Essay: On the Interchanging Ride
It has always been a strange interchange for the Bucks County cyclists when it comes to motorists. Oftentimes on Pennsylvania roads, it is the New Jersey driver who gives the close pass. Meanwhile, having crossed the Delaware River via any of the numerous spans, it is our own Pennsylvania drivers who have us perplexed. It’s as if the four-foot law ceases to exist when crossing state lines.
Friday was the day to get out and pack in longer miles. Summer is in full swing. Reviews are starting to pick up. Coffee continues to be cold more often than hot. There was the intention to roll to the ever popular Homestead Coffee on the Pennsylvania side and return along the Delaware River on New Jersey’s side. Despite the stifling heat and humidity forecasted, only two bottles were filled. This would not be too long of an outing, that’s for sure. But how wrong I would be.
Friday is also a full-fledged workday for most of the people in the area. This was reinforced with heavier traffic, or so I thought. Many of the tertiary roads, selected for their shade, featured a regular rolling of passing vehicles. It was considered a minor issue until the northerly roads were accessed. At the gateway to northern Bucks County - through the Frankenfield covered bridge - a pickup truck waved me through the rickety span. The route continued to go downhill to the river.
The enjoyment was short-lived, thanks to the industrious efforts of our department of transportation. To continue north, and to pass through yet another covered bridge, this time in Erwinna, the route became a chip-and-seal minefield PennDOT is in love with. According to the signs, Geigel Hill Road was chipped end to end. A minor inconvenience, I wound the short distance from Headquarters, through the covered bridge, expressing my disgust at the sludged shoulders where PennDOT couldn’t be bothered to cinch their equipment, and prepared for the turn onto a favorite road - Upper Tinicum Church Road. But as I said, PennDOT has been industrious. The next five miles, Upper Tinicum Church Road’s entire length, was also chipped and sealed. What little enjoyment the road provided came from the shade from the ratcheting heat. Cars buzzed by kicking up dust.
Dear reader, you may be thinking this is a gripe piece, and you are partially correct. But consider the next experience once I had reached the intersection of Chestnut Ridge Road (Upper Tinicum Church Road changes names) and Bridgeton Hill Road, the plunging descent to Homestead General Store and their roastery: Bridgeton Hill Road was also chipped and sealed. Frustration was masked by concern. To go west would put me in the middle of traffic on a winding road. To go right, toward my beloved coffee stop, would mean a storming descent on chipped roads. It’s always the hard left turn at the bottom that gets riders.
Naturally as I opted to descend into the oddly-named town of Upper Black Eddy, where Homestead was, a truck whipped right up behind me. For less than a mile, the hill averages 8% downhill and negates 350 feet of elevation. Preparing for the hard left turn, I squeezed the brakes much earlier than normal. Both tires felt greasy and reluctant to stop along the impacted tire groove. I had PennDOT to thank for this mess. The turn was negotiated and the truck that was once right behind me could be seen farther behind. I guess I was a little more comfortable with the situation.
While grabbing an iced coffee and a bottle of water, a couple inquired about the Delaware Canal State Park, asking just how far it extended. They also interrogated about the New Jersey system that parallels the Delaware River. I follied when I quickly dismissed a comment about ‘roads across the bridge were closed’ or something. I got back on my bike and ambulated my way into New Jersey via the Milford Bridge. This would be a simple return of keeping the river to my right.
Crossing the bridge swapped the ghostly PennDOT missions for the ever-present NJDoT crews. A New Jersey trooper was directing traffic around a work site in Milford. I asked a worker if a cyclist could make it through. The spatially unaware worker responded something to the effect that the bridge was out. Uninterested in sharing stories of traversing construction sites, I turned to climb the incorrectly named Mount Pleasant Road. This immediately put me into another NJDoT construction area. The workers gave me the go ahead to ride through the zone, no doubt enjoying my pressure to ascend into angry waiting motorists. What was going on today?
Crossing the Milford Bridge into New Jersey would not improve the experience.
Mount Pleasant Road continued to wallop me. An isolated storm parked itself right over me. Meanwhile Pennsylvania drivers did their best to get a good look at me. I turned onto Everittstown Road to quickly access Frenchtown. The road dried out, but I suddenly realized the intense traffic was due to another NJDoT project that had taken out the bridge on route 619. I was three for three for road projects on both sides of the Delaware. The approach to Frenchtown was fueled by anxiety. Storms swirled. Motorists hardly cared. Even when a Frenchtown police officer had pulled over a motorcycle, drivers forged ahead.
With relief I walked across the Frenchtown bridge, if just to feel closer to home when setting foot in Pennsylvania. I shared a conversation with a bikepacker, warning him about the three areas of construction. He said he would take the river path. “Good luck explaining that approach to the NJDoT worker,” I thought.
Everything from my location on River Road in Pennsylvania is up. North would send me back to Homestead Coffee. Straight ahead would send me up the brutal Uhlerstown climb and back onto the same chipped roads. South, along the busy road, nearing quitting time, amidst uncomfortable heat, was my only option. I rekindled the anxiety from the Frenchtown approach to keep me firing along River Road back through Erwinna. For the record, River Road had recently been chipped and sealed at the start of summer.
I hesitate to use certain roads in my area. River Road, despite its beauty, is one of them. Another road I try to avoid is Dark Hollow, but this was the only way I could return home. It’s an uphill experience with too many blind corners to access its enjoyment. As if sounding the alarm, the race of New Jersey motorists, far from their home state, was on to buzz me. If the New Jersey road construction hadn’t sent me so far out of the way, I would have made better decisions despite the heat and exhaustion. Each roller’s summit became a goal. Each elongated dowhill became a treat. Dozens of cars passed me. Most of them were New Jersey registered plates heading farther into Pennsylvania. Even on the final climb, a Strava segment correctly named ‘In a Dark, Dark Place’ the drivers were apathetic. I felt wrapped in a warm wet towel, incapable of escaping the midday blast furnace.
One final experience came as the urgent pace had been abandoned. A group of men were huddled under an EZUp tent. Suddenly a flying machine caught my attention. There in the farm field was a drone spraying pesticides. The group under the tent appeared to be customers of the device.
No one would believe a crop dusting drone was sighted, so I took a photo of it.
A few more turns found me back home. A text message from the Missus, sent a long time ago, encouraged me to stay out later. Things were taken care of to promote a longer day. The blast of air conditioning from the opening garage door was the little amount of encouragement I needed to counteract any thought of going back out. I sat on a chair, trembling with dehydration, glowing with sunburn, and dripping with sweat. It was hard to decipher if the sweat was from the heat or panic from the motorists.
As my senses returned, I thought how odd it was that PennDOT has resorted to chipping and sealing so many roads. They hardly improve on road quality. I also reflected on how weird it was that NJDoT had one road closed with a detour that sent one into another road construction site before warning of a possible second road closure on the detour. Finally, I felt betrayed by Pennsylvania drivers who normally provide space for cyclists in Bucks County while driving around New Jersey. I thought about posting these experiences on Strava or social media but thought it would hardly encompass the broad range of experiences, so I wrote them down. Something tells me readers will disregard this as a diatribe attempting to capture a day where New Jersey and Pennsylvania interchanged each other.
