Oldwicky Sticky

Higginsville Road

15 July 2017

I could have biked to the beach again. The Bicycle Club of Philadelphia had a ride from Etra today. Linda M led it, adapting one of Tom's routes into 75 miles at a pace that would have been too slow for some of my Slug regulars. Tom was planning to make the trip to Belmar and stay there. Plain Jim was on call and couldn't be that far from home. Had I gone I would have added miles from home to turn the ride into another century. But I've been to the shore twice already this year; the last time I'd want to do it again would be at the height of beach season. I was also scheduled to lead a ride of my own and didn't think I'd get enough takers if I were to offer to sign people in from my house.

So I planned a trip from Hopewell to Oldwick instead. 

When I left the house on Miss Piggy at 8:10 a.m. the roads had mostly dried out after two days of rain. The air was still wet, though. It was shaping up to be a sticky day. 

As I came around the bend at the top of Carter, a group of  at least a dozen cyclists emerged, headlights blinking, from Bayberry. Each was wearing a version of JDRF kit. I knew John K must be up at the front as their leader on a training ride for the upcoming fundraiser century in Saratoga Springs (donate here). He was. "Eroica!" I called out as I pulled up to him. He was taking them on a metric through the Sourlands. They went right on Cleveland; I went straight along Carter and down to the elementary school for the start of the ride.

I'd forgotten to map the turn into the parking lot as part of my route when I loaded it into the GPS. Son Of POS was not happy about that and razzed me as being off course. 

Ricky and Bob were at the start, as was a new guy, Prem. That made on Trek (Ricky) and three Cannondales (the rest of us); two Garmin 820s (me and Bob), a Lezyne (Ricky), and an iPhone (Prem). I was the only one with the route, though (also on a 3 x 5 card, of course), so there would be no comparative technology tests today. 

Son Of was already confused, telling me to turn on "Trail." I had to turn the screen off and on again to clear that mess when it didn't go away by itself halfway up the first hill on Greenwood Road. I'd seen this before, and so have others. There must be an error in Garmin's Hopewell maps. At least it wasn't telling me to get onto the D&R Canal towpath.

As we made our way down the other side of the mountain, we rode out of the clouds into sunlight. The view from Cider Mill was worth stopping for. As I snapped pictures, we talked about how a set of wheels can make a world of difference in how a bike feels.

Thanks to Gordon, I think I've worked out how to stop my camera from overexposing everything. I'm messing with shutter speeds now and it seems to be working.

Although I think I'm tending towards too dark now.

There were five or six dairy cows under a tree at the corner of Cider Mill and Amwell. I had a duty to fulfill.

We'd already crossed the Neshanic. We crossed the Raritan, Pleasant Run, and Holland Brook. Obeying my self-imposed moratorium on water pictures, I did not stop. There were no cows in Rockaway Creek on Mill Road; had there been, I would have had to stop, because the cow rule overrules the water rule if the cows are being photogenic. I did not stop on Rockaway Road, even though we crossed Rockaway Creek at least four times. I did not stop for the ponds on Hill and Dale.

We got to the Oldwick General Store at cyclist rush hour. The Morris Area Free Wheelers had taken over the place. Son Of tried to tell me I'd gone off course. I tricked Son Of by pointing Miss Piggy in the direction of the route.

You know it's a humid day when your gloves are soaking wet. I left them to dry on my saddle. They didn't.

Our ride back toward Hopewell was sunnier but still sticky. When we got to the top of Higginsville I stopped to get pictures. The view of the hills to the west is difficult to capture. Between the road and the hills, the field dips, rises, and dips again. Every photo I've taken of this spot has come out looking flat. Today I got lucky; the sun went behind a cloud at the right moment.

The trip to Oldwick always seems to take a full day; the trip back seems to take fifteen minutes. Or at least it did until we got close to the Sourland Mountain again. Prem didn't think he'd ever been up Lindbergh, so I gave him the lowdown before we started. I told him about the fire at Peacock's too. What's the point of having a new guy on a ride if you can't fill his ears with stories?

I needn't have worried about Prem at all. He floated up Lindbergh the same way he'd floated up every other hill on this ride.

As we approached Hopewell again, Son Of indicated that we'd be turning onto "Trail" in 2.4 miles. It dawned on me then that "Trail" is Broad Street and that I probably should email Garmin and tell them to fix their maps. Turning into the parking lot again sent Son Of into a confusion that it never quite recovered from as I headed home on the same roads I'd come in on. True to form, thinking I was going in for another 60-mile round trip to Oldwick, Son Of tried to route me backwards. To its credit, and much improved from the $500 Piece of Shit, the screen did not freeze, nor did it lose the route, nor did it tell me to make any nonexistent u-turns. And when I got home, the entire record was there.

I finished the ride with 81 miles and a strong desire to sleep in on Sunday. Later in the day Chris posted the Belmar ride online. They'd gone nearly 80 miles themselves.

A propos to nothing, here's Moxie in a box.