Dodging the Heat Wave

 

North End of Lower Creek Road

I built the route around descending Lower Creek Road now that it's passable again. 

We're in a heat wave, one that is set to break records for the twenty-first of May. The heat index was set to nudge 100 degrees. We had to get out early. I listed the ride from Lambertville to start at 8:00 a.m.

The drive up was in dense fog. I was having flashbacks to the two Double Reservoir Rides I'd led in weather like this. While the fog holds, it's pleasant, if not a bit sticky. Then the sun breaks through and the ride becomes a death march. This time I was keeping the route short, with the goal of finishing before the temperature reached 90 degrees.

Rickety, Pete, Jim, and Lenny G were fool enough to sign on.

Alexauken Creek Road still has a canyon in it, so we climbed out of the valley on Seabrook instead. That's when Jim informed me that we'd picked up an extra rider. He had that racer tell: his seat post was in the stratosphere, and he was carrying next to nothing. 

Seabrook was still wet from last night's deluge. We rode through haze all the way to Sergeantsville and into the hills beyond. On Reading Road we all stopped to marvel at a field of spider webs. I'd forgotten that my camera had been set for timed shutter releases and a long exposure for the eclipse that I never saw. It took me a few minutes to remember how to undo everything and take the pictures I wanted.

(Had I been by myself and with my good camera, you know I'd have gone into the field for a closer look.)

We had a steep dogleg to climb on Locktown-Sergeantsville Road, but after that we were on top of the ridge, where the going was much easier.

So far, it didn't seem terrible out. Only when we reached Ridge Road and began our descent into Frenchtown did I feel the first hints of the heat wave.

When we walked into the Bridge Cafe, it was 10:10 a.m., and I was surprised by this. I have no concept of time when I'm on my bike. If the clock had said noon, I'd have believed it. The early hour went a long way towards explaining why we weren't suffering yet.

The early morning fog was completely gone.

While it's always an option to bail on the hills and take Route 29 all the way back to Lambertville, I figured we were doing well enough to climb out of the valley, and besides, there wouldn't be any shade on Route 29. I'd chosen Fairview as our way out. In my mind, it's easier than Horseshoe Bend, and Ridge, which we'd come down, is in full sun. 

From there, we had more downhill than up, and the trip from Hammer to Featherbed to the bottom of Upper Creek seemed to take no time at all. 

We stopped at the Green Sergeants covered bridge. The hole where the tree impaled the frame during Ida is still there.

Around the corner, at the upper end of Lower Creek, we were greeted with a barrage of do-not-enter signs.

Did that stop us? Pffft! I switched my Fly12 camera on and captured the entire road. The video is too big for Blogger to handle. Here are some screenshots.

This is where the road completely washed out, just north of Covered Bridge Road.

South of the intersection:

Farther along, it looks as if nothing had ever happened.

Then it goes to dirt again. There are random barrels and cones still positioned in ruts.

With 25 mm tires, the road is easily passible. 

Friday brought strong winds. Maybe this debris was new, but it could very easily not be.

There were many potholes to dodge, with room enough to get around them.

Another large branch covered almost the entire road:

This is what I think of when I think of Lower Creek Road:

The Wickecheeoke is center left:

More beauty:

At the southern end of Lower Creek, there's another barrier. This one has no signs.

We hammered along Route 29 from Stockton back to Lambertville. It was 12:00. The heat was starting. We'd timed it just right.

*****

Late in the day, Jim listed a ride for Sunday. The high for the day wouldn't be as bad as Saturday, but even at 8:00 a.m., it was hotter than Saturday and more humid. Rickety, Eric H, Ming, and I signed on anyway.

To the west, there was thick cloud cover. I decided to leave my camera in the car.

 

"I'm having carburetor trouble," Jim said, several miles into the ride. It was hard to breathe. I felt generally icky. 

Fortunately, the route was flat. We were headed for the Blawenburg Bistro, Jim's favorite place these days. 

I had new replacement lenses in my sunglasses. The frames are Oakley, but I refuse to pay $200 for new Oakley lenses when I can find knockoffs that fit the frame for $20. The cheap ones last almost as long. My new lenses have more blue in them than the last ones did, and the color was making the sky over the Sourland Mountain look ominous. 

As we pushed farther west, the sky didn't just look ominous; it was ominous. We stopped so I could check the radar. We were on the edge of a solitary storm cell that was moving northeast. We'd miss the center of it, but it was already raining a little. With the memory of being soaked last Saturday still fresh in his mind, Jim turned us back towards Franklin Township. We rode in and out of drizzle for the rest of the way.

We finished with 24 miles instead of the planned 38, but, really, that was fine with me. 

I stopped at the Blawenburg Bistro on the way home. Already on Route 518, I stopped at Boro Bean too. I was paying it forward for two weekends. This time next Sunday, I'll be driving onto Mount Desert Island.