Miles Covered: 92
Sept 2: Brooklyn to Manhattan over the Williamsburg Bridge (10 miles)
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| On the Williamsburg Bridge |
Leaving my bicycle in Ohio was hard for me. I had this vision of my trip going smoothly on the trails and rails. The purity of this vision was disrupted, obviously, by not taking the bike along with me for the rest of the tour. To ease my mind I had planned on using other people's bikes (rentals or friendly loans) to see some of the cities I'd be visiting. Between all of the rain and writing during most of my free time it hadn't happened that way. So when Holly suggested that we borrow some bikes I jumped at it. "Over the bridge!" I excitedly texted back. We had a plan.
Holly lives in a gallery that houses seven other humans. These folks, including Holly and her boyfriend Ryan, have compiled quite a stack of bikes to choose from. We asked her roomate Mika if we could use any of them and she told us to take our pick. Holly broke out the air pump and we inflated the tires on four different rides, trying them all out. Finally we decided on two suitable conveyences and set out for the East River.
Holly led the way. Bushwick and Williamsburg have been her turf for years now and she took us past some parks (including McCarren Park and the track I trained for my marathon on), down Olive Street and we eventually meandered to East River State Park. This is a nice spot on the water where they've erected a huge stage for summer concerts. I just missed Sonic Youth by a few weeks. Son of a bitch!
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| At the East River |
Next was the Williamsburg Bridge which would help transport us from one world, over the East River, and into a completely different world. Riding over bridges is awesome. Especially in New York City, riding over bridges is awesome in the truest sense of the word. I was in total awe of the gargantuan metropolis that lives and breathes on its own. It's like the Frankenstein of cities. Like the universe through the lens of Hubble, everywhere you look, no matter how precise or focused, is a vital system of transportation, residence, or exchange. Just the modes of transportation I could see numbered in the dozens: ferries, cargo ships, tug boats, canoes, kayaks, pontoon boats, house boats, helicopters, jet airplanes, propeller planes, hydroplanes, cars, minivans, commercial vans, semi-trucks, trains, blimps, buses, horses, bicycles, motorcycles, rickshaws, pedestrians...
Manhattan was fun on bicycles, but we didn't know where the hell we were going. I mean, we had a destination, but we hadn't a clue on how to safely arrive there. We were headed for the Whole Foods in the Lower East Side to get some lunch. It was here that I took the lead. Later than sooner we found our spot and parked ourselves at a park that I believe is named after Sarah Roosevelt.
I went to do the shopping while Holly watched our rides. I purchased a salad for Holly, a sandwich for myself, and some fresh fruit for the both of us. Lunch always tastes good after a little exercise. We sat there, munching away, leisurely chatting just watching the world of Manhattan go by in front of us. I felt good enough to sit there all day, but we had to get going. In a few hours the sun would be going down and the Yankees would be hunting for blood.
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| Holly, along with the other humans, races the sundown looking over her shoulder to assess the situation |
Aug 1: Denver's Cherry Creek Trail (10 miles)
I love this trail. Starting by the REI and kayak park, it winds through downtown Denver, under street level, along the banks of Cherry Creek passing just south of Capitol Hill, just north of Wash Park and out to Aurora (a southeastern neighbor of Denver). I'm not sure how far it actually goes. The trail could very well extend beyond Aurora onto the plains of Eastern Colorado continuing further, all the way up to the base of Mons Olympus for all I know. The Cherry Creek trail is one of the things that I really miss about Denver and one of the reasons that I enjoy bicycling in the mile high city so much.
This day I took my friend Mariel's bike from my sister's house in Wash Park up to Coors Field and back. As I rode I thought about how every city should try to develop trails like this. Indeed many are. Tangentally from there I considered future cities full of scenic bike paths and reliable, accesible public transportation like light rails, streetcars, water taxis, ferries, and buses. Wandering even further I buzzed with excitment thinking about all of the possibilities and potential for us and our cities in the future. We could make some supercool cities to live in! Rather than the rundown, "don't go there", donut effect ghostowns we see so frequently in the midwest; let's first imagine the improbable, then use our exercised imaginations to make our visions possible by returning our cities back to a human-centered apporoach in the stead of an automobile-centered layout.
Then I dismounted from Mariel's bike and bought tickets to the Rockies game for me and my friends due to arrive in a couple of hours, on bicylces. We had a great time at the game, said goodbye for another year or so, and I rode back listening to Cherry Creek thinking about what a nice night it was to be outside.
July 19: San Luis Rey River Trail (18 miles)
I was feeling a bit restless, a little on the quiet side, and rather lethargic. At this point in my life I've come to recognize these signs as symptoms of a lack of exercise. This has been a very good discovery for me because a remedy isn't usually too far away. On Tuesday night the cure was a sunset ride along a very nice trail.
I assumed the bikepath would take me along the coastline and I thought a ride along the shore would be a great way to take in the sunset. Almost immediately the trail turned inland and took me away from the water, and the sun. Initially I was disappointed and considered turning around to see if I could find a road to keep me near the shoreline. As soon as the thought of making an about-face came to me it floated away. I was taken in by the flocks of seabirds flying as silhouettes against the backdrop of a rose-yellow sky. The smells from the trees and abundant plantlife filled my head and I quickly discovered I had a desire to go further.
The idea of watching the sunset over the Pacific still intrigued me and I figured that I could go out for 2 miles, turn around, and still make it back in time. Before I knew it I was on mile 3 and didn't care to change course. The trail followed some railroad tracks before creeping up to the south bank of the San Luis Rey River. Why not open it up a bit and let it rip for a couple miles?
Mile 5 came and again I decided against turning around again. I was having fun exploring the new territory, breathing hard, and seeing what was around the next corner. I went past the basketball courts of Guajome County Park and saw a girl's team at soccer practice. As I sped by I wondered what they thought about the U.S. National team and if they were excited to be part of an exciting new tradition.
At each new mile I decided that the next mile would be where I turned around. None of these decisions stuck around for very long. The sun was down now and the dragonflies came out. I almost caught one right in the eye. Somehow I shimmied my face to the left quickly enough to take a shot full of buzzing insectitude goodness to my right ear. "Sokay? Sokay. Salright? Salright." And the path spit me out into a neighborhood at mile 8.
Why not tool around the neighborhood for a bit? Even though the sun was down it was still light outside. The area looked to be an established middle-class community that reminded me of the old neighborhood in Waterville, OH where we used to round up guys to shoot hoops behind the library. As I was daydreaming about taking O'Hare to the hole and hitting turn around jumpers over "The Funk" I saw up ahead that the path picked back up.
There were many people out using the bike route. I saw bike riders breaking sweats, laughing with spouses or just enjoying the evening. Families walked together with tricycles and wagons and full of toys and flowers in tow. Friends ran alongside one another discussing the things they didn't want to discuss with anybody else. It was obvious that I was not the only one enjoying this inexpensive, private, convenient and usefully paved path through the natural preserves and backyards of southern California. We weren't distracted by any stop signs, revving engines, or honking horns. Instead, it was just a nice place to leave all of those things behind.
I took the trail for another mile to where it ended. I saw a traffic light with a lineup of cars wating for their red light to change to green. I thought, "My signal has been green this whole time." Then I finally decided to turn around and ride it again.
July 15: Sante Fe Depot to Henry's House (5 miles)
This was an arduous uphill ride through San Diego. The Pacific Surfliner dropped me off dowtown at the Sante Fe Depot and I had to make my way up to Henry's house. Henry is a friend of my housemate in Portland. I don't know Henry, but upon hearing of my trip he was kind enough to offer a night or two of lodging here in San Diego. Besides the geography of my particular route, the city and its roads were very hospitable to me. I'm excited to cruise back down when I go to the Padres game.
July 14: Phoenix to Maricopa (20 miles)
I was in a bit of a predicament. My train didn't depart Maricopa until 11:57pm. The route to Maricopa was along a four-lane highway and I didn't really want to chance it at night with drivers at or above 65 miels per hour. But I also didn't want to ride under the sun, with a heavy pack, in temperatures over 100 degrees (not to mention being stuck in Maricopa for the whole day).
So I decided to find myself a movie theater and relax before heading out at sundown. Consecutively I watched two of the worst movies I have seen this year: The Hangover II followed by Bad Teacher (Bad Teacher just happened to be starting right when Hangover II was letting out, so I slipped in for a double feature). But it wasa good way to kill some time and stay cool during the Arizona summertime.
The ride was great. Under a full moon I found myself on a huge shoulder all the way to Maricopa. I hardly noticed the traffic speeding by as I belted out PJ Harvey and Stone Temple Pilots. The desert treated me well that night.
