Belmar, NJ
18 June 2019
This morning, Plain Jim wrote me: "I'll be looking forward to a post-Maine post. This Maine trip was extensively documented, but you've been back for... how long now?"
Um, 18 days.
Right. Let's get to it then.
Where were we?
Ah. The Princeton Event. After a one year hiatus, the Event came back to a new location with fewer routes and fewer rest stops. The objective, at least when I was still on the PFW Board a year ago (I left because glassblowing), was to attract younger riders, as our membership appears to be aging out. Younger riders are, apparently, racer types who live to be KOM on Strava. To that end, the planners put in three Strava segments and would give prizes of some sort to those who KOMed during the event.
Yawn. Whatever.
I wasn't enthusiastic about going, but, being a member in good standing, and a ride leader, and a former Board member, and a Hill Slug, I registered for the Event. A week before, Bob N emailed a handful of us. Only Ricky, Pete, and I said yes. Plain Jim was volunteering. Tom was skedaddling, never being fond of the Event in previous years anyway.
Bob offered something around ten extra miles from his house. That would mean my waking up even earlier than the godawful hour I had planned to wake up at, but wake up even earlier I did, and we left from his house around the time I usually wake up on a work day.
Ricky and Pete were waiting for us. "Don't talk to anybody!" Pete admonished me as we turned in to register.
Half the reason to ride the Event is to talk to people one hasn't seen since the last Event. Half the people I want to talk to are usually working registration. I talked to people, but not for very long.
On one of the first hills, a big group passed us. I recognized some of them as the true B hill-climbing fastboys. One of their number trailed off the back. We picked him up and took him along with us. He'd come all the way from up in Essex County to ride the Event.
The folks who planned the route did a good job. We started on the southeast side of the Sourland Mountain, went up and over it, passed through Stockton, and went north on Lower Creek. Armed with my new camera I stopped for a picture of the Green Sergeants covered bridge.
From behind I heard, "A Muppet and a camera, it has to be Laura."
Joe M and his group had pulled up behind us. We rode to Sergeantsville and to the first rest stop at the Delaware Township school together.
There were more I-haven't-seen-you-since people working the rest stop. Somebody there had the genius idea of coating bananas in peanut butter and wrapping them in tortillas.
We headed east, down Lambert Road to Dunkard Church, where I stopped because the colors in the field looked like they'd be a good camera test. I hadn't adjusted the exposure and was shooting in automatic mode. This camera is much improved when it comes to handling bright and dark contrast. I didn't have to fix anything in post.
And the zoom works too.
There's an old barn on Back Brook Road that I've been meaning to take pictures of. I stopped for it this time.
"When are we doing a century?" Ricky asked.
Good question.
Our second rest stop was in the driveway of one of the Board members, on Orchard Road. Through the trees I could see the ridge to the north, where Old York Road is.
I was more tired than I should have been. I chalked it up to my lack of training this season, and to the shorts I was wearing, which are just that much more snug than the rest of the ones I own (same company, same size, same product line as the rest, go figure).
There was a pizza truck ready for us when we finished, and Dave H was handing out ice cream bars. I know better than to eat pizza and get back on the bike, so I opted for some half-stale, leftover bagels with peanut butter instead. And an ice cream bar. It's only 4.8 more miles.
I finished the day with about 75 miles.
After cleaning up, I spent the afternoon on the back porch with Jack and the cats. I drank sour beer and blogged about Maine.
I got up ridiculously early again the next morning to pedal over to Six Mile Run, where Jim was leading a recovery ride. I stayed with the group until the rest stop at the always-crowded Bagel Barn, then peeled off for home, racking up 52 miles for the day.
When are we doing a century? How about next week?
A propos to nothing, here are photos of my back yard, with the new camera, all in automatic mode, no edits:
My old camera had trouble with these roses too.
Here's an orchard spider, an orb weaver, on the deck. I hope it sticks around. I like it's green legs.
Moxie:
More fun with zooming: First, no zoom.
And second, with 80x digital zoom:
We picked up Jim and Martin at MCP. Tom was waiting at Etra. Jack H was there, having ridden in from home in Yardley. But, with a stress fracture in his left foot and instructions to take it easy, he wouldn't be joining us. Instead, he was headed back home, because, for him, fifty flat miles is taking it easy.
Martin and I noticed the kid's bike leaning against the trash can.
He insisted on hamming it up. He wants to be in my blog in a bad way. Here ya go, buddy.
The Minit Stop in Jackson (and I've never heard anyone say anything but "TheMinitStopInJackson") was crowded and understaffed. Everyone was ordering sandwiches; it was only 10:30 a.m.
Part of the store is on its way to becoming an ice cream shop, complete with an outdoor serving window.
There's a color photo of some horrendous concoction involving, well, I don't really know. Whatever it is, you'll soon be able to get it at TheMinitStopInJackson.
Tom left the group when we got to Farmingdale. "Have fun with the 20-mph headwind!" he said as he rode away.
I forgot to mention that we were riding east in a tailwind from the southwest.
The wind changed direction, as it always does, as we got within a mile of the coast. It was coming from everywhere.
"What would you take a picture of?" I asked Martin. He was a staff photographer for the Times of Trenton.
"The beach," he said.
Erm, yeah, well, I guess. But there are gulls on a jetty, so them first.
From left to right: Ricky, Jim, and Martin. I need a https://www.google.com/search?q=biohazard+bike+jersey&oq=biohazard+bike+jersey&aqs=chrome..69i57.3687j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8" target="_blank" title="they're out there">Biohazard jersey
.
We geeked out a bit over a beach cruiser's internal hub.
And then the headwind, fifty miles of it. We took a break at the usual Dunkin Donuts outside of Freehold. At around the 90 mile mark my right leg really wanted to cramp, despite my having been drinking electrolyte fizz (all hail Nuun!) all day. I staved it off with a quick stretch and a gob of food.
Jim and Martin finished with 85 miles. Ricky and I got our century. Kermit now has 41,207 lifetime miles.
Normally I take the day after a century off. My legs were stiff after the century. I decided to mow the lawn to loosen them up. I kind of had to anyway; there was rain in the forecast for the next five days. I stretched before I went to bed. Feeling slightly better, I decided I might try Jim's recovery ride.
I decided to take Rowlf, who hasn't been out all year. While I got him ready, I hoped for rain.
There wasn't any rain. I decided to go. I didn't ride from home, though; I drove.
I mostly stayed in the small ring, which is, for me, showing an unusual amount of restraint. I only stopped for pictures twice, once on East Mountain Road, west of the Carrier Clinic, for the barn we keep passing.
And again on Burnt Mill Road, for the field next to the school:
When's the next century, Ricky?
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