Entering New Jersey

Ocotober 4th and 5th

"You put the spring in backwards," said the bike shop employee.

Oops. I've got egg on my face. The literally hundreds of times I've removed a quick release and put in back in properly matter for naught. Desperate to get of the George Washington Bridge, I paid a price for my hastiness.

Fancy $3,000 bike frames adorn the walls of Strictly Cycles.

No matter. Nicole and I take this opportunity to scout out this bike shop. They also have a full service coffee bar. We need GU and recovorite instead, so we stock up and bid farewell to Strictly Bicycles.

Nearby there is an Econolodge. I haven't heard back from my friend in Hoboken, so I figure we've got a cheep place to stay for the night. We check in. What do we see? Roaches on the wall. We'll pass on that one. We get our money back and head southward. As the sun goes down , it shines brightly on the New York City skyline. We get some great views of Manhattan.

As it gets darker, we also get hungrier and pull into a classic New Jersey Diner. How classic? They've got neon lights, chrome everywhere, and an Italian man in a jogging suit. Yep, it's New Jersey all right.

We ask the wait staff if there is a nearby hotel under a hundred dollars. They laugh.

"It's all at least hundred around here," says one waiter. "The best you can do is ask for a AAA discount."

It is true: New York is the city that never sleeps. 

Oy vey. We thank them and ride onward. It's nightfall, but the bright lights of Manhattan and some newly built plush condos on the Jersey side give us plenty of illumination. Eventually, we must head westward. Our GPS directs us to a Super 8 just west of Union City. It's a steep climb from sea level to the Palasades. Once we arrive at the hotel, we are a bit confused. It took us to the back door of the hotel, which is built literally on the other side of some steep, jagged rocks. We have to call the hotel just to get in the place, and they've got no elevators. We walk down three flights of stairs just to check in, only to walk back and ride around a network of darkened back streets just to get to our room.

I get hungry just looking at this photo.

Morning proves much nicer. It's bright and sunny today. We ride into downtown Jersey City and stumble into yet another farmer's market. We each have a danish. Nicole goes for cherry, I opt for blueberry. And we get get a half gallon of cider for the road.

We attempt to ride onwards to Newark where we can link up with the Adventure Cycling route for the first time since restarting the journey. Everything looks fine until we see massive, imposing bridges in every direction. We pull over and deliberate. What's next?

A good sumaritan pulls over on a U.S. Postal Service Trek Madone.

"Where are you headed?" he asks.

"Key West," I say.

"Ah, that sounds like fun." A brief pause.

"Where is your immediate destination?"

"We're looking to head towards Newark," I say.

"Yeah, that bridge is the only way, but I'm not sure you'd want to ride on it."

There isn't any pedesatrian or bicycle path on the bridge. We would have to ride with heavy traffic. It's nearly a mile and half long over the meadowlands of New Jersey. He's never done it, he says, and he recommends we just take the PATH.

"There's a station in Jersey City," he says, "do you know where that is."

"Yeah," says Nicole, "We were just there."

"That's the best way to do it," he says. "If you take the PATH, it's only 10 minutes to Newark."

We thank him for his advice and head back towards downtown Jersey City. Nicole is confused.

"Where was the PATH," she asks me. "I didn't see it."

"There were signs for it," I say. "It was right next to were we ate breakfast."

"Okay."

Nicole is still skeptical, and rightfully so. For whatever reason, New Jersey decided to call it's rail service the PATH. I'm familiar with it. Nicole isn't. She's wondering where the bike path is. I tell her there isn't one.

"Then where are we going?"

"There's a train station right next to the farmer's market."

"That's the PATH?"

It's a bit regretfull that we have to ride another train, but I'd rather do that than risk my life. It sounds like a fair bargain to me. Once we get to the station, it's an adventure to get our bikes through the turnstiles. I'm able to lift Nicole's bike over the gate, but my bike is loaded with just to much gear. I have to take all 35 pounds of tent, sleeping bag and panniers off the bike, hand it to Nicole on the other side of the turnstile, and then hand my bike over to her.

I put my card through the turnstile. It takes the card. Then it doesn't turn.

"Oh well," I say as I jump the turnstile.

"They can't compain; I paid for it!"

We get on the train and ride into Newark's Penn Station. As soon we get off the rail car, we notice that the station smells like a toilet that hasn't been flushed in weeks. The air quality only improves slightly once we leave the station.

Once we enter the streets of Newark, I quickly come to the conclusion that this is the most disgusting place I will ever see in my life. I feel confident in projecting this into the future. It's just incredibly ugly. We ride through what looks like the warehouse district of the damned. Buildings with now windows are always creepy, but these buildings with now windows are extra creepy. Outside of the buildings is a hot dog vender on the sidewalk, and by the looks of him I feel like he's going to stab me in the throat.

The residential district isn't much relief. The houses are just as ugly. The just look wrong. The row houses don't look quaint, they just look ugly. So do the duplexes. And the single family homes. It's  beyond hideous. Sometimes it's easy to describe how bad things are, but I think the hideousness of Newark  truly descends the utility of the English language.

I also understand Newark mayor Cory Booker left a successful career in the private sector in order to help the city. I suggest that virtually every standing structure in the city be completely demolished and rebuilt in the interest of aesthetics. It really is the only way.

And the really sad things is, all the people we interacted with in that town were kind of nice.

Such a shame.