Took a Little Hike

Delaware River from Baldpate Mountain

19 February 2023

I wanted to be in two places at once today. Jim's ride, which I hadn't been on in a month, was full of people I wanted to see. But Regina, Jim's Excellent Wife, had planned a hike on Baldpate Mountain at the same time. I hadn't been on those trails in probably more than a decade, and I want to do more hilly hiking. I bought a pair of hiking poles*, which I'd been meaning to do for a while, and signed up for the hike.

We started from the Pleasant Valley Road entrance, which I think I've never done before. The only people I knew were Regina and Rickety. 

The hike was easy, because the parking lot is halfway up the hill already. It was 4.5 miles out and back, but it didn't feel like it. The walk around Tom's golf course, which was paved and flat, was more demanding than the soft dirt under our feet today. 

We stopped for pictures at the top of the hill. The spot used to be the Kuser estate, and the forest was cleared back then. What's there now is a view across the Delaware River into Pennsylvania. 

Looking southwest, we could see a couple of smokestacks. Power plants, I guess?

We headed down the slope, where it was easier to see the river.

Not much farther down the hill, our leaders turned us around so that we could keep the advertized distance. 

I got talking to Regina, we fell behind, and after stopping for pictures of an abandoned house on the trail, we found ourselves way off the back of the pack.

It didn't matter. We were close to the trailhead anyway.

It was good to get out into the woods and do something other than biking. Still, I was sorry I missed Jim's ride. It looked like a good one. 

(*About those poles: I occasionally have knee pain, which, given my age, day job, glassblowing hobby, and athletic history, is no surprise. I figured I'd better get myself a pair of poles for hilly hikes, to take some of the pressure off during descents. I found a pair on sale, collapsible for easy stashing, at REI on Friday. I tried to put them together when I got home. The instructions, written in pale, 4-point type on the cardboard packaging, spoke of pressing a button to lock the sections, strung on a thick cable, in place. Try as I might, I could not find said button. There was a lever to lock the top segment down for height adjustment, but, other than that, the poles were three sections of smooth. One pole seemed to hold together well enough; the other, not so much. Maybe someone on the hike would have a clue. I packed them up. When, on the hike, we reached a descent, I figured it would be a good time to test the equipment. The pole I pulled out and snapped together held for about three steps before the bottom segment swung out. I showed Regina. She couldn't figure out what was going on either. So I stashed the pole away. After the hike, I went back to REI. The clerk there experienced the same thing I did and had no idea what was wrong. He sent me off to pick out a different set. I found a different set, a different brand, one that the Friday clerk had demonstrated for me. When I got back to the register, the clerk was talking to someone who was, apparently, more expert than either of us. He yanked the top section in a way neither of us had thought prudent or possible, exposing a little button. Press that, he told us, to lock the sections in place. I felt stupid, but not overly so, because two other people today hadn't figured it out either. I took the poles back home, changed clothes, and did a weight workout that included bench step-ups. A few hours later, my right knee was scolding me for not knowing how to open a hiking pole. I'm fine now.)

Another Cold Sourland Saturday

 

Iggles

18 February 2023

Thursday and Friday were spring. Today was winter. Of course. Because I'd listed a ride for today. 

Of the ten who signed up, two canceled and one was a no-show. Another had an afternoon committment and planned to bail less than halfway. 

That left Steady Heddy, John K, Glenn F, Racer Pete, Brad, and me to climb hills in below 40-degree temperatures into the wind. 

I've been a real asshole so far this year. I think a planned bike trip for the summer of 2024 already has me spooked. I've taken people over Van Dyke three times at least, in both directions. I've hauled them up Province Line in both directions. 

I'm trying to vary my routes from the usual winter destinations of Sergeantsville and Lambertville. The cold air has kept us closer to home, which means noodling around the Sourland Mountain. We've been stopping at Boro Bean in Hopewell.

Nobody complains when we pull into the Bean. I can carry two muffins in the cavernous pocket of my winter jacket. The coffee is good, and served to us in ceramic, as it should be, when we ask. 

We sat outside and entertained a colorful corgi named Minnie, who was intent on hoovering up any crumbs patrons might have left. "She finds food and buries it, and comes back later. She got a third of a rainbow bagel last week," her owner said.

On our way back, we took Province Line south from Route 518. The hills are unarguably worse in this direction. I'm an asshole. 

As we regained the feeling in our legs at the corner of Province Line and Cherry Valley, we were graced with the view of a very large house for sale, built last year. "That can't be for one family," Brad said. I answered, "Around here, yeah." 

When we got to Old Mill Road, I stopped the group because I saw a blob at the side of the eagle's nest across the field. I zoomed in as much as possible and got a handful of shots. "I'll let you know when I get home," I said. 

The blob ended up being a pair of adults at the edge of the nest.

The long-range forecast is calling for rain and snow next Saturday. Should I trust the forecast or should I list a ride? Maybe I should blow glass instead if my classmates haven't jumped into the extra slots. At least I'll be warm.

Bridges and Towpaths

Homestead Coffee Roasters' Assistant

12 February 2023

Saturday's route was another one of those created from a warm, sunny room for a cold, windy day. I have to stop doing that. 

In an attempt not to settle into route monotony, I planned a circuitous path to Carousel in Ringoes. This I did on Friday, after my 10-person registration limit had already overflowed to 12. By Saturday morning, two had canceled because of the cold, and one because of a cold. 

I set out from home on Miss Piggy and found myself fighting a headwind all the way to Pennington. Piggy had some work done recently: she got a new middle chain ring during a tune-up. After that, the shifting on the cassette went to shit. Michael blamed it on the 10-speed triple Ultegra shifter, which, he said, "is getting worse each time I work on it." He did the best he could. I tried to tweak it some more at home to no avail. With nothing to lose, I took her to JasonAtHalters. He looked upon the bike with such disdain that, had she been the real Miss Piggy, there would have been some karate. His mechanics did something, he couldn't tell me what, charged me $20, and sent me on my way contemplating the prospect that, at long last, I could no longer remain a mechanical-shifting, granny-geared Luddite sworn to Shimano Ultegra and up. More on this in another post, I think.

Whatever the mechanics did, it worked. Miss Piggy was shifting perfectly all day. 

The route put us mostly into the wind on our way up and over the mountain. We tood Province Line because I'm an asshole. 

The closed bridge on Cider Mill was a surprise. Ridewithgps had let me map through it. To the uninitiated in our group, I explained that this sort of thing is to be expected of me. We got across with no trouble. The construction appears to be overhead.

Things got discombobulated when we were within half a mile of the Carousel deli in Ringoes. One rider had darted ahead in search of an outhouse, even though I'd said that Carousel has one. I repeated that while the rest of us waited for the light to change at Route 202/31. 

When we got across, only two riders followed me to Carousel. The rest had disappeared. I checked my phone while one rider peered around the corner to see if we'd left anyone behind. Nobody had left me a message, and there was nobody coming up the road either. 

After I'd gone inside to get coffee, one rider emerged from up the road and turned the corner past us without even looking up. Soon, the rest of the group appeared. They'd all gone looking for a nonexistent porta-potty. "I told you guys there's a bathroom here," I said, confused. 

Anyway, they got themselves some coffee and snacks, and we headed back east together.

I don't go up Runyon Mill much, so we went that way. I snapped a few pictures of the sky at the top. I do this a lot in the winter, when the air is dry and the sun is out. We don't get this deep a blue much after April.

Despite my indoor training and leg work, the long, cold, windy ride kicked my butt. There's no replacement for being outside. 

My options for Sunday all involved driving to the start, which I'm loathe to do because it means I have to drive home as I cool down. I'm always freezing when I walk into the house. Jim's ride, listed as C+, was completely populated by B+ riders. I knew I wouldn't have the legs for that, and I didn't want to be the one he would have to wait for when he could go fast himself. Another option was far more appealing: a towpath ride starting from Bulls Island and going north to Frenchtown and Upper Black Eddy. I hadn't been on the towpath up that way since the summer of 2021. It's all under a canopy of tall trees on the NJ side. Plus, we'd be stopping at Homestead General Store, where I haven't been in ages. I signed up.

The sky was murky at the start:

My legs hurt all the way to Frenchtown. The thing about towpath riding is that, while it is flat, there's no coasting. I really needed a minute of downhill. Relief came as we walked across the Frenchtown bridge to Uhlerstown.

I rode through the covered bridge there because there's a covered bridge there. 

The towpath from Uhlerstown to Upper Black Eddy is in good shape, although I'm always convinced I'm going to knock myself out going under the low bridges across the canal.

At Homestead General Store, I was greeted by the Homestead Coffee Roasters' kitty, who was recently featured on their Facebook page as a roasting assistant. She was a friendly and talkative critter.

This is the view looking south from the store:

This is the roasting barn. I have a coffee subscription, two bags of beans delivered to my house at regular intervals.

Everyone else had gone inside and, with the exception of me and one other rider, ordered stacks of blueberry pancakes. This is a food I know better than to get anywhere near on a bike ride. I don't think it's coincidental that, on the ride home, we pancake-free folks were way out in front. 

After the ride, I walked towards the Bulls Island pedestrain bridge. The best place to see the entire span is from a distance.

The canal looked cold and lonely. It won't be long until the leaves come back.