A Great Ride, "In Spite Of"

Sometimes we say that a ride was good or great "in spite of"...the rain...the wind...the cloud cover...the traffic...the flat or mechanical malfunction...the fill-in-the-blank.

Yesterday's ride was one of those rides.   I didn't experience any disasters or mishaps.  And while the temperature reached 28C (82F) in the middle of the afternoon, it never seemed that warm.  Heavy rains the other night dissipated the humidity, and the bright sunshine forecast for the day was muted, at various times, by a scrim--sometimes a curtain--of clouds.  As much as I love sunshine, I appreciate such movements of clouds, especially when they don't bring any threat of rain with them.   After all, one thing cycling--or anything else--will never cure is my, ahem, melanin deficiency!

Image by John Hart.  From the Centre for Sports Engineering Research at Sheffield Hallam University (UK).

Anyway...the one complaint I could have made was the wind.  In that regard, this year has been very strange:  March, supposedly the windiest month, didn't seem particularly so, but every month since then has brought us more steady streams, and even gusts, than the one before.

And so it was yesterday.  I decided to take, intead of an "out and back" ride, one in which the route away from home would be different from the one that brought me back.  It wasn't quite a circular ride:  If anything, if I were to draw it on a map, it would probably be shaped more like an almond or an eye socket.

That was interesting and rewarding.  And, for most of the way out, I pedaled against the wind, sometimes gusting to 50 KPH (30 MPH).  Normally, I don't mind that, for it means--in most circumstances--that I would have the wind at my back on the way home.

Except that it didn't happen that way.  You guessed it:  I spent most of the trip home pedaling into wind just as strong as what I encountered on the way out.  I know that sometimes the wind shifts direction during the course of the day.  I also know that in particular locations, even ones only an hour's bike ride apart, the wind can blow in a different direction.  (Believe it or not, in the NYC Metro area, we have micro-climates, even within Manhattan!)  So, the plan of riding into the wind so you can let it carry you home works, except when it doesn't.

Arielle

But I didn't mind.  All told, I rode about 130 kilometers (80 miles) on Arielle, my Mercian Audax.  With a name like that, you know she rides like the wind!  Now you know why I had a great ride, "in spite of"!

Defining The Season

What's the difference between a late winter and an early spring ride?

Since it's not yet April Fool's Day, this is not a joke.  However, you are free to leave humorous comments.

Here in the Northern Hemisphere, it's been Spring--at least officially--for a bit more than a week.  Some places have had the kind of weather we normally associate with spring for days, or even weeks.  Other places, like Florida, have already had summer-like (at least by the standards of NYC) conditions, if only for a day here and a day there.  On the other hand, there are places like northern New England, much of Canada and the Rockies, where snow still covers the ground.

So what, exactly, makes a ride early spring rather than late winter?  One factor might be the amount of daylight:  There's noticeably more of it than there was even a week or two ago.  And, since Daylight Savings Time began three weeks ago, that daylight (sometimes a gray pallor) lasts to 19h (7:00 pm) or even later.  Of course, the day has begun later, but soon we will have early dawns to go with our late dusks.

That's a fair measure of the seasons.  But the further north one goes in this hemisphere, the more daylight there is.  (Conversely,there is less of it during the fall and winter.) And some of those places are even more packed in snow and ice than this area was after even a series of snowstorms.  For those who are accustomed to such conditions and have studded tires, that might not be such an important factor.  But even such cyclists--some, anyway--do not ride in such conditions.

That brings me to yet another factor in differentiating the seasons:  The number of fellow riders you see on the road or trail. When I rode to Rockaway Beach three weeks ago, I didn't see any other cyclists. Ditto for the ride I took through the Bronx and Westchester a week after that.  But yesterday, I saw dozens of other riders on the bike path that wends its way along the Brooklyn waterfront.  Then again, once I got to the cobblestoned streets around Bush Terminal--deserted on a Sunday--I had them all to myself.  If I go there in a couple of weeks, I'll probably see other riders, though not nearly as many as one encounters on the Kent Street path.

By that standard, the ride I took yesterday was definitely Early Spring, even if the temperature barely broke the freezing mark and the wind whipped against our jackets.

Turning Back The Calendar

The clock’s been turned back.  Or, more precisely, the calendar:  a month or so, it seems.  At least, one could reach such a conclusion after the kind of weather we’ve been having in this part of the world.

It was as warmer, yesterday, than it was on most days during the past summer.  Perhaps it doesn’t exactly qualify as “Indian summer”:  Autumn began, officially, only four days ago, and the temperature reached 27C (80F).  That says more about how mild the summer was than how much like a momentary heat wave (Is that a contradiction in terms?) the day felt.

At least it was sunny and the sky wore a hue even more turquoise than a pendant I wore when I was in college. (It was actually a lovely piece, if a bit out of fashion at the time.)  Having nothing work-related to do (i.e., I was procrastinating) yesterday afternoon, it was a perfect day to ride.  So what did I do?  I took Arielle for a spin to Point Lookout.

Actually, I had one other motive besides the pure joy of riding Arielle. (What else can you expect from a well-tuned Mercian?). You see, last year or in some previous year, I saw a swarm of monarch butterflies alight from the bushes near the ballfield on the Point.  It was as if a massive cloud of black and gold rose and lifted itself to the heavens and took a right turn just before some pearly gate.

Those monarchs (who really deserve their name, in my opinion) had completed about a quarter or a fifth of their journey, which had begun about a month earlier in Newfoundland or somewhere else in the Great North and would land them in South America in time for Christmas.

As I recall, I saw that great mass of flight right about this time of year:  during the earliest days of Fall.   In purely logical terms, it made sense to hope for such a sight as greeted me on a ride taken on the same spot of a previous year’s calendar. 

Now, some would say that my problem was putting hope and logic in the same sentence, as it were.  By now, you’ve guessed what happened:  I didn’t see my flight of monarchs.  (“My flight of monarchs”:  If that doesn’t betray a sense of entitlement, I don’t know what does.)  I didn’t express my disappointment to the ones who greeted me when I arrived in time for the receding tide:

I guess this avian creature in particular has his/her (Can’t be sexist, can I?) own kind of majesty, or at least imperialness:

All right, I’m not complaining—at least, not much.  Seeing birds colored in the foam the tides leave skipping from rock to rock or resting on a sandbar has its own kind of grandeur, one borne in serenity.  And, of course, I had a great ride on Arielle.

An Ideal Ride, Almost

Many cyclists have their own, very particular definitions of the "perfect" conditions for a bike ride.

Me, I don't have one scenario for the ideal ride.  Rather, I have a few different visions of the best conditions for a day of pedaling.

One of them came true today.  The temperature was neither too warm nor too cool:  For most of my ride, they hovered between 21 and 25C (70 to 77F).  They started as the former and rose to the latter before dropping back as I approached the Atlantic shoreline.  Further inland, the temperature rose to 30C (86F), according to the weather reports I saw. But I was spared that.

But even more important were the sky and light.  The sun shone, mostly through a filter of puffy clouds that did not threaten rain.  So I enjoyed the benefit of bright light without having the sun beating directly on me as it did during my Somerville ride on Memorial Day.

Plus, I encountered relatively light traffic.  I figured I would, which is one of the reasons I decided to do another Point Lookout ride today.  Tomorrow, the weather is expected to be the same, maybe a degree or two warmer.  Because it will be a Saturday, throngs of people will flock to anyplace with a beach.  But today I didn't have to be around them:  Long stretches of sun, sand and waves were almost entirely mine!

The only "smudge", if you will, in this picture was the wind.  It's not that I'm wind-adverse.  Rather, I found myself riding with the wind on the way out, but I had to buck it on the way back.  Like most cyclists, I prefer the opposite.  But I won't complain:  Everything else, including Tosca, was Ideal.  And any day I can ride is a blessing.

The Hills, The Wind Or The Cold: Why Do (Or Don't) People Ride?

In recent posts, I’ve noted that I’ve seen few—sometimes no—bike riders who weren’t making deliveries.  If you thought it was just a way of saying that I wasn’t riding, I won’t try to dissuade you from such a perception.

For much of the past couple of weeks, conditions on many New York City streets were simply dangerous for any wheeled vehicle.  There was ice everywhere and the effective width of some streets was cut, sometimes in half, by the piled-up snow and ice.

The last couple of weeks is the longest stretch I’ve spent off my bike since I was recovering from surgery four years ago.  A lot of other cyclists can probably make a similar claim.

That got me to thinking about the difference between weather and climate, and about terrain. 

In most places, there is seasonal variation in the number of people who ride bicycles, whether to commute, shop, race or simply for fun.  Put simply, fewer people ride when it’s cold and/or wet.

However, the places where the greatest number of people ride regularly are not necessarily the ones that have the most days of sunshine or the warmest winters every year.  Here in the United States, we see more cycling in New England than in the South, more riders in New York, Boston—or, of course, Portland-- than, say, in Miami, Tampa or Albuquerque.  In Europe, the most cycling-intensive and –friendly cities are found in the north—Amsterdam and Copenhagen immediately come to mind---rather than in Greece or even Italy.  And there are, from what I’ve seen, there are fewer everyday riders in Rome or Madrid than in rainier and cooler London and Paris.

From SFGate

As for terrain:  When I was in Prague, a few locals confirmed my impression that a cycling culture was just beginning there and that, while cyclists in the Czech capital are committed and enthusiastic, it will be a while before they have the kind of infrastructure—in terms of human and informational as well as physical resources—bikers in Berlin (the example they most cited) enjoy.  One reason, according to those Prague pedalers, is that the city is hillier than most others in Europe. 

That reason seems plausible enough:  A lot of people would indeed be deterred from cycling if they have to climb a steep hill to get wherever they’re going.  That would also partly explain the fact that I saw so few cyclists when I was in Istanbul a few years ago.  (In the former Ottoman capital, there are also cultural factors that would discourage cycling.)  On the other hand, San Francisco—one of the most vertical cities in the world-- has had a community and culture of cycling for much longer than most other places in the United States, including such pancake-flat places as Kansas.

(It occurs to me now that San Francisco’s street grid simply makes no sense in such a hilly place, but it would be perfectly suited for most towns in the Great Plains.)

So I wonder:  Why is it that, discounting for seasonal differences, places with less-favorable climates and terrains develop vibrant cycling cultures while seemingly-ideal places don’t?

Another Bike To Work Month

Here in New York--as in other places--May is Bike Commuting Month.  And Bike to Work Week takes place during that month.

It makes sense:  In any given year, May is the first month with long stretches of weather most people find favorable for cycling.  Those who don't commute (or do any other cycling) during the winter usually resume pedaling in later March or April, but the weather is very chancy and people are as likely to ride a day here, a day there.

I have argued that there should be two Bike Commuting Months--one in Spring, the other in Fall.  If May is a good time for the former, I think the latter should be in October.  There might be a day or two of "Indian Summer", as we've just had, but the oppressive heat and humidity of summer are past.  On the other hand, it's rare to experience sub-freezing temperatures, even at the end of the month.  And, Interestingly, October is typically the driest month. 

http://www.atlantaintownpaper.com/2013/10/bike-work-challenge-october-long/

Now I've learned that in at least one city--namely, Atlanta--this is Bike Commuting Month.  It looks like the folks in the capital of the Peachtree State have some pretty ambitious plans for, as the month's organizers say, getting folks to trade steering wheels for handlebars'".

A Sign On A Nearly Perfect Day

We know we're committed to something (or someone) when an absolutely normal, routine day of it is utterly satisfying.


Today was such a day.  I didn't take a long ride:  Just enough to meet my friend Bruce, whom I hadn't seen in months, for lunch and to wander some side streets of the East and West Villages in Manhattan.  


I'll admit, though, the weather was glorious:  warm, but not overly so, and sunny, with a few clouds and moderate humidity.  


The ride itself was its own reward.  But even if such hadn't been the case, the ride would have been worth it for this:

His sign reads:  "Keepin' It Real.  I Need Weed.  Spare $1.00. Respect the (I couldn't read the last word.)"  


It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't actually smoke weed.  Actually, I hope that's the case, if only because it would show that the man has a talent.  Perhaps one day he will be able to use it, and won't need to stand with a sign like that.


Then, hopefully, he'll make some other cyclist's--or someone else's day.  It might even be on a day like today.