The other morning, I woke up early and wasted little time in getting in the saddle. I figured that if I got home by noon--which I did--I could beat the worst of the heat and humidity predicted for the day.
The weather reports also said there could be heavy fog and mist in coastal areas--where, of course, I planned to ride. Specifically, I headed for Point Lookout because I enjoy the ride and because it's 125 kilometers: not a bad before-lunch total.
I knew about the construction at PL, but I didn't mind: I knew that, as the name implied, there would still be something worth looking out at. And I figured the mist and fog would make it seem even more littoral.
That they did. But the only problem was that I couldn't see anything at all, besides machinery, at Point Lookout.
Should it have been renamed, if only for the day?
Yesterday I pedaled into a parallel universe.
All right...You might think Florida--or anything south of the Potomac, for that matter--is a different world if you come from anyplace north of it. You would not be wrong. But I am not talking about culture, politics or even climate. Rather, I mean a waterway that, for about 5000 kilometers, runs as close to the Atlantic Ocean as it can without actually being the Atlantic.
I am talking about the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, which runs just inland of the Atlantic Ocean all the way from Boston to the tip of Florida. The purpose of it was to provide navigable waterways for shipping along the Atlantic Coast without having to deal with the hazards of the ocean.
One hardly thinks about the AIW in Massachusetts or New York or New Jersey because it's known by other names. Actually, in those states, it's a series of rivers, bays and other bodies of water linked by canals.
The stretch I rode yesterday is one of those canals. It hooks up with the Halifax River to the south. Its shoreline is dotted with gazebos on piers: the sort of thing one envisions when thinking about life in Florida.
The weather, however, was another story--overcast, which I didn't mind, but colder than yesterday and colder by the end of the ride than at the beginning. And windy, again. I was reminded of why I don't have kickstands on my own bikes: Using the one on the bike I rode today virtually guaranteed that it would be toppled. Such falls wouldn't damage the bike; still, I laid the bike on the ground when I stopped, figuring that I would have had to pick it up anyway if I stood it up.
One interesting feature of the trails that line the Intracoastal Waterway, and connect it to several parks, are bike maintenance stations operated by the city of Palm Coast and local businesses.
They include small tools such as screwdrivers, adjustable wrenches and tire levers attached to cords, and a tire pump.
I actually rode a technical section of a mountain bike trail near Herschel King Park (one of my favorites in this area). And, no, I didn't need those tools--or anything to repair my body!
Sometimes the weather forecasters like to scare us. Or so it seems. Today, they gave us dire warnings of "possible" or "likely" thunderstorms this afternoon.
Whatever they were trying to accomplish, their admonitions worked for me. I got out nice and early for a ride today--on Arielle. She seemed as happy as I was: Even when I pedaled into the wind--as I did for about half of my 125-kilometer ride--she just kept on going. And I felt that I could, too.
In fact, when a very light rain sprinkled the streets, sand and stones of Point Lookout, I wanted to ride even more. Rain on a warm day can sometimes has that effect on me. The precipitation, though, didn't last as long as the cup of coffee I drank at the Point.
The clouds looked more ominous than they actually are--at least to me, or anyone else who is familiar with the weather patterns. The tides swelled, but the clouds were moving south and east--in other words, out to the sea whose waves were growing.
In contrast to yesterday's ride to Connecticut, the trek to the Point is flat, which may be a reason why it seemed so easy. In fact, my round-trip didn't took four hours, and I wasn't even trying to "make time"--and I took a slightly longer-than-normal route from Forest Park back to my apartment.
By the time I got home, though, I did make time for a nice long European-style lunch: a cod fillet I poached with mushrooms and onions I sauteed, along with a simple salad of Boston lettuce, sliced carrots and beets pickled with dill in Balsmic vinegar. I washed it all down with a small wedge of Mimolette: a reddish-orange French cheese that looks and tastes oddly, though pleasantly, like butterscotch. If that doesn't make it a dessert cheese, I don't know what does.
Yes, Max and Marlee got small pieces of cod, too. I'm not cruel enough to make them watch me while I eat food they'd love without sharing some with them. Of course, I held the onions, mushrooms and everything else!
I didn't have to go to work today. I got to ride and have a nice meal, if I do say so myself. I had the company of two cats. And I'm going to do some more writing after I finish this post. Am I privileged, or what?
(I apologize for the photos, which I took with my cheapo cell phone!)
Many years ago, I read a tale--Japanese, if I recall correctly--about a young boy who is infected with terrible disease that will eventually kill him. The really cruel part of his fate, however, is that he will grow more beautiful--and seem healthier--the closer he comes to his death. So, of course, his parents cannot revel in the radiance of his youth, and nobody can understand why they are so sad.
Why was I thinking about that story today? Well, Hurricane/Tropical Storm/Tropical Cyclone Hermine was supposed to strike some time this afternoon. So, after gulping down some green tea, Greek yogurt (from Kesso's , of course) with bananas and almonds, I got out for a ride this morning. I figured I could get in a couple of hours of spinning, which would be a sort of wind-down from yesterday's ride.
The morning started off partly cloudy/partly sunny, just as the forecast promised. The temperature was quite agreeable--19C (66F) when I started. And the wind, while more brisk than what I encountered yesterday, was not an impediment to riding, even though I pedaled into it as I started down my street.
Anyway, I pedaled in the direction of Rockaway Beach, even though the ride I took yesterday included it. I chose the ride because it's a good, safe bet for two to three hour round trip, depending on what conditions I encounter and how long I want to linger at the beach. Also, I figured I could see the tides swelling, churned by the storm off the coast.
Well, the tides did grow--or at least seemed to--from yesterday, and during the time I was there today. Still, some surfers and a few swimmers dared them, the Mayor's warning against rip tides and other dangerous conditions be damned. I must admit, I was tempted to run into the water, if only for a moment.
It was easy to understand why people were in the water, on the beach and strolling, cycling and skating along the boardwalk: The sun threw off its shackles (some of them, anyway) and shone ever more brightly through the morning. Even as the sea grew more turbulent, it reflected the luminosity of the orb that seemed to fill more and more of the sky.
So, I continued along the boardwalk and Rockaway Boulevard to Riis Park and Fort Tilden, the tides rising higher and the sun shining brighter along the way. I could even forget that at this spot
a dune once stood, until Superstorm Sandy swept it away four years ago.
After crossing the Gil Hodges/Veterans Memorial Bridge, I took a turn I didn't take yesterday, through Floyd Bennett Field and onto the path to Canarsie Pier. I wasn't at all surprised to see it ringed with men, most of them from the Caribbean, fishing. I haven't cast a line in years, but I recall that some of the best fishing comes right before a storm.
Then I retraced my steps (tire tracks?) along that path back to Flatbush Avenue, where I crossed and continued along the Greenway that winds along the South Shore of Brooklyn to Sheepshead Bay, then to Coney Island.
And the day grew brighter and more beautiful. I kept on riding but couldn't help but to wonder about the storm. Maybe it won't come this way after all, I thought. Or maybe it will strike later. If it does, will it unleash even more power and fury than it otherwise would have?
By the time I wheeled my bike into my apartment, the sky was completely blue--or, at least, as clear as we can see it in New York. The sun glinted off my windows. I turned on the radio, just in time for another weather forecast: Hermine will come tomorrow. Maybe. Until then, we can expect clear skies.
Today I was asked to go to a function where I really didn't have to be. I never exactly said "no," but I didn't commit to it, either. So, if anyone notices I wasn't there (There's a good chance nobody will!), I can say that "something came up."
Which it did. That "something", of course, is a ride. When I left my apartment just after noon with Arielle, scarcely a cloud besmudged the blue, sunny sky. A strong breeze bent tree limbs and flickered leaves. But the weather was just warm enough that the breeze invigorated me.
Given that it was such a lovely day, I figured I could ride to Point Lookout and be home around the time of the end-of-day traffic filled the roads. It was a good plan, but not necessarily for the reasons I planned.
We all know that when you pedal into a breeze, it turns into a wind. And when you pedal into a wind, it turns into a gale. Someone told me that once. That person, once again, was right. But I didn't care: I just wanted to ride.
Then, as I pushed through Howard Beach and along the roads and bridges to the Rockaways, clouds gathered. By the time I got to the Rockaway Beach boardwalk, the skies were overcast. Even though they grew grayer and more opaque, they never really darkened. So, I knew there was no real threat of rain.
But by the time I got to Point Lookout, I felt I was looking at what Andrew Wyeth might have painted had he lived in a coastal town:
Still, the ride was more than pleasant and, surprisingly, didn't take much longer than it normally did. I also wasn't tired.
The upside to pedaling in the wind, of course, is that when you turn around, it's at your back. Arielle really lived up to her name: I felt like I was floating over the roads through Lido Beach, Long Beach and Atlantic Beach, and over the bridge to Far Rockaway. Even when riding the boardwalk, I felt like I was on a magic carpet powered by Eddie Mercx, Jeanne Longo and a Russian sprinter or two.
Things probably never would have gone so smoothly had I attended that function I really didn't have to attend!
