Ramble and Rain

 

Burnt Mills Rd at Lamington Rd, Tewksbury, NJ

9 June 2024

There are 7 blog posts, about our trip to Maine, waiting to be written. This one jumped the line.

Yesterday, I hauled my sleep-deprived ass out of bed at the unreasonable hour of 5:45 a.m., got dressed, slathered on the sunscreen, fed the cats, did PT for my back, and loaded the car for the Revolutionary Ramble at Raritan Valley Community College. I left the house at 6:35 and ate breakfast while I was driving.

I'd never done the Ramble before. It was always held way up north at Drew University. There's no way I'd ever drive that far that early to climb that many hills. Nope, nope, nope.

This year, though, I was out of excuses. The Morris Area Free Wheelers moved the location to RVCC, only 40 minutes away early in the morning. When Our Jeff and Heddy said, back in December or January or something, that they were registering, I told them I didn't know if I'd be back from vacation by then. Jack and I didn't make solid plans for the last few days of our trip until April. I forgot about the Ramble until mid-May, by which point the cost of registration had more than doubled but I knew we'd be back by then. With Nova Scotia's mountains looming, I forked over the money.

We didn't get the routes until mid-week last week. I was relieved to see that the 50-mile course was, for the most part, a collection of Hill Slug and Insane Bike Posse greatest hits, with a few unknowns south of Peapack-Gladstone.

Still, I arrived, as I always do to these early-morning group events, shaky and insecure. Convinced I didn't belong with this group, I only felt worse when Dave S, fresh off his trip to Italy, tried to talk me into going next year. If I can't handle showing up at the Revolutionary Ramble, there's no way in hell I'll hold it together overseas. "Let's see how I do in Nova Scotia," I told him. 

Thinking I'd be riding only with Dave S, Heddy, and Our Jeff, I was surprised to see that our group also included Bobbi, Marty, another guy named Dave, and, for part of the route, EZ and Gina. I relaxed a bit.

From the college, we headed west, arriving at the bottom of Rockaway Road at mile 9. No matter how my legs or my brain are feeling when I get there, Rockaway is four miles of bliss every time.

The new owners of That House on Rockaway have done some serious brush-clearing. We could see the side of it from hundreds of yards away. The place is much bigger than the low stone front lets on. Still, we gawped because that's what one does when one passes That House on Rockaway.

We didn't stop until we got to the top, at Mountainville. I took a picture of flowers and a fence so that I'd at least have something to pretty up the blog post with.

Most folks in our group didn't know about the old water wheel in the forest on Sawmill Road. I pointed it out and was able to take a picture before we moved on.

We went across Old Turnpike and started down Fox Hill. I told everyone that I'd be stopping for pictures halfway down the hill, but then we turned off onto Cold Spring. That was annoying, but I got it. There's a steep, sharp turn on the Fox Hill descent. Cold Spring, while devoid of vistas, was a more gentle descent.

When we reached the Oldwick General Store, I begged for a bathroom break. We weren't far from the designated rest stop, but I wheedled. When you gotta go, you gotta go. "Y'all missed some pretty pastries," I said as I returned only minutes later. 

Then it was east on Vliettown, with those three annoying hills at the end, one of which is a 9.2% grade, if Ridewithgps is to be believed. I passed someone who muttered "damnit" as they struggled to maintain momentum. "You're almost there," I said. They muttered "I know," which had a tinge of anger to it.

I decided to name the three inclines "The Three Witches of Vliettown."  At the top of the third, near the intersection with Black River Road, I took a picture while we collected ourselves.

Then it was up Black River Road. I remember the first time I came down this road and said that if I ever had to climb it, I'd turn my fat ass around. I was prepared for torture, but we only went as far as Pottersville. The worst of Black River continues north of that. We went instead to the rest stop.

The Morris Area Free Wheelers did a good job of supporting this ride. They had the right kinds of food and drink (although I opted for one of my energy bars instead). There was even an orb web hanging from the eaves of a gazebo. I looked for the owner, but she was probably tucked into the wood somewhere. It was a big web for this time of year.

After the break, we had a long, steady climb from Pottersville to Route 206, and then we descended into Gladstone. We were now out of Hill Slug territory and into Insane Bike Posse territory: Tom leads his Cocoluxe ride here. We'd just come in the way he goes out. 

For three miles, we were on Mendham Road. Maybe I'd been there before. We were in the land of money. For two more turns, I recognized the road names, then I was lost again as we went south, and then I knew where we were again as we arrived in Peapack, with Cocoluxe right in front of us.

Had I been leading this ride, we'd have had our rest stops at Oldwick and Cocoluxe. It's probably a good thing that I wasn't leading. We'd all be in a food coma.

We took Route 512 south out of town. I recognized the road I drive on to get to Peapack as we passed it. I knew we must be parallel to Route 206. After two turns, we were on 206. That was a little hairy, but we weren't there for long. We went southeast on Liberty Corner and started climbing.

We turned onto Layton and continued to climb. We turned off, descended a bit, got back onto Liberty Corner, and then found ourselves circling the lot at a park, where a sign at the entrance pointed to our next rest stop. Were we so slow that the organizers had already packed up?

"We have to go down the path," Bobbi said. "I've been here before." She'd done something like ten Rambles already. We followed her to a covered pavilion where the food and crowds were.

One thing that was missing from these rest stops, as is always missing, was caffeine. I ripped open a pack of caffeinated Shot Bloks I always have with me, and held it out to Heddy. "Cortado?" I asked. 

We exited the park from the other side. The Shot Bloks kicked in soon after, just in time for us to clip the edge of the First Watchung Mountain on Somerville Road. We were in a valley between two higher peaks, but we were still climbing. Ridewithgps says there's a short bit of 9.4% grade. I didn't know where we were, of course, but once we descended on Washington Valley Road and crossed 202, I had a chance to look back. What was behind us was a large, green bump that sure looked like a mountain to me. 

After that, we were mostly descending, with less than four miles to go. I dropped into the big ring on Burnt Mills Road as we followed the Lamington River. We were into a headwind, which had been picking up as the day wore on. After a few miles, I looked behind me and said to Heddy, Dave S, and Our Jeff, "Y'all comfy back there?" Because when there's a headwind, I'm the one in front.

We collected ourselves at the final turn onto Lamington Road. "This is what I think of when someone says Tewksbury," I said: giant fields ringed by white fences, a barn in the distance, and sky going on forever. If someone says "Oldwick," it's the same thing, but on an angle.

There was one more hill between us and the entrance to the college. The spray paint on the road that read, "Got legs?" has long been paved over, but I remembered and shouted it out.

I don't usually stay for the free lunch after rides like this. There's never anything for food-weird veggies like me. This time, though, there were lunch trucks, and one was serving beans and rice. We hung out under the tent. Pat B was there, volunteering after doing the 70-mile route. She sat with us a while. EZ and Gina found us. Stacey came in after her 70 miles. As for me, Our Jeff, and Heddy, 50 was quite enough thankyouverymuch. 

I got chatting with one of the voluteers, who confirmed that they'd nixed Fox Hill for safety reasons. I told him I was very happy with the route nonetheless.

Being mid-afternoon at this point, traffic had picked up and it took me an hour to get home.

Today, Sunday, Plain Jim had his Boro Bean ride listed as "Nasty Pretty Brook" on his route page. I figured I'd ride from home and meet the group somewhere on the other side of Princeton, then head for home after the rest stop. That way, I could go at any pace my tired legs wanted to, at least for the solo portions of the ride.

The forecast called for a few "passing showers" in the morning. Ha. I woke to sunlight, but by the time I was making coffee, it was gloomy dark, and AccuWeather promised rain exactly when I was planning to leave.

As I was putting my helmet on, the rain started. It was too late to drive to South Brunswick, so I headed out, hoping the rain would pass. 

Unfortunately, the cell and I were going in the same direction. I'd ride out of the worst of it, get stuck at a light, and find myself in it again. On Princeton Pike at Maidenhead Meadows, at 8:55, I pulled over and called Jim. "It's raining and the roads are wet here," I told him, because he was going to be coming this way. "Is the ride still on?" He said the rain would pass and he was still planning to leave in 5 minutes. Well, I was already wet, so I soldiered on, riding in and out of rain all the way through Princeton to Kingston to River Road to the Masonic Temple, where I stood in the driveway. I had a good view to the north and could get a rolling start as soon as Jim's group appeared. 

The roads were still wet all through Princeton, but only in that dampish way that makes your bike dirty and creates the fear of flat tires. When we reached Pretty Brook, I focused on making my legs climb the rolling hills. They're not bad, really, just annoying. You think you're done and then there's another one.

We went straight up Carter, a stealth hill that looks flat. On Crusher Road, I heard the rain before I felt it This time it was a hard shower. We were too close to Boro Bean at that point for me to bail. Besides, I had two sandwich bags and two empty pockets -- no camera -- to carry two muffins home. 

Heddy and I ordered cortados, beause that's the rule now. They came out the size of regular cups of coffee, which was fine with me, because I had to climb Carter Road to get home.

To the south, where I was going, and to the east, where everyone else was headed, the sky was metallic gray. Somehow, though, we all made it back dry. The roads I took home were still damp, though. 

I cleaned Janice's chain and hosed her down. At least all the Acadia carriage road dust is off now. She looks nice and shiny, all ready for the Premed ride on Wednesday evening.