Tom's Twin Lights Ride

19 May 2013

Ah, nothing like a dreary, rainy, lazy Sunday morning to sit around in my gym clothes, drinking coffee, and blogging.  Tom already has his post up.  Jim promises a post that will surely pick up where Tom left off.

As Tom mentions, this was a ride that he, Winter Larry, and I were talking about months ago.  On a steep hill overlooking the New York/New Jersey Bight, Sandy Hook, and Sandy Hook Bay are the Navesink Twin Lights.  I'd never been there, even though I'd been close enough to have seen them on several bike rides to the northern end of Sandy Hook years ago.

Winter Larry's lungs were full of pollen yesterday; he stayed home.  He did take us to Bordentown last Sunday, though.  He'd planned on Cassville and wanted me to take a picture of his favorite white horse along the way, but we convinced him that the return trip dead-on into massive headwinds would be more torture than we wanted.  That's how we wound up in Bordentown instead.  I took these pictures for him, so that he might not feel so sad about not seeing his white horse.

 Delaware River at Bordentown

 River LINE

Cheryl hasn't been to Thompson park in so long that she asked if she could follow me there.  I said hello to her doggies, drooled over her new beater bike (how beater can it be if it used to belong to Little John?), and handed her a travel mug of coffee.

We gave ourselves plenty of time to get there and arrived half an hour early.  I took a few pictures of the lake, which I try to do on the fall mornings Pumpkin Patch Pedals  (here's one).

Within fifteen minutes the crew had assembled:  me, Cheryl, Tom, Ron, Jim, Joe, Dave C, Mark, Neil (there will be howling under bridges today), Tom, Jack, two new guys (Rich and Sean), and, in his first group ride since March, Eddie "The Shoulder"  (tough noogies, Ed, it's your blog name now).

Before pushing off, Tom warned us about the Big Hill Up to The Lights.  Short but steep, the hill might have to be walked.  But he had his Feather, and I'd brought Kermit, because he'd told me earlier that we wouldn't need our tricked-out Cannondales.  I wasn't worried.  Kermit has 34 in the back anyway.

We sacrificed scenery in order to minimize distance; there's not much open space to look at when heading almost due east from Jamesburg.  There was too much traffic for me to stop for pictures along and above the Navesink River, where some of New Jersey's wealthiest live.

Our rest stop, a Quick-Chek in Atlantic Highlands, was well-placed:  the climb to the Twin Lights was a few miles away.  I was towards the back of the pack when Tom signaled the turn up the steep, winding road.  A few people had already stopped at the bottom, having almost missed the turn or dodging a car or something.  This gave me the chance to swing in a wide arc onto the road, with enough momentum in my lowest gear to get me over the steep start, standing for a few pedal strokes.  The hill looks worse than it is.  We've seen far worse a lot closer to home.  Pine Hill, for one, Federal Twist for another.  This one was bad because of the steep approach on a blind curve.

All pain was forgotten at the top.

I grumbled about shooting into the light.  Tom took my camera and showed me how to trick it into overexposing.  Good to know, but I like the dark ones better.

This is the most rural-looking pair of pictures I took all day:

It's just the fence at the edge of the lighthouse property.

Dave pointed out the fence-eating tree:

Nom nom nom!

We descended with all deliberate caution.  Here is the lighthouse from the bottom of the hill.

We took our bikes over the pedestrian bridge to Sandy Hook.  Unlike the Delaware River bridges, this one had no little house with a little man to jump out and force us to walk our bikes.  So some of us rode over, despite several narrow, 180-degree turns and sand at the bottom.

Twin Lights from Sandy Hook

While we waited for the law-abiding citizens,  I took some pictures of the seawall at the southern end of Sandy Hook.

Half the group rode ahead, along the seawall, through patches of inches-deep sand.  I'd had enough of that, and the lagging group followed me onto the road, after which we figured out that the "zeek-zeek-zeek" sound I'd been hearing in my rear wheel was not sand in the chain but the wheel rubbing against the chainstay, having come slightly unseated after the flat I had weeks ago.  It's a Kermit thing.  Happens all the time, fixed in an instant.

We passed through two more overly-moneyed towns:  Rumson and Colt's Neck.  Ahead of us the sky looked threatening.  We got spat on a few times.  We needed another rest stop and found a Dunin' Donuts in a strip mall that could have been anywhere, New Jersey.

Eddie "The Shoulder" poses with his purple doughnut.

We got back to Thompson Park before the rain did.

I can't be within half a mile of Mendoker's Bakery without stopping in.  While waiting for my number to be called, I found Ed's next snack:

This is how to get kids to eat their doughnuts.

OK, well, I guess I beat Jim to the post again.  It's almost noon.  I should go pump some iron or something.