Cheesequakecakesteak

Swamp at Henry Hudson Trail near Wickatunk, NJ

18 May 2019

Last month there were some indefinite rumblings among the Insane Bike Posse that a ride to Cheesequake State Park was possibly imminent. Naturally, I forgot all about it, didn't check the club calendar, and nearly scheduled a conflicting Hill Slugs ride. 

We got that sorted after a dozen, typical, trash-talking, group emails, and today seven of us showed up at Monmouth Battlefield State Park. Pete was convinced that Tom was taking him out for cheesecake. 

The woman who Tom and Jim had threatened would be my replacement had registered, but she didn't show up. "It's either her or me," I explained. "She's my replacement."

Tom made no promises about the roads nor the scenery. Neither was worth complaining about. To get from Freehold to Cheesequake, we took a counterclockwise route north, through Colt's Neck and Matawan. There were a lot of McMansions and vast, open pastures framed by white fences. There were also a lot of rollers, and in 50 miles we managed to ascend about 2100 feet in what we all would categorize as a flat ride. 

Our rest stop was at the QuickChek in Morganville. Yeah, Morganville has a QuickChek and a giant housing development on Route 79 now. 

Ricky and I posed our pretty bikes because we could.

From there we went north to Cheesequake State Park in Matawan (or Old Bridge, depending on where you look). The park road starts at the top of a small hill and winds through forest to a wide salt marsh.

I took a bunch of deep breaths because I like the smell of anaerobic soil. Don't judge. It's what the rest of you would call "salt air."

Across from us was a housing development, and beyond that, the Garden State Parkway.

Phragmites lined the higher ground.

Hey, look! They built a bridge just for us to whinge on!

There's a lake near the marsh. I went a little ways up a dirt road to get pictures.

We doubled back all the way to Marlboro, where we jumped onto the Henry Hudson Trail.

At one point we left the trail for the road, only to be confounded by a policewoman blocking access to the turn. She let us through, as did another cop further along the road. Each time, Tom asked, "Can we get to the park?" I thought this was a detour because I'd asked for a bathroom. It wasn't; we had a bathroom break, but the trail went through the park, and after a quick wrong turn we found it.

Past the park we found ourselves deep in the woods, surrounded by a swamp adjacent to Big Brook.

It occurs to me only now that it's been so long since grad school that the idea of educating the Posse on the different types of wetlands we'd encountered today never even crossed my mind. Go look up the difference between a salt marsh, a bog, and a swamp, kids. It's late and I'm tired.