The route was the opposite of the way we usually go, so instead of that long downhill after seeing the reservoir, we had the long slow uphill to get to it. It was more than my poor seatpost could stand; partway up the hill, the saddle shifted and the nose started pointing skyward. (And why hadn't that happened last week, on a much hillier ride?) I pulled over and made a roadside fix, and caught up to the rest of the gang at the boat launch.
The paved part of the boat launch isn't supposed to be out of the water like that...
... and there's not supposed to be that much beach. There's a drought going on.
But I got some pictures of the riders.
From there to the diner in Whitehouse Station. Evidently, they aren't pleased with our custom; I got stuck in the toilet line, so I was late to the counter and was the last to pay, and when I got my change, I heard the owner-fella say, "Good riddance". And when we were seated outside, a van parked where we had parked the bikes, and a woman opened the side door open and was filling a box with toys t go to the consignment shop next door. When we offered to help pick up stuff she'd dropped, she remarked on how we took up a lot of space.
Maybe in Whitehouse Station, they look on us as a basket of deplorables.
(Edit: A number of riders have told me that their experiences varied from mine; I may have been too hasty in my report above about the diner. My report about the woman from the consignment store stands.)
Back to the road. We were more than half done.
As we were passing Solberg Airport, we headed in and saw a few planes: this trainer from the second world war...
...and a few others.
Then back (after another quick fix to my seatpost... hrmph). I'm not generally one for landscape pictures, but these, as we crossed the white bridge at Neshanic, were too good to miss:
Great ride. Great day. Glad I went.
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