The First Dinosaur

Visiting the Hadrosaur discovery site and an MTB Fest

I’m reading Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey, and he wanted to keep cars and other motor vehicles out of national parks. He said most people could see them on foot, horseback, or bicycle, and park rangers could truck in your supplies. I don’t see how electric shuttles couldn’t be used instead, now that they exist. I’m looking forward to riding the shuttle on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon next week, but we’ll be exploring Joshua Tree by car, as well. There will be a one week hiatus of this newsletter while I’m away, and I’ll tell you all about it when we return.

I am not an atheist but an earthiest.—Edward Abbey

My most recent adventures include my first Mountain Bike Fest, and visiting the dig site where the bones of Hadrosaurus foulkii were found; the first somewhat complete dinosaur skeleton excavated in the Americas. The site was once a marl pit on a farmer’s land; now it’s a creek between two suburban streets, in the tony town of Haddonfield, easily found in a cul-de-sac with ample parking, a picnic table, and a welcome sign with visitor’s questionnaires and a dropbox.

The picnic table has been turned into a “dinosaur library,” where visiting children can take a dinosaur, leave a dinosaur. The pterodactyl guards them all. There are benches by the stone marker, and it’s a pleasant place to sit and enjoy a bit of quiet in the middle of humanity. The trees are old, and I imagine the largest were around in 1858 when the bones were dug up.

The town is proud of its namesake, and keeps a bronze statue of its likeness on the main drag. I’ve wanted to visit the dig site for years, but I was under the impression that it was turned into a park. According to Wikipedia, the site “languished in obscurity” until a Boy Scout made it his project to seek it out and make it a historic site. Good on you, Christopher Brees.

On a wet autumn day, the site feels like a jungle, with the trees covered in vines perhaps like it was in the late Cretaceous when the hadrosaurus lived. I climbed down the trail to the creek to the dig site, and this is what it looks like today:

This is about fifteen minutes from where I live, and I’m glad that I finally stopped in. Nearby Rowan University has been on the verge of opening the Edelman Fossil Museum for a year now, and I’m eager to visit, once they do.

The previous weekend, I attended my first New Jersey Mountain Bike Fest, which was a great time. It was a big gathering of bicyclists at Ringwood State Park, home to some of the gnarliest trails, where we went on guided rides for all skill levels, and then ate at a taco truck. I arrived early for a beginner’s clinic run by Kathi Krause of Dirt Rock n Root Training, because after 2 years of riding I wanted to hone my skills. I then took a Beginner Ride, which I was a bit overskilled for, but still had a good time. I rode my Surly Ice Cream Truck, a fat tire bike with a steel frame, zero suspension, and 4.8” wide tires. I only regretted it on the last leg of the trail where it was one long uphill grade on a fire road. A heavy steel frame was not fun for that, but uphill and downhill on rocky switchbacks and gravel, the traction and cushion from the tires made it a fun ride.

Here are some highlights from my Rocky Ringwood Ride:

As Edward Abbey said, traveling the land by bike is almost like traveling on foot. I could hear birds and identify some; I even ran into some birders crossing a hiking trail. On other rides, I’ve carried a monocular and a camera for nature-spotting. I highly recommend a fat tire bike for exploring fire roads and ATV trails this way, you can cover a lot of ground, and then stop to inspect things more closely. You’ll feel the wind in your face, and can hear, smell, and see what’s around you. It’s like a trail kayak.

But I’m not sure I’d want it to be my only option for exploring national parks. I can’t outride a grizzly. Maybe people would be less stupid around bison, if they didn’t think they could escape in their cars. We live in a car-paced society. That would have to change. And maybe it will, in my lifetime. I wouldn’t mind.