These Three Guys...

   I don’t know who they are, but they were the inspiration for this adventure. Months ago, someone posted this photo on the Anthracite Railroads Society Facebook page. I am the membership secretary for the Society, which focuses on the railroads that once transported hard coal from the Appalachian Mountains of northeastern Pennsylvania to New York City and Philadelphia ports.

   I grew up in the Lehigh Valley, and its namesake railroad had its headquarters in my hometown of Bethlehem. I now live within a couple blocks of the former Reading Railroad mainline. Both of these railroads were major transporters of anthracite coal in the region.

   The men above were photographed outside the Lehigh Valley Railroad station in Landsdowne, New Jersey, in 1900 – incidentally, I’ve seen the town also spelled “Lansdowne” and today spelled “Landsdown”. In any case, Landsdown is located where the Lehigh Valley Railroad’s Clinton Branch split north from the mainline right in the center of New Jersey’s Hunterdon County. The branch carried mostly passengers, but some products, such as graphite and milled grains were moved down the tracks.

   Here is a photo of the Landsdowne Station, which stood from 1875 to 1928:

   The railroad right-of-way is now the attractive Landsdown Trail, just under two miles long. Now you know that is nowhere near long enough to create a worthwhile cycling experience for me, but Landsdown was also the location where the Pittstown Branch diverged to the south. Pittstown is one of many places around the world named for William Pitt, 1st Earl of Chatham, the great British statesmen who is best known for leading Britain politically through the Seven Years War.

   The Pittstown Branch served the peach growing and peach basket production industries that flourished in the area during the late 1800s. In fact, Hunterdon County was once known as the “Peach Capital of the World”, just another reason for New Jersey’s “Garden State” nickname. Unfortunately, a blight known as the San Jose Scale moved into the region in the mid-1890s, killing millions of peach trees in just a few years, and the industry moved to South Jersey. The line continued to serve other agricultural businesses until the 1960s, particularly milk production.

   The four-mile Coopalong Trail, named for the creek that it follows along its winding route, now occupies the railroad right-of-way. Because it is not as maintained as the Landsdown Trail, the Coopalong has its good and bad points. The trail is a lot more “reclaimed by nature”, so I encountered far fewer users. Much of the route is dirt single-track, which can be smooth and fast, but the path isn’t consistent.

   There were some sections where tree roots were exposed and others were the soil washed away and the trail was fairly rocky. The shade was quite welcome on a hot summer day, but that made it even more treacherous, as my eyes couldn’t adjust quickly enough in the dappled sunlight and I couldn’t spot the obstacles very well. Though there were a couple moments I hit objects and feared a pinch flat was imminent, I survived on my rigid Bianchi frame and 30mm tires, but I think a mountain bike with fatter tires and some cushy suspension would have been more appropriate.

A shot of one of the more relaxing sections of the Coopalong Trail

   Low spots were muddy, and some were filled with crushed stone or sand, making the going just plain sluggish. In other instances, it seemed riders tried to create a “high line” to one side or the other of the deep groove, but the path is so narrow this just created more danger, since having one wheel slide off into the mushy low path and losing control became a concern.

   I got through it all in one piece, only having to dismount a couple times for downed trees, but I was really happy to take on the road portion of my planned route for the day. Near the Pittstown terminus I spotted the former Lehigh Valley station that folks are trying to preserve to some degree with tarps on the roof.

   I turned right onto Pittstown Road and angled northwest from the small town center onto Bloomsbury Road. I was not disappointed to find it to be the first of a handful of unmarked roads - a New Jersey staple - along my route. It seems the state has the attitude that with major roads you should already know where you are and only signs for small cross roads are provided. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but what if you are coming off of the smaller road onto the major one and don’t know which road it is? Luckily, I have learned my lesson and planned accordingly, plotting my route to as many T-intersections as possible, in order to eliminate any confusion.

   Bloomsbury Road was a slow, uphill drag as I was climbing up to an eventual plateau 300 feet above Clinton and the valley surrounding nearby Spruce Run Reservoir, where I often used to sail our family’s Sunfish boat when I was kid. Mt. Salem Road was a bit misnamed, as it really wasn’t a mountain – it was more of a stepped pair of crazy-steep short hills, the punchy kind of climbs I masochistically enjoy. Once at the top there was a pleasant spell of fairly flat to slightly downhill riding on roads skirting the Alexandria Field Airport toward tiny Everittstown.

   Palmyra Corner Road was another nasty uphill drag, and at the appropriately-named Oak Summit Road, I was again pedaling along more relaxing terrain as I weaved over to meet Pittstown Road once again. It was a very calm day, and I was flying along a really nice, fairly new road surface, then turned east onto Oak Grove Road that had one of those really old surfaces that is so worn smooth it is almost shiny – super fast to ride on!

   I zigzagged over to Croton Road and headed north, enjoying the flat, but wondering when the downhill was going to begin. Shortly after turning east at Quakertown, there was a sharp downhill right into a steep climb, then the fun really began with the decent on Sydney Road. There was a bit of nasty uphill lump in the middle to really interrupt the enjoyable coasting-fest, but the view of the valley below made the effort worth it.

   I had to be very careful to feather the brakes and not “overcook” the turn onto Sydney School Road, then some impatient female driver felt she had to honk her horn at me as she passed, not that there was enough room or any other traffic to contend with out here in the middle of nowhere. The really stupid thing was that, with her SUV, she couldn’t corner anywhere as quickly as I could on the windy Pine Hill Road, and I was only a few yards behind her when we reached a bridge at the bottom.

   I assumed she did it just to bother me, but she crawled across the span at an unnecessarily slow speed, and I couldn't resist yelling out, “You were in such a hurry, blowing by me before.” Oh boy, I've provoked a yapper...”What’s you’re problem?” I rolled slowly by and replied, not even making eye contact, “Honking at cyclists isn’t necessary – we know we are sharing the road with cars. The only thing you accomplish is startling someone and maybe causing them to swerve.”

   She grumbled something which I couldn’t hear, then sharply hit the gas to spit gravel under her tires, I guess the intent was to be threatening, like she was going to run me down, but I was already several yards past and didn’t even acknowledge her actions. I accelerated away quickly and didn’t see her again.

   From this annoying moment it was just a couple of mostly downhill miles on Hamden/Leigh Road back to Main Street in Clinton. I laughed when I saw the sign there marked as Route 173, knowing this is also known as Old Route 22, Main Street and, in just a couple of blocks, would become Pittstown Road. Sure, New Jersey, you put a sign here?

   The shop has been plenty busy again with client build projects, which I'll touch on in upcoming weeks, but I finished up yet another bicycle that is different from the vintage racing machines on which I usually work. My friend Julius is living in Philadelphia and found an inexpensive, unbranded fixed-gear bike. He asked me to change the rear cog to one with a freewheel and to add some brakes, which ended up being a little more complicated than I thought it would.

   First of all the rear brake bridge wasn't drilled for mounting calipers. Luckily there was a vent hole on the back side of the small steel tube at that location, so I could center a bit for metal drilling on that mark and create a caliper mount. I used washers that were curved on one side to provide a flat surface on which to bolt the rear brake.

   Fixed gear bicycles sometimes have a front brake for safety, and the fork was drilled for a caliper mount with a recessed nut. My new rear mount was going to require a flush nut mount, which made for a long search to find individual brake calipers that matched up well.

   Besides having to head over to Bikesport to borrow the special tool to remove the fixed cog, the only other minor complication was to add some old school top tube clips to route the rear brake housing. I'll sign off this week with a few photos of Julius' ride: