Cycling The Fall On The North Shore

Perhaps the fall is inevitable, which is exactly the reason some people live as if it will never happen to them.

Sometimes I think that is one of the messages of The Great Gatsby.  Though the novel was written, and take place, in the 1920s, a line from Prince is fitting:  party like it's 1999.

I got to thinking about Gatsby and what the fall means today because, while riding, I saw this:

and this:

along the North Shore, from Queens into Long Island and back.  

You know the old riddle:  If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?  Well, perhaps someone posed a parallel question:  If trees lose their leaves and nobody sees it, will the fall come?

Jay Gatsby, having grown up on a farm and aspired to the high life, probably never looked at a tree once he left the farm.   I doubt any of the other characters in that novel looked at very many trees or gave much thought to the changing of the season, whether in nature or their lives.

But fall comes to their North Shore playgrounds, just as it comes everywhere else.  For me, it made for a lovely, pleasant ride, one in which I didn't mind that I was pedaling into, or getting sideswiped by, brisk winds, or that as I rode along the water, the temperature dropped (or seemed to drop) to levels for which I wasn't dressed.

Today it was Vera's turn to enjoy the season.  She was dressed for the occasion.  Then again, she always looks right for the ride. So do my other Mercians.  

They have no reason to fear the fall. Nor do I.  

Without Mike Or The Green Light

Now that the latest Gatsby movie is in theatres, I thought a North Shore ride was appropriate.  (I'm still not sure of whether I want to see the movie.)  Anyway, here's one of the novel's most iconic scenes, minus the green light.

Then, on my way back, I stopped for a "snack":

Of course that sign for "Mallow Marsh" was placed during the reign of Mayor Rudolph Giuliani.  Can you imagine Mike Bloomberg allowing such a thing?

It's All About The Shoes!

I think I've found my next pair of cycling shoes:

And they'll only cost me $300.

Never mind that they're the wrong size.  They're in my color:  purple.  (Well, OK, lavender).  These shoes are actually much prettier than they appear in this photo, which I shot through a display window.

I mean, what's not to like?  In addition to the lovely color and details, they're from Chanel, made in France:  no knock-offs here.

So where did I find these chaussures carines?

Well, since you're reading this blog, you probably have guessed that I saw them during the course of my ride today.  So, of course, the question becomes:  Where did I ride today?

OK, so Arielle is telling you that it's next to a body of water.  So what other clues can I give?

I don't know how those blotches got onto that photo.  But at least you know that there were boats moored where I cycled today.

And they weren't just any old boats.  Nor were the others I saw at my destination.  They belong to some of the wealthiest people on the planet.

If your "Great Gatsby" associations led you to think I was riding along Long Island Sound, you'd be right.  Except, I wasn't riding much along the Long Island part.

Rather, these photos came from Greenwich, Connecticut.  The consignment shop in which I saw those lavender Chanel ballet flats is just up the hill from the yacht club, where I saw those boats.

You might think that I'd need to butcher modify the shoes to make them suitable for cycling.  I'd have to add a carbon fiber insert to the insole and drill them for cleats.  Or so one would think.

But, given the kinds of pedals I ride these days, I think I could get away with pedaling in those Chanel ballet flats as they are.  Would Coco approve?

The idea that I would use them for cycling made me think of a joke I played on Stella Buckwalter, who worked at Open Road Cycles and later opened, with her then-partner Stelios Tapanakis, Rock'N'Road in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Orange was her favorite color.  In a thrift store, I found a pair of pumps in that color with 15 cm (6") heels.  

She had recently bought a new bike, onto which she had installed a pair of SPD pedals.

So--you guessed it--I drilled out the soles of those shoes to accept SPD cleats!

She got a kick out of them--even though the shoes were the wrong size.  I figured as much when I found them, but they were only $1--and worth much more than that in the laugh I got out of her.

Of course, drilling the shoe and installing those cleats defeated one of the purposes of off-road SPD shoes and pedals:  It was impossible to walk in those pumps with the cleats on them!  

Then again, knowing Stella, I doubt that she would have tried such a thing, even if the shoes fit!

From The Ferry

Today I didn't have classes.  But I had a couple of errands to run in Manhattan.  As it was a mild, almost warm, day and clouds passed across a sunny sky, I was more than happy to ride.  


Then, I found myself in the Union Square area.  From there, it's just a few minutes to the Staten Island Ferry.  I got to the terminal just as a boat was to depart.  


Besides Vera, there were about five other bikes on the boat going to Staten Island, and another dozen on the return trip. On both trips, I saw more cyclists than I'd normally expect to see at those times on a weekday.


I'm not a photographer, so take what I'm about to say for what it's worth:  Every photographer should ride the Ferry.  There are seemingly endless photo opportunities.  Plus, the interplay of water, skylines and the interiors of the boat makes for some very interesting light.


Plus, it can be a rather romantic ride:

Given that there are so many commuters on the Ferry, there are almost always sleepers:

and dreamers:

Of course, every nautical crossing must include a Gatsby Moment:

Finally, since I am one of those snotty New Yorkers who sniffs when I deign to use the word "tourist", I will offer you a photo that's about as touristy as you can get: