Adventures with Fast and Fab in Bucks County, Pa.

2002 July 5-7

By Bob Nelson

Eight of us participated in one way or another in the July 5-7 weekend bike ride to New Hope and beyond, and I think it's safe to say we all had a blast. Read on for more details.

This trip was a bit of an experiment, in that we had never before cycled to the Weisel Hostel in Nockamixon State Park, about 30 mi. northwest of New Hope in Pennsylvania. Our destination in the five previous years we've done this trip was the Tyler State Park Hostel near Newtown, Pa., only about 20 mi. southwest of New Hope, and a favorite of New York City cyclists. As luck would have it, that hostel was already booked for our usual Memorial Day weekend fling, and the Weisel Hostel wasn't yet open for the season. So the destination became Weisel, but over July 4th weekend instead.

On Friday, July 5, we loaded bags in the van at 23rd and Sixth, and took the PATH train to Penn Station in Newark, our traditional jumping-off place into the Garden State. Rick Richardson was behind the wheel of his van offering sag support. It was a warm but dry day, and the route across New Jersey has a few hills but plenty of scenery. Three cyclists (Gerry Oxford, Eric Lehman and Quentel Mathis) made it past Ringoes, N.J., about 53 mi., before jumping in the van. One (Bob Nelson) made it to Lambertville, and two more (Gary Lehrer and Lee Gorman) rode the entire 90 mi. to the Weisel Hostel, our destination, near Quakertown, Pa. The last leg of the route, laid down by John Zenkus, a former Philadelphian who knows the area well, took us from Lambertville, which lies across the Delaware River from New Hope, north along the river to a pedestrian bridge at Bull's Island State Recreation Area. The pedestrian bridge was modeled on a real suspension bridge, and Eric, one of our punsters, remarked: "Pedestrian? There's nothing ordinary about that bridge!"

From there to the hostel we traveled on rare back roads dotted with stone cottages and bed and breakfasts, really a scenic route. We rode past the Black Bass Inn, one of many spots where George Washington stopped for the night, and the Carversville Inn, which John recommended highly. At the hostel, we were greeted by the new house parents, John and Geri Ann McLaughlin, and their two tiny daughters, who wanted to know why some of us had headbands on, why there were so many bicycles, why we were wearing such tight clothing -- and on and on. We cleaned up and headed out for Quakertown, which turned out to be rather a pit and not at all the historic village we'd been led to expect. We had a rather unmemorable dinner at a family diner in Quakertown, where at least our server had some moxie and gave us tips on where to go kayaking and horseback riding.

The Weisel Hostel is in general nicer than Newtown, with newer kitchen and bathroom facilities and a large commons room, with a fireplace, two picnic tables and a pool table. The one exception was that there were only two toilets for the hostellers, and we were not alone at the hostel -- a family of four took one room and we were joined by two Polish guys on Saturday night. The toilet shortage was the cause of much jumping around on one foot, at least on my part, and one visit to the woods as well. There is a pond nearby that is swimmable, though muddy, where turtles sun themselves in the mornings. Apparently nearby Nockamixon Lake was the repository of lots of industrial chemicals, which is why it is off limits to swimmers.

A word about the house parents is in order. Hostels are usually owned by a nonprofit group or a government, and operated by house parents who in return get free or inexpensive living arrangements. These house parents were not your run of the mill Bucks County rubes. John was an English teacher with interesting tastes in music (Moby on the stereo, a public radio station on the car FM) who also had a penchant for torn t-shirts and Army boots, sort of a Village People look. They both clearly "got" who we were, and Geri Ann took photos of us doing a Madonna-like vogue pose as we were departing. The two young daughters have powerful lungs, future Wagnerians I would say.

Saturday we did an early morning yoga class, taught by yours truly, then headed to the lake and rented kayaks and canoes -- great fun. A couple of us even found the horse stables and went riding for an hour. Dinner on Saturday night was at a local restaurant named Cappies -- crowned "Crappies" by the punsters -- which in fact had excellent service and cuisine, mostly American regional stuff like jambalaya. Ice cream and watermelon at the hostel finished off a perfect day.

Rick's mom had passed away on Saturday, not unexpectedly. He had funeral arrangements to make, so we relied on Geoff Green, who lives in Rocky Hill, N.J., to provide sag support on the way back. We had another warm, low-humidity day, and made good time to Geoff's place. I, again, was well behind the group, and even took the luxury of riding the bike path along the Delaware canal to Lambertville, which I highly recommend, at least in dry weather. The rest stopped in Lambertville for something to eat, then caught up to me and we all rode into Geoff's, where we ogled his enormous model train set, had a commodious lunch and chatted with his partner, John.

Geoff had taken our bags from the hostel to his place, and now was to drive the bags to the NJ Transit station in Bound Brook, where we would all sag into New York. None of us, it seemed, was interested in doing a second day of 90 mi. of riding, but we did want to ride along the Raritan Canal path to Bound Brook. Yours truly sagged from the canal path in Geoff's car -- I was not going another inch.

Further drama awaited us in Bound Brook, a dumpy town that was flooded about five years ago. The first train we saw at about 3:30 p.m. was staffed by a conductor who said we could only take bikes in cars that were specifically built to accommodate disabled people, of which there was only one on that train, and it would only take two bikes. So Gary and Quentel got on the train, and Geoff, goddess bless his soul, took Eric and Gerry directly into New York in his car.

We did notice that there were four conductors on that train, two getting on in Bound Brook and two on the train already, and Lee and I speculated that somebody in there was a supervisor and the conductors were hewing strictly to the rules for that reason.

Lee and I hung out for the 4:30 train, and were greeted by two friendly, low-key conductors who helped us get the bikes up on the train -- and then COMPED OUR TICKETS. I was in shock, and I guess it just goes to show that the rules are totally dependent on who is interpreting them. I frankly think it was just a question of personality.

Otherwise, we had a great weekend and some superlative riding (and dining!). It's a trip that bears repeating, but one that does require a fair amount of training to make the distance. It was, however, worth the work.