The Light Of The Season, Lighting My Ride

In temperate parts of the Northern Hemisphere, October paints its light with strokes from deepening, drying leaves of red, yellow, orange and brown.

But those hues also reflect the light of other seasons I remember during autumn rides. 

A Signal--Of What?

 Friday afternoon, I pedaled along the North Shore--into the wind most of the way out, with it on the way back.

On my way back, I stopped in Fort Totten.  As its name implies, it was an active military base.  Now one section of it is used for Army Reserve training exercises; the New York Fire Department uses another.  The rest is a park with some great views of Long Island Sound and, on a clear day, the New York skyline.

When I stopped, I chanced upon this:

I got to thinking, ironically, about a long-ago conversation with an Italian olive grower.  The trees take 100 years to bear fruit, he told me.  So, he said, I am not planting a tree for me, for my children, or their grandchildren.  Rather, he is planting for their grandchildren.

A few weeks after that trip--during which I pedaled from Rome to Avignon and took the TGV (still pretty new then) to Paris--I went to  to see my brother in SoCal, with a stop in NoCal.  I took time from doing all of the things that could have gotten me into trouble (yes, even in San Francisco) to see the millenia-old trees on the other side of the bridge.  Later, I would try to write about how it felt to look at living things--olive, sequoia and other trees--that were older than any other living thing I'd seen, and any civilization or race I'd ever read about.  They were, it seemed, almost as old as the earth itself.

Here in NY, the trees aren't quite that old.  But at least a few have been around for a century or more and have weathered all manner of natural cataclysms and human-made traumas.  But this year proved to be too much for some that fell or broke, like the one in the photo.

Somehow it made the mostly-clear sky even more stark and a harbinger of winter.  Or, could it be a signal to some other direction we (or at least I) cannot yet discern?  Was it directing me to some place I haven't seen or imagined?

I'll spare you any comparisons to the green light in the Great Gatsby!

The Real Bronx Zoo

Even though I've lived in New York for decades, I've been to the Bronx Zoo maybe a couple of times.  In fact, it's been  a while since I've been to any zoo at all:  The older I get, the less I like seeing animals in cages--especially if said animals are orange or striped!

Besides, why do I need to go to the Bronx Zoo when I can see this in the Bronx:

I was pedaling along the path to Pelham Bay Park when our friend in the photo stopped for a snack. 

As I inched closer, the hungry ungulate hardly even stirred.  I'm not sure of exactly how close I could have come, so I stood, bike in hand, and let the creature eat, turn and get a look at me before taking off.

Then I took off--for Connecticut.  I didn't see any deer the rest of the way.  Only in the Bronx!

Fall Contrasts

I'll admit that I've spent time looking at dying leaves, I mean, fall foliage.  This year it seems late in coming--or, at least, a little less colorful than usual.  I'm seeing fallen leaves in bike paths, on sidewalks and in other spots, but the leaves still on trees are green.

More noticeable signs of fall came, for me, on my ride to Point Lookout yesterday.

The reeds on the islands, and the plant life on the shore, never fail to reflect the season's colors.

Even more reliable, to my eyes,is the light surrounding them--especially on overcast days.  Clouds gather and seem to take on the depth of the sea; the sea and sky darken without actually becoming dark.  Yet the reeds and grasses stand, even as they age and turn sere.

Each of them stands alone.

I took a brief ride the day before, between bouts of torrential rain.  Ironically, I saw more color on one corner in Harlem than on my longer ride.

Looking at this building, you might guess that it's a studio or gallery. The latter assumption would be correct:  All of the work on the walls is done by local artists.  But this building serves another function.  Can you guess what it is?

Believe it or not, it's a pediatrics office.  Pediatrics 2000, to be exact.  Two doctors, as well as nurses and other professionals who help children, practice there.

Kids actually enjoy going there.  Their parents seem to like it, too.  The art is one reason.  Another is this:

There are no stairs anywhere in the building.  Only ramps connect the levels.  So, no kid (or adult) is stigmatized for being in a wheelchair.

The best thing is that everyone seems to think as highly of the doctors and other professionals in that building as they think of that building itself.

The kids get culture while doctors take their cultures. It sounds good to me!

Into The Fall And The Sunset

You really know you're on a Fall ride when you see this:

That, along stretch of the East Coast Greenway that winds its way from Pelham Bay, near City Island, to Pelham Manor in Westchester County.  I was maybe half a kilometer from Pelham Manor--astride Arielle, my Mercian Audax.

I didn't get on the road until well after noon.  I didn't regret it, though:  The early morning was the coldest we had since, probably, April.   And I still rode to Connecticut and back, just beating darkness home.

So...I pedaled into blazing shades of orange, red and yellow scattered on the ground on my way up to the Nutmeg State.  And, by the time I reached Randall's Island--with only the RFK Memorial Bridge between me and home--I was riding into those same--or, at least, similar--hues spread against the sky, as the sun set behind me.

Marlee was not impressed. But she was happy to see me.

A Fall Ride?

It's October.  There's nothing like a ride on a beautiful Fall day:

Happy Sunday!

Autumn, Perhaps. But Not Fall, Not Yet.

Do you call it "autumn" or "fall"?

I like the sound of "autumn", especially in French (automne), Italian (autonno) and Spanish (otono, with a squiggle over the "n").  However, "fall" is more picturesque and evocative.

Whatever you call it, we're officially a little more than a week into the season here in the Northern Hemisphere.  Some places are more autumnal; others are more fall-like.

To me, the season becomes "fall" when, well, the leaves change color and fall.  Normally, that wouldn't begin to happen in this part of the world for another week or so.  Weather forecasters, however, are saying the blaze of color will come later than normal this year because we have had a hot, dry summer and have had--so far--a warm, dry autumn.  

While riding today, I saw some signs of autumn, though not in foliage.  Rather, I felt the telltale nip in the air and noticed the light becoming more muted. Sooner or later we will be fall, complete with leaves that reflect the flaring and setting of the sun, something I look forward to as much as I await the blooming of cherry blossoms and lilacs at the beginning of spring.

For now, I will have to content myself with images like this, from a 2011 posting of Kansas Cyclist:

Coming Home To Another Fall Ride

Last week, during my trip to Montreal, I wrote about (among other things) the autumn light and air.  Well, today had a particularly autumnal feel--at least in part because the weather was colder than it's been in six months or so. When I was talking to my mother a little while ago, I joked that I brought the cold, and the season, back with me because I knew I wouldn't have any trouble getting them through US Customs!

Anyway, on a day so typical of this season, thoughts turn to foliage and red barns and such.  Well, the leaves are starting to turn brightly in local parks and fallen leaves stream along the curbs.  But there aren't a whole lot of red barns in this city.  However, in some neighborhoods--including my own--there are houses that provide a rather nice backdrop for the blaze of colors.

But I also figured that if I went a little north of the city, the colors would be even brighter and there would be an even better stage for them.  And Arielle, my Mercian Audax, was just begging to be ridden.  And I wanted to ride her.   The bike I rented in Montreal was actually pretty nice, but it still makes me appreciate Arielle--and my other Mercians--even more than I had before.

So, after pumping her tires and filling a water bottle, we were off to--you guessed it--Connecticut.

It was just past noon when I started riding, and I knew that it's starting to get dark around 6pm now.  Still, I figured, it would give me enough time to ride there, take in some autumn light and air in the Nutmeg State, and get home before dark.  Although I have lights, there are a couple of parts of the route I prefer not to ride in the dark.

I was riding against of the wind most of the way back--which meant, of course, that I was riding with it most of the way back.  The funny thing was that I didn't feel I was pedaling particularly hard on the way up, in spite of the wind that, at times, gusted to 35 KPH.  And I didn't think I was pedaling particularly fast on the way back.  Yet I made it back before sunset.

Really, I can't ask for more of a Sunday afternoon ride in the middle of October.  

When I got home, I felt invigorated, as I do after a good ride, but not tired.  I often feel that way after long rides on my Mercians, but especially Arielle.  Tomorrow, or some other time in the near future, I'll write about a possible reason.

Cycling In Autumn--Or Fall?

So...Is today the first day of "fall"?  Or is it the first day of "autumn"?

Whichever word you choose, it's the season that began this morning in this part of the world (i.e., the Northern Hemisphere). Most people use "Fall" most of the time.  I do, too, at least when I'm speaking.  Using "autumn" in most everyday speech sounds affected or like a translation from another language.  At least, that's how most English-speakers hear it, I think.

But each of those words has its purpose and flavor.  "Fall" is both visual and visceral:  You can picture leaves dropping from branches and feel the descent from the fulsomeness of summer.  "Autumn", on the other hand, has more of a melancholy feel to it:  You can hear the echo of sadness being born, of an ache that is just beginning to pulse.  "Fall" is what happens in parables and allegories; "autumn" is what reverberates through poems from poets as diverse as John Keats, Stephane Mallarme, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson and Edgar Allan Poe.

From Wheelsuckers (UK)

Today I discovered a very good reason why cyclists should say "autumn" instead of "fall". It's not that we need polysyllables to make ourselves look smart.  Rather, if you Google "cycling autumn", you will see images of people riding bikes along paths and roads ablaze with trees that have turned from green into the colors of the setting sun, as well as links to websites with information about rides in places like Vermont, where people are riding (or will soon ride) along those paths and roads.  You will also find advice on what to wear and eat, and reasons why cycling in autumn is so "awesome".  (The assonance of "autumn" and "awesome" alone is reason to ride this season!)

From Cycling across America

On the other hand, if you Google "cycling fall", you'll find some of those same images and websites. But you'll also see pictures of riders tumbling off their bikes and "worst bike crashes" videos.  You'll also find articles on how to prevent falls and the things that can happen to you if you do happen to take a spill while on two wheels.

Now you tell me:  Are you cycling in autumn, or fall?

 

Waiting For The Trails Ahead

Is this what awaits me this Fall

if, indeed, the Fall comes?  It was 29C (85F) this afternoon!

Concrete Sunset

On my way home from work, I took a detour through the Bronx.  As I've mentioned in previous posts, the borough offers some surprisingly interesting vistas--and short rides--not far from where I live.

And, as I've also mentioned in another post, one of my favorite quick getaways has become the Concrete Plant Park.  

 
All through the fall, and with the approach of winter, the park--and the stretch of the Bronx River that winds through it--remind me more and more of a New England mill town. 

Vera really seems to enjoy this sort of thing.

It could be that for a moment, she can imagine--as I do--that we are beside some old European canal or stream.

Even if we don't, there are still the colors of the sunset, which descends upon us early at this time of year.   

I hope that the city and state parks departments follow through on their announced plan to extend the riverside bike/pedestrian path up the length of the Bronx into Westchester County.

Late Fall Trail Ride

I was dragged kicking and screaming to the Internet.  Now look at me--I'm a blogger.  Still, I'm not a "first adapter" of technology:  I tend to stick with things that work for me until I have no other choice.

That means I probably won't ever ride with a webcam in my helmet.  Had such devices been available back in my off-road riding days--and I had been more of a technophile, I might have made a video like this:







Thanks to Ruben Guibert for this!

Views After My Commute

After I rode home from work, Vera and I were ready for a little more action and some visual stimulation.

So we climbed the stairs to the walkway/bike lane of the RFK/Triborough Bridge.  We could not have had a better view of Upper Astoria clothed in fall colors:

It's a New York view most people never see.  But, when I turned around, I encountered the sort of vista almost everyone expects late on a mid-autumn afternoon in the Big Apple:

Even the Hell Gate railroad trestle took on the hues of foliage reflected in the late-day sun:

Vera was being modest about helping to make this mini-revelry possible:

 

To A Virgin (Forest)

I went on a deep woods bike adventure today.

All right...I took a little spin after work to this place:

I wished I'd had my regular camera.  I did the best I could with my cell phone to capture the line of color on the rock ridge and its reflection in the water.

So where did I go?

My little jaunt took me to a virgin...OK, a virgin forest.  Where?

Would you believe Manhattan?  (You probably didn't believe there was a virgin anything there.)  Yes, at the very northern tip of the island, there's a wooded area in Inwood Hill Park where trees have never been cut or planted.  Take away the Henry Hudson Parkway bridge and the nearby buildings, and it's more or less the way it was when Peter Stuyvesant landed there.

I think it's one of those places best seen at this time of year.

 

Autumn Morning Mist In New York

So far, this has been quite a mild Fall, at least here in New York.  While the weather has been great for riding, there's one thing I'm not crazy about:  The days are getting shorter.

Here is a view from the RFK-Triborough Bridge, looking toward Manhattan, just before seven this morning:

I enjoy the mist, especially the way it's pulled across the pillars and posts of steel and and slabs of concrete, as some are trying to get a few more moments of sleep.

But, of course, if you're trying to get a few more moments of sleep, you won't.  So it is morning for you, even if the light hasn't caught up, and won't for a few more months.l
 

Autumn Dream Ride

For me, one of the worst things about having worked in education for so long is that I've done much less autumn riding than I'd like.  If I had my way, I'd take an extended cycling vacation around this time of year.  For one thing, I love the weather and foliage.  For another, it's much less expensive to go to most places at this time of year than it is in summer.  

If I could take off for a week or two, I probably would do this guy's ride:

He's in Cotswalds, England.  I mean, for someone who rides Mercian bikes with Brooks saddles, what could be a better fall ride?  About the only other places where I'd like to spend October as much as I would in that part of England are the Vosges, Vermont and, perhaps, Maine or Quebec.

Sigh... 

(Both photos are from cyclinginfouk.co.com.

Indian Summer Bike Parking

Some would have considered today's weather perfect for cycling:  The air was warm and the sky was clear.  Myself, I prefer it to be a tad cooler, but it was fine.  

When I was growing up, people called such weather at this time of year "Indian Summer."  Does anybody still use that term?  I don't, mainly because when I hear "Indian" these days, I think of someone from the South Asian subcontinent. I've never been there, but somehow I have a hard time associating any but the hottest and most humid New York weather with that part of the world.

Anyway, lots of people were riding today. I rode to work and, afterward, to my doctor's office, where I had blood drawn.  

I started going to that doctor in the fall of 2002.  For my first few visits, my bike was the only one parked in front of the office.  More recently, I would see one or two other bikes whenever I parked.  But, today I was greeted with this:

  
I am sorry for the less-than-stellar quality of the photo, which I took with my cell phone.  But I think you can see that the scaffolding in front of the building is lined with bikes, and nearly any other space that can be used to lock a bike has been taken.

Whenever I encourage people to ride to work or for errands, I tell them they "don't have to worry about finding a parking spot".  It looks like I might have to re-think that claim!

Lone Star Fall Cycling

If you've been following this blog for a while, you know that I will use the flimsiest of excuses to turn a post into a forum for an image I happen to like.

So, be forewarned:  That is exactly what I am about to do!

I wanted to take some good photos of fall cycling.  The weather has been right but, alas, in these parts (Has anyone else ever used "alas" and "in these parts" together?) the leaves haven't begun to change color.  As I don't anticipate a trip to Vermont in the next couple of weeks, I'll have to wait, I guess, to ride through a blaze of color.

So I went looking for images of fall cycling on the web.  As they say in the old movies, looky here at what I found:

From Fort Worth Bike Sharing

Folks like me always think of northern climes when it comes to fall foliage.  However, we musn't forget that points south and west also have autumnal vistas, and sunsets to go with them.

Plus, in the process of finding this image, I found out that Fort Worth has a bike share program.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised. As for cycling in that part of the Lone Star State, I imagine fall would be the best time: I simply cannot imagine riding through their summers!

The Season Changes And Everything's Right Again--For Now

 It just figures:  As soon as my by started functioning again, my computer stopped. 

What that's meant is that the other day, I did my first 100K+ ride in more than a month.  And I had near-prefect conditions for riding--but not for posting on this blog!

Anyway, it felt like my first fall ride. I know that it was, according to the calendar.  But everything about the sea, sky and their light made it seem, in the most sensual ways, that the season had indeed changed.

The sky,  though overcast, brought  no real threat of rain.  Rather, it spread like a quilt made of leaves grown sere if not heavy over a skin that has darkened as it remained translucent. Perhaps it is the reason why I felt comforted, but not tired, by the time I got to Point Lookout, even though I'd been pedaling into the wind and, as I mentioned, I hadn't taken a long (or even longish) ride in some time.

Riding home with the wind made me feel as if I were bringing the power of the muted and diffuse, though not dim, light the sea and sky spread with the new season.