Columbia Trail

31 October 2014

The Columbia Trail is a long drive for a short ride, but it's worth it.

Chris picked me up at my house.  We met Jim, Tom, and Jack H at the High Bridge parking lot.  Tom and Jack were the only ones who didn't have trouble finding the entrance.  Next time we go, I'll tell people to look for the sign behind the trees.

The ride was pleasant and uneventful until we approached the intersection with Middle Valley Road. We've descended Middle Valley.  It's the road with the hairpin turn at an obnoxious grade; it's the road Tom swore he'd never ascend without a jet pack.

Or, as it turns out, a mountain bike.  I'd told him that we had the gearing, so when he called out "Left turn!" I wasn't surprised.

I have to back up a bit here and explain that the last time I had Grover tuned up was probably in 2008. That's probably around the time I last changed my tubes, which are Slime tubes, the Slime of which has, over the years, hardened and reduced the valve inner diameter to something that now requires about an hour of pump-and-wait to get to 50 psi.  This, of course, I'd forgotten until the night before.  My tires are notoriously difficult to remove (it even took professionals 20 minutes); it was a toss-up whether my unprofessional skills would have taken more time on two tubes than the pump-and-wait method would have.  I opted for the latter so that I could get other chores done at the same time.  Also, the rear cassette has more than a little rust on it.  The chain did, too, until I drowned it in heavy lube last year until the glops dripping off were no longer red.  All of this goes a long way towards explaining what happened next.

"Left turn!"

"I'm in the wrong gear," I said, and attempted to shift to the tiny ring.  Instead, nothing happened.  I doubled back down the hill and tried to shift again.  This time the crank seized.  I got off the bike to take a look.

The rear derailleur was all the way forward, the chain wrapped all the way around the front ring so that it was now touching itself.  Shifting the front derailleur did nothing.  Pulling the cranks back did nothing. Bloody Cannondale, elder brother of Miss Piggy. I didn't fancy having to coast back to the parking lot; I wasn't about to wuss out on a big hill either.  With nothing to lose, I slammed the cranks forward.  The chain came free.  I proceeded up the hill.

I figured they'd all be on their way back down by now, but I was wrong.  Jack was off in the bushes. Chris was tacking halfway up, nursing a sore knee.  I took the hairpin as a straight line, cutting from behind Chris to in front of him without turning.  Tom and Jim were at the top.  I told them what happened as they passed me on their way down.

I know it looks flat, but it really isn't, honestly.

Not too long after that, we encountered a sign. "Temporary end of Columbia Trail," it read.  "No access beyond this point."

Right.

We proceeded.

There are homes being built along the side of the trail:

At the other end of the construction site we encountered a wall.

As we pondered alternative routes, a local biker approached.  "Is there another way around?" Tom asked her.

She said, "Just go around it," and that's what she did.  So we followed.

We were almost at the far end of the trail.  When we got there, we turned around.

The route back to High Bridge is more scenic.  It's slightly downhill, and the Raritan River is more visible.

This is a stream leading to the South Branch of the Raritan:

There's a nursery north of Califon.  Tom and I took pictures through the mid-day haze:

My plan was to go off the trail in Califon for a rest stop.  Jack and Tom decided to skip it.  Jim, Chris, and I were all for it.

Jim got the last pumpkin muffin, damn him.  I made him give me a piece.  Chris got so much sandwich that he had half of it wrapped.  I got a "morning glory" muffin, which tasted a lot like pumpkin pie without pumpkin.

I looked more carefully for the troll houses south of Califon; I hadn't noticed any on the way up.  This time I found a few.  I think there were more last year.

My favorite part of the trail is just north of the Ken Lockwood Gorge (or Kenny Rogers Gourd):

The Ken Lockwood Gorge:

At the bottom of the gorge is a dirt road that leads from Cokesbury Road to Califon.  We found a spur on the trail that leads to Cokesbury Road.

Next time I come up here, and it will be soon, we are going to take the road along the bottom of the gorge and follow the river all the way to Califon.  We'll return on the Columbia Trail and get the view from the top.  Come with me next time.  I know where the parking lot is now.