Again?!?

 

Northeast View from Baptist Church Road near Alexandria, NJ

16 August 2020

(Well this is annoying. The new Blogger interface uploads photos in reverse order. When I try to report the problem I get an error message. Grumble.)

Yesterday I led my tenth ride of the year. Normally I'd be up around 20 by now. 

Several of my regulars were off doing other things, like traveling or being covered in poison ivy or recovering from heart attacks they didn't know they had until after last week's ride. In their place we got two regular irregulars: Ken and Ed.

With Jack H and Ricky along, Tom, Martin, and I figured we'd be chugging along in the back, which we did.

Our destination was the Asbury Coffee Mill. We hadn't been up this way since last August, when we found the place closed for a private function. This time I made sure to call the Mill before I posted the ride. They assured me they'd be open.

I drove up Route 29 from Ewing. Nearly the whole way to Frenchtown, trees along the river were covered in caterpillar tents, so many that the leaves were completely gone on trees that had been infested.

Ken, having some OCD about miles for the season, decided to ride to Frenchtown from home, a 34-mile trek none of us were willing to try, especially with an 8:30 start out of Frenchtown. Ken is fast and strong, and, having left his house around 6:00 a.m., got to the start early enough to put in a few extra miles. Having him half worn out already could only help keep him a little closer off the front.

Our first two miles were along Frenchtown Road towards Milford. We passed the staging area for a river tubing company. A handful of masked workers were standing around a bus. Behind them was a tent packed with life vests and brightly-colored tubes.

We spent the next 8 miles climbing to the ridge that divides the Delaware and Raritan watersheds.

We descended towards Spruce Run Reservoir on Baptist Church Road. Near the top there's a good view to the northeast of what might be the hills around Cokesbury and High Bridge.

Next to the road was a stand of wispy grasses.

Martin and I both stopped for obligatory pictures of the Bethlehem Baptist Church remains.

We skipped going into Spruce Run. I figured it would be too crowded. Instead we turned onto Henderson Hill Road. Tom had remembered the hill. I'd forgotten until I saw it. "Oh, yeah, this one," I said. Martin chuckled in a doomed sort of way. "It's a slog," I said. 

We slogged.

There's a descent towards the end. Jack H and Ricky were stopped at the bottom. Ricky had a flat. Ken and Ed were already at the end of the road, at the top of another small hill. Tom, Martin, and I proceeded to the top to wait. 

I took some pictures while we waited at the corner of Black Brook and Charlestown Roads.

Ricky and Jack H eventually arrived. There was a tear in the side wall of Ricky's rear tire. Already the tube was poking through. Ken had a Park Tool boot. Ricky flipped his bike over and deflated the tube again so that he could put the boot in. Once inflated, the boot on the tube showed through the cut. I had some electrical tape with me. Ricky wrapped the tire. 

We didn't figure it would last very long. Tom knew where we were and decided that he'd go with Ricky straight to Asbury rather than take the 4-mile loop I had planned. From there, at least, they could call for a ride if the tire wasn't holding up.

The tape lasted half a mile, coming apart as we descended into Glen Gardner. Ricky peeled away what was left and we rode slowly across the bridge over the Musconetcong River into Warren County. He and Tom turned left after we crossed; they'd be in Asbury in about a mile. 

We continued straight. At the intersection with Asbury-Anderson Road we could see the Blue Army Shrine. Ed suggested we not ride up to look at it because we'd lost so much time already with the flat. I was OK with that because I didn't want to have to play human dodgeball with worshipers anyway.

From where we were, the shrine looked as if it were on level ground. It's not. It's at the top of a steep hill. From where we were to the shrine was all uphill. Why the place looked so low from here confused me.

We turned north onto Cemetery Hill Road.

Because I stopped for pictures, the guys were ahead of me. I missed the turn onto Mountain View and had to call out to them to turn around. 

We passed the entrance to the shrine. At the gate was a printed sign telling worshipers to keep 6 feet apart from each other.

Asbury-Broadway Road has a fun little descent into town. The first thing I noticed when we got to the Coffee Mill was that Tom and Ricky weren't there. The second thing I noticed was the sign on the door.

"POWER OUTAGE CLOSED Sorry!"

"What?!? Again?!? I called this time!"

I dismounted onto the sidewalk, which was festooned with blue tape Xs six feet apart and one-way arrows from the entrance to the front porch.

I checked my phone and saw a text from Tom. They'd been here and moved on. The tire was holding.

Most of us, having ridden during the lockdown, have been packing extra food and plenty of water. Bob had purchased Zefal Magnum water bottles that hold 32 ounces instead of the usual 24. When I saw them I got myself a set. I'd not quite finished off the first bottle today. 

As we've been doing all season when faced with closed rest stops, we plunked ourselves down in front, six feet apart from each other, and distributed snacks to the snackless.

A few minutes later another group of cyclists arrived and we gave them the bad news. They were all in need of water, halfway through a metric, having climbed Fiddler's Elbow (because of course they did) and on their way to tackle Iron Bridge (because everybody but me comes up here and doesn't try to climb the worst hills in New Jersey).

This not being my first time shut out of the Asbury Coffee Mill, I directed the fastboys to the bar back up the road. That's where we wound up last time.

Ken put a cicada larva molt on my handle bar. Cool!

Rather than go back up to the bar, I decided we'd continue on and look for water in Riegelsville if we needed it.

We headed west, following the Musconetcong past Bloomsbury to Warren Glen and the Delaware River. 

I stopped for a picture of a pair of caterpillar trees along the river.

Jack H, realizing where he was, zipped ahead. We caught up with him in Riegelsville. Next to the bridge and the little toll house was a hose with a pump. Jack tapped on the window and asked the bridge keeper (I think they're just there to stop people from riding their bikes across) if the water was okay to use. He said it was. Ken filled his bottles and then doused himself with the hose. Jack H took some water too, and then I filled my empty bottle part way. I still had enough in my other bottle that I probably wouldn't need this, but it's better to carry too much water than not enough.

We continued on Riegelsville-Milford Road, where the road turns away from the river for a while and throws in some rollers. 

"This water is pretty bad," Ken said. "It's warm."

"If you end up vomiting blood tonight we'll know why," I said, and decided not to drink any.

Past the rollers, the road follows the river again. It's Jim's favorite stretch of road up here, so I made sure to stop and get some pictures for him.

"There's barely room for one car here!" Ken said.

I led the Slugs down the last stretch between Milford and Frenchtown. Now the tubing staging area was full of people waiting their turn for a ride to the river. 

Frenchtown was crowded too. 

Tom and Ricky were just leaving as we pulled in. "The tire held," Ricky said from his car. Tom said the same thing as he drove by. "We stopped at the pizza place in Bloomsbury," he said. I hadn't even thought of that. We'd come within a quarter mile of it on our way to the river.

After packing up, I stood in line at the Bridge Cafe window to order a mango water ice. I ate it in the car before heading home. It hit the spot.