Rocktown Road, West Amwell, NJ
27 April 2020
I told the guys I'd be at the high school on Rocktown Road around 11:30. I'm a slow climber. 25 hilly miles would take me a while.
"When will you pass through Pennington?" Jack H asked. We were on our Friday "Insane Bike Posse Therapy" Zoom call.
"9:30-ish?"
"Kay. See you there."
"I'm gonna figure out a route," said Ricky.
"From Monroe? It'll be, like, a century!"
"Nah. I'll drive somewhere."
Bob and Pete said they'd figure something out. Tom told us he'd be sticking to his side of Route 1. Jim didn't say anything.
I gave myself plenty of time to get ready on Saturday morning. With so little traffic, I could take a circuitous route through Ewing to get to Pennintgon. There wasn't much wind and my legs were fresh, so when, heading up Federal City towards Pennington, I felt a little tired, I began to worry about whether I'd have the legs for the hills I'd planned to climb.
Jack H was doing his usual circling thing when I arrived in Pennington. Only 8 miles in and I had to lose the vest already. The arm warmers came off in Harbourton.
Then we started climbing for real. I don't remember the last time I climbed Pleasant Valley from the west. Jack H, who said his legs were tired from riding all week, stayed a respectable distance behind me. When we got to Goat Hill, we rode side-by-side, taking up the width of the road and talking.
Plain Jim likes to remind us, "Don't ride like a jerk." In the before times, taking up the whole road was a jerk move. Now you're a jerk if you don't take up the whole road. Unless a car is coming, of course. There aren't any cars now.
We took Goat Hill all the way to Lambertville, then turned up Rocktown Road. A woman who seemed to know me overtook us, flying up the hill as if it weren't there. Hmph. My left ass cheek weighed more than all of her. I didn't get a good look at her face; she'll have to remain anonymous lest I guess wrong.
Rocktown Road out of Lambertville is a double climb. In the middle is Mill Road. We turned there, erasing all the elevation we'd gained, so that we could approach the same hill from the Mount Airy side.
We were way early. There was time for cows.
Jack H rode on ahead. When I caught up to him in the high school parking lot, it was 11:05 a.m. We either had 25 minutes to kill or I'd end up leaving a note using dandelion flowers.
I needed a tree to hide behind. Jack H had already found the ruins of a stone building across the road. I wandered over. I've passed this more times than I can count, yet I've never noticed it before.
Jack H had found a spot in the parking lot, against a post. I sat four parking spaces away. Minutes later, Bob N pulled in, also early. He settled down on the curb. Then Ricky rolled in, having, for the first time, mapped his own route from Princeton. He chose a spot on the curb too, well away from Bob. Then Pete showed up. He stood, still on his bike, in the center of the lot. We were all the same amount of early.
So there we were, spread out on the asphalt, not-quite-shouting to each other. "This is the first time I've stopped and sat since rides were canceled," I said.
"Same here," said Bob.
Jack H was messing with his GPS. All day its thermometer was reading warmer than it possibly could be. We thought it was because the unit is black and absorbs heat. He held it in one hand, attempting to shade it with the other. "It also says I'm going a tenth of a mile an hour."
"Take a good nap and you'll be home!" Bob said.
Bob's GPS, meanwhile, was reporting that he was 65 thousand feet above sea level. "What model do you have?" I asked him.
"Same as your old one. Cousin of Piece of Shit." That explains everything.
Left to right: Ricky, Bob, Pete, and Jack H:
Ricky:
Bob:
Jack H:
"Guys, I'm taking pictures of people.
People! This is what the lockdown has done to me!"
I made up for it on Rocktown Road. Jack was still following me. Bob's route matched mine at the moment. They both passed me while I had my camera out.
I caught up to Bob. "I've been here so many times I know where to find the cow."
We were coming across Mountain Road when I saw a group of four or five cyclists approaching. They were bunched together, none of them masked. I pulled mine up from my neck to cover my nose and mouth as our paths crossed. I waved as I recognized four of them, all Free Wheelers. They ought to have known better. We need to represent. We're all in this together.
We turned onto Rileyville, Featherbed, and then Van Dyke, which would be our last real hill of the day. It's a nasty climb, but the descent into Hopewell is worth it. We went up Crusher (where I looked over at but did not stop for the goats, sheep, horses, and cows) and down Carter.
My planned route was about 48 miles. I was feeling good enough to try to stretch it, so I turned the cues off and headed for Cold Soil Road. Still aiming west, we turned on Keefe and crossed over to Federal City, where I had already been this morning.
"Joe McBride used to love this road," Jack H said. "It's all downhill." I happened to be wearing one of the DeRosa jerseys Joe gave me. It's coming up on ten years. We still talk about him.
"No wonder I was kinda tired this morning," I said. "It doesn't look like a hill at all."
I turned the navigation over to Jack H, who took us through a neighborhood that dumped us onto Ewingville Road. He followed me down Eggerts Crossing. When we reached Route 206 I had 48 miles.
"You gotta ride through the neighborhood," he said as he departed. "You need to get to 50." So I did and got my 50.
In my front yard, the wild tulips were blooming.
A Vinca stem found its way through the rock wall.
Some of the tulips were giving their last holler before falling apart:
Others were mid-bloom:
I don't know what the story is with these two:
And this one was balls-out, final, barbaric yawp:
There was a text from Tom waiting for me. While we were lounging around the high school parking lot, he'd been on his own in Cassville.
'Nuff said.
I felt pretty good for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe I was in better shape than I thought. My legs weren't even sore. My average speed wasn't bad either.
Then I went to bed and slept for ten hours.
