Catching Up Part Three: Not as Bad as All That

 

Sky Over the Sourlands

20 December 2022

With a car full of glass to give as gifts and to sell for charity, I chose to lead a ride I'd need to drive to. Hopewell is ten miles from my house, uphill in both directions. Sometimes I do ride over. Not today.

I'd listed the ride on Thursday, as C+ in the hills and B in the flats. There wasn't much flat about the route I came up with. It turned out to be more demanding than my usual miles-to-elevation ratio. There was a small B+ invasion the day before the ride. 

As I drove up, expecting nobody to buy any of the ornaments and expecting the group to split in half, I was convincing myself that I wouldn't be leading any more rides for a while.

I had described the ornament sale as a contribution split between the Boys and Girls Club of Mercer County and the Trenton Area Soup Kitchen. I'd said I'd match the first $100 raised. Each ornament would cost a minimum $10 donation. I hadn't done the math: I only had 8 ornaments for sale. I'd need a few generous folks for this to work.

In the end, I needn't have worried about the group's generosity nor their speed. Everyone stuck together and I came home with $100 in cash. Not only that, but also, despite the elevation gain and the cold, my back didn't hurt and my knees weren't sore.

We started off by getting a couple of flat miles in before I sent everyone up Province Line Road. We went up the mountain and down the other side, over to Van Lieus Road.

The bridge was still out.

There doesn't appear to have been any construction. The blacktop has large cracks running across the span in several places. It was easy to get across.

We took Boss Road in Ringoes west toward Sandy Ridge. I liked the way the clouds were puffing about over the trees.

On Garboski Road, everyone stopped for the sheep and goats.

I mistakenly thought that this goat must have been male because of the beard. It was only later that I realized that he is a she, and very, very pregnant.

From there, we went west, where the roads resemble a roller coaster track: Bowne Station, Buchanan, Sandy Ridge, Brookville Hollow, Seabrook.

"The hills seem so much harder in winter," Heddy said. 

"That's 'cause they are," I replied. It's amazing how much a thin pair of leggings and a cold wind can do.

As we approached Lambertville, Pat B announced that we'd been over 111 hills. She'd been counting every little bump. I suggested we might be able to get to 200, but our route back would have more long slogs than the annoying hard rollers we'd just been over.

Luminary Coffee has a roasting machine in it now. I struck up a conversation with the fellow who appears to own the place. He said they'd be roasting in a few weeks, and would eventually have a subscription service. Hooray! (One of the two roasters I subscribe to, Acadia Coffee Company, is on hiatus, and I am very sad about this.)

We were almost home when Pete said he was "going to make like rice and peel off." 

"Huh?"

"Peel off?" he said. "I thought long and hard about this."

Rice is sticky. I was still confused.

"Pilaf," Dave H explained.

Groan.

"Make like a banana and split," I told him. He turned right on 518 and we turned left.

"180 hills!" Pat called out as we approached the parking lot.

"That's unsatisfying," I said. "200 would have been good. 175 is a nice, round number."

Jim said she should have counted the speed bumps on Quarry Road as we climbed out of Lambertville.

Knowing I'd be out late on Saturday night, I signed up for TEW's Mercer Meadows Sunday hike instead of Jim's ride. They both started at the same time, but the Pole Farm is ten minutes from my house, not 30, and I could walk at whatever pace I wanted. 

TEW and Dorothy had a big group. I mostly talked to Ricky, who I hadn't seen in a while. I barely saw TEW and Dorothy. Ricky and I had our cameras. We were off the back a lot because we stopped to use them.

I hadn't hiked (walked, really; it was flat) five miles since Jack and I went traipsing around on a cobbled-together path in Bar Harbor. I could have done it in sneakers. I was glad I had my hiking boots, though, because a few spots were muddy. The boots felt silly on the blacktopped sections of the park.

I continued taking pictures of cloud puffs.

Everyone else walked right past the nifty orange fungus.

We were at the edge of Village Park, I think, when we got some more sky:

I'm not sure where this was. As many times as we've taken our bikes through here, I never have a sense of direction. It didn't help that today's walk took us in the opposite direction from our usual biking route.

I never remember where the Pole is either, so I always take a picture when I see it.

This is where we started: The Reed/Bryan Farm on Federal City Road. I've zipped past it on my bike a zillion times without ever noticing it. 

At the end of the hike, and for the next 24 hours, my legs were a little sore. Despite my job that has me on my feet much of the day, and despite 4- and 8-hour glassblowing stints on a cement floor, I am not used to 5-mile hikes. This one wasn't even hilly. Sheesh. I need a little cross-training.