View from an Open Park
On Saturday morning the state and county parks opened again. In the grand scheme of the lockdown this was a little change that loosened the screw about a quarter turn.
It meant that we could meet in the East Picnic Area parking lot without threat of imprisonment. I hopped onto the bike path at the tennis center and pulled on my mask. There would be people to dodge.
There was time for me to stop on the wooden bridge over the Assunpink for the usual photos.
Jim, Jack H, Bob, and Tom kept their distances. We're getting good at this. We showed off our masks.
Jack H, Bob, and I were going to follow Tom to Bordentown, where we planned to meet Ricky. Jim was something less than halfway through his own route. [Pete, miscalculating the time it would take to get to the park, hammered in the tailwind, only to arrive five minutes after all but Jim had gone.]
The wind, being out of the west, fought us through open fields. Proper social biking distance means no drafting. I can only assume this will make us all stronger.
Our timing worked out well: Ricky arrived when we did.
There was a cop a few hundred yards down the road from the school, where the driveway was blocked. The guys rode in anyway. I left Kermit on the sidewalk.
Ricky and Bob went their own way back north.
Tom decided he didn't want to face the wind any more than necessary and ditched his planned route. He wanted a certain number of miles though, so he, Jack H, and I did a big loop east then west again to arrive at the river overlook. Thomas Paine was dutifully masked.
From there we went northeast towards Allentown. At the little park on West Manor Way and Gordon Road, we stopped again for the rest of our snacks. Tom continued east. Jack H and I turned north.
We snaked through the back of Robbinsville and parted company at Meadowbrook, where I continued west to fight the wind all the way home. I tried going through the back of Mercer County Park on South Post Road, but that entrance was still closed. I was okay with that. I didn't feel like having to weave around people again.
Sunday's meetup was in Rocky Hill. I'd told the guys I'd be riding up River Road to Manville again. Ricky, Jack H, and Jim said they'd see me at the entrance to the towpath parking lot across from the quarry.
There had been rain in the early hours. Over by Ricky it was still raining; he bailed. On my side of Route 1 the roads and air were dampish. In the first mile my shins were already coated in stray detritus.
I got to the parking lot on time; Jack H and Jim were already there. Jim was on the Krakow Monster, newly outfitted with 40 mm tires. Jack dared him to ride in the soggy grass. He didn't fall, but he didn't move much either.
We went our separate ways. Jim was in search of an alternative to the wall on Burnt Hill Road. Jack was contemplating the best way to go back west. He went up Canal Road. I turned onto Washington Road to take Montgomery to Route 206 and Raritan River Road.
Somewhere south of Griggstown, Jack H passed me in the opposite direction. I had a slight tailwind to push me up to Wilhousky Street (a.k.a. the Manville Causeway), which crosses the Raritan River before the river arcs southeast.
Through the trees I could just about see the wall of the Watchungs.
I turned onto Weston Canal Road. There's no shoulder. I stuck close to the edge of the road, where a deep swale ran alongside a berm, the river on the other side.
There were a few turtles hanging out on branches and trash. I stopped to get their pictures but they heard me and dived into the water.
I was left to take pictures of the other local wildlife. Bottles, apparently, don't startle.
I was getting hungry. I held out until I reached Blackwells Mills. The joint was jumping. Across the canal, there were joggers and bikers and a fisherman on the towpath. Cars were crossing the causeway at regular intervals. People were walking and biking over the bridge. Both parking lots were full (well, half full, which is all that is permitted now).
As I was getting ready to move on, Jim appeared on the causeway and passed me on Canal Road. I hammered to catch up to him, keeping a safe distance to ask if he'd found a good alternative to Burnt Hill.
"No!" he called out. "It sucks!"
He turned on Suydam and I continued down Canal, passing and being passed by other cyclists. I was close to the end when I saw someone stopped on the other side of the road.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Yep," she replied, and then we recognized each other. It was TEW. I turned around and we talked, ten feet apart, for maybe ten minutes.
"I miss this," she said, "the social interaction." She likes how we Slugs manage to sort of see each other.
We'll be able to ride in groups again for real eventually. For now, we need to stay the course and stay out of each other's way.
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