12 April 2017

Getting Home Through The Gate Of Hell

Yesterday I took a late-day ride through central Queens and up to the North Shore.   From Flushing, it's west (actually, west-southwest) to my place.  That allows me to revel in a spectacle or two if I time my ride the way I did yesterday:

Here is the bay at the World's Fair Marina, just east of the airport everybody hates, i.e., LaGuardia.  Yes, that is the midtown and uptown Manhattan skyline in the distance.

From there, I followed the bay and the East River to Astoria Park, which is only a couple of miles from my apartment.  If you've ever taken the train between New York and Boston, you rumbled over this park, which lies underneath one end of the bridge.

That span is known as the Hell Gate Bridge, named for the stretch of waterway under it.  In other posts, I've recounted the origins of the name.  Last night, the visibly strong current helped that stretch of the East River (which is really a tidal estuary) live up to its name.

And I rode under that bridge--through the gate, if you will--to go home.  If riding through Hell is so beautiful, I'm in no hurry to get to Heaven!

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