Hell Mountain with a Good Pig

Miss Piggy II at Oldwick General Store

7 November 2015

I need a widget that counts the number of breakdown-free Miss Piggy rides.  I'd start with 1 for today. She was a well-behaved pig, although I won't fully believe in Cannondale again until I can go at least half a year without having to move the front derailleur.

A few of the guys crowded around Piggy's new frame in the Woodfield Park lot, trying to figure out what's different in this model.  There's always a new twist, a flattened tube, something rounded or unrounded, a curve, something to keep the engineers busy. 

We had the usual compliment of Slugs -- Snakehead, Jim, Marc(o), and Tom -- plus sometimes-Slug Pete.  Jeff H, who does occasionally make an appearance west of Route 1, made an appearance. We don't usually get a new guy this late in the season, but today we did, one Graham G, who looks like a racer but fit himself right into the Slug milieu.

My first pictures stop was on South Branch Road.  I knew right away that what I saw wasn't going to translate to the camera.  I apologized to the guys when I caught up.  Tom said, "Yeah, it's kinda murky out," which is exactly right.

Nobody was flying at Thor Solberg airport.

There were cows in the water on Mill Road.  One got out before I stopped, but the other hung around for multiple pictures:

And, yes, now I have that Deep Purple song going through my head.

The murky light was good for this sycamore tree:

On Hill and Dale Road, Ed and I stopped for pumpkins, which meant that we got a late start up Parsonage Lot Road.

There's no reason to climb Parsonage Lot.  No rational reason, anyway.  Rockaway and Sawmill are far prettier, and a lot more gentle.  However, this season has not had much in common with logic.

First, I wanted to test Miss Piggy's granny gear and how well I could shift out of it; on the old frame, this rarely went smoothly, and when it did, it nearly always led to trouble later in the ride.

Second, Tom had never been up Parsonage Lot. He was supposed to have been, the first time we were up here, but he went and got sick instead, leaving me to lead his ride, which I remember very well, having blogged about it during Hurricane Sandy. (I see from that post that I made it to the top without using my lowest gear.  Not today.  Either I'm that much worse a climber or I'm better about spinning that I used to be.)

Third, Tom pointed out that we'd be climbing Hell Mountain and that, if we were going to climb it, we should get as near to the highest point that we could.  This would involve an extra half mile or so, up more of the mountain on a dead end street.  Of course I agreed to it.

And, of course, we decided that we should get a group picture because we were at a high point of sorts.  I tried to catch the view from behind rocks and houses:

"Wait," someone said (it was either Pete or Jeff), when I instructed the group to turn around. "Why did we come up here?"

"Because?" I answered.

Tom explained the mission: hell and back, going to hell, something like that. The bad jokes write themselves, so I'm not going to bother with it.

It's a tradition, and also safer, to descend into Oldwick on Fox Hill Road.  I always stop for pictures:

And the guys always wait for me.  It's maybe 30 seconds from where I took the picture to where they are. I was zoomed way in here, so you can't see the height or the curve in the road.

At the Oldwick General Store, the Hill Slugs took over the bike rack:

Nearby, a recumbent used up the world's supply of zip ties:

On the way home, I made a mistake and stayed on Readington Road all the way to Harlan School. I hadn't been up this way in a long time, and I'd forgotten about how much traffic there can be on this stretch.  "This is a teaching moment," I told Jeff.  "Freewheelers don't like traffic."

Making a right turn onto Pleasant Run, I hit something I didn't see and my front wheel went bouncing out of control. I almost ran into Jeff before I caught the bars. To everyone else it probably didn't look like anything at all, but my legs were still shaking at the next intersection.  Tom credits my handling skills for my not going down.  I credit the fork and wheel for not buckling. This is a good place to mention that "keep the shiny side up" means nothing to this bike; it's got a matte finish.

Opie Road was quiet. That's quiet if one disregards the skeet shooters on who were doing their thing too close to the road for our comfort.  Long after we passed them we could still hear them.

So that's one successful trip for Miss Piggy II.  I need that widget...