Windy Hook

Wind on the dunes, Sandy Hook, NJ

12 June 2016

The forecast says "high winds."  

Kermit says, "Bring it."

The flags were straight out to the east at 8:15 in the morning, and it was only going to get worse.

Tom was leading us east northeast to Sandy Hook. We'd be out in open fields in a crosswind on our way back.

The Holy Kickstand served as a paperweight for the sign-in sheet.

Ed was back from Oz. Jack H was back from his broken back. Jim was doing laps in the parking lot. I was getting second-hand sunscreen on the wind from two car lengths away.

Because Jack was back and Ed hadn't seen it, Tom agreed to bless our bikes again. He warned us that the Holy Kickstand would not protect us from stupidity.

We left Freehold on a not-quite-tailwind. When Tom stopped to adjust his GPS, I took a picture.

We've all been to Sandy Hook more times than we can remember. It's not as if I have the route memorized, but most of the time I have a good idea of where we are (one percent country) and what's coming next (hills along the Navesink River).

Not this time. I had no clue where we were. Somehow we wound up inside the old Bell Labs complex in Holmdel. Tom made sure we got close to the water tower that maybe isn't a water tower but a sculpture that looks like a Martian from War of the Worlds but is a water tower after all.

Definitely a Martian.

Well, as long as we're being artsy, let's take a picture of the umbrella's shadow outside of the Quick Chek in Highlands. I wasn't in any hurry to get moving again anyway.

I'd have stopped on the bridge on Route 36 over the Navesink River, for a picture of the Atlantic Ocean, but it wasn't safe. Now I regret it.

The wind was appreciably stronger as we crossed the river. It was coming across Sandy Hook Bay, throwing sand with it.

I busied myself at the southern end of Gateway National Recreation Area instead.

  Jack H's old Fuji recalled from the pasture to put in a day's work

Tom made the decision not to continue up to the top of Sandy Hook. He wasn't much into flying sand. So we headed south along the island, riding on the sidewalk behind the stone barrier that held back the beach, except where it didn't and we rode through shallow patches of sand.

We got into a pace line and wedged ourselves between the wind and the traffic from Rumson to Little Silver.

After that, we were in wide open horse country. Sometimes the wind shifted to be in our faces. Sometimes it blew across us. Most of the time there were no trees to hide behind.

It's in these conditions that Kermit shows his true colors. Between his weight and stiffness and my width and shortness, I can take a headwind better than the skinny guys I'm always lagging behind in the hills. After being in the back all day, I finally got my turn up front.

I was tired enough, though, to appreciate the break when Jim got a flat. Jack and Ed plopped down in the grass.

Ed's Love Child rested against a pair of trees.

Tom and Jim worked on the repair.

I climbed the berm and chatted with a pair of golfers who smiled and shook their heads when I asked how they controlled their shots in this weather.

We got back to the park around 2:00, right around the time that the wind was forecast to begin to die down. The ride wasn't easy, but I've had to come back in much worse than this.

Besides, as I'm fond of saying, riding in the wind is good training for riding in the wind.