Nothing gives me joy like the "one-hour." A won hour is a ride you sneak in there. The most common reason is because the weather is suddenly not bad. But the one hour is occasionally scheduled because you're just outta time. Modern life is busy with it's Instagram stories, customer service chats, and boxing of amazon returns. Sometimes you only have an "hour." Although short, the one "hour" is almost never an hour long. An hour necessitates that the route be close-by. Intense familiarity with a route can be as thrilling as an adventure ride. This route is my most familiar.
I am keeping it very basic and hitting the daycare route. It's 3'o clock and I've got to pick my daughter up from daycare at 5. I've been dying to take the route on my bike instead of the minivan, so I'm gonna run it, return home and then drive right back with my minivan to pick up my daughter. The sheer stupidity and pointlessness make it an ideal candidate.
The route is 33 miles and takes about 56 minutes to complete. It runs up and over 2 mountains as it jumps between distinct valleys. Peenpack Trail goes up and over the first, into the valley of the Neversink. 209 north to Cuddlebacksville (cute name) and up and over Galley Hill (actually, probably a good place to hang somebody) into Otisville. The road is in bad shape most of the way, so the speed limit is as fast as you can negotiate it.
Today it's bad luck. Freezing rain from the night before has left my prime roads over salted. It would be foolish to push through this minefield of rock salt piles. I keep the lean angles low and crane my neck around. The low sun is exposing hidden lakes behind naked trees. Little gems everywhere.
It's impossible.
I'll just have to turn around, go back, fetch that minivan and return here to pick her up. There is only one reasonable way home: Back up and over those hills.