Another Ride: Another View Of The Season

Today was almost as unseasonably warm as yesterday was.  Somehow, though, it looked more like a day of this time of year, which can't be called "fall" because almost everything that is supposed to fall has already fallen.  The season is tipping toward winter.  The sky reflected it.

Yesterday, I saw lots of bare trees and sunshine.  Today, though, a curtain of thick gray clouds filled the sky and the air with the kind of shadowy light that induces a "long winter's nap".  And the bay and ocean, even during high tide, seemed as listless, almost as drowsy, as the sky they reflected.

Oddly, though, that light and air energized me.  I felt as full of verve, and my bike felt as lively under me, as on yesterday's ride.  Perhaps feeling good was making me feel good:  Even after a 140 kilometer (85 mile) ride that included some hills and a headwind most of the way to Connecticut on yesterday's ride--and cleaning my apartment afterward-- I felt as if I could have ridden forever.  

I didn't do that.  I did, however, ride 105 kilometers (65 miles) on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike.  Granted, it was a flat ride.  But I was riding into a stiffer headwind on my way out--to Point Lookout--than I encountered yesterday.  That meant, of course, that my tailwind was also stronger on my way home.

Today I encountered almost no traffic for long stretches of Beach Channel and the Rockaway Peninsula and the south shore of Nassau County.  Part of the reason for that, of course, is that people aren't going to the beach.  But it seemed that even fishermen and surfers stayed home today.  And, even along the commercial strips of Cross Bay Boulevard and by the mini-mall in Long Beach, I didn't see as many motorized vehicles as I would expect to see on a Saturday.  Maybe people haven't begun their holiday shopping.  

Not that I minded seeing so little traffic, of course.  Or even the gray skies:  It framed both the bare trees and the bushes still sprouting their flowers and fruits with a kind of austere beauty different from what yesterday's clear skies and sunshine highlighted.  

Two days, two rides that made me happy.  On two different bikes through two different kinds of landscapes.  Autumn might be falling into winter--and we've had the worst election I can remember--but I am still blessed.

Seeing Them Again

Days like today induce cognitive dissonance.  The temperature would have been right a month or more ago: about 17C (64F).  Not that I was complaining:  of course I went for a ride.  

What I saw, though, reminded me that fall is tipping toward winter.   Not that I was complaining about that, either:  Some of the sights were quite lovely in sensual as well as more austere ways.

I pedaled to Connecticut, for the 20th time this year.  There, the signs that fall is leaving us were even more visible.  

This memorial to Greenwich residents who died in World War II, Korea and Vietnam seems even more like a memorial with the bare trees behind it than it does during the spring or summer, when everything is budding or in bloom, or during early or mid-fall.  I am willing to visit such monuments, not to celebrate victories, actual or perceived heroism or other exploits, but to remember what a tragedy it is that people die--and others' lives are ruined--over conflicts that are never resolved, no matter how many young people sacrifice themselves to the siren call that echoes Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. 

Anyway, my ride was most satisfying.  It might be the last Connecticut ride I take this season.  If it turns out to be so, I would be satisfied:  I felt good, and the bike--Arielle, my Mercian Audax--glided over the roads and paths.  

While I was sitting by the memorial, a woman walking by stopped to admire my bike.  Then she got a glimpse of me. Omigod, how are you doing?   She was a student of mine last year; now she is working, ironically, at Greenwich Hospital.   And, near the end of my ride, I got a glimpse of a young guy who, it turned out, is a current student of mine.  It took a moment for us to recognize each other because, I guess, we were "out of context".  I was not in the sort of clothes I wear to work, and he had shaved his goatee since I last saw him--yesterday.

Funny thing is, I chastised him last week about something.  I never had to do that to the my former student whom I saw today in Connecticut. But they were both happy to see me, I think.  Maybe it's because I was having such a good ride.

Fall, And What I Needed

Some have called last night's debate "depressing".  

I was too much in shock to be depressed.  The last time I felt that way about an event in which I was not personally involved was on 11 September 2001. 

Like many other people here in New York, I was stunned for days, for weeks, afterward.  Then came grief, a sense of loss:  Even though I didn't lose anyone I knew in the events of that day, I felt a sense of loss.  When a complete stranger cried on my shoulder, I held her until she got off the bus we were riding.  We didn't speak and I never saw her again. Each of us understood, I believe, and gave each other what we needed in that moment.  

I had not thought about that encounter in years, until now.  Some have seen that time as a kind of Fall, when this country lost its collective innocence.  The days and weeks that followed--which, as I recall, were unusually warm for the time of year--did not feel autumnal.  

The holidays, like the days that preceded and followed them, passed through a kind of gray storm in which needles of ice rained down even on the clearest of days.  Those first glacial spears stung; the ones that followed stunned; after that, I was too numb to feel the rest, for a long time.

There may have been a Fall that year.  But the season that followed did not feel Autumnal:  that October and November felt just like the following January and February, in no small part because those months were--up to that time--the warmest winter months this city had experienced.

Today, in contrast, felt exactly the way some of us might have, at some time in our lives, expected a day from this time of year to feel.  Today began overcast but turned, rather quickly, into an afternoon with a blue sky lit by intense sunlight that hinted at the sunset that would tinge the horizon a few hours later.  The morning's chill had, by that time, turned into a nip.

In other words, it felt like the Fall day it is.  It was that day when one realizes that the season is well underway:  It's no longer possible to say that summer has just passed, but winter, though everyone knows it will come, does not yet seem imminent.  

Fewer cars and taxis and buses plied the street on which I live, or the avenue around the corner or the other streets that branched from it, than one sees on a typical Monday.  The reason, of course, is that today is a holiday (as I like to say, for a guy who got lost):  the one that always seems, to me, the one that signals that it is indeed Fall.

On this holiday last year, I was in Montreal, where--ironically--it was warmer, more like a September day here in New York and the leaves of the iconic maple trees that line the city's streets blazed in the sun.  Montrealers, like other Canadians, don't celebrate Columbus Day.  Rather, the second Monday of October is, for them, Thanksgiving Day.   I certainly was thankful for having such a wonderful day to ride and interesting places to explore.  

I had those things, today, too.  So of course I went for a ride.  I didn't plan anything, not even which of my bikes I rode.  As it turned out, I took Tosca, my fixed gear Mercian, for a spin.  Perhaps I chose her because, somehow, I knew--my body knew--that I needed to keep my feet spinning.  But I was not riding for escape:  In fact, it was quite the opposite.  

Where did I go?  I know I pedaled through various parts of Brooklyn and Queens; I think I even popped into Nassau County, briefly, and back again into the borough I now call home, into the one I called home The Day The Towers Fell, and back home.

That ride gave me exactly what I needed, for I did what I needed to do.  And I am satisfied now.

(Note:  I didn't take any photos during my ride.  The image you see was made by Matt Hyde.)

A Fall Classic (For Me, Anyway)

Few things in this world are more of a treat than a bike ride on a beautiful mid-fall day.

A pleasantly cool breeze stroked my back as my feet seemed to glide through circles down the path beside Beach Channel Drive, the road that cuts through a sliver of land in Jamaica Bay.  Part of that land is occupied by Gateway National Recreation Area which, from what I understand, is a great bird-watching spot.  I was flying, with a great bike under me and a blaze of colors surrounding me.  

In addition to the trees whose leaves have turned yellow and orange, I saw these bushes:

I never noticed those deep red leaves before.  Is that a fall color?  I also saw, for the first time, berries that looked like blackcurrants.  Knowing that my temptation to try them could get the better of me, I sought out a ranger.  (I know there's usually at least one on duty:  I've seen them before.)  But I could not find him or her.  I did, however, see a lot of people who were probably bird-watchers or hikers.  One of them might have known about those bushes, but I couldn't bring myself to ask.  

Oh well.  I guess if I want to make Ribena, I'll have to get my fruit elsewhere!

Anyway...I rode out to--you guessed it--Point Lookout.  I've been there when the tide was out, but I've never seen anything like this:

Usually, when the tide is out, just the sandbars are exposed.  I've never before seen that pool of moss where I usually see water lapping up against the rocks.

Perhaps it's not that unusual for that place.  At least, that's what I hope.  Then I can see the moss as just another one of this beautiful day's colors.

 

Two Fall Rides

In my next life, I'm going to look like this when I ride to work (or the farmer's market) at this time of year:

From Simply Bike

Sigh.  Well, at least in this life, I can do a fall ride like this.  In fact, I just might do such a ride soon.

From Mycle's Cycles

In the ideal cycling world, I could ride through such colors and have the long hours of daylight we enjoy in May and June.  And, oh yeah, it would all be located near a large body of water.

I don't ask for much, do I? 

Don't Even Think Of Parking Here!

Today I rode with my friends Lakythia and Mildred.  If yesterday felt more like the first day of summer than the first day of autumn, today reminded me of everything that is great about the new season:  Everything felt cool, clear and crisp.

When we decided we wanted brunch, we were in my neighborhood, more or less.  So I suggested a couple of places I frequent.  I also thought it would be better to leave their bikes--and, of course, mine--in my apartment rather than to lock it here:

Coasting Through The First Day Of Fall

Today I took my newly-built old Trek on a joyride.  Well, I also intended my journey as a shakedown ride, to see what needed changing or fixing.  But, as often happens, business mixed with pleasure.

Before setting out, I made a few small adjustments to the saddle and handlebar positions, and topped off the tires.  I also made use of some leftover handlebar tape:

My trip took me through some familiar haunts:  Astoria Park, Randall's and Ward's Islands, the Bronx and upper Manhattan.  The bike, as I've set it up, seems streetworthy:  I can accelerate and maneuver it quickly, but it doesn't seem too delicate for the almost-lunar texture of some streets I rode.

Some of the ride quality may well have to do with the tires. They're Panaracer Ribmos, though not the same ones as I have on Helene. For one, the tires on Helene are all-black, in contrast to the white sidewalls and red tread on the ones I rode today.  More important, the ones I rode today have non-foldable steel beads, in contrast to the foldable Kevlar beads on Helene's tires.  Also, the red treads and white sidewalls seem to be thicker than the black ones, although the width of each tire is the same. What the beads and thicker rubber mean, of course, is that the tires I rode today are significantly heavier than the ones on Helene.  But, I would also expect them to be more durable.

Today is the first day of fall, at least officially.  However, the weather made it feel more like the first day of summer:  Warm and somewhat humid, though not unpleasant.  But, some of the leaves are starting to turn, so it is starting to look like the season.  And, the brick buildings of the Bronx industrial areas (which were entirely free of traffic, as they usually are on weekends) and the Concrete Plant Park always look rather autumnal.  Somehow the bike looked like it belonged.

And I felt almost as if I belonged on the bike. It doesn't fit like my other bikes, but the size might actually work for me.  I have had other similarly-sized bikes, and rode them gingerly.  Also--I've actually ridden both Arielle and Tosca in a skirt.  I think I could do the same on the Trek, as long as the skirt isn't very close-fitting (I have a couple of skirts like that, which I've never worn on a bike.) or long.  I think about that because I have envisioned using this bikes for errands and as a sometime commuter, as well as a winter bike.  (On winter joyrides, I'll probably be wearing wool tights or sweats, depending on the weather.)

And, yes, I'm getting used to the coaster brake.  

A Ride In Two Seasons

I know that Fall "officially" begins on Saturday, the 22nd.  However, I think I saw some signs of when I rode out to the Canarsie Pier late this afternoon:

On some of the trees, the tips of the leaves are turning brown:

And, on others, entire leaves have turned:

A few leaves have already fallen to the ground.

I used to look forward to the fall:  I always enjoyed riding in the cool, crisp air.  Although it was a bit warm for a fall day (about 26C), the air felt autumnal because brisk breezes from the sea swept over the streets.  Somehow, this day, which straddled summer and fall, made me a bit sad.  For one thing, the days are growing noticeably shorter.  And three seasons have passed; a year is passing.  

All right...I'll make this lighter, and bring it back to cycling. Here's a sign for which I wouldn't dare not to stop!:

Feeding Stops

Today was the sort of day of which almost every cyclist dreams.  It was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and not humid.  And the sky, like the ocean, was almost perfectly blue, with just a touch of autumnal haze.

So, naturally, I took Arielle for a spin to and from Point Lookout.  Along the way, we rolled and clacked along the boardwalks of the Rockaways and Atlantic Beach.  Actually, I was surprised at how few people were out, or strolling or pedaling the boardwalks, at any rate.  Of them, a few actually took a dip or a swim in the ocean, which is still fairly warm at this time of the year.

The Atlantic coast of the Rockaways and Long Island is directly in the migratory path of the Monarch Butterfly.  They reach this shore, where I rode today, at this time of every year en route to South America.  (Perhaps I should play "South American Getaway" for them. ;-) )

Anyway, as I was enjoying a "parfait" of yougurt, strawberries and granola, I caught this lovely creature enjoying a feeding stop:

Now tell me:  When have you seen another living being that looked so lovely while eating?