I had opted to make it a century ride since Sunday morning saw the Tour de France end on the Champs Elysees in Paris, and I was damned if I was going to miss that. I figured there was no point to clenching my butt-cheeks in suspense on Saturday's stage 20 over Mt. Ventoux, so I did my own little mountain adventure in upper Rockland County instead.
First I found myself waiting to rendezvous with the other two at the foot of the Williamsburg Br once again...
While I was waiting and stretching, a group of over-the-hill gay dudes on fixed gear bikes started to conglomerate around me. I thought I had snapped a photo of them, but alas, I did not. They were great though, really nice guys who were doing a bicycle tour of LIC and Greenpoint art galleries. The ride leader, Gene, was super cool and we chatted about bikes while he unfurled his rainbow bike flag and lashed it to his seatpost.
Once underway, we rode up the WSH bike path to the GWB. Here's a snapshot I took of one of my buddies from behind my back. Self-composing shots like this are the best.
Across the Hudson there you can see the Palisades Cliffs starting. River Road (where we were headed next) is nestled in there somwhere, and it is without a doubt one of my favourite "natural rides" in close proximity to the city.
Somewhere River Rd. morphs into Alpine Approach rd. (Alpine NJ), and after a moderately steep climb that lasts exactly a mile, it passes by a 'police station' which is, in actuality, little more than a watering hole for weekend warriors going to Nyack and beyond.
I've never not seen at least one TT bike in the rack up there, and Saturday was no exception...
Oddly, the owner of that S-works TT bike was somehow leading a group of cyclists on 'regular road bikes' up through Piermont, NY. However, there were other bikes boasting greater utility for these roads at prices no less rediculous than that Specialized...
Now, this machine might actually help you climb a mountain. And with a price tag of $15,000.00 (incredible, I know) utterly shames the S-works with its elitism and rarity.
Riding along route 9W toward Piermont and Nyack, we encountered a group of 'bladers lounging on the shoulder, all clad in skin suits.
Chuckling to ourselves about the rediculousness of 'bladin', we rode on, passing under the Tappan Zee Bridge, just before entering Nyack once again...
We found ourselves at the Runcible Spoon Cafe, as usual, scarfing down only the most ironic of food stuffs. I'd mentioned earlier the beguling sandwich-making practices this cafe works with, though I opted for my usual as I do every time I find myself there.
Still Hungry after my lunch, I decided to test their desserts, finally deciding on the Cookie Monster Cupcake:
While the cupcake and cookie were both pretty good, they used far too much blue food coloring and even after washing my hands and face, I was still noticeably bluer than I should've been. Also, that cookie was a fucking tease. I was hoping to sop up some of the blue from my moustache with it, but quickly found out that there was not nearly enough cookie for such an endeavor. While some might call a half cookie a cute nod to Cookie Monster's love of cookies (as if the cupcake devoured the other half), I call it a clever cookie-saving technique.
Prepping for the second half of our ride (second quarter for me), I saw this funny bidon on the bike across from mine on the rack...
Then, leaving Nyack, we proceeded north on 9W which rolls up and down the edge of the Hudson until our destination. Being somewhat out of shape, one member of our crew kept dropping off and the other waited for him since they had more time to burn. I, on the other hand, needed to ride another eighty miles or so and decided to slog it along by myself. Two miles north of Nyack was the last time I saw those dudes, and rode (pretty much) alone for the whole rest of the way.
This is me looking back to see if I can spot them.
Nope, nothing... I soft-pedaled most of the rest of the way to Bear Mountain, thinking they would overtake me.
I stopped next to the entrance of this Quarry for a while, waiting, resting, and quelling any doubts I had as to whether or not I was "in the mountains" yet.
The rest of the ride was too beautiful to convey with pictures, suffice to say, I've never known natural splendor like the northeast in spring and summer. I know Seattle is up there but here it's really something else; every direction you look, your gaze is met with abounding verdant landscapes fit for painting.
I finally reach Bear Mountain State Park:
...and climb...
...and climbed some more until I reached the top, where I gazed at the vista through a veritable sea of asian tourists, motorcyclists, and backpackers.
Growing weary of the traffic at the summit, I gathered my things and rode back down the mountain. This was by far my favorite part of the whole trip. The two lane road was an asphalt ribbon, beautifully maintained and never so steep as to throw me into a speed wobble.
I slid easily down, past lush flora and bounding fauna, back to the park's entrance where I was hoping to find my friends.
Alas, they had gone part way up and turned off the main road and I bypassed them in my descent. After a conciliatory phone call, I headed back to the city on my own, second-guessing my decision to do over a hundred miles in one shot.
A very nice roadie pulled up next to me about a mile or so later and we paced back toward Nyack (actually, he did most of the pace-setting, I just sucked his wheel most of the way). Knowing I was slowing him down, I told him to feel free to drop me because I was really tired and in no shape to keep up rolling turns at 25mph. He gave me a few powergels, some candy bars, and a block of powdered stuff (get your mind outta the gutter) that turns water into gatorade. I had no idea where he had stashed all of this food but I was certainly grateful for it.
The rest of the ride back was pretty much the same as the first leg, though in reverse. It was uneventful save for two things: Instead of stopping in Nyack, I got a bite to eat and some fluids at a shop in Piermont, which is a quaint little river-side village just south of Nyack. Apparently I was the last cyclist passing through for the night as evidenced by the empty bike racks...
Then, after riding on for some 500 feet or so, I flipped through my new cyclocomputer to check my mileage and stuff. Finding the odometer at 333.2 miles, I knew the auspicious 333.3 mark was only a few feet ahead of me so I schluffed along until it rolled over and snapped a quick photo.
After narrowly avoiding being rained on a few times, I finally made it back into manhattan tired, sweaty and drained.
All in all, by the time I made it to my doorstep in Brooklyn, I put 125.4 miles on my bike and had a max speed of 39.4mph (not counting the 46 something mph that put me in such a bad speed wobble I nearly got tossed off).
Now my legs are fried like the chicken at mitchell's though I can't wait to 'slay' another century-and-a-quarter.
Look forward to in-depth coverage of the tour's final day on the Champs Elysees, coming soon (this evening or tomorrow). 'Til then, ride safe... it's still early in the week.
awe some - shit man - a century and a quarter. that's hardcore. i think juron and i are going to head up to bear mtn in a few weekends. but i'm pretty sure we're going to do one way, camp overnight, then come back the next day. as always, i enjoyed the verbal and visual capture of your experience. that block of powder that turns to gatorade is a good idea.
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