Warren and Sussex High Points: We Are So Done With Climbing

Millbrook Road, Delaware Water Gap

26 August 2015

Yes, Tom broke us on Saturday.  

This was to have been day one of a two-day northern excursion to five county high points. We had planned to cover Warren and Sussex on Saturday, find a cheap hotel, then hit the Passaic, Bergen, and Morris high points on Sunday. Instead, it was a day trip, and a good thing that was, because had there been a second day of this, there would have been mutiny.

What happened was that two minutes before the last minute, I complained of an aching knee. At a minute before the last minute, Snakehead begged off, taking his daughter with him. Marc was on the fence. That left Tom, who would go no matter what, to convince us to attempt at least the Warren and Sussex ride.

So, after a flurry of emails, a mended knee, and a commitment from Marc, the three of us carpooled to Millbrook Village in the Delaware Water Gap.

At something past 9:30 a.m., we began with a 700-foot climb over 1 mile.  I put a mellow song on the mental iPod, found the 29-32, and stayed there.  I also broke my rule of not stopping on a hill because the view was too good to pass up:

Sand Pond Road:

We had a rest stop around 20 miles at the Sunrise Deli along the Appalachian Trail, between Kittatinny Lake and Sunrise Mountain.

Sunrise Mountain Road at Route 206:

Sunrise Mountain Road farther along, doing a Skyline Drive imitation:

Lake Marcia, High Point State Park, with the monument in the distance:

The last quarter mile of the ascent to the monument is the most difficult section.  As I've done the past two times, I summoned James Brown.  A group of young men were walking down as I pulled up.  One of them smiled and said, "High gear all day!"

"Uhhhhhhhh," I groaned.

If a car had arrived to drive me back to the Water Gap, I'd have taken it.  At 35 miles, I was finished. I was channeling my inner Cheryl, but I kept it to myself.

third in a series

I ate my second PB&J, finished what water I had, took some pictures, and resigned myself to at least 30 more miles. Tom wasn't entirely sure just how much further it would be.

I needed water.  A vending machine swallowed $2 and gave me nothing, so I filled up from a sink in the lake bathroom at the bottom of the hill.  The water tasted funny; I was looking forward to our second rest stop, where I could get better water and something with sugar in it.

At mile 50 was Flat's Deli.

It was closed.

"I fucked up," Tom said.  "I'm out of water."

Across the street, back where we'd come from, was a small farm stand called Flatbrook Farm.  We turned back.  I decided to go back a little further to take pictures of the farm across from the stand.

As I approached the intersection again, Tom and Marc were headed slowly towards me, following a man and his daughter.  He led us into the farm, where we filled our bottles from his well.  The water was cold and tasteless.

We were on level ground for a while here, following the Flat Brook into Layton, where we stopped at a Greek deli.

If a car had arrived to drive me back to the Water Gap, I'd have taken it. Instead, I drank some juice.

A farm in Layton:

Tom and I knew what was coming: the final steep climb up the eastern end of Old Mine Road, back to Millbrook Village.  Last year we'd first descended, then ascended this road, and last year we all agreed that if we never saw this road again we would not be upset.  The steep grade is bad enough on its own, but what made us completely miserable was the condition of the road.  For the next two miles, one would be better off on a soft-tail mountain bike. This isn't a dirt road; that would be smoother.  This is a series of potholes with a little pavement in between.

We knew it was coming; we just couldn't quite remember where.  As we got nearer, we remembered.  "We have to cross that stupid bridge," Tom said.  I could tell he was getting tired, because the bridge isn't particularly stupid. It's pretty, and so is the Flat Brook that runs under it.  So we stopped to stretch before the final hellscape.

Weaving between two potholes as a car passed near the top, my right calf cramped.  I pushed through it. I was too close to the end to stop.  The descent, about a quarter mile, had me gripping my brakes so much that, when I went to remove the front wheel two minutes later, the rims were still too hot to touch.

I collapsed on the grass to stretch.  It was after 5:00 p.m. We'd gone 68 miles at a C pace.

So. Done. With. Hills.

(Here's the route. If you go to the upper right corner of the map, click on "map," and choose "terrain," you'll get a better idea of the topography.  You'll also notice that Sunrise Mountain Road (a one-way street), goes from west to east, so that the view is north, where the sun definitely does not rise.  Whatever.)