Pole Farm
7 March 2021
It's been a month since I've ridden outside, and lordy did I need to ride outside.
Saturday
I was under the mistaken impression that enough snow had melted to let us ride the length of the Lawrence-Hopewell Trail, so I posted a ride for Saturday.
I came in from home on Fozzie, hoping to learn how the new gravel bike would handle on mushy cinder. Tom started at Alexander Road on the towpath on his mountain bike. "Don't do it," he said. "Don't do it. Don't do it." Pete agreed.
So we mostly didn't and went around the Pole Farm and around Rosedale Park. The new section that connects Pennington-Rocky Hill and Carter Roads is asphalt. I thought it might be clear. Jack H, on his skinny-tire gravel bike, took the lead and disappeared into the woods. We weren't more than a hundred yards in when we found the first patch of snow. I dismounted and took a picture of radio antennae while waiting for Tom, Jim, and Chris to catch up. Pete was having none of it and stayed on the road all the way up to Carter.
"Jack hasn't come back," I said. "I'll take that as a good sign,"
It wasn't. Even Tom and Chris walked their bikes through the mashed-down, slippery, melting snow.
We stuck to the roads after that. Except for Tom, who went back onto the towpath at Province Line to slog his way through slush and mud back to Alexander Road.
I did get a little dirt practice on the unpaved road back to the Brearley House, but other than that, I still don't know how Fozzie handles rough terrain. I do know that I really like this gravel bike, and, for as many adventures as I had on Grover, I'm not sad he's up for sale at the Trenton Bike Exchange.
Sunday
Friday was the end of a stressful week. I came up with Sunday's route at 11:00 p.m., not thinking much about anything more than keeping it to 35 miles. Bob and Pete had to remind me that taking the dirt road on Stony Brook was probably not going to be a good idea. I tweaked it, but I didn't pay much attention to anything else.
This was my first time out on Miss Piggy since January first, which means that I hadn't climbed any real hills outside since then. And, despite all the indoor training I've done, slogging up virtual Sourland climbs and tackling Cadillac Mountain at least three times, I felt every inch of the real thing.
It was a stupid route that went nowhere and took a lot of hills and turns to get there. At the end, Jack H said, "That was a nice ride. You really made us work for it." If he, Pete, and Racer Pete were working, I certainly couldn't tell. I was too far behind.
The software I'd been using to merge my Fly videos with the routes I rode in Maine last fall suddenly stopped working. At least I got the one I wanted uploaded to Rouvy's servers. Now I can suffer Park Loop Road and Cadillac Mountain at my snail's pace, without the wind and the vertigo, but the two carriage road routes will have to wait. It's just as well; we change our clocks ahead next week. That's when bike commuting season officially begins and I can use Gonzo as a drying rack until November.
