We've had the strangest weather over the past couple of days. Last night, a storm blew into this area. It was supposed to bury everything between Pittsburgh and Montreal in snow; however, we experienced a deluge in New York, along with gale-force winds. Through it all, the temperature actually rose overnight, from the mid-30s to around 60F (2 to 15 C). Then, this afternoon, the temperature dropped again.
Somewhere in all of that I sneaked in a few of miles on Tosca. After descending the ramp from the Queens spur of the RFK Bridge, I wended my way along the path that rims the East River until I reached the Bronx Kill. No, it's not a dance or crime; it's a strait that separates the borough for which it's named from the Island. ("Kill" comes from "kille", a Dutch word for "creek".) Underneath the ramp to the Bronx spur of the RFK, I espied this:
How I missed it in all of the years I've been riding there is beyond me. As we say in the old country, "What's wrong with this picture?"
Perhaps I need to get out more, but I don't recall seeing, anywhere else, a railroad crossing sign on the bank of a creek, river or stream. Who are they trying to keep off the tracks? The Randall's Island Salamander?
To be fair, when the tide recedes (The East River is actually an estuary of the ocean.), the water level in Bronx Kill drops so much that you can walk across the abandoned car and body parts on the bottom. Still, I don't know why anyone would try to cross the tracks--or jump on a train--from there.
Today I took a ride to New Jersey, along the Palisades and through Jersey City, Bayonne and Staten Island. From the Island, I took the ferry to Manhattan and cycled up to the 59th Street Bridge, and home.
I've done this ride any number of times before. However, along the way, I took a little detour on Randall's Island.
Earlier this year, I'd read that the city planned to build a pedestrian/bicycle bridge from the Island to the Bronx. Right now, it's possible to use the walkways on the Triborough (RFK) Bridge. That's exactly what I did today. However, those walkways have their own perils for cyclists.
The Triborough is really three spans that lead into Randall's Island. One such span, which is close to where I live, connects Queens with the Island. This span is the most-photographed (for good reason) of the three, and many people think it is the Triborough. Then there are spans from the Island to Manhattan (at 125th Street) and the Bronx.
Actually, the Bronx spur is bookended by walkways on its east and west sides. As those paths approach the Island, they zig and zag like Alpine slalom courses enclosed by concrete walls. Then they converge at a single steep ramp that ends abruptly at a curve in the island's main road.
The bridge would eliminate those ramps (as well as the stairs one must ascend in order to access the walkway to and from Queens) and instead would be continuation of one spur of the island's mostly-complete bike path.
I am eager to see the bridge completed, not only for making a part of my ride more pleasant. It is seen as a vital link between the paths and fields of Randall's Island and a greenway that's supposed to be built in the South Bronx.
Some residents of that neighborhood walk across the Triborough, but many more drive or take buses to play soccer, softball and other sports and games, have picnics and barbecues, or to fish, on the Island. In addition to making a bike ride easier and more pleasant for folks like me, I would hope that the bridge would also entice some Bronx residents to walk or ride bikes to the Island.
The South Bronx part of Asthma Alley. Actually, it's the buckle in New York's asthma belt: The neighborhood's 10451,10453, 10454, 10455 and 10474 ZIP codes have the highest juvenile asthma rates in the United States. (They are also part of the nation's poorest Congressional District.) Obesity rates are also high in the area, as they are through much of the Bronx. Ironically, even though much of the fresh produce sold in the NY Metro area goes to the Hunts Point Food Market (located in the heart of the South Bronx), most residents of the surrounding neighborhoods cannot buy fresh fruits or vegetables in their own communities.
Anyway, enough about subjects about which I don't know much (apart from having written an article about the asthma rates). I am hoping that the new bridge's construction proceeds quickly but safely. But I have to wonder whether that will happen after seeing the sign on the left.
It says that Con Ed, the local utility, is removing duct work from underneath the scaffolding. I hope this doesn't delay construction!
OK, boys and girls, I'm going to give you one more kind-of-sad (or, at least, melancholy) posting. Then I'll try to stick to happy topics, as this is the holiday season.
Anyway, six weeks after Hurricane Sandy, it seems that I see more and more of its aftermath everywhere I turn--especially when I get on a bike. Here is what used to be nicknamed "Barretto Beach":
This postage stamp-sized piece of Barretto Point Park has sunbathers and picknickers on it when the weather is warm, and people fishing from it at other times. It's usually full of sand and is clear of rocks and other debris, if not litter. And, before the storm, this plot was about twice the size it is now.
It is closed off. So is the pier at the other end of the park, and the barge that houses a swimming pool. As much devastation as I saw, I was surprised, frankly, not to see more.
Here is another part of the park that was eroded:
I guess the '60's Schwinn Collegiate didn't want me to look at it for too long. You never know what kind of effect such things can have on a young sensibility like mine, you know.
At least Randall's Island, through which I ride to get to Barretto, didn't seem quite as badly damaged--or, at least, more of it has been fixed up. Here is a shot of one of the island's native plant gardens:
I found the color change on this tree particularly interesting:
Usually, I assume that trees with needles rather than leaves are evergreens. Apparently, this is some sort of deciduous tree with needles. Whatever it is, I love the effect of its color change.
Well...I guess this wasn't such a depressing post after all!
It seems--at least in this part of the world--that the colors of October are celebrated more than those of any other month.
Reverence for the hues of that month are certainly just. However, some of what I saw on today's ride left me absolutely stunned.
I saw this on the wooden bridge in the Randall's Island nature preserve:
Oh, but the visual feast didn't end there. Barretto Point Park was closed, probably because of flood damage and weakened trees that might fall at any given moment. However,through the fence, I saw this:
and this:
I know that the hues of autumn sunsets are particularly rich. But lately it seems the skies are outdoing themselves. I wonder whether it has anything to do with the recent storms.
My ride today was short. But the name of this park, about three miles from my place, says it all:
This piece of real estate is in Rego Park, a Queens neighborhood that is currently home to thousands of emigres--many of whom are Jewish-- from Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Russia. It gets its name from the Real Good Construction company, which developed most of the neighborhood in the early 20th Century.
If you are visiting the neighborhood for the first time and it seems familiar, you've probably read Art Spiegelman's graphic novel Maus. The scenes with his aged Polish Jewish father are all set in the neighborhood, where Spiegelman grew up.
Anyway, as you can probably tell, today's ride was short but Real Good.
Today's ride took me through, among other places, Randall's Island.
There I saw two guys and two bikes by the East River:
Behind them was the Gate of Hell--or, more precisely, the Hell Gate Bridge:
Underneath Hell Gate was a "Native Plant Garden." Somehow it seemed a bit of an oxymoron. Still, it was lovely.
I especially liked this particular flower:
After the reverie of seeing it, I pedaled across the newly-reopened 106th Street Bridge onto a newly-reopened (but not entirely repaired) path/greenway along the river in Manhattan--East Harlem, to be exact. After climbing the shallow but steady climb through Harlem, Hamilton Heights and Washington Heights, I crossed the George Washington Bridge to the New Jersey Palisades.
After more riding through New Jersey and Staten Island, I thought I'd gotten away from the Gate of Hell. Well, maybe I got away from the fire of it--but I couldn't escape the mist.
And then, finally, I got some advice upon re-entering Manhattan.
Back to the guys and their bike--and Tosca, the bike that took me through these adventures:
They say it's bad luck when a black cat crosses your path. How does that affect you if you learn that as a kid? Well, I guess it could really screw up your race relations, or leave you with a pile of therapists' bills. The latter is a common consequence of being inculcated with just about any superstition.
For the record, I've paid all of my therapists' bills. That is not to be confused with paying your dues, if for no other reason that if you think you've paid your dues, you haven't. At least you know whether or not you've paid your therapists' bills. Trust me: I know from whence I speak!
Now I've really digressed. To get back to the subject of this post...which was? Oh, right, a black cat crossing your path. Well, one didn't cross my path today. However, this one crossed in front of me when I was riding on Randall's Island:
She's feral, so she doesn't stand still for very long. However, she did pause from her prowlings when I stopped. She tiptoed to within a few feet of me, gazed into my eyes and, perhaps realizing that I hadn't brought anything for her to eat, took off.
There's been some material written about how to deal with stray dogs when you're on your bike. But I have yet to see anything that deals with the subject of stray cats encountered when cycling.
I recall now the time I was pedaling up a narrow mountain road near Briancon, France. The surface and the sides looked sunbaked, even though the day was overcast. I'd just made one of those turns from which rocks tumble off the edge of the road when I heard--meowing? Here?, I wondered. There were no other animals and no vegetables, or so it seemed. Well, at least I knew that my soon-to-be new friend (who seemed to be a Chartreuse cat) didn't get skinny from smoking cigarettes and drinking black coffee.
I didn't have any cat food with me. However, I did have some butter cookies in my handlebar bag. I broke up a few and they seemed to end up in her mouth almost as soon as they passed through my hands.
From there, I cycled into Italy. Ironically, on the way back, I rode down the same road and the same cat crossed my path.
As hard as her life must have been, at least she had a wonderful view. So did the cat who came my way today:
I'm off to ride my bikeee....and then I'm gonna ease on down, ease on down the road.
OK, you ask, why have I just mangled theme songs from two classic movies. Well, it has to do with this photo:
One of the few things I have in common with Diana Ross is that I've crossed this bridge. One difference is that the bridge didn't look like that when she crossed it. Instead, it looked like this:
This image, of course, comes from the movie version of The Wiz. It's one of those things that worked much better on stage that it did on celluloid. The best things about the movie, to me, were "Ease On Down The Road" and Michael Jackson's portrayal of the Scarecrow. Diana Ross, oddly enough, didn't lend any of her otherworldly charisma to the character of Dorothy, much less portray the character convincingly. It was a shame: I've seen her do a much better job as an actress, not to mention as a singer.
In the end, the movie seemed like a shameless attempt to cash in on the popularity of Blaxploitation films that had been popular for a few years before it was made. Instead, it helped to kill off the genre.
Anyway...You didn't come here to see me do a bad imitation of Siskel or Ebert--or Pauline Kael. I'll tell you that the bridge in question links Ward's Island with East 103rd Street in Manhattan.
It's one of the oddest and most interesting structures in New York City--or anywhere. To my knowledge, it's the only bridge in New York that's dedicated entirely to pedestrian and bicycle traffic. No motor vehicles are allowed. It's also odd and interesting for another reason:
As you can see from this photo, which I borrowed from The Bowery Boys, the section between the two towers is lifted when a ship needs to pass underneath the bridge. The bridge is kept in this position through the winter and is therefore closed to bicycles and pedestrians.
Ward's Island is also a strange place. There's a big mental hospital on it and, technically, it's no longer an island: It was connected by landfill to Randall's Island, which is known for its sports venues and as the stage for le Cirque du Soleil.
Ward's and Randall's have a number of paths, some of which are paved, that zig-zag with the shorelines of the East and Harlem Rivers. They also contain fields used by youth soccer and baseball leagues, a training facility for the Fire Department and a wastewater treatment plant that, at times, fills the islands with the scent of cologne poured down a septic tank.
The two islands also sit between Manhattan, Queens and the Bronx. All are connected by the RFK Memorial (formerly known as the Triboro) Bridge, which is really a system of three different spans that all meet on Randall's Island.
There's also a spot where, a little birdie tells me, more than a few New Yorkers were conceived:
It's underneath a bridge over which you've passed if you've taken the Acela (Amtrak Customers Expect Late Arrivals) between New York and Boston.
Yes, it's the Hell Gate Bridge, which begins near Astoria Park, which is near my home.
Might Charon himself be the pilot of the lead boat?
Going this way?:
See what happens when you stay up late nights reading The Inferno and drinking espresso? Hmm....Imagine what would have happened if all those English public school kids grew up reading it instead of Pilgrim's Progress. Maybe punk rock would have happened 300 years before Richard Hell (I just had to include him in this post!) and Sid Vicious.
Anyway...While we're still in Hell Gate, I want to show you something you definitely wouldn't have seen in a 1970's Schwinn ad:
Ignaz Schwinn would be spinning (pun intended) in his grave! This is more like what he would have had in mind:
No wonder 20-year olds weren't buying Schwinns in 1978. (Trust me, I know: I was one!)
Some things never change, though. In those days, everyone said the world was going to hell in a handbasket. And our parents and teachers thought we were leading the way. Really, though, we were just easin' on down the road: We could, because the world was a simpler place. Or so we think now.
