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.

Catching Up Part Two: Lambertville Halloween, the Bifurcated Ride, and I've Had Enough

Maybe this is Willow Road in Hillsborough?

18 December 2022

I led my traditional Halloween ride to Lambertville. The week before, I was on one of Plain Jim's Sunday hammerhead rides, where I took this photo of the sky. I'm not sure where we were. Most of the past two months have been a blur. I've been busy.

Anyway, I had a decent group for the Halloween ride. We'd been up in Oldwick two weeks before, ahead of the peak. Now, at the top of the Sourland Mountain, we were past it.

There was something off about the setup on my hill-climbing bike, Miss Piggy. After the seat post had broken last summer, I'd gotten a new one, and the mechanics at Hart's failed to tighten the bolts that held the saddle on. I lost one of the bolts 40 miles into a 50-mile hilly ride and went straigt to Wheelfine with what was left. Michael machined a new barrel nut, set the whole mess in with Loctite, and sent me on my way. I'd had my measurements ready, but I might have miscommunicated, giving the saddle height from the ground rather than the crank, or something. Since then, I'd be fine for the first 40 miles, then 30, then even less, before my back would start to hurt. Every post-ride recovery included knee pain. I knew the saddle felt low and the reach too far, but I didn't want to mess with any of it on my own, lest I shed bolts again. So I lived with it, knowing I'd have to take care of it sooner or later.

So, limping into Lambertville, I led the group to Luminary Coffee, in the space Rojo's used to occupy over on the north side of Union Street, before Ida washed a lot of our favorite places off the map.

Luminary was so new that I'd found out about it by word of mouth. It wasn't even on Google Maps. The seating area was pleasingly sparse, devoid of all the roasting-related clutter and merchandise that used to fill the Rojo's space. We gave the place a thumbs-up and proceeded south on Union to look at the Halloween decorations.

There didn't seem to be as much this year as in years past. I did find a haunt of ghosts hanging from a corner tree. The pro-choice yard sign was a bonus.

To protect her characters from the elements, Dolores Dragan has put her displays in little tents. The section on the side of her house was closed off, unfortunately.

The following Saturday, Tom led a ride from Bordentown into the Pinelands. I had to check Plain Jim's post to remember where we started from and what happened.

Somewhere in Burlington County I got this photo.

Tom took us along both sides of Mirror Lake in Pemberton. The sun was at a better angle when we swung around to the south side, and I stopped for a handful of pictures.

Tom kept up his Insane Bike Posse cred by finding a road with a bridge out.

Somewhere else in Burlington County, I got another photo.

Meanwhile, I had started dreading Jim's Sunday rides. Saturday's hilly rides were leaving me exhausted for Sunday's once-upon-a-time recovery rides that were now B+ invasions. I'd watch the registrant list change from mellow B riders who dropped out when the B+ hammerheads began to sign on. More than once I considered canceling my own registration, only to tell myself to suck it up and pedal.

By mid-November, I had had enough. For some reason, maybe rain, I chose to list a hilly ride on a Sunday. I made a point to explain that the pace would be C+ in the hills and B in the flat spots.

Mid-week, my regulars began to sign up. By the end of the week, a B+ invasion had begun. The only thing preventing a complete takeover was my 10-rider limit. On Friday evening, a B+ ride leader, a true pace-pusher, was begging me to let him join. Nope. As politely as possible, I explained how I was having a hard enough time keeping up as it was, wanted to keep the group to ten, and suggested that, were he to post a B+ ride, I was sure he'd get some takers. 

As I rode to the start of the ride, a lecture was bubbling up.

I always give a pre-ride spiel, listing the club rules. This time I started differently. It went something like this:

"Some of you are B+ riders. You really shouldn't be here. If you see 'C+' in the description and you're a B+ rider, think about what that means to the other folks who have already signed up. It's intimidating. Slower riders have been canceling their registrations when the B+ riders start to sign up.. When you register for a ride like this, think about how it makes the slower riders feel."

When we set out, everyone stayed behind me. When we got to the hills, people stayed close. We remained together, uphill and into the wind, as I led the group to Sergeantsville on roads I don't take very often. A couple of the faster riders asked me, quietly, out of earshot of anyone else, if they were the one I'd been aiming at. Yes and no.

Somewhere on Everitts Road, I took a couple of pictures.

The consensus these days is that the Bagel Barn and Deli in Sergeantsville is a better stop than the general store. I've been alternating between the two, but the last time we went to the general store, I sensed deterioration. The new owners had done well to clean up in the beginning. Now, though, there wasn't even toilet paper in the bathroom, and the place seemed kind of cruddy. We went to the Bagel Barn this time. I don't like the food selection as much, but at least it's clean, and the coffee is decent.

On the way back, we went to visit the Mount Airy cows.

As we got closer to home, the faster people started to get ahead. I didn't really care. I was too busy trying to ignore my aching back. 

(In December, I drove Miss Piggy and Beaker up to Michael. He took Beaker's measurements, adjusted Miss Piggy to match, gave her a new middle chain ring, and now my back and knees don't hurt anymore. I'm not any faster, but my mood is better.)

A week later, I was off the bike and deep in the Pinelands on a Sierra Club informational field trip. We started from the Brendan Byrne State Forest headquarters, which is a regular stop on Tom's Pinelands Cruise. It was weird to be there on foot, with my biking life, my activist life, and my grad school memories (my field site being a few miles awy) all coming in at once. I'd already forgotten more than most people know about Pinealnds ecology. 

As we traipsed around from one site to the next, I was surreptitiosly blowing my runny nose. I'd taken an antigen test in the morning and had come up negative. On the drive home, though, I definitely felt sick. I tested negative by PCR the following day and every week since. Is this what catching a cold is going to be like from now on?

The next Saturday, Tom led a ride from Allentown. The morning was cold, too cold for me to turn a 40-mile ride into a 70-miler by biking in from home. The B+ invasion had happened to Tom's listing late in the week. 

"How many miles do you think it will take before the group splits?" Eric H asked me. I don't remember which one of us said "six," but whichever one of us said it was correct. When the rest of us caught up, Eric was in that group, but after that, he caught a case of common sense and stayed back with us and the leader. 

Every time the fast group decided to wait and we started up again, one particular rider would sprint out ahead, getting himself a good couple hundred yards off the front. The rest of the B+ invasion would give chase. This rider is a semi-regular on Jim's Sunday rides, and for the life of me I don't know why.

The B+ pace-pusher I'd shut out from my previous ride was there and mumbled something about pace-pushing to me as he sped past in an attempt to catch the sprinter.

At the rest stop in New Egypt, Charlestown Coffee, the fast folks sat inside and the rest of us gathered outside in the breezeway. The two groups didn't even talk to each other. 

I didn't take any pictures this time. Plain Jim summed up the ride quite well at the end of his blog post: "Y'know, if some faster riders wanted to lead rides at their own pace, youse wouldn't have to shiver at those intersections while you're waiting for us to show up. Just sayin'..."

I did take pictures the following week, when Tom led an invite-only ride from Mercer County Park. For the first time in months, I felt at ease. I rode in from home, stopping on the little bridge over the Assunpink Creek on the wooded path:

Tom took us north, along a rails-to-trails line that went from West Windsor to Plainsboro. It was pretty, but there wasn't really a good place to stop that wouldn't have caused a serious pileup. 

I don't know why I took this picture of the plains of Plainsboro.

We headed towards the canal, then up through Hillsborough on some of Jim's regular roads. Our stop was at Thomas Sweet. 

I had to get back early because I needed to pick up my glass from the classroom before they shut down for the weekend. I had some cold-working to do. The class was eating a lot of my out-of-class time. 

Pete wanted to get home too, so we left the group at Harrison Road, where they negotiaed construction and we continued on through the back of Princeton's campus. Pete wanted to get a picture of Carnegie Lake by the university's boat house. I'd never been down there before, so I took a lot of pictures too.

Well, that's it for the photos I have on my hard drive. There's one more post brewing before I'm all caught up. For that, I need to fetch the card from my camera.