It's Cold. Whatever.

Tom Trying to Look Warm

13 January 2018

I haven't been on a bike outside in almost three weeks. Hell if I'm gonna spend another weekend at the gym or on my trainer. I email the Slugs, hoping that at least one of them will be willing to handle whatever the roads or trails have on them come Saturday morning. 

Pete and Tom are game, and we go back and forth about road versus towpath, ice versus mud, all the way into Friday evening, when we sort of settle on the towpath from Washington Crossing with a road ride as backup. 

I haven't filled Grover's Slime-filled tubes since March. The first inflation of the season is always an adventure. The front valve sticks shut, and then gives me trouble when I try to close it. I squeeze the tire every time I walk by. It might be losing air.

I fill Miss Piggy's tires too. I almost put Gonzo's outdoor wheel on (he's got the indoor trainer wheel now), but it's late, I'm tired, and I'm sure to do a sloppy job right now. If we do ride on the road I'll switch wheels tomorrow morning.

I dream that Capital Health has built a hospital at the Hughes Drive entrance to Mercer County Park. The lake is now on the south side of the park road, at the top of a hill. The view is beautiful but I've forgotten my camera. I ride through the hospital campus. They've done a good job with making the place bike-friendly. There are lots of people walking around. My alarm goes off.

At 7:30 a.m. the wind is blowing strong. It's above freezing now but the temperature is going to drop throughout the day. Tom has a new idea: let's meet at the Lawrence-Hopewell Trail on Princeton Pike. Hot diggity!  That's three miles away. It's easier to ride over than wrestle Grover into the back of the car.

Grover's front tire is low. This time the valve opens easily and the air I put in holds.

Expecting mud and puddles, I wear the sock liners I haven't put on since my mountain biking days. The three miles up Princeton Pike are into the wind and a workout I wasn't expecting. "I don't know how you ride that road to work day after day," Pete says. "You should take the towpath instead. Your zen would be through the roof." Truth is, I don't even notice the traffic anymore.

I take a few pictures of the sky to the south as Tom finishes getting ready.

The first few miles are on dry roads. We do have to go through some puddles and squish through soft cinder. I am slowly losing gears. By the time we get to the Pole Farm for the long, shallow climb into the wind, I'm no longer able to shift into my climbing gears. I have to resort to the tiny front ring instead.  Good thing I'm a masher by nature.

This is the big little hill that divides the park into the Delaware watershed and the Raritan watershed. This picture is from the Raritan side, just over the top of the hill.

We have some shelter from the wind for a while. Pete warns us that Roesdale Park is going to be a challenge. It isn't too bad, apart from a runnel-filled descent to the lake. I stop for pictures and notice the swans.

I stop again when I get a little closer.

We skip the path through the Rosedale stables, figuring it will be too muddy. We stay on Federal City Road instead. I take the opportunity to wail on the rear shifter. Nothing. I'm having trouble getting into the granny gear up front too.

Pete leaves us when we get close to his house. Tom and I turn north, up Pennington-Rocky Hill Road.

The trail through the woods next to Carter Road sends us across Carter and abruptly ends at a sign warning us that we're on private, Bristol-Myers Squibb property. We stop in the parking lot to figure out how best to avoid the mud under the power lines off of Province Line Road. Tom has a trail map with him so we double-check. We'll stay on Province Line all the way across Route 206.

It suddenly feels a lot colder. On Pretty Brook Road at Province Line I have to put glove liners under my lobster claws. My feet, toasty until now, are also getting cold. I need to circle around a few times too. We have that big climb after the bridge and, without the big rings in the back, I need to get into the granny ring. The derailleur finally moves and I follow Tom down the hill to the Stony Brook.

After yesterday's 60 degrees, two inches of rain, and five inches of melting snow, it's no surprise that we have whitewater.

It's a little calmer downstream.

On the ride home on Princeton Pike I stop for a few more pictures at the edge of the Cherry Grove Farm property. This is the pasture that extends all the way to Route 206. In the spring the cows graze here. Now it's under water.

I dread having to haul Grover up onto the repair stand to tighten the cables. I have a sinking feeling that we're in for more trail days and I can't afford to screw anything up and lose the bike to the shop for a weekend.

I wheel Grover inside. Instantly, muddy water begins to drip from the bottom bracket. I shove an old towel underneath and walk away.

An hour later everything is shifting fine.