Not Yet Raritan
4 March 2017
Now that my knobby mountain bike tires are a thing of the past, I can keep up with the guys during our off-road winter rides. Now that I can keep up with the guys during our off-road winter rides, my 32-degree cutoff is a thing of the past.
So it was that I scheduled a 20-mile loop on the Lawrence-Hopewell Trail this morning. As of last night, there were four takers. Two of them dropped out this morning. The third would meet us at the Maidenhead Meadows parking lot across from Foxcroft Drive (remember Foxcroft; it becomes important later).
The fourth, Brian, wanted the extra miles from my house, and when I stepped outside at 9:30 to assess whether or not it was really colder than a witch's tit (it was, when the wind was blowing), there was Brian's pickup truck, a road bike hitched to the back.
I looked at the tires. He must have good skills to be wanting to ride 23s on loose gravel and dirt. I asked if he hadn't managed to get the missing bolt on his mountain bike replaced. "I did. Why?"
"Because it's a trail ride."
"It is?"
He hadn't read Thursday's blog post thoroughly. "You could probably do it," I said, hesitating. "There are some tough spots, though."
"I'd rather not wipe out," he said. He decided to go home and come back with the proper equipment. I gave him directions to the parking lot. "Across from Foxcroft," I said. And so, with 30 minutes to start time and a 40-minute round trip, he left and I went inside to slowly finish my coffee.
I packed my camera into a cloth bag, stuck a pair of toe warmers on the outside of the bag, and stuffed the whole thing into my front pocket. My camera doesn't like the cold. With lobster-claw gloves, I wasn't sure I'd be pulling the camera out much anyway. There's not quite enough room in the pocket to fit quite enough glove required to pull the camera out.
Charon, my GPS, successfully loaded the route (hooray!) and even started navigating with the map in view. Once I got moving, I didn't feel cold. Not until the highway overpass, anyway, where the crosswind hurt my face.
Tom, Ricky, and Jack H were in the parking lot when I got there. Peter pulled in minutes later. Chris texted that he was parked "in the park," wherever that was, considering that there are several parks along the LHT. I told him where we were and figured we'd find him sooner or later.
We waited around until 10:10, then gave up on Brian.
The start of the route goes behind the Dyson Tract and into the woods, coming out at the second Maidenhead Meadows parking lot, farther south. As we rounded the corner, I saw Brian's truck at the edge of the driveway. He was at the stop sign, waiting to turn. I rode as fast as I could to try to catch him, but I was five seconds too late. I sped (well, sped as much as one can on a mountain bike) out onto Princeton Pike, keeping an eye on him, hoping he'd turn into the northern lot. He did, and, to his credit, was ready to roll in about a minute.
We went back on the road instead of in the woods, and when we caught up with the rest of the group, Chris was there. He'd parked farther south, at the Brearley House, where there is no trail connecting to the Meadows (yet; word is there will be, someday).
Now we numbered seven, into the wind, but protected from it by buildings and trees as we meandered behind BMS, the Lawrenceville School, through the Village, Village Park, and the southern end of the Pole Farm (Mercer Meadows, but I can't seem to call it that).
We got our first taste of wide-open headwind here, and Charon's display froze on a screen I hadn't even selected (I hadn't touched the thing). I took the GPS off my handlebar and stuffed it into my pocket, next to the toe warmers.
When the trail turned north, up a slow grade, we were smacked head-on with whatever speed the wind was blowing. It wasn't the speed so much as the fact that it hurt my face.
We collected at the top and turned east. I decided it was time for a picture or two.
Charon beeped when I put the camera away. The display was still frozen, so I left him in my pocket.
We got battered about some more as we rounded the lakes at Rosedale Park, and we were pushing all the way up Pennington-Rocky Hill Road to Honey Brook Farm.
Finally, the trail swung east, and, save for a brief pass on Pennigton-Rocky Hill south of Carter, we were finished with the worst of the headwind.
We stopped to look at the Stony Brook on Province Line Road.
West Jersey:
East Jersey:
Charon beeped as I put the camera away. He was awake again, and, despite being slightly confused, as one sometimes is when one wakes from a mid-day nap, ready to work. I put him back on the handlebar mount.
The GPS came in handy after we followed the Transco right-of-way into ETS, where the maze of ring roads can lead a rider astray.
After hanging out with the Slugs in the parking lot for a few minutes, I followed Chris back into the woods. As we emerged onto the road again, the highway overpass looming ahead of me, I was thinking of hot soup.
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