Delaware and Lehigh Trail, near Jim Thorpe, PA
Once again I was getting up at the ass crack of dawn for a bike ride. This would be the first time since I got Grover in 2007 that I would be riding a mountain bike in temperatures above freezing.
We met at Jack H and Dorothy's house for a 7:00 caravan. I took some pictures of their yard while we waited for Tom and Martin to arrive.
We were headed for Jim Thorpe, PA, where we had bus reservations with the https://poconobiking.com/the-trail/full-monty-36-miles/" target="_blank" title="Pocono Biking Company">Pocono Biking Company
to take us and our bikes to the top of the Lehigh Gorge biking trail.
It was http://brunosbicycles.com/" target="_blank" title="Brunos Bicycles">Jim Bruno
who had put the idea into our heads by flashing an endless stream of cell phone pictures at us.
The drive, with Jack and Dorothy in their van, Martin in his car, and me with Tom in his, took 90 minutes. Pete G was going to meet us up there.
I ate my breakfast and drank my cold brew in the car. I'd emptied my commuter backpack and returned it to its original intent, a 2-liter Camelbak. There was enough room in there for an extra bottle of water, a few odds and ends, and even my helmet.
We got to town early enough to ride around a little. I immediately noticed that my seat, a shock post now twelve years old and failing, had fallen down, the shock no longer returning to its high position. I had a wrench somewhere, but Tom was quicker on the draw.
My chain dropped, too, and by the time I fixed it the guys were out of sight on part of the trail near the water. I caught up in time to ask for the wrench again. "So t's gonna be one of those kinds of mornings," I said to myself.
We turned around, went into the town to explore, then went back to the parking lot, where I adjusted the seat post again. How much more collapsing could possibly happen at this point?
The parking lot was next to the train station. We'd hoped to ride the train up to the trail at White Haven. but the bike train wasn't running today.
What little of Jim Thorpe there is, is brick and tidy.
This bridge, on the south end of the parking lot, leads to more of the Delaware and Lehigh trail. The bridge is closed, of course, because we have to find at least one per ride.
Before it was renamed Jim Thorpe, the town was called Mauch Chunk ("Bear Place").
Here was a local coffee roaster. At home I have a surfeit of bespoke beans. No matter; there was room in my pack for more.
We handed off our bikes to the Pocono Biking Company people and took our seats on an old school bus.
I shudder to think how many gallons per inch that old bus got as it dragged a full load of people and their bikes up a long incline along the Lehigh River valley. The drag from Jim Thorpe to White Haven took half an hour.
Dorothy started her ride there. The rest of us decanted into a van driven by a doppleganger for Breaking Bad's Mike Ehrmentraut (Jonathan Banks). The van ride was another ten uphill minutes.
The driver unloaded our bikes and took off. That left seven of us in the parking lot. Four of them were my friends. I was the only woman. I stood near the trail head to get a picture.
"Honey, could you take our picture?"
The voice was coming from behind me, from one of the two people who wasn't a Hill Slug. Was he talking to me?"
The voice got closer. "Honey?" it asked, "Could you take our picture?"
Without a smile or inflection, I said, "If you stop calling me honey."
"Sorry!" the white Boomer said. "Sorry sorry sorry!"
I took the picture, because maybe, just maybe, every time he sees it he'll remember not to talk to women like that.
We started down the trail at a fair clip. The route was all downhill; this part was the steepest. We couldn't see the river at all. When the trail finally opened up we were at Moosehead Lake. Before I took any pictures I grabbed Tom's wrench again and raised my seat post some more.
Not much farther down I spotted a beaver lodge.
Back at White Haven, we stopped at the general store to get water. The place was dark and packed with all manner of things. A borderline surly man asked if he could help me. "I'm looking for water," I said. He went to a small refrigerator and handed me a bottle. I got out of there as quickly as possible.
A sign by the front door read, "No loitering," so we sat across the parking lot and loitered there instead.
I was fascinated by the staircase on the side of the building.
By zooming in, I didn't have to get close to the store again.
While we were stopped I saw the Honey Boomer and his pal ride past.
Tom wanted to find Gatorade. We left him at the small supermarket and rode on to the Pocono Biking Company outpost. This was where everyone else on the school bus started.
An inchworm informed me that I had raised the seat post two inchworms.
We set out again. The trail was much more crowded down here. We passed the Honey Boomer and his pal again. We were passing everyone. With Jack H and Pete at the front, this was not going to be a leisurely ride. I would have minded the pace less if I hadn't felt the occasional metallic grinding under my ass.
The next time we stopped was for a waterfall.
Next we were surrounded by tall rhododendrons. This would have been something in late spring. We couldn't see the river at all; we were far above it. Occasionally, though, we could hear the screams of whitewater rafters in the rapids below.
The trail here was under a tall canopy of trees.
Jack and Pete raced ahead. We caught up with them at Buttermilk Falls. Jack was in the water, baptizing himself, when we arrived.
Somewhere in here my camera battery ran out of charge. I switched to my phone.
There was another waterfall after that, called Luke Falls.
I summoned Martin over for what I thought would be the perfect photo. I forgot that he doesn't do scenery. He does people.
That's Grover on his side, center right.
I was hungry. We had a headwind. The crowds had kicked up dust from the trail. It was hot. The saddle shock gave out a little more. I had trouble keeping up. I asked Jack and Pete to slow things down a little, and then I had to stop to raise the seat post again. We had five miles to go.
We were only a few miles from the end of the trail when we went over a tall bridge.
To the right, out of sight in this picture, was a hole in the rocks, with a viewing deck. I didn't even notice it. (I swiped this picture from Tom.)
I was taken by the height of the outcrop,
and by the expanse of the wooden bridge.
Tom, who had done his homework, knew we could get to the hole in the rock. On the other side of the bridge he found the entrance, up a dirt path from the trail. We laid down our bikes and followed him in.
Once a rail tunnel (you can see the remains of the bridge in the river in the pictures above), the Turn Hole is now a cave to explore.
The view was good from the other side.
The time of day meant that getting to the far side was dark, and that returning to the entrance was backlit.
Pete, climbing out ahead of me, looked as if he were posing for the cover of some outdoorsy magazine article.
There was one more bridge over the Lehigh. This one was even higher up, and crowded.
We passed a rail yard, with old train cars that needed to be in sepia.
Then we were back, finally. Pete and Martin took off. The rest of us cleaned up in the public restrooms and wandered around the stalls at the train station in search of something like lunch. I wound up with a muffin and lemonade. Jack came back with a soft pretzel. We all went across the square to an ice cream shop, where I watched the rest of them eat. By the time we returned to our cars it was nearly 4:00. I didn't get home until after 6:00 p.m.
Jim had a C+ ride planned for Sunday. If it went well he'd make it a regular, last-Sunday-of-the-month thing.
I rode over from home on Rowlf. Some of the Usual Suspects were there. TEW was there, and so were a few C+ riders I'd never met.
Mercifully, Jim avoided all the hills. I got the picture of Willow Road I'd wanted to get last week.
And, unlike last week, when the B+ riders took over the pace, we had time for cows.
I looked for the emu on Hollow Road again. Not finding it, I opted for a bit of found art on a storm drain across the road on Route 518.
I stopped for pictures at the flower farm farther along the road towards Montgomery.
The rest stop was at Thomas Sweet again, where I got the berry smoothie with apple juice again, and then left the group again, this time with Andrew.
We rode together until we got to the eastern edge of Princeton, where he turned off for home and I barreled through downtown and got home for the usual spray of Sunday chores.
In the afternoon I carried Grover's dead seat post and frayed saddle to Hart's to get a replacement for both. I installed them, but I still have to try out the new setup. I'm going to make sure I have the right wrenches with me for the first few rides. There will be some jiggering to do.
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