My favorite puddle
4 May 2014
I've run the Double Reservoir ride so many times that I can't even find all of the blog posts about them. Yesterday's was, I think, the first time we didn't start from Frenchtown.
I like the new route well enough that I might run it again without major changes. I got to fill in a few blank spots on my roads-I've-been-on map, too.
Over at Jim's blog, commenters are berating us for not having taken some of the most challenging hills (of which there are many) in the area. My response to them is, "Been there, done that." Where we were was tough enough for the current crop of Hill Slugs. Looking back on all of the routes I've come up with since I started mapping online, I can see that yesterday's route comes within a hundred feet of being the hilliest ride I've ever led. But, shit, why am I defending myself. FSITAWAFH. (Ask Snakehead what that means.)
Cherryville-Stanton Road, which, when I mapped my very first Double Reservoir Ride, I went out of my way to avoid climbing for good reason, turns out to be a blast descending. Here's the view from halfway down:
That's Round Mountain, adjacent to Round Valley Reservoir, in the distance.
Kiceniuk Road crosses the Raritan River south of Clinton. After Thursday's rain dump, the water was turbid and high. There were six of us on the ride; four of us were taking pictures:
John K said, "I need to document the ride for insurance purposes." I gave him a leftover bunny.
Old Clinton Road follows the Raritan, but this is not the river; it's leftover rain:
Jim burst out laughing when I stopped for the picture. When I asked him what was so funny, he said, "The fastboys would hate all this stopping for pictures." Fine by me.
I stood in a gravel driveway to photograph a fence and pasture under water. As I was focusing, a truck pulled out of the driveway. The driver said, "Photographing my problems, eh?"
He was smiling. "I can only imagine how bad it was on Thursday," I said. There was dried mud in the road. He said the entire road was flooded, but that it wasn't the worst he'd seen. Back in 2010, after the Irene and Bill storms, "the water was up to the mailbox over there," he said. The mailbox was at least three feet above the road across from the driveway.
Now that the Dr. Seuss trees are no longer a mystery, I guess I should stop taking pictures of them. The best view is from Payne Road.
We approached the reservoir from the west. It used to be that I could catch glimpses of it on my way up the hill. Now that the trees have grown in, the first sight of the water is almost at the main entrance. In keeping with tradition, we went in at the boat launch.
Our first rest stop was at Jerry's Brooklyn Grill in Whitehouse Station. I sat down on the sidewalk with my muffin and coffee, and decided to check my phone for messages. There was a text from Jack: "Condi just backed out of graduation." I jumped up, found Snakehead in line, and showed him the text.
There was much celebration, speculation, and condemnation over snacks and on our way towards the toughest part of the route: the hills between us and Spruce Run Reservoir. I'd already told the guys that the route was shaped like a mushroom cloud.
Deer Hill was the first one on this leg that I warned them about. This is the first time I've noticed the view from the top.
Jim's beef with Deer Hill is that, once one gets to the top, one is made to climb even more on Bissell. When we got to the Cokesbury Road intersection, I was hoping that we'd be far enough down the ridge that we'd be able to see Round Valley. We weren't. I decided against going down the hill just to have to come back up, because I'm a Hill Slug, remember.
We went north instead, and then west again. One of my map gaps was the top half of Petticoat Lane, so we took it. I'm glad we did. Snakehead stopped first with his camera. The shadows help with the depth. This is looking west. Fiddler's Elbow is over there somewhere.
We turned onto Herman Thau Road. I'd been on this road before, in one of the later Double Reservoir Ride incarnations, with Mike B. We'd come up from the river to Petticoat on this road. I remembered that it had been work, and that it was shaded, but I remembered nothing else.
Heh. By the time we got to the end, I decided to rename the road "Fuck Thau" and be done with it.
That's when Jim noticed the moose at the corner house.
And the kitty in the window.
Jack has zero interest in our Hill Slug adventures, but he did enjoy these pictures.
I could tell that, even though we'd only gone thirteen miles from Whitehouse Station, were all starting to feel a little beat. There were thirteen miles between us and the second planned rest stop in Clinton. The optional stop was only a mile away. I didn't say anything about it.
Instead, we turned north on River Road and I showed them Lake Solitude and the dam behind it.
We turned left onto Cokesbury Road and soon passed under the Columbia Trail.
I knew what was coming after that. I didn't say anything. (Go to "map," click on "terrain," zoom all the way in, and look just east of mile 36.)
Snakehead and Jim were already off their bikes at the Hilltop Deli when I came around the corner. "I was gonna offer this as an optional rest stop," I said. Jim replied, "You'd have a mutiny if you didn't." We stayed there a good, long time.
Then it was down the other side, a short stretch on Route 31 (with wide shoulders and, mercifully, little traffic), a turn at the light onto Van Syckels, and into Spruce Run Reservoir, where we didn't have to pay because it was before Memorial Day.
Clouds were rolling in. We didn't stay long. We also decided to skip the rest stop in Clinton.
We still had to go through Clinton, though, which was a little hairy. The reward was a flat cruise along Hamden and River Roads. The section that's closed off to cars had a fresh layer of gravel, but aside from that we all got a chance to relax a little.
We passed near the sewage treatment plant. I told John that I'm always amazed when I see people fishing there. Today there was nobody there. The water was so high that it was almost level with the spillway. John agreed with me, and then imagined a conversation between fishermen:
"What did you catch?"
"Oh, just a few crappies."
I handed him another chocolate bunny.
I thought things were looking a little thunder stormy to the west. Ron said that we'd be all right until 3 p.m. He said, "It's not 3, is it?" I didn't know, and I decided to remain ignorant.
"Okay guys. We've got one more hill. There's a break in the trees on the right about halfway up, with a great view."
Spring Hill Road is one of my favorites.
We only had a little bit of climbing to the ridge after that. Then it was downhill with a tailwind all the way back to the park.
To the south the sky was gunmetal gray, and there were some raindrops on my windshield during my drive home.
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