle on my bike was) before John drove home and the three of us had a tailwind back to Lawrenceville.
Jack had texted me a picture: "tree almost gone."
And when we got home it was, indeed, gone, as was any evidence that it had ever taken up almost the entirety of my neighbor's yard.
Later I counted the rings. The tree was only 30 years old.
*****
Dale sent me pictures of the hurricane damage outside of her apartment (just to the right of the chimney on the left) in West Windsor:
*****
Just a few more.
Tom beat me to this when he posted a picture of leaf scraps against his house the day after the storm. Here's the leaf spatter on my house:
Don't forget to turn your clocks back an hour tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment