What Kind Of Clouds?

Is it fog?  Or is it smoke?

When it swirls around the arches of a bridge, I think most people would say it's fog.

But when it's at the Gate of Hell--or Hell Gate--it seems more like smoke.

But what about when it drifts over the city

or clouds the view of the prison?

Whatever you call it, I have pedaled through fog and smoke on my way to work.

Commuter's Eclipse

This morning, during my commute, the sun shimmered behind a gray scrim of clouds.  It was a white, almost silvery sphere that shimmered like the moon.

Then, as it drifted across the sky and, in the opposite direction, a curtain of grey clouds crept across its face, it seemed more like the moon.

This "eclipse", like a "real" one, ended not long after it began.  But it left the sky grayer and the sun dimmer, at times almost invisible.

Still, it made for a very easy last leg of my commute:  A slight, cool breeze tickled my back and the sun wasn't beating down on me.

A Microclimate Under The Tracks?

When I was in Rome last summer, I learned that during the centuries when the Colosseum was all but abandoned, so many species of vegetation grew in it that Domenico Panaroli cataloged them. 

According to some writers and chroniclers, all of those herbs and other plants created micro-climates within the Colosseum's walls.  I don't find that so difficult to believe:  Different parts felt hotter or cooler, depending on the sun, shade and wind, during my visit there.

My commute this morning got met to thinking about the possibility of Colosseum "microclimates".  For one thing, the lane I ride to the Randall's Island Connector winds underneath the tracks on which Acela trains shuttle between New York and Boston.  Those tracks run on a viaduct supported by stone arches that would not look out of place in Rome, or the ancient parts of many other cities in the Old World.

But, more important, I think I rode into a microclimate:

The remanants of yesterday's storm dripped, and rays of sunlight flickered, through the tracks above.  And I pedaled through the "rainbow" you see in the photo.  I didn't see another rainbow anywhere else, nor did any rain fall.  And the sky grew brighter as I neared the college.

Into Daylight--More Of It

How do you know it's Spring?

Well, the weather hasn't been in tune with the season, at least in these parts.  But I can see more daylight in each day--to the point that early morning commutes beginning in darkness pass through the sunrise and end in early morning light, all within the space of not much more than half an hour.

So, you ask, what am I doing on such early commutes?  Well, two days a week, I have 8 am classes and I like to arrive early to prepare my lessons, and myself.

The early morning ride certainly helps!

A Tide? Or A Trail?

In another life, my daily commute will take me along a seacoast and the tides will roll in, leaving their garland of foam on a neck of sand, as I pedal by.

Or I might pass by pates of snow perched on bald shoulders of rock as vapor trails stream above me--or behind me! ;-)

Then again, in another life I might not commute:  All of my rides will be for the sake of riding.  Dream on!

This morning I contented myself with seeing white streaks drifting and dissipating in Hell Gate.  It's not a bad way to start the morning. Hey, at least I get to ride my bike to work.  Not everybody here in the US can do that!

Mott Haven Morning

What is the difference between "dawn" and "sunrise"?

Someone, I forget who, said that if you call it "dawn", you probably aren't awake for it.  Whatever you call it, it's early in the morning.

I'm not complaining.  I was just thinking of a title for this post. "Dawn In The Bronx" seems like a Chamber of Commerce slogan.  So I opted for "Mott Haven Morning."  Whatever you call it, I was up for it.  And it was good.

Just Ahead Of The Dawn

This semester, I teach early classes on Monday and Wednesday. Yes, I volunteered for that as part of a deal, sort of. But that's another story.

Anyway, today I decided to ride to work a little earlier than usual so I could do a bit of work before classes.  Also, I sensed I would have an even more pleasant commute than usual.

I pedaled across the Queens span of the RFK Memorial Bridge just in time to see the sun rising over the North Shore of Queens and Long Island--just beyond Rikers Island, and just ahead of a southbound Amtrak train that would pass over the Hell Gate Bridge.

And I was pedaling just ahead of the sunrise.  One of my students said I brought light into the room today.  I wonder whether she saw me riding across the river, in front of Hell Gate.  

Typical Commute--And Commuter?

Sometimes I'm happy to have an early a.m. class.  Those sometimes are almost always on days when I pedal to work.  Now I'm on my bike just before sunrise; soon I will be getting in the saddle in the dark.  Until then, I can enjoy sights like this:

I saw tree from the corner of my eye as I turned from the cinderblock sprawl of Lefrak City onto a side street in Corona.  Yes, as in "the Queen of Corona," which Paul Simon immortalized in "Me and Julio Down By The Schoolyard."

A student told me that the ride to work brings out my "glow."  Another student--who's not in one of my classes now--captured me as I was ready to start riding home:

The parked bike is the Pinarello cyclo-cross bike I've mentioned in a previous post.  I've seen it every time I've ridden to my second job.  

It has Mavic Cosmic wheels, Paul cantilever brakes and an XTR crankset and derailleurs:  not what one normally sees in a college's bike rack.


Then again, some would argue that I'm not the typical commuter who parks in a rack like that one.