Still life with bicycle and associated impedimenta.
Friend Bob N, whom I haven't see in months, had an idea to do a piece of the Sourlands Spectacular route this weekend (a week after the actual event). He contacted a number of the Hill Slugs, and five of us agreed and were available: besides Bob, we had Rickety G, Peter G, Laura OLPH, and yours truly.
We agreed on fifty miles, so Bob rejiggered the routes and came up with something. I was dismayed when I saw we were gonna pass through Zion both on the way out and on the way back, but Bob assured me that on the way back, the climb wouldn't be that bad. I was not satisfied; the guy who claimed three kinds of lies (lies, damned lies, and statistics) had obviously never heard of ride leader promises.
We left and were at the climb at Dutchtown-Zion in less than ten miles, and I'm able to report it's still a demanding climb. I'd forgotten, though, that the last chunk-of-a-mile of the subsequent descent is gravel. I gingerly dawdled through that, and at the bottom, we got to see the condition of the bridge that was washed out a year ago in storm Ida:
It may not be clear from the picture, but those arches are new construction: the mortar is clean and new; there are fresh planks on top, and the rebar shows no rust. The associated sign:
...shows work was to start over a year ago, before the storm; I'm sure the crews have had other priorities in the interim. I'm glad the bridge is getting attention, as, I'm sure, are the local residents.
On we went. A bit later, we had to turn onto Amwell Road. Now, I have a dispute with the goddess of Amwell Road; I had a bad crash on that road in 2015, and I have had a number of mechanical problems, as have riders on rides I have led. This goddess is a trickster: powerful and arbitrary, as all gods are. We had about two miles on this road. I tried to think of any other gods from whom I could ask for a favor, placating Amwell, but realized that my best hope was probably just to make obeisance to her, so I did that for the time I was on her road. After we turned off, I spent a few miles meditating on my gratitude for my good fortune in not exciting her ire. I'm not one for spiritual experiences; this was close to one.
A bit later, we turned off Sergeantsville Road onto the Easton-Trenton Turnpike. Peter swore when he realized where we were turning: this road climbs one hundred fifty feet in a little over a quarter-mile; it's reported to have an 18% average grade (I know it wasn't above 23%, because I can't keep my front wheel down on a grade of 23% or more). It wasn't the height of the Dutchtown-Zion climb... but that is spread over about four miles or more before the downhill.
We stopped at the Sergeantsville store.
On the way back, I went into a rant about friendships. We don't need to go into the source of it here, but it's become clear to me that one of the things important to maintaining health is making and maintaining friends. It's easy when you're working, or in school... but I'm an old retired guy, and there aren't places I just bump into people; I've got to make a point of being places where I can meet potential friends, and of building and nurturing those relationships. Our lives depend on it.
We returned to Bob's house, where we had a post-ride feed, and met his excellent wife, Helen.
If you get a chance to enjoy a stop there, I recommend you take it.
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