Covid Cross Day #4 Hazelton, PA to Madisonburg, PA
Covid Cross Day #4
June 4, 2020
Hazelton, PA to Madisonburg, PA 90.5 Miles
Start 7:29 AM Finish 5:10 PM
Ride Time 8:15
Ascent 3400 Feet
Descent 3376 Feet
Tour Total 328.2 Miles
I slept well in my room at the Fairfield Inn in Hazelton. It got a little bit warm in the middle of the night, probably due to my drying operation. I had weird dreams and was awake before my 6:30 AM alarm. It was an elaborate ordeal to pack up my equipment and return the room to normal. I swept up the leaves and organized my garbage. I left two cold Brooklyn Lagers in the fridge along with $5 for housekeeping. I almost didn't bother with the free breakfast. I grabbed a muffin, orange juice, yogurt, and coffee to take back to my room. I packed two bananas and an energy bar for the road.
I figured I'd need my sweater, but removed it as soon as I stepped outside. The air was cool, but the sun was strong. I lathered myself with sunscreen and put on my sunglasses. I climbed a long hill to get out of town. A crazy motorist barreling down the hill in an SUV was passing someone despite the double yellow lines. She came about four feet from hitting me.
I passed a house that had a gutter downspout connected to the roof, that had been elbowed out to drain into the road. The stretched out tube was attached to a telephone pole and I thought it was amusing. I was freshly showered and shaved. I had clean laundry and dry gear. I was back to level one. I passed the Trinity Lutheran Church that was advertising a parking lot church service on Sunday.
I rode 28 miles and stopped at the Citgo station in Catawissa to get a Starbucks Frappuccino. The store clerk was busy stocking soda and I couldn't get his attention. Frustrated, I rode down the road to a Sunoco. I purchased and downed the cold beverage while admiring an odd house with a widow's watch across the street. I rode down the hill and crossed a long bridge over the Susquehanna River.
I passed a day cyclist who was riding in the other direction. River Drive ran west sandwiched between the Susquehanna River and a railroad track. I entered Danville, first through the industrial part of town. The town's street directions had been changed since the ACA map was published, and I found myself going the wrong way against traffic. I left Danville on Highway 54, a busy four-lane road with heavy fast moving traffic. It wasn't fun. I passed two roadkill skunks, narrowly avoiding running over the first
Recently planted fields were dotted with green lines of sprouting corn and soybean. Some of the fields still had last year's brown dried-up corn stalks, and the new shoots were coming up in between last year's rows. I rode through Mooresburg, home of Christopher Sholes, the inventor of the typewriter.
I saw a goat with large twisted horns followed by a kid running through someone’s yard. I rolled into Montandon and spotted numerous TURD-Pence signs. It was afternoon and I knew there would be no food services after Lewisburg. I stopped at May's Drive-In, located right before the bridge to Lewisburg. It was carryout service only and there were many people waiting out front. There was one window for placing orders and another for pick ups. The signage was problematic and people were confused which window was which. I ordered two haddock sandwiches with fries and two large root beer floats.
After lunch I crossed over the West Branch of the Susquehanna River into Lewisburg which, compared to Montandon, was a nice little town. The river was a political divide. In Lewisburg I saw a rainbow flag, a Black Lives Matter poster, and numerous peace banners written in English, Arabic, and Hebrew. Lewisburg was visibly more affluent. I noticed wine bars and cafés. It's nineteenth century downtown was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
I headed out of town on Highway 192 sharing the road with numerous dump trucks hauling gravel. Right outside of Forest Hill I spotted the tour's second confederate flag. I really don’t get the point of flying one of those ugly things. It’s like hanging a huge banner outside of your home that says, "racist asshole lives here". A mile down the road I stopped to make an adjustment. A group of African-American children was playing in a nearby driveway. What kind of person flies a confederate flag in front of their home?
It was a thousand foot foot climb out of Forest Hill to Raymond B. Winter State Park, which was my original destination for the day. The beach was empty but I noticed that folks were fishing. The campground didn’t appear to be closed. I had plenty of energy and decided to push further. I was listening to the Duane Train on WFMU. I was switching back-and-forth between yesterday's show and archives on my iPod. It was a long hill. As per usual, a bug was in my face driving me crazy.
The pass was a few miles beyond the park. My feet were sore so I pulled over at a picnic table alongside a roaring stream. I took off my socks and ate a banana and relaxed for a moment. A motorist with a bike on his rear rack pulled up and asked me for directions. He parked his car and cycled off onto a nearby trail. I was down to one liter of water and was regretting not repairing my punctured water bottle with electrical tape. I was surrounded by streams and wish that I had brought my water filter.
I finally reached the pass and it started to sprinkle as I made my way downhill. The drizzle got heavier and dark clouds appeared ahead. There was a crack of thunder and then the storm began. It became heavy and I ducked under a tree to evaluate the situation. I was in my jersey and shorts. I looked at my map and realized that I was less than a mile from a store. I took my chances and got soaked. It was a small country store run by an elderly couple. I purchased a red Gatorade, a can of mixed nuts and two bottles of water. The downpour was intense and I stood out front protected under an awning. I unpacked my rain jacket and shoe covers and continued forward in the rain. There seemed to be possible stealth camping options ahead.
There was a large Amish population in this area, and I had earlier spotted several women in traditional clothing outside doing chores. I was in a long valley with ridges running along both sides. Cornfields, houses, and barns dotted the road. I heard the distinct clop clopping of horse hoofs behind me. I pulled my phone from my jersey back pocket and snapped a few photos as the horse and buggy passed. I admired the man's rig. The wheels were four feet diameter and as thin as mine. The young gentleman passed me in the rain and his hat blew off, yet he kept on going. I pulled over to retrieve his straw hat. It had a black nylon rain cover. I sped after him and saw that he had turned off to a farm. I managed to catch him and return his hat. I admire the Amish. Their lifestyle is self-sustainable. I recognize the car as a big problem in rural America. People are poor. How are they supposed to buy a new car every ten years, let alone maintain it and keep it filled with fuel. Bring back the horse and buggy!
It was raining and I was headed up a pass. I noticed a curbside parking area up ahead. Back in the woods I could see a flat area suitable for camping. I ventured in and scoped it out. It involved crossing a stream - which reminded me of the Carretera Austral. My left foot slipped into the cold water and I fell over on the far bank. It wasn't easy crossing a stream with a fully loaded bike. I set up my tent in the rain and did my best to prevent moisture from getting inside. I talked on the phone with my friend Geoff, and then got to work on yesterday's post.
Comments
Post a Comment