Hot Hot Hot

D&R Canal at Blackwells Mills

21 July 2019

Remember how we were all, "What a cold spring!" Yeah, that was, like, a month ago. 

I: Hot

With most of my colleagues away at a conference or on vacation, my schedule was light enough on Wednesday for me to take the day off. I'd planned to spend the day ripping out carpet and pulling staples in advance of finally having the floors in the last two carpeted rooms refinished. When an email came through from the Team Social Security list alerting everyone that Wednesday's ride would start at 8:00 a.m. because of the impending heat wave, I tweaked my plans. The carpet-ripping could wait a few hours.

I considered riding to the start in Allentown, but decided against it because I'd have to get up too damned early and figure out how and where to refill my water bottles. Riding in would add 30 miles, during early rush hour outbound, and in the hottest part of the day back home. Today would not be the day to be a hero.

It's been years since I've been on a TSS ride. I didn't expect to know anybody, and except for the leader, Al P, I only recognized Joe M, Dr Lynne, and Bill B.

And Cheryl. We surprised each other. I'd known she'd be in town this week, but it never occurred to me to ask her if she'd be here. She figured I'd be working and didn't bother to ask if I'd be here. Al even introduced us to the group as "distinguished guests." Back in the day, when we used to ride together all of the time, people didn't know which one of us was which. Now she's the one in Florida and I'm the one in the hills.

By noon the heat index would be in the high 90s. Al promised to keep the ride short, which he did. Our rest stop was at Charleston Coffee, which was a treat. The ride down to New Egypt didn't feel bad at all. The clouds helped to keep the heat at bay, and we had a little breeze.

After the rest stop, though, the sun came out for real. The roads became an oven. The air was heavy with haze. It was getting difficult to breathe. A few miles from the end of the route, Al told us where to turn to get back. A few of us jumped off the front. We just wanted to be finished. 

"I'm glad I drove in," I said. I had to towel off several times before I was dry enough to get into the car.

II: Hot

It only got worse from there. Should I lead a ride on Saturday? I decided to ride my bike to work on Friday to figure out if an afternoon heat index of 100 would be too much. It was, almost, if not for the headwind. I'd already listed the ride anyway.

Ricky, Jim, and Chris met me at my house for a 7:00 a.m. start. The temperature was already 80 degrees and the air heavy. The route would be short — only 37 miles from my house — and we'd avoid hills too. I figured we'd keep the pace down as well; I'm not sure that happened. 

The plan was to meet the other registered riders at the Pig. We were half a mile away when Pete met us from the other direction. "You're early!" he said, swinging around.

The parking lot was empty, save for Andrew's bike. Andrew was across the street, sitting in the shade of the church steps.

Being early, we stood around to wait to see if anyone else was dumb enough to ride a bike today. While the guys were signing in, I took pictures.

I found a cute little mushroom in the mulch next to the bike rack. Pete was trying to hand me the sign-in sheet. He waited. "I saw art happening," he explained to Jim, who had been trying to get my attention too.

At 7:30, as we were about to leave, one of the baristas drove in. "We're closed," she said, by way of apology. On Saturdays the Pig opens at 8:00.

"That's okay," I said. "We'll be back before ten. I want to get one of those chocolate chip cookies."

"Chocolate chocolate chip?" she asked.

"Yeah!"

"I'll save some for you," she said. "I'll have the AC blasting."

This is why we like the Pig so much.

My planned route never strayed far from Pennington, lest we decide to cut out. I'd put in a lot of wiggly loops. Should we need to, we could nix the wigglies. My plan was to get us home before the heat index reached 100.

We were under cloud cover for most of the ride. A breeze kept temperatures under control too. Early on we came upon a passel of riders on Burd Road. They turned toward the hills on Woosamonsa; we turned away, crossing Route 31.

There were a lot of bikers out, and not just roadies. There were comfort bikes and people on the Lawrence-Hopewell Trail.

The sun came out around 9:00 a.m. That's when we started to feel the heat. By 9:40 we were back at the Pig, where Jim inadvertently squashed the little mushroom. We went inside to stand in the blast of the air conditioning. As promised, the cookies came out. I wrapped two to take home and, skipping the coffee, sucked down a lemonade so quickly I wished I'd asked for the large.

As tempting as it was to stay there for the rest of the day, outside was only getting hotter by the minute.

On the way back to my house, Chris coined the term "stoptional" at a red light we could have gone through safely. Jim was tickled by this. Having spent years driving in Philadelphia, I know all about stoptional. Down there it's called the "South Philly slide."

Two miles from home my new GPS flashed a red banner: "Warning."

Huh? We weren't off-course. I tapped the banner and it went away.

A mile later the same thing happened. I'd have to look this one up.

We got back to my house before 10:30 a.m. The heat index was up to 98 degrees. I'd kept my promise: I'd gotten us back before it hit 100.

Tom, who had done a solo ride close to home, reported the same GPS warning banner. It was there to tell us that it was hot outside. Duh. Garmin clearly does not understand Rules #5 and #9.

III: Hot

The heat index was going to be even worse on Sunday morning than it was on Saturday.

Ricky and Jim were going to drive to the Sunday ride start. They convinced me that I should, too.  

The roadies in the parking lot weren't the usual crowd. Of the Sunday regulars, only Ricky was there. Andrew and I were the two other Slugs. Out of eight riders, four were Cranbury fastboys bumped from Etra when the leader canceled. I knew straight away that this wasn't going to be a low B ride. I was glad I didn't have the usual 18 miles under me when we started. 

Jim took us north up Canal Road. We were in the shade, and the sun was behind thick clouds. It was almost pleasant. 

Montgomery Township appears to have paved all of its roads at once. We were treated to blacktop so fresh that the lane markers were those little, reflective, tab thingies running down the center. 

At one point, on a smooth stretch of straightaway, a few of us got a little ahead. I was in front, but with the rest of the pack well in sight. "You're dropping the leader," one of the fastboys warned. I slowed down and let a few of them pass. "Let someone else drop the leader," I said. 

Jim avoided the usual hills, sending us instead on what he called a "real estate tour," where we could gawk at giant houses.  With the screen on my new Garmin far more responsive and manageable than my old one, I could more easily check our average speed than I could on my little cyclocomputer.  We were chugging along at a respectable Cranbury pace, no longer a low B, but still well within the B range.

When we reached Willow Road I scooted up a farm driveway to take photos of a lone tree. I've taken this tree's picture before, years ago, in early spring, when the ground was bare and before the fence went up.

Off to the west, the sky was doing something. 

On Hollow Road, as we were approaching the intersection with Route 518, one of the fastboys pointed out what he thought was an ostrich behind a fence a little ways off the road. I got a glimpse of the feathers and the beak; it looked more like an emu to me. (It's an emu. Thanks, Google.) We were stopped at the light anyway, so I decided to go back a few yards to get a picture. 

The bird had lumbered off, and when I turned around the light had changed. Everyone had gone. 

The group wasn't far ahead, and anyway, I knew where they were going. Looking both ways, I decided that the light, now red, was stoptional, and crossed the road. Jim, at the back of the pack, had slowed to make sure I could see where they'd gone. 

I caught up to him and jumped ahead, thinking we might catch the rest of the pack if they stopped at the next light. We took turns pulling.

They didn't stop. We lost sight of them completely until we reached the little rise west of the intersection with Route 206. The light turned green, and, without even looking back, they turned left towards the shopping center where Thomas Sweet awaited.

I was pissed.  "If this were my ride," I said, "I'd do a massive Spraguing right now." The choice would be easy. On the corner was a perfectly serviceable Wawa, and to the right, the old Bagel Barn standby. If it were up to me, we'd stop at Wawa, stay on 518, and enjoy the shade of Canal Road all the way back to Blackwells Mills. I didn't say this out loud. Jim appeared to be considering our options.

Then he pulled into the left turn lane. "I want them to come back to my rides," he said. "I'm leading Bruce K--- and Larry G--- style," Jim said. Right. Larry decided he'd had quite enough of getting dropped and stopped leading altogether. 

Having been a ride leader for nearly two decades, and having gone through the early struggles of trying to keep a group together, I knew where Jim was coming from. On the other hand, I had absolutely nothing to lose by chewing out the pace pushers. 

And that's what I did. Some of them were already inside, but to those still peeling off their soaking gloves and helmets, I said, "Y'know, if it were up to me I'd've Spragued all y'all's asses."

One of them had no idea he'd even left us behind. Welcome to Cranbury. 

All was forgiven inside the frigid cafe. I got myself a mixed berry smoothie, with apple juice instead of milk. It was deep red, thick, and brain-freezing. Perfect. 

The trip back to Blackwells Mills was over in a flash. We got onto Canal Road at the Griggstown Causeway and did the macho mile thing back to the parking lot. 

I released the GPS from its mount and untethered it from the handle bar. It's been well-behaved so far. The touch screen is fast. The options are easy to navigate. Carrying it over to Jim, I said, "I think I'm going to name this one Good Dog." 

"Cause it has a leash!" Jim exclaimed. I hadn't even thought of that, but, yeah. 

Too wet to get into the car, I toweled myself off half a dozen times and slowly put everything away. Hoping to cool down a little more, I decided to wander across the road to get some pictures of the canal. What a mistake. Without the constant rush of air from being on the bike, the heat was stifling. Stepping into a little garden by an outbuilding next to the canal, I barely had the patience to take pictures of the well-tended lilies while sweat poured off my head and arms.

 

I had to towel off a few more times before driving home, the air conditioner so cold by comparison that I had to turn the fans down. 

It's 3:42 p.m. now. NOAA is telling me that it's 96 degrees at Mercer County Airport, and that the heat index is 106. The heat wave breaks tonight, bringing with it a flash flood watch for all day Monday. The frogs and locusts can't be far behind.