Back to PA

I ate a nice breakfast with my host and his daughter (dressed in her strawberry nightie from last night and wanting nothing so much as she wanted the chocolate in the banana bread). He had told me the night before that he wanted to acquaint her to the idea of having guests and to proper manners and treatment of them. Which meant I of course found myself trying my best to set a decent example as some sort of civilized person, rather than the wild man I become after a month of touring. With a beautiful day ahead, I liberated my bike from the garage and said my farewells (indirectly to the daughter as she was halfway down the block on her trike). She made me very much want to see my nieces, and I think I will video call them for my day off.

I biked to a nearby park that led me to a canal trail that I had been told all about by my host of the night and actually by others previous. It's a good trail, crushed limestone for most of it, and with beautiful scenery to see. It had some mud here and there, along with overgrown tree roots and ruts to avoid, but generally not bad, and it provided some added interest to the ride in weaving around them. Right away, I got a surprise gift of nature from the trail, as I saw a heron standing on its edge in front of me. I got off and walked toward it and was able to get surprisingly close, until a jogger came along the other way, not noticing it at all, and startling it away. I would later encounter a woman who was stopped on the trail, and as I greeted her, she shushed me, and pointed out another heron ahead. I told her my story of the one I had seen earlier, and encouraged her to approach slowly. She did, getting very close while taking video, as I hung back (I'd already had my moment with a heron for the day). I would see a couple more later in the day too. It was more herons than I'd ever seen in a day, and probably the closest I've gotten to one. I would also get quite close to a mother and father goose and their goslings, feeling a little bad that even though I walked past, there was no way I could get through without scaring them off.

Google didn't want me on the trail near as much as I could have been because it was not the most efficient route, making a big curve. I got off early and meandered on roads to meet up with it again, and I do wonder at what I missed on that stretch. I would also of course get off again in order to see Princeton, the town and University, the second to last of the Ivy League schools for me to hit on this trip. It was worth it to see the impressive buildings around campus. I didn't want to just go right back the way I had been to reach the trail, so I continued on road for a bit, with an intention to meet back with the trail quickly. There was construction on the road I meant to turn on and signs for a detour. ...I realized too late that they must have been for the other direction, and that I could in fact have gotten back on there. As it was, I continued on the road for a time more, which had a nice bike lane surprisingly, so I at least felt secure, and then took a gravel side road to some historic building, walked over some grass, onto a side trail, then onto the trail itself.

The funny thing is that just a few hundred feet ahead from there, the conditions of the trail changed, getting overgrown with grass in the middle, and becoming two narrow lines on either side, at one point I remember reducing to just the one. On Bree at least, it was more than fine, but it amused me how instantly that transition happened at the point I meandered my way back on. Also that this lower quality stretch should happen right as it neared a bigger city, that of Trenton, where the trail reaches its end. What was not alright, not at all, was that there was a point where the trail unceremoniously crosses a heavily trafficked road right where it exits and enters the freeway. There's no intersection, no light, I didn't even see a sign warning vehicles of bikes crossing (though I hope there is and I missed it), to get across four lanes of traffic, two from either direction, with people entering the freeway, and the crossing is even at a slight angle, and there's a curve in the road to make visibility poor. I sat there waiting and waiting for a safe break to get across, filled with fury that someone hadn't put in the proper infrastructure in place to make sure a cyclist, or pedestrian for that matter, doesn't get killed. I have vowed not to let it go. I don't know who I need to contact, but I am going to find out and make sure they know how stupidly dangerous that crossing is.

After getting off the trail, I soon crossed the bridge over the Delaware and back into good old Pennsylvania. It was a surreal, giddy feeling, having gone all this way, to get to the other side of the state, about 350 miles from where I began. If I really wanted, I could head over and make a 2000 mile loop. ...I don't. I don't want to do that, but it is funny to think about. My joy at reaching Pennsylvania was somewhat short lived in that I now was getting into some seriously heavy traffic. There was shoulder some of the time, not so much others. At one point staying on shoulder meant getting whacked in the face by a tree branch, but a better choice than going into traffic. I was on Bicycle Route E I think it was for awhile and that was quite good. But our paths diverged after a time, as I was heading to the Philly suburbs where my aunt is. I was on business route 1 for a time, with all its traffic and during a strip mall stretch, no shoulder to speak of, then the old Lincoln highway that was not so bad, then some madness, then Philmont (which I think is where the tree incident occurred), and at last on the bike lane on Valley Road, with a fairly easy time meandering from there. It was an incredible feeling reaching a neighborhood I recognized from visiting my aunt last year.

Around 4, I reached the bike shop, Keswicks, where I had called ahead earlier in the week. It's a cool shop, very well organized, astoundingly accommodating, neat vibe. I got plenty of attention from other cyclists as I stood there with my loaded touring bike. I was amused that twice earlier in the day, once by a pedestrian as I waited to go over the bridge to Pennsylvania, and once by a driver on a busy highway, I had people ask about my tour while waiting on lights, giving them a brief overview in those few moments, and being commended. You never know the little encounters you will have. But I digress... My aunt came to get me and my gear, and drop off the cassette I had ordered online, to go with the chain, and brake pads I was carrying. To my surprise, not too much longer in the evening (after a couple beers, some grilled cheese, and snack food, which was all before actual dinner), the mechanic called and said she was done, only $50, and that my front brakes actually looked fine, no need for new pads or rotor. ...I really need to brake more with my front, is the moral here. I have a rest day here at my aunt's, and I'll be going to pick Bree up here soon when the shop opens, with her new shiney cassette and chain. Hopefully she'll keep holding up, as we've got plenty of miles yet to go.