To Fall!

Today the autumnal equinox arrives at 4:02 pm EDT.

I'll be on my bike by then.  In fact, I might have even finished my ride.

I haven't decided where I'm riding.  Then again, apart from the usual changes (Is that phrase an oxymoron?)--you know, the shorter days and the changing colors of the leaves--we never really know what a new season will bring, do we?

From Treehugger

For that matter, you or I can take a ride we've taken dozens or even hundreds of times before.  We know the way; we know the terrain and the road conditions.  But we don't always know what lies ahead on any given day, on any given ride.

Out for a ride. On to a new season.

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.

Not The Five Boro Bike Tour

Everyone who knows I’m a cyclist, but isn’t one him- or herself, is going to ask whether I did the Five Boro Bike Tour.  The answer is “no”.

I am happy for those who did.  I simply don’t want to ride in such a mass of people, some of whom have no idea of how to ride in groups.  Also, I don’t want to be stuck on Staten Island for three hours, waiting to get on the Ferry. That happened the last time I rode the 5BBT.

Plus, I’m cheap.  I don’t want to spend $25 on a one-day ride, even if there’s a T-shirt at the end of it. 

Finally, I did fourteen of the first twenty 5BBTs, twelve as a rider and two as a  marshal.  There just isn’t any sense of discovery for me when I do the ride, which takes basically the same route every year.

I did, however, go on a ride.  As I did yesterday, I decided on a bike before I decided on a ride.  In this case, I took Vera—my green Miss Mercian mixte—out on another gorgeous day.  The weather was much like yesterday, but a bit warmer.  So I wore one less layer and used more sunscreen.

Vera, like Arielle, didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t have a planned itinerary.  She took me through on a journey through a place that showed no sign of the changing season, and another that couldn’t help but to remind one of the fact that today was one of the first warm days of the year.

Passing Forest Park and rolling down Woodhaven Boulevard as it turned onto Beach Channel Drive, I could have been on my way to the Rockaways again.  Much as I enjoy riding there, Vera wasn’t about to take me there, and I was happy for that.  

We detoured through the western side of Howard Beach,where tidal marshes stand between Jamaica Bay and 78^th Street.  The reeds look the way they did during the winter, the fall and the previous summer and spring.  They don’t even seem to have been affected by Superstorm Sandy—or a fire that raged a few months later.  

From there, I picked up the bike trail along Shore Parkway to the Canarsie Pier, where it seemed every male from the surrounding neighborhoods was fishing.

Then I continued along the Shore Parkway path.  Traffic along the highway was, by that time, at a near-standstill in both directions.  Some of the vehicles had bikes attached to them, but I suspect some were on the way to the piers, the beaches or any number of outdoor spaces.

Next stop:  Coney Island.  It simply wasn’t possible to ride the boardwalk because it was so crowded.  It was like the Fourth of July, except that nobody was swimming.  Although the ocean is warming, it’s still only about 10 degrees C (50F):  too cold for most people.  Lots of folks were walking, playing volleyball, building sandcastles or simply hanging out in the sand. Even Hasidic Jewish girls were taking off their shoes and treading the sand in their heavily-stockinged feet.

Up to that time, the wind had been blowing at or beside me.  That meant, of course, I’d have the wind at my back for a  good part of the ride home.  Even with all of its cracks and potholes, the ride up the Ocean Parkway bridle path  and past Prospect Park and the Williamsburg waterfront went quickly.  

So…I had two great days and two great rides on two great bikes.  I could hardly ask for more.

I PIcked The Bike And The Ride Followed

Mark Twain once said that if the world is coming to an end, go to Cincinnati.  Why?  Because, he explained, in the Queen City everything happens ten years later.

By that logic, if the apocalypse is supposed to happen this year, it will be delayed by a month.  Here we are at the beginning of May and the cherry blossoms have blossomed and tulips and other flowers are just starting to open.  Those spectacles usually delight us—at least in this part of the world—during the first week or two of April.

I’ll take them whenever they come.  So I was happy to see them today.  And the weather was delightful, almost exactly what it normally is at this time of year.  Scrims of high clouds floated like veils shed during a dance from a clear blue sky to reveal a sun just bright enough to waken all of the colors, all of the lives.  The wind, while brisk, didn’t bring a chill to the crisp spring air.

Can you ask for better riding conditions?  Well, all right, that depends on what you prefer.  But even those who like winter best of all seasons have said it—or, more specifically, this one—seemed as if it wouldn’t end.

So I knew I was going riding.  The funny thing is, I decided on which bike I would ride before I chose a route.  Somehow I simply could not keep myself away from Arielle, my Mercian Audax Special.  All right, I didn’t try.  The point is, I knew, practically from the moment I woke up, that I would ride Arielle today.

I found myself pedaling in the direction of—then crossing—the Queens spur of the RFK/Triboro Bridge.   That brought me to Randall’s Island, from which I could go to the Bronx or Harlem.  Either would offer me a number of possibilities.

The Bronx it was.  I pedaled to the north and east, along the Bronx and Hutchinson Rivers, toward Throgs Neck and City Island.  From there, I rode a path past horse stables, a golf course and the woods and marshlands that rim Long Island Sound.  It’s difficult to remember you’re in the Bronx, and if you follow the path, before long, you’re not.  

This house is in Pelham Bay Manor, just over the city line.  It’s not really unusual for that town.  However, I saw something interesting next to it:  a sign for the East Coast Greenway.  I followed parts of it through Westchester County.  Most of it is quiet pre-existing secondary roads, some in residential areas.  I don’t know how much of it is complete, as I followed it and seemed to lose it for a time, only to pick it up again unexpectedly.

I didn’t mind, really.  I didn’t encounter much traffic, even on the brief stretch of Route 1 where I wheeled beside the Mamaroneck Marina.  Everywhere I pedaled, the riding was great and people were lovely.  Even the drivers seemed more patient than usual.

Arielle took me to Connecticut—to the parks, the strip of high-end boutiques and harbor of Greenwich, to be specific.  I hadn’t ridden to the Constitution State since last year, at least.  The one difficult part of the ride came as soon as I crossed the state line, where a hill begins.  It’s not particularly long or steep, but it appears abruptly.  I managed it, but it showed me how little riding I’d done during the winter—and how flat my recent rides had been.

Then I pedaled home—into the wind.  I probably should have shifted into lower gears than I did, but I managed to keep on riding at a decent pace.  When I got home, I’d done my longest ride of the year, so far:  115km (72 miles).  It’s also my fourth 100km ride this year.  Hopefully, I’ll soon be doing more and even longer rides—or, at least, will be in something like the condition I was starting to get myself into last year.