Nor'easter/Northeaster/Ed's Eighteen Reasons

30 January 2016

Nor'easter

Let's get last week's obligatory Nor'easter pictures out of the way first. Jonas is the reason that Tom, Ed, and I went to Pennypack Park today.

A week ago, we all knew that none of us was going anywhere. Jack and I woke to snow-drifted windows on the leeward side of the house:

The best thing about a blizzard, from a cat's point of view, is the bird feeder:

Snow was piling up on the deck:

I set Gonzo onto the trainer on the porch and pedaled through my 2016 cycling playlist as I watched the snow around the house and the steam around my head. I was dressed for January but shed to September in the first fifteen minutes.

Here's what the back yard looked like mid-day:

This is on the inside of the porch, exposed to the northeasterly wind:

I couldn't see out the door.

While I was sweating out back, unbeknownst to me, Jack was shoveling out front. I felt guilty. There was a lull in the storm in the late afternoon, so I went out to shovel the additional six inches that had fallen. Across the street, snow extended beyond my neighbor's roof:

I took another peek at the deck before bedtime. The accumulation on the deck railing is usually a good indicator of how much snow we've had.

Sunday was sunny, and by mid-morning, all of our nearest neighbors were moving snow. One of them was learning how to use her parents' snow blower and offered to clear our driveway and sidewalk. She looked like she was having fun, so I gestured for her to go ahead. She did in minutes what would have taken me an hour.

I cleared a path around the side of the house, hoping to reach the porch. All was well and good until I turned the corner into a four-foot snow drift.

I dug out from the back of the garage instead:

Then I took some more pictures:

Summer in winter:

Northeaster

Driving to northeast Philadelphia's Pennypack Park for a ride on the paved and plowed trail was Tom's idea. I said yes right away. Others begged off for perfectly legitimate reasons. Ed was waffling. I told him not to be a waffle. He listened, and at 8:50 a.m., Tom arrived with Ed, their bikes on the back of Tom's truck. Grover and I piled in. Half an hour later, we were at the Pine Road entrance, the northern terminus of the trail.

The blacktop was clear, but the bridges weren't. Back in my  mountain biking days, I would have crunched and slid through the melting snow. Now, with a stern warning from my doctor five years ago that one uncontrolled fall could mean back surgery, I'm a complete wuss and walk my bike over the slippery stuff. Watching Tom, on a mountain bike, and Ed, on a road bike with wide tires, fishtail through the mush, made me feel more justified in walking.

Tom had said at the start that today would be about taking pictures.

The round trip would be 24 miles. We were probably less than five miles into it when we encountered the closed bridge.

Pah! Since when does that stop Tom? Two weeks ago, he led riders across an I-beam. What's a little wooden fence?  Up and over we went.

Grover on the other side:

The trail ends in Holmesburg, at the Delaware River:

Low tide:

Scenery from the return trip, northbound:

This is the first time Tom has crossed the same closed bridge twice:

Ed photobombs Tom, who is at the far end of the bridge, taking a picture of the spillway behind us.

The spillway:

This bridge was completely covered in ice and compacted snow, so I got some pictures before going across:

Around the corner, on the other side of the Pennypack Creek, is a church on a hill:

The trail has a handful of short, steep rollers that are tougher to climb going north. I tried, I really tried, to get a picture that would show how steep the path is.

Bigger hill, better picture:

Ed's Eighteen Reasons Riding in Pennypack Park is Better than Spinning Indoors

"If I had a blog," Ed mused on the drive home, "I'd post eighteen reasons why riding in Pennypack Park is better than spinning indoors." Ed doesn't have a blog. He doesn't spin indoors. I do have a blog. I do spin indoors*. The task would be mine.


1. Not having to wake up at 6:00 a.m. and exercise before breakfast;

2. Not having to stare at a screen that mocks me with my sub-par power output**;

3. Not having anything to look at but a roomful of sweaty spinners;

4. Breakfast;

5. Coffee;

6. Carpooling with buddies who talk about techie stuff like satellite technology for half an hour;

7. That feeling you get when you pull your bike from the car and put the front wheel on;

8. That feeling you get when the sun hits your face;

9. That feeling you get when you take the first pedal stroke;

10. Wind in your face;

11. Wind at your back;

12. Snow, water, and bare trees;

13. Curvy descents;

14. Spinning up the hills***;

15. Stopping for pictures;

16. Watching Ed devour a chocolate fudge croissant doughnut****;

17. Lunch; and

18. A warm shower.




* For six more weeks. Then we change our clocks and I can bike to work again instead.

** My favorite instructor set a goal for me this winter. He wants me to be able to hold this number for thirty seconds. I've come within 12 watts of it twice, but only for a few seconds. I have six more weeks to try. I don't think he knows that I'm doing this on an empty stomach. If he's read this far, he does now.

*** Watts training!

**** I said, "That's four separate things." He offered me a bite. It tasted like fat, sugar, and salt.