It's Warm, Even If The Season Has Not Yet Sprung

For three days, it felt like summer, almost.  I rode in shorts and worked in skirts without hosiery.  The classrooms and offices were too warm, and my students wanted to do anything besides listen to my lectures although, of course, they would never tell me that.  If I were any of them, I'd've felt the same way, probably.

The temperature dropped a bit today, though it still felt pretty balmy for this time of year, even with a brisk wind--into which I pedaled out to Rockaway Beach.  The sun played hide-and-seek but the wind was, as we say in the old country, definitely in-your-face.  Not that I'm complaining:  the ride was a decent workout even if it wasn't very long, and I felt invigorated afterward.  

Invigorating turned to bracing on the Cross Bay Memorial Bridge to Rockaway Beach. The temperature seemed to drop about 10C as I crossed the span.  Such a change is typical on a warm late-winter or early-spring day:  Even during a winter as mild as the one we've had, the ocean temperature drops to 3-5C (about 37-40F); the water in Jamaica Bay is probably just as cold.

There are other signs spring hasn't sprung yet, in spite of the warm weather:  The trees and plants are not yet budding, and no shoots are poking through the ground.  There are only the recently-planted grasses on dunes built to forestall further erosion of the kind Superstorm Sandy left in its wake:

That "dune" will probably be no more lush in another month, or two, or three, as Spring forwards into Summer.  But we will see the other signs, not yet visible, of the season that is incubating in the warmer-than-normal weather we've experienced during the past few days.

A Summer Afternoon After The Storm, Fire And Crash

People fantasize about the sort of summer afternoon we had today.  There was lots of sunshine, very little humidity and practically no clouds as the temperature rose to 30C (86F).

So, of course, I went for a ride.  After crossing the bridge into Rockaway Beach, I turned right and rode along rows of serene-looking homes that masked the tragedies the Queens coastal communities of Rockaway Park and  Belle Harbor have experienced.  Of course, they bore the brunt of Superstorm Sandy, but perhaps survived it a bit better than some other areas.  

Eleven years earlier, Flight 587--which had taken off from JFK Airport only two and a half minutes earlier, bound for the Dominican Republic--crashed into the ocean and sent its debris flying into those homes.  Although it is the second-deadliest air crash in US history, it has been forgotten, probably because it happened only a few weeks after 11 September.

To see the neighborhood today, one would hardly know--save for a monument on 116th Street--that it had experienced something so horrific. I could say the same for Breezy Point, about four miles to the west on the Rockaway Peninsula.  Few areas were more devastated by the storm:  In addition to the destruction wrought by the wind, rain and tides, 100 houses burned to the ground in a fire sparked when a storm surge inundated power lines.

Homes, stores and other buildings have been restored and rebuilt.  Still , it all looked rather forlorn. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that  almost nobody was out and about in spite of the weather.

 
At least it was all there and I could ride it.  And I did--over the bridge to Brooklyn, to Floyd Bennett and Brighton Beach and Coney Island.  At least it looked like a summer day at Coney Island, with people swimming and fishing the water, walking, riding and lounging on the boardwalk and eating all of those unhealthy foods sold in boardwalk stands. 

Then I rode home, along the promenade that passes along the Verrazano Bridge and up Hipster Hook to my place.  I was grateful for another good ride, even if it wasn't long or challenging. 

The Lives The Wind Gave Us

In previous posts, I've mentioned the Navajo creation song that begins, "It was the wind that gave them life."

It was running through my mind, again, as I pedaled into 30-35KPH gusts to the Rockaways and let the same winds blow me home.  And that chant grew even stronger, for me, when I saw the people who'd ventured outside on a chilly, windy but almost hauntingly clear day.

It didn't matter whether those people were families who lived there or were visiting--or whether they were the gnarled old men who seemed to have been deposited there by the tides and abandoned by the currents of time.  They all looked as if the wind had somehow shaped them, had somehow given them life:  the fact that they were alive and the lives they were living, whether in one of the clapboard houses or amongst the remnants of the boardwalk.   

 

The wind brushed the long fine strands and curls of childrens' hair around their faces, which made them seem even younger and dewier than they were.  That same wind turned those children's expressions and words from moments to memories for the parents and grandparents of those children.  And the wind stuttered the echo of old men shuffling through sand, across boards and concrete and asphalt broken by the very tides that returned to that very same wind.

And the wind defined my trip, my journey.  That is the life it gave me, gave them.

A Tale Of Two Beaches--And Rides

Compare and contrast Rockaway and Flagler Beaches.

Comparison #1:  I rode to both of them within the past few days.  Rockaway is a bit further from my apartment than Flagler is from my parents’ house.  But while neither are particularly long rides, I feel a sense of satisfaction, if not accomplishment, from either.

Contrast #1:  This one is obvious:  Flagler is in Florida, Rockaway is in New York—the borough and county of Queens, to be exact.  Flagler, on the other hand, shares its name with that of the county.

Comparison #2:  You have to cross a bridge to get into either one.  The SR 100 Bridge arches over the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, while the Veterans Memorial Bridge spans Jamaica Bay.  After crossing either bridge, you find yourself on an isthmus that separates the body of water spanned by the bridge from the Atlantic Ocean.

Contrast#2:  Almost everyone who crosses the bridge to the Rockaways lives in Queens or one of the other boroughs of New York City.  You are as likely to encounter someone from just about any state in the US—or Quebec or Ontario—as a Floridian on the bridge as well as Route A1A, the road on the other side of the bridge.

Comparison #3:  You’re likely to encounter cyclists while crossing either bridge or riding along the roads that parallel the beaches.  Said cyclists could be riding anything from an old beach cruiser rescued from someone’s basement to the latest and most exclusive road and mountain bikes.

Contrast #3:  People riding high-quality bikes to or in Rockaway Beach are almost invariably residents of Queens—though not of Rockaway Beach or any other part of the Rockaway Peninsula—or Brooklyn or Manhattan.  If someone’s riding a really good bike to or in Flagler Beach, he or she is most likely from someplace else,  or lives in the area part-time.  Also, a high-end bike in Flagler is usually a Specialized, Cannondale or Trek and has a carbon-fiber or aluminum frame, while one in Rockaway could be one of those or could just as easily be a classic steel road or mountain bike.

Comparison #4:  You’re likely to pedal into or with the wind while riding to or from either place.  If you’re  lucky, you ride into the wind while going and with it while coming back.

Contrast #4:  The temperature might drop a degree or two when you cross the bridge into Flagler Beach.  The temperature could drop a bit more while crossing into the Rockaways, especially early in Spring, when the water temperature in Jamaica Bay and the Atlantic is around 5 to 8 degrees Celsius (40 to 45 F).   On the other hand, the temperature of the Atlantic where it meets Flagler Beach is around 15 C (60 F) at this time of year.

Why is there so much more rust on the right side of this handlebar than on the left?

Comparison #5:  Both beaches have their wizened, grizzled characters who live on the streets or beach, or who “couch surf”.  

Contrast #5:  Surprisingly, Rockaway has more such characters.  I say “surprisingly” because they are usually more common in larger beach communities where the weather is warm, or at least mild, all year round.  What that means, of course, is that more of those characters are living such a lifestyle by choice in Flagler (or Daytona Beach) .  In the Rockaways, there are now more of those characters than there were three years ago.  Many of them are living as they are as a result of Superstorm Sandy, where much of the devastation still hasn’t been repaired.  Seeing such people in the Rockaways makes me think of the film Atlantic City, in which the "busted valises", as Ring Lardner used to call them, were abandoned by another kind of tide that ravaged, then turned away from, them.

One final contrast:  Whenever I‘ve ridden to Flagler, it’s been on someone else’s bike.  I’ve never ridden to or through Rockaway Beach on any bike that’s not my own.  That includes today, when I took Tosca, my fixed-gear Mercian, out for the first time since the snowstorms buried and iced us in January.  She’s looking—and feeling—better than ever, if I do say so myself. 

When A Favorite Bike Ride Is A Disaster Zone

I think I just figured out the reason (or, at least, a reason) why I've been tired and have had bouts of crankiness and melancholy.  I haven't been on a ride of more than 20 miles in more than a month.  

In Point Lookout, NY.

On the 21st of October, I rode to Point Lookout; the following day, I did a ramble with Lakythia through parts of Brooklyn and down to the Rockaway Peninsula, including Breezy Point. That was the weekend before Sandy struck, and the weekend after the Tour de Bronx.

The destination of many of my rides.

Also, part of the reason for my sadness is having helped, in small ways, the storm's victims in those areas.  Before I went, I had a hard time imagining those places I associate with cycling pleasure as scenes of devastation.  Now, having been to the Rockaway peninsula--one of the most ravaged areas--I'm having a hard time seeing it as the route of a pleasurable bike ride.  That is not the same thing as having memories of riding there:  Of course I will recall many moments and days of serenity and joy.  Perhaps I will have such times there again.  But, for now, I almost feel guilty when I think about riding those seaside streets and lanes again.

From The Daily Beast

I have no doubt that, in time, roads will be cleared and repaired and, perhaps, boardwalks rebuilt.  If homes can be fixed, their owners will; if not, perhaps new ones will be built.  People who live in places like Breezy Point and Rockaway Beach don't give up on them, at least not easily.  I'm sure many will be there if and when I ride there again.   Even though many of them simply would not live anywhere else, I can only wonder how they'll see their native land, if you will, in light of Sandy.  And--perhaps selfishly on my part--I wonder how it will feel to pedal one of my Mercians there again.