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Enjoy the ride--whether or not it's on a bike!
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Enjoy the ride--whether or not it's on a bike!
Showing posts with label sunset at the ocean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sunset at the ocean. Show all posts
13 May 2018
18 August 2017
This Ride Was Good
All rides are good.
At least, I can't think of any bike ride I wish I hadn't taken. And I've been riding for a lot of years!
Some would say that some rides are "better" than others. Of course, "better", when it comes to rides is subjective: Some want to climb as many steep hills as possible; others prefer land flatter than their dinner tables. Some of us love riding by an ocean or a lake; another cyclist's idea of a "dream ride" takes him or her through deserts or prairies.
You might to ride in the hottest weather with the brightest sunshine; I like it cooler with a mix of sun and clouds. Your friend might not go anywhere near a bike if there's a single cloud, let alone if a single drop falls from the sky; his or her club-mate believes that if you don't get wet, it's not a "real" ride.
I'll admit there are a few conditions I'll avoid if possible. For example, I don't mind the cold or even rain, but I prefer not to have both together when I'm riding. (Snow, on the other hand, can be fun.) And, while traffic doesn't scare me, I prefer not to cross entrances to, and exits from, highways: When I ride to the Rockaways or Point Lookout, I take a detour through the side-streets of Howard Beach so I can avoid having to traverse the on- and off- ramps of the Long Island Expressway and Belt Parkway that feed into, or lead away from, Woodhaven and Cross-Bay Boulevards.
I took a similar diversion yesterday after I crossed the Victory Bridge over the Raritan River in New Jersey. On the Sayreville side, I zigged and zagged through an industrial area and residential streets simply to avoid a stretch where State Route 35 (of which the Bridge is a part), US 1 and US 9 merge and are one for about five miles. There, it's a four-lane road which, at times, sees surprisingly little traffic but, at times, really seems to be carrying the load of three major highways.
That wouldn't be so bad if there was a shoulder for the whole length. Unfortunately, the shoulder appears and disappears, much like those bike lanes to nowhere that I see too often. Worse, a large part of the traffic consists of trucks, which aren't allowed on the stretch of the Garden State Parkway that parallels the section of Route 35/US 1 and 9 in question.
My detour, naturally, added some distance to my ride, which I'd started in the afternoon. I didn't mind: I avoided that potentially-bad section of road and wandered through a couple of historic districts and other areas with cute little gingerbread houses by lakes, streams, Raritan Bay (with great views of New York City) and the ocean.
Starting my ride in mid-afternoon and taking a circuitous route had its advantages, including this:
Now, if you've been reading this blog regularly, that I love descending bridges that lead to the ocean. I coasted down this one, after pedaling up the hills on Route 36 (They don't call it the Atlantic Highlands for nothing!) for the first time when I was about 13 or 14 years old--either the year my family moved to New Jersey, or not long afterward.
Call me sentimental, but I still get goose-bumps, especially when it's late in the day and the sun, through a scrim of clouds and haze, begins to tint the blue sea and sky with shades of violet and orange. Once I reached the base of that bridge--in Sea Bright, on a strip of land not much wider than a football field with the ocean lapping up one side and the river on the other--I was floating. My bike was a cloud; I had wings. I felt that within an instant, I'd sailed--on two wheels--into Long Branch, some 8 kilometers down the road--without effort, and that every drop of surf mist, every ripple of wind, and every step of people walking with their partners, their children and their dogs along, had become a part of me.
In Long Branch, I saw the soft twilight colors darken into the night that would engulf the streets as well as the sky and sea. All rides are good; this, like so many others, made me happy in its own way.
At least, I can't think of any bike ride I wish I hadn't taken. And I've been riding for a lot of years!
Some would say that some rides are "better" than others. Of course, "better", when it comes to rides is subjective: Some want to climb as many steep hills as possible; others prefer land flatter than their dinner tables. Some of us love riding by an ocean or a lake; another cyclist's idea of a "dream ride" takes him or her through deserts or prairies.
You might to ride in the hottest weather with the brightest sunshine; I like it cooler with a mix of sun and clouds. Your friend might not go anywhere near a bike if there's a single cloud, let alone if a single drop falls from the sky; his or her club-mate believes that if you don't get wet, it's not a "real" ride.
I'll admit there are a few conditions I'll avoid if possible. For example, I don't mind the cold or even rain, but I prefer not to have both together when I'm riding. (Snow, on the other hand, can be fun.) And, while traffic doesn't scare me, I prefer not to cross entrances to, and exits from, highways: When I ride to the Rockaways or Point Lookout, I take a detour through the side-streets of Howard Beach so I can avoid having to traverse the on- and off- ramps of the Long Island Expressway and Belt Parkway that feed into, or lead away from, Woodhaven and Cross-Bay Boulevards.
I took a similar diversion yesterday after I crossed the Victory Bridge over the Raritan River in New Jersey. On the Sayreville side, I zigged and zagged through an industrial area and residential streets simply to avoid a stretch where State Route 35 (of which the Bridge is a part), US 1 and US 9 merge and are one for about five miles. There, it's a four-lane road which, at times, sees surprisingly little traffic but, at times, really seems to be carrying the load of three major highways.
That wouldn't be so bad if there was a shoulder for the whole length. Unfortunately, the shoulder appears and disappears, much like those bike lanes to nowhere that I see too often. Worse, a large part of the traffic consists of trucks, which aren't allowed on the stretch of the Garden State Parkway that parallels the section of Route 35/US 1 and 9 in question.
My detour, naturally, added some distance to my ride, which I'd started in the afternoon. I didn't mind: I avoided that potentially-bad section of road and wandered through a couple of historic districts and other areas with cute little gingerbread houses by lakes, streams, Raritan Bay (with great views of New York City) and the ocean.
Starting my ride in mid-afternoon and taking a circuitous route had its advantages, including this:
Now, if you've been reading this blog regularly, that I love descending bridges that lead to the ocean. I coasted down this one, after pedaling up the hills on Route 36 (They don't call it the Atlantic Highlands for nothing!) for the first time when I was about 13 or 14 years old--either the year my family moved to New Jersey, or not long afterward.
Call me sentimental, but I still get goose-bumps, especially when it's late in the day and the sun, through a scrim of clouds and haze, begins to tint the blue sea and sky with shades of violet and orange. Once I reached the base of that bridge--in Sea Bright, on a strip of land not much wider than a football field with the ocean lapping up one side and the river on the other--I was floating. My bike was a cloud; I had wings. I felt that within an instant, I'd sailed--on two wheels--into Long Branch, some 8 kilometers down the road--without effort, and that every drop of surf mist, every ripple of wind, and every step of people walking with their partners, their children and their dogs along, had become a part of me.
In Long Branch, I saw the soft twilight colors darken into the night that would engulf the streets as well as the sky and sea. All rides are good; this, like so many others, made me happy in its own way.
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