A Green Tire Day

Rittenhouse Road, West Amwell

21 April 2019

"There's a bald eagle nest up there," Pete G says. "I'll show you."

We're heading out of Pennington our usual way, having started at the Pig, which is open even though it's Easter. There are six of us: me, Pete, Ricky, Andrew, George, and Jill. Pete signals and we stop where we can see the nest across the field.

With 40x optical zoom and digital zoom that can get even closer, my camera serves as binoculars.

There's an eagle perched there, and a chick in the nest too.

We're going to Sergeantsville because the general store is open. There's a light breeze out of the south. The air is cool and dry. Overhead is cloudy, casting an even, filtered light over everything.

"Is it me," Andrew asks, "or is these roads prettier than usual?"  If I'd been on my own I'd have stopped for pictures a dozen times by now and we're only halfway up Stony Brook Road.

Needing to get some climbing in, I've chosen a route with a lot of little, annoying hills that aren't on my usual route in and out of West Amwell. After crossing Route 31 at Rocktown, without Jim to sing us through, we descend on Gulick and ride the tailwind up Route 179 into Ringoes.

"This road is underrated," I tell George. "There's traffic but it's pretty."

At the top of the first roller on Boss Road I have to stop for pictures.

"New Jersey, y'all!"

But I don't have to tell that to this group.

I stop again on Lambertville-Headquarters Road before it goes into the woods and the truly annoying little hills start.

I keep reminding myself that these hills are nothing. I've barely been climbing this year.

When we get to the general store, Pete turns down the hill to check if the Other Pig is open. It's not. The woman behind the counter thanks each one of us graciously as we pay.

My eyes are itching. I've been sneezing all morning. Our tires are coated in green pollen.

I lead the group down Rittenhouse Road. Where it bends to the west Pete stops to admire three wooly cows in a small pasture. "Beefalo!" he says. "I don't know what they are," he clarifies.

Whatever they are, I can't get a good picture from where I'm standing.

(Pete later sends me the picture he took and identifies the animals as highland cows, which I suspected they were all along.

)

But farther along, where the road is on a small ridge, we're rewarded with 180 degrees of cloud drama.

 I stop at the bottom of Mount Airy Village Road to take a picture of the farm at the top of the hill. I don't think I've ever taken a shot from this side before. At the top is the cattle farm where we always wait for each other on our way in from the other side.

At the top I look over to the pasture. A lone cow walks away from us toward the barn. I don't stop for pictures.

We hit some traffic on Route 579 on our way towards Harbourton. Church must have let out. It's usually not this bad.

Pete and Andrew split off from us in Pennington, leaving three people to dig into the bag of chocolate eggs I had hidden in my front pack under a bandanna. This is, after all, an Easter ride. Whether or not I call it "The Chocolate Bunny Ride," tradition is tradition.