So I was trolling the internet a month or two ago, and some guy from Brooklyn had pictures up of himself and his buddies up at a place called "Hawk's Nest" upstate, so I Googled it. You know all those car commercials, where the latest Mercedes is carving switchbacks along a cliff? Apparently, this is the place. http://www.portjervisny.com/hawks_nest_in_autumn.htm
I've been trying for weeks to get up here, but it hadn't come together until yesterday. But, with no commitments for the entire day, I dropped Magdalena off at the train, packed up my gear and picked up the Hawk from Will's place around noon. I would take the Throgs Neck bridge out of Queens to rte. 95 S. through the Bronx, pick up rte. 80 W., then take rte. 23 N. to Port Jervis and rte. 6 to rte. 97 - Hawk's Nest.
Rte. 95 was nothing but traffic. On the hottest day of the year so far, the Bronx smelled like roadkill and I couldn't even make a speedy exodus. Lanesplitting was a spotty endeavor, since the highway was thick with 18-wheelers and car-carrier trucks that didn't leave me a lot of room, even for a skinny bike like the Hawk. There was construction leading up to the George Washington bridge, where traffic was completely stopped for construction on an overpass. I discovered one poor, lone construction worker stood in the middle of the highway with a giant "STOP" sign on a pole, after sifting ahead through traffic. After 15 or 20 minutes, it was a symphony of various car and trucker's horns. The absurdity of the whole scene made me laugh out loud: man, if I can't get through with my little Hawk, what makes you think you can get your Peterbilt by, if only the Volkswagen in front of you moves over for you a little? The man with the stop sign's staying put.
Once the worker waved us on, I snicked into gear and flew off... only to find a similar jam immediately ahead of me. Getting to the bridge and over it then took forever. Over the bridge and well into Jersey, at the end of rte. 95, I pulled over into a rest area to top off the tank. I'd packed a bottle of gatorade and a sandwich, so I had a little of the Gatorade and saved the sandwich for when I got closer to Port Jervis. The station attendant told me to take the exit for 95 North out of the rest stop to pick up 80 West, contrary to all logic: I'd taken 95 South all the way here, and was supposed to pick up rte. 80 up ahead, not turn around and go back the other way. Pulling away, I decided he must have mistakenly said "north" for "south." When I got to where the entrace ramp forked, I had second thoughts and stopped squarely in the middle of the fork. I pulled out the map, and while I determined that I still agreed with myself, I decided that this was New Jersey after all, and I should suspend all directional logic and do what the locals tell me. I went north, and found rte. 80 anyway. Every time I drive into Jersey, I feel like I've gone down the magic rabbit hole. Why should today be any exception?
I took 80 local instead of express, once again because it's Jersey and with my luck express would usher me right past my exit for 23. Then I'd end up taking jughandles into oblivion. I swear it's like purgatory.
Rte. 23 comes up with no incident and takes me northbound. It no longer smells like roadkill out here and instead I just feel the heat. Once again I find myself singing the praises of mesh gear in this weather, although I'm finding that my new, deadstock Fieldsheer Titanium Air pants breathe less than my beloved Titanium Air jacket that I've had for about a year now. It makes me wonder if this year's model, the Titanium Air 2, is any better. I've already cut the foam out of the shins, since it makes it hard to zip up and fasten my B2's, and the mesh pulls kinda tight across the backs of my knees - no stretch fabric there, unlike my Alpinestar Track Pants. Maybe Fieldsheer took the kinks out of these by now with the new model? This is definitely better than jeans, though. I like feeling armor there around joints that were until now unprotected.
Halfway up 23, which ends at Port Jervis, the landscape changes from strip malls to barns. The smell of roadkill has given way completely and now I'm catching notes of freshly cut hay and horse manure. There are cows on the side of the road. The remains of a falling barn, not much more than a frame, stands in front of a silo, and it's enough to make me pull over and take a few pictures. I've been breathing in the heat all this time, but now I'm catching the occasional breeze in spots, and it usually carries the fragrance of cut grass or barn-smell. I'm taken by how much this reminds me of southern Vermont, just over the Mass border, where I used to go camping as a kid.
Near the end of 23, I stop by a grassy patch on the side of the road for my sandwich and the rest of the Gatorade, and to shed my gear for a minute. Down the road, I find another gas station, top off again and pick up another bottle of Gatorade. I pick up rte. 6, then 97. I have no idea how far up 97 I'm going to have to go to get to Hawk's Nest, so I top off again and head back into more of the gentle twisties I've been enjoying along this stretch of road. I rode up through High Point National Park, apparently the highest point in Jersey, which comes and goes rather quickly. 97 turns into a tree tunnel at some point, and eventually leads up to a big road sign proclaiming it "Hawk's Nest." I couldn't resist parking the Hawk underneath it, and risking my neck to squat in the middle of a blind curve in the road to get a picture.
97 then suddenly pops up, and the tree tunnel opens up along a cliff, revealing a view of the Delaware River. One side is rock face, and the other is a low stone wall. There are road signs posted with impossibly squiggly arrows, and a posted 25 mph speed limit. Yeah, right! I hit 50+ mph indicated on a few passes. I averaged about 45 mph indicated, and I'm damn proud of that. The little stretch of road that was my whole reason for coming is only half a mile long, but, being full of switchbacks, as the crow flies it's probably half that! I don't think I've ever been leaned over so far! I went down 97 a couple miles, and determined that it got pretty straight after that little half-mile section; I came back and took a couple shots of the Hawk among the scenery before bombing up and back along the Hawk's Nest switchbacks for something like 20+ times...
Maybe I need to get out with the bike more, but that's the most fun I've had in the last two-plus years riding. Partially becuase I'm progressively braver, partially because I haven't seen a lot of really twisty stuff in the New York metro area, partially because I made the same half-mile run 20+ times and got so very comfortable with it, but mostly because it's a wicked little half-mile! It doesn't hurt the adrenaline level to see the world suddenly drop off a cliff just over your shoulder while you're carving turns, either. I was cheering like a fool the entire time, and I'm still grinning from gear to gear. I just couldn't pull myself away! Eventually I checked the time, and headed back. I topped off the tank again in Port Jervis, grabbed another Gatorade and hammered home. No stops, except to hydrate now and then. Now I know I can make it to Port Jervis from NYC on a single tank.
I figure I had about a 200 mile day, not counting the roughly two dozen passes I took along Hawk's Nest! Every time I stopped to top off the tank, I reset the trip meter, so I can't be sure. Next time, I want to head up early and beat the traffic, then take 97 all the way up to its end and see what's there.
My wrists and hands were killing me last night, no surprise since I'm running Vortex bars, but I think that my levers were set at too harsh an angle. My wrists were bent back the entire time to compensate. I've positioned them at a more downward angle now, and I'll see how that works. There are some sort of plugs on the clutch lever that are keeping me from putting them at the angle I'd really like, but I'll fiddle with it some more another time.
Pics to follow when I get around to it. Most of them were taken with my helmet still on, so I'm not making any promises.
I've been trying for weeks to get up here, but it hadn't come together until yesterday. But, with no commitments for the entire day, I dropped Magdalena off at the train, packed up my gear and picked up the Hawk from Will's place around noon. I would take the Throgs Neck bridge out of Queens to rte. 95 S. through the Bronx, pick up rte. 80 W., then take rte. 23 N. to Port Jervis and rte. 6 to rte. 97 - Hawk's Nest.
Rte. 95 was nothing but traffic. On the hottest day of the year so far, the Bronx smelled like roadkill and I couldn't even make a speedy exodus. Lanesplitting was a spotty endeavor, since the highway was thick with 18-wheelers and car-carrier trucks that didn't leave me a lot of room, even for a skinny bike like the Hawk. There was construction leading up to the George Washington bridge, where traffic was completely stopped for construction on an overpass. I discovered one poor, lone construction worker stood in the middle of the highway with a giant "STOP" sign on a pole, after sifting ahead through traffic. After 15 or 20 minutes, it was a symphony of various car and trucker's horns. The absurdity of the whole scene made me laugh out loud: man, if I can't get through with my little Hawk, what makes you think you can get your Peterbilt by, if only the Volkswagen in front of you moves over for you a little? The man with the stop sign's staying put.
Once the worker waved us on, I snicked into gear and flew off... only to find a similar jam immediately ahead of me. Getting to the bridge and over it then took forever. Over the bridge and well into Jersey, at the end of rte. 95, I pulled over into a rest area to top off the tank. I'd packed a bottle of gatorade and a sandwich, so I had a little of the Gatorade and saved the sandwich for when I got closer to Port Jervis. The station attendant told me to take the exit for 95 North out of the rest stop to pick up 80 West, contrary to all logic: I'd taken 95 South all the way here, and was supposed to pick up rte. 80 up ahead, not turn around and go back the other way. Pulling away, I decided he must have mistakenly said "north" for "south." When I got to where the entrace ramp forked, I had second thoughts and stopped squarely in the middle of the fork. I pulled out the map, and while I determined that I still agreed with myself, I decided that this was New Jersey after all, and I should suspend all directional logic and do what the locals tell me. I went north, and found rte. 80 anyway. Every time I drive into Jersey, I feel like I've gone down the magic rabbit hole. Why should today be any exception?
I took 80 local instead of express, once again because it's Jersey and with my luck express would usher me right past my exit for 23. Then I'd end up taking jughandles into oblivion. I swear it's like purgatory.
Rte. 23 comes up with no incident and takes me northbound. It no longer smells like roadkill out here and instead I just feel the heat. Once again I find myself singing the praises of mesh gear in this weather, although I'm finding that my new, deadstock Fieldsheer Titanium Air pants breathe less than my beloved Titanium Air jacket that I've had for about a year now. It makes me wonder if this year's model, the Titanium Air 2, is any better. I've already cut the foam out of the shins, since it makes it hard to zip up and fasten my B2's, and the mesh pulls kinda tight across the backs of my knees - no stretch fabric there, unlike my Alpinestar Track Pants. Maybe Fieldsheer took the kinks out of these by now with the new model? This is definitely better than jeans, though. I like feeling armor there around joints that were until now unprotected.
Halfway up 23, which ends at Port Jervis, the landscape changes from strip malls to barns. The smell of roadkill has given way completely and now I'm catching notes of freshly cut hay and horse manure. There are cows on the side of the road. The remains of a falling barn, not much more than a frame, stands in front of a silo, and it's enough to make me pull over and take a few pictures. I've been breathing in the heat all this time, but now I'm catching the occasional breeze in spots, and it usually carries the fragrance of cut grass or barn-smell. I'm taken by how much this reminds me of southern Vermont, just over the Mass border, where I used to go camping as a kid.
Near the end of 23, I stop by a grassy patch on the side of the road for my sandwich and the rest of the Gatorade, and to shed my gear for a minute. Down the road, I find another gas station, top off again and pick up another bottle of Gatorade. I pick up rte. 6, then 97. I have no idea how far up 97 I'm going to have to go to get to Hawk's Nest, so I top off again and head back into more of the gentle twisties I've been enjoying along this stretch of road. I rode up through High Point National Park, apparently the highest point in Jersey, which comes and goes rather quickly. 97 turns into a tree tunnel at some point, and eventually leads up to a big road sign proclaiming it "Hawk's Nest." I couldn't resist parking the Hawk underneath it, and risking my neck to squat in the middle of a blind curve in the road to get a picture.
97 then suddenly pops up, and the tree tunnel opens up along a cliff, revealing a view of the Delaware River. One side is rock face, and the other is a low stone wall. There are road signs posted with impossibly squiggly arrows, and a posted 25 mph speed limit. Yeah, right! I hit 50+ mph indicated on a few passes. I averaged about 45 mph indicated, and I'm damn proud of that. The little stretch of road that was my whole reason for coming is only half a mile long, but, being full of switchbacks, as the crow flies it's probably half that! I don't think I've ever been leaned over so far! I went down 97 a couple miles, and determined that it got pretty straight after that little half-mile section; I came back and took a couple shots of the Hawk among the scenery before bombing up and back along the Hawk's Nest switchbacks for something like 20+ times...
Maybe I need to get out with the bike more, but that's the most fun I've had in the last two-plus years riding. Partially becuase I'm progressively braver, partially because I haven't seen a lot of really twisty stuff in the New York metro area, partially because I made the same half-mile run 20+ times and got so very comfortable with it, but mostly because it's a wicked little half-mile! It doesn't hurt the adrenaline level to see the world suddenly drop off a cliff just over your shoulder while you're carving turns, either. I was cheering like a fool the entire time, and I'm still grinning from gear to gear. I just couldn't pull myself away! Eventually I checked the time, and headed back. I topped off the tank again in Port Jervis, grabbed another Gatorade and hammered home. No stops, except to hydrate now and then. Now I know I can make it to Port Jervis from NYC on a single tank.
I figure I had about a 200 mile day, not counting the roughly two dozen passes I took along Hawk's Nest! Every time I stopped to top off the tank, I reset the trip meter, so I can't be sure. Next time, I want to head up early and beat the traffic, then take 97 all the way up to its end and see what's there.
My wrists and hands were killing me last night, no surprise since I'm running Vortex bars, but I think that my levers were set at too harsh an angle. My wrists were bent back the entire time to compensate. I've positioned them at a more downward angle now, and I'll see how that works. There are some sort of plugs on the clutch lever that are keeping me from putting them at the angle I'd really like, but I'll fiddle with it some more another time.
Pics to follow when I get around to it. Most of them were taken with my helmet still on, so I'm not making any promises.
That was a good ride... I can't believe that was 4 years ago!
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