Bicycle Freeways Are Nothing New

A few years ago, a bicycle freeway opened in Beijing.  Similar elevated bike lanes have been built, or have been proposed or planned, for other cities in Europe and Asia.

Turns out, bicycle highways and freeways aren't a new idea.  Nor is one of the motivations for them.  And they weren't exclusive to bike-friendly countries like the Netherlands and Denmark. 

In fact, a bike highway once linked a sleepy town with the city that, some would argue, is the birthplace of car culture. (Is "car culture" an oxymoron?)

All right...At the time the lane was built, that city--Los Angeles--hadn't become synonymous with "freeway."  And the town the lane linked to it--Pasadena--hadn't even begun to host the Rose Bowl.

In fact, automobiles were still a novelty item and the Model T was more than two decades in the future. For that matter, asphalt wasn't in use as a paving material.  

In that environment, a fellow named Horace Dobbins (who would become Pasadena's mayor) saw the need to get to downtown L.A. quickly.  Interestingly, getting to and from various destinations in China's capital was a design feature of the bike freeway built in that city a few years ago.

Dobbins envisioned an elevated bicycle highway stretching nine miles (about 14 kilometers) between his home town and the bustling metropolis.  His proposal was embraced and the first section of the bike highway--complete with a tollboth!--opened in 1900. A mile long, stood twenty feet (seven meters) in the air, had wooden railings on its sides and linked Pasadena's Green Hotel with the base of Raymond Hill, near the city's Glenarm Street.

The view north on the Dobbins Veloway

That year is often seen as a "tipping point," not only because it was the turn of the century.  Many then-current and developing events, ideas and inventions would shape the rest of the century and this one.  One of those inventions was, of course, the automobile.

And cars are, not surprisingly, why the Dobbins Veloway, as it was called, was never completed. Within a few years, the lane--the two miles of it that had been built--was torn down.  Ironically, the land rights that had been secured to construct it were used to build the Arroyo Seco/Pasadena Freeway, commonly recognized as the oldest freeway in the United States.

 

From Cars To Bikes, On A Highway

Twenty-five or thirty years ago, streets in Chinese cities were as choked with traffic as the Long Island Expressway (a.k.a. The World's Longest Parking Lot) during peak commuter hours.  The difference was, of course, that the throngs of people going to work or school in Beijing or  Shanghai weren't enclosed in four-wheeled motorized vehicles.  Instead, they were astride bicycles:

Westerners--especially Americans--were amused by the idea of "bicycle traffic jams."  The Chinese who were part of them, like people stuck in any kind of traffic jam, probably weren't (or so I would assume).  But within a decade or so, their problem would be "solved":  Instead of being surrounded by cyclists on their way to work, they would be stuck in automotive gridlock that would make a trip across the George Washington Bridge at 8 am seem like, well, a bike tour along la route departementale 618 from France to Spain.

Now some folks in Beijing are realizing that driving isn't always as quick or convenient as they'd hoped. They, especially the young are--you guessed it!--getting back on their bikes.

I haven't heard any reports of bicycle traffic jams like the ones the city experienced when few people had cars.  But city planners might be anticipating them--or responding to folks who want their bike commutes to be safer and more convenient.  To that end, construction on a 6.5 kilometer bicycle highway is set to begin this September.  

Because it will cross major highways, much of the bike route will be elevated.  There will be no traffic lights, and its use will be restricted to pedal bicycles without motors.  Moreover, it will have a gated entrance--a feature borrowed, along with others, from the world's longest elevated bike path in Xiamen.

That southeastern Chinese city was mainly a port city until three decades ago, but has morphed into a center for financial services and technology.  It has also become, interestingly, the city frequently cited as "greenest" or "most livable" in the country.  The influx of highly-educated professionals probably has something to do with that.

Those are the same sort of people who live and work in Zhongguancun, the district in the northwestern part of Beijing where the new bike highway will be built.  It's often called "China's Silicon Valley."  If the area's scientists, engineers, venture capitalists and creative people are anything like their counterparts in California, it's not surprising that they've taken to cycling--and want better conditions for it.

What I find fascinating is that the move from bicycles to cars and back has happened more or less within a generation.   Here in the US, the cycle has taken a century--that is, in those areas where there are people who ride to work and school, and for pleasure.

"Cars Are So 2005"

No one wants more cars in cities.  Cars are so 2005.

So said a spokesman from Milan, Italy, where private vehicles were recently banned for six hours.  

Officials from just about any major city could, and would, have said something similar.  Even the most adamant opponents of congestion pricing admit that shoehorning more motorized vehicles into Manhattan streets will not do any good.  If nothing else, they're tired of sitting in traffic jams if they're not cognizant of the health hazards from pollution.

Likewise, even some of the folks who hate cyclists will admit, if grudgingly, that one of the best ways to keep more cars from funneling into the bridges and tunnels that lead to Manhattan is to move people's feet from gas pedals to bicycle pedals--or the pavement.

But, they will point out, people will pedal or walk to work, school or wherever else they need to go if those places are within, say, a couple of miles.  Some people simply don't have the time for longer bike commutes: If they have to spend an hour or more in a car or on a bus or train, how long will it take them to pedal to the office or classroom? On the other hand, there are many people for whom bicycle commuting would be feasible, but are afraid of (or just don't want to deal with) motor traffic.

The solution for that latter group seems to be incentives to cycle.  I'm not talking only about tax credits (which would be nice) or other "perks" governments or employers might provide; I also mean things--what some might call "infrastructure"--to make cycling more convenient and safe for those who would consider riding to work, school or shop.

One criticism of the bicycle infrastructure, such as it is, in the United States is that it is concentrated in major urban areas and serves mainly the young and affluent within them.  As an example, ports and bikes for Citibike, New York City's share program, are abundant in Manhattan south of 125th Street as well as in the Brooklyn and Queens neighborhoods nearest to Manhattan.  But there are none in the Bronx or Staten Island, or in the outlying area of Queens and Brooklyn.

One reason for that is that planners don't seem to think bicycle infrastructure, however good its quality, would be of any benefit outside of large cities like New York, Boston and San Francisco.  If it takes an hour to drive to the nearest supermarket, according to their thinking, there is little hope of encouraging anyone to get out of their cars and onto bike.

That may well be true.  But there are other areas, such as those in and around college towns and other small- to medium-sized cities, where bicycle facilities might encourage people to ride.  One such area is a stretch of the Ruhr Valley in Germany, where a "bicycle autobahn" has been under construction.  It is more than half-finished; when it is complete, it will span 100 kilometers and connect three mid-sized cities (Duisberg, Hamm and Bochum) as well as four universities.

It's hard to believe that there aren't similar areas here in the United States.  An longtime Iowa cyclist has identified one such area in his backyard, so to speak.  Chuck Oestreich, in a recent editorial, said that Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa, could be connected to Quad-Cities, which is--you guessed it--100 kilometers away. 

Now, he doesn't envision anyone commuting between those cities.  Rather, he sees people taking weekend excursions or riding instead of driving to places in between.  Even those of us who have no business in such places would, he says, have the opportunity to see the small towns and countryside, and thus get "a true taste of the real Midwest."

Moreover, Oestreich points out, a "bicycle interstate" could take cars off some of the highways--which, at certain hours of the day, become elongated parking lots.

And we can look at those traffic jams and sigh, "That's so 2005!"

An Autobahn For Bicycles In The Ruhr

Whenever I've ridden the Five Boro Bike Tour, the best parts were (for me, anyway), the sections on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and the lower deck of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.  That ride is the only occasion on which cycling is allowed on those roadways.  The views of New York Harbor, the Statue of Liberty, Manhattan skyline and Brooklyn's brownstone neighborhoods are most enjoyable.  But what makes it exhilarating is taking over, if only for a couple of hours, roadways on which motorized vehicles with four or more wheels hold a monopoly the rest of the time.

I am sure that along the way, someone probably thought, "Hmm...Wouldn't it be great to have a highway like this only for cyclists?"

Turns out, for about the past decade or so, municipalities and other jurisdictions in Europe have been working on the idea.  Short bicycle highways of 5 to 20 kilometers have been built in the Netherlands and Denmark (where else?) and the city of London is looking at the idea of building one. 

The new Ruhr Valley bicycle "autobahn".

Now Germany has opened its first stretch of its first bicycle "autobahn".  Five kilometers long, it will eventually be part of a planned 100-kilometer bikeway that will connect the cities of Duisberg, Hamm and Bochum--and four universities--in the Ruhr Valley.

In the meantime, Frankfurt--Germany's banking center--is planning a 30-kilometer route south to Darmstadt.  Munich is working on a 15-kilometer thoroughfare to its northern suburbs and Nuremberg is launching a feasibility study for a path that will connect to four other cities in the eastern part of the country.  Earlier this month, Berlin's city administration gave the green-light to conducting a feasibility study for a bike highway connecting the city center with the leafy suburb of Zehlendorf.

One way in which the newly-opened Ruhr roadway could serve as a model for future projects is that it's built along a disused railway, something found in abundance in declining industrial areas like the Ruhr.  On the other hand, the Berlin project points to an obstacle that too often bedevils such plans:  Who will pay for it?

The German capital is, almost paradoxically, the poorest of the country's major cities. So there is objection to the project, and others like it, especially among conservatives.  One problem is that, as in many other countries, the federal (or national) government builds and maintains motor-, rail- and water-ways, while cycling and pedestrian facilities are the responsibility of local governments.  If those localities are heavily endebted, as Berlin is, other funding schemes must be proposed.  The conservative CDU party has suggested placing billboards along the way:  something almost no cyclist, and very few other citizens, support.


Similar roadblocks detour or stop bicycle lane construction here in the US, and the same sorts of people (conservatives, mainly) oppose--or, at least, don't want to pay for--it.

If such obstacles can be overcome, it may one day be possible to ride from New York to San Francisco without stopping for a traffic light--without a speed limit, of course!