June 2, 2008
Day 21: Phoenixville, PA to Easton, PA
85.88 miles, 6:52:17 Ride Time, 12.50 Average Speed, 34.49 Maximum Speed
Yesterday, Brian had offered to ride with me back to the Adventure Cycling route this morning, and with his help I rejoined the route in Norristown at about 8:30. Thanks, Brian.
So I began the somewhat notorious 28-mile section that gets you through the Norristown area. Other riders have talked about how hard this section is; it requires about twenty turns, in a (mostly) futile attempt to avoid heavy traffic. I was doing it during the peak of rush hour, and it was pretty bad; but at least it wasn't as bad as riding in the suburban sprawl around Washington, DC.
I encountered a few road closures, but there was no way I was going to start improvising this morning: I rode through them with no ill-effects (although I did once have to carry the loaded bike through a construction zone, and was startled when I stepped over an open manhole, and looked down to see the workers beneath me).
I made a quick snack stop at a "WaWa", a regional chain of gas stations I've been seeing the last few days, and asked the lady behind the counter when the traffic in the area slows down. Apparently it never does.
Things got quieter once I got on Lower Mountain Road, which was a pleasant, shady ride. I stopped at New Hope (pop. 2,252) and had lunch at the fanciest McDonald's I've ever seen - it had a fireplace. I mentioned to the kid taking my order that I was riding to Lambertville in a few minutes, when the manager (I suppose - he was wearing a tie), walked by and said in an exaggerated accent "Lambertucky!" What!? "I'm from Kentucky - are you mocking my accent?" He turned red and seemed embarrassed, while his employee laughed at his obvious discomfort. I'm not sure what that was all about - perhaps people in New Hope consider Lambertville, just across the river in New Jersey, a town of hicks, or maybe the guy really was making making fun of me personally.
That slightly irritating incident (more amusing than irritating, actually) was offset by a nice conversation with an older couple outside the restaurant. They had the usual questions about what I was doing and where I was going. I haven't yet gotten tired of explaining my trip to people - as long as they don't suggest that I "put a motor on it." (And as long as they don't point out that I'm riding the "wrong direction" once I start riding West towards Washington).
I had to walk the bike over the bridge across the Delaware river into New Jersey, where I finally saw a decent state line sign. (I would be crossing back and forth over the river between Pennsylvania and New Jersey the next few days.)
After "Lambertucky", I started a long section along the river. It was mostly flat, with a decent shoulder, and light traffic. A cyclist on an expensive-looking bike pulled up next to me, and we talked for a while. He was training for a triathlon, and had also done some "Ironman" triathlons. Sounds much harder than what I'm doing. After he pulled away from me, I rode by myself for a while, then caught up - and passed - another guy on a time-trial bike. He must have been extremely tired, or extremely out of shape, or both, to allow himself to be passed by me. He shot me an irritated glance as I moved past him. I felt my usual childish satisfaction at passing someone on a light road bike.
The town of Frenchtown (pop. 1,488) looked nice, but the bike shop and library were both closed. I stopped in Milford, another small town along the river, where I went into the library, only to find that I couldn't check my email with the library computers - "It's board policy!" the sour old lady told me. I haven't had much luck with the libraries on this trip. Most have been closed - and in the middle of weekdays, usually. Seems odd.
I went into a gas station for chocolate milk, and for the first time on this trip I saw New York City tabloid newspapers. I didn't recognize any of the people mentioned in the screaming headlines. Also, I was now apparently in the land of "TastyKakes" - Little Debbie was nowhere to be found.
After Milford I got on some VERY low-traffic, narrow, rough roads along the Delaware. It was great except for the bad pavement - at times the road narrowed and became one-way. It was hard to believe this was New Jersey. It was as rural and isolated-feeling as any place I've been.
This idyllic stretch along the river eventually ended, unfortunately, and I soon entered the back end of Phillipsburg (pop. 15,166), a typical old, decaying industrial town (at least the part I saw). I stopped and asked a policeman if there were any places to stay in town, and he advised me to cross the river into Pennsylvania - "You don't want to stay in any of the motels here - they're full of drugs." Yikes. So, I crossed the Delaware back into Pennsylvania and the town of Easton (pop. 26,263) where I immediately found a Quality Inn, and a woman with a very pronounced New Jersey accent checked me in.
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Today's ride: 86 miles (138 km)
Total: 1,575 miles (2,535 km)
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