Finally, we leave the I-95 section of New Jersey

October 7th.

Peadling through rustic New Jersey, about two miles from the Delware River and New Hope.

We wake up and ride back to the Adventure Cycling route. Not far from the hotel, we a see a park. We've only been riding for about 15 minutes, so now is an ideal time to start stretching. The park has about 15 picnic tables, a softball field, and a public restroom. We park our bicycles by one of the picnic tables and I walk towards the men's room. It's locked. I close my eyes and sigh. I walk back to Nicole and let her know that the bathrooms are off limits. That's too bad she says, and also lets us know that there aren't any trash receptacles either. I sigh again. We consume some cliff bars and I place the wrappers in the back pocket of my jersey for future disposal.

As we get ready to ride onwards, we see a stone monument with some American flags near the playing field. I take a closer look, only to find great disappointment. There is some copper plating on the stone, most of which is gone, most likely due to metal thieves who stole it for scrap value. I can't wait to leave New Jersey behind.

We ride for about two more hours until we reach downtown Somerville. A different feeling comes over us. Suddenly, it doesn't smell like diesel exhaust. The roads and sidwalks are clean and the buildlings look like an early Norman Rockwell painting from his years in Yonkers.

Roasted peppers, mozzarella, basil & olive oil
on focaccia bread for a Spanish-style sandwich.

We pull over and find a nice place to eat lunch. Pretty much everything on the menu is named after a famous writer, painter, or philospher. They've got a Socrates salad, A Hemingway wrap and a Salvador Dali sandwich. I go for the Dali, whereas Nicole goes for a more hearty Fra Angelico sandwich.

After Somerville, we reach the heart of rural New Jersey, which might as well the true heart of the state. Prior to I-95, New Jersey was nothing more than a few mid-sized cities such as Trenton and Princeton and pristine farmland. Where we are riding, much of the farmland is either active or has been purchased by the state to be preserved. The scenery is just breathtaking in it's beauty.  There are dozens of small streams, rolling fields and wild horses.






One of the many streams of southwest Jersey.

 Okay, actually, the horses aren't wild, but everything else is true. Even the manure smells good compared to diesel. It's a strange sensation.

It takes us a long time to ride through this part of the state as we are constantly taking photos. By the time we reach the Delware River, it's almost sundown. We walk over the bridge and into New Hope, Pennsylvania. Oddly enough, we are now a bit sad to bid New Jersey farewell . . .