Moonlight Cruise

 Yesterday I combined a daytime ride with “taking care of business.” That meant crossing into Harlem and pedaling—sailing, really, with the wind at my back—down the Hudson River Greenway to the World Trade Center, where I boarded a PATH train to Journal Square, Jersey City.

As I rode the streets of the Bronx, Manhattan and Jersey City,I was surprised at how little traffic I saw. Could it be that the NYC Metro Area is experiencing an “August absence “ like that of Paris and other European cities?

Traffic was so light, in fact, that when I resumed my trip in Jersey City, I rolled down JFK Boulevard—a “stroad” I would not take under other circumstances—all the way to the Bayonne Bridge, where I crossed into Staten Island.

Ironically, I saw the densest crowds on the Ferry’s observation decks. Most of the people were, of course, tourists. But the few who seemed to have ridden the Ferry before couldn’t’ve been blamed for standing in the cool breeze.

Tell me, where else can you go on a moonlight cruise for free?

And my “moonlight cruise” continued on La-Vande, my King of Mercia, up through Manhattan where, I believe, I could’ve navigated by the August blue moon even if all of the neon and street lights—and all of the headlamps on cars, trucks and buses—had gone dark. 

I saw only one other cyclist and one runner as I wound my way up Central Park to Adam Clayton Boulevard *, where people seemed to enjoy the night as much as I did.

*—You can tell someone is native to the neighborhood if they call it “7th Avenue,” just as no New Yorker refers to 6th Avenue as “Avenue of the Americas,” its official name since 1945.

Late Day, Late Spring : A Luxury And A Privilege

 Yesterday I packed a picnic lunch of Addeo’s bread, Delice de Bourgogne cheese and some nice, ripe cherries and hopped aboard Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear bike.

On about as pleasant an afternoon as one can hope to have, I spun down Creston and Walton Avenues to Yankee Stadium, where I crossed the Macombs Dam Bridge into Harlem.  Then I crisscrossed that iconic neighborhood to the Hudson River, where I picked up the Greenway and rode—with a breeze at my back, it felt more like sailing—down to the World Trade Center, where I took the PATH train to Jersey City.

After enjoying about half of my picnic along the waterfront, I zigzagged through modern office towers and charming row houses down to Bayonne*. A highway crosses over the line between it and Jersey City; a man I’ve seen before lives under it, in a tent, with a bicycle—it looks like a ‘90’s mountain bike—I’d seen on previous rides.  

The first time I saw him, his tent and his bike—probably a couple of years ago—I stopped and offered him food and money. He thanked me and refused both. I have been tempted to photograph him and his encampment because they seem to be as established there as the houses, apartments, stores and offices of the two cities he straddles. But I haven’t because I figure that if he’s refused my help, he wants his privacy. Could it be that he worries about being “exposed”—to authorities, or in general?

Anyway, after crossing the Bayonne Bridge, I rode along the North Shore to the ferry terminal.  After “rush” hour, boats run less frequently, and I just missed one.

Once I boarded and the boat pulled away from the dock, however, I wasn’t complaining.

Nice evening, isn’t it?,” a deckhand mused.

“It’s like we’re on a sunset cruise” I quipped. “And it’s free!”

“We take whatever little luxuries we can get,” he said. I nodded, feeling that not only was it a “little luxury;” it was a privilege.

An After-Work Ride Falls Into Sunset

The other day, I took Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic on an after-work ride in Jersey City, Bayonne and Staten Island.  

I just missed a Staten Island Ferry to Manhattan.  The day was Classic Fall—clear, cool and crisp and I’d brought a book I’ve been reading (yes, a real book—nothing digital!) so I didn’t mind the wait—12 minutes, as it turned out—for the next boat.

That delay was rewarding—in an aesthetic sense, anyway.  What I witnessed from the deck of that ferry boat made me wish that my camera were as old-school (i.e. with film) as my book. Or, better yet, that I had an easel and palette.

There hardly could have been  a better ending to a Classic Fall day—and ride.  Some people say autumn sunsets are the most beautiful of all. I wouldn’t argue with them.

After I disembarked in Battery Park, twilight flickered to my left as I pedaled by the South Street Seaport, across the Williamsburg Bridge and up through the neighborhood for which the bridge is named to my place in Astoria.

Where Am I? In My Favorite Season

What is your favorite time of year for cycling?

For me, the answer has varied throughout my life.  I guess it had a lot to do with my over-arching mood at that time in my life.  For example, I have loved Fall riding at different times for the colorful foliage, the sunset light that simmers into a chill, or just the melancholy (definition:  aesthetically sad) feeling. 

Right now, I might say the month of May because--ironically--because of its colors, which include many shades of purple.  But one thing I truly love is that there is more daylight with each day:  a trend that will continue until late in June, when Summer begins.

Those extra minutes and hours of daylight mean that even if I am busy during the morning and afternoon, I can take a ride late in the day.  I have lights, but I prefer to ride in daylight whenever I can.

Which I did yesterday.  After pedaling to the World Trade Center, I took the PATH train to Jersey City and rode down to Bayonne, where I crossed the bridge into Staten Island--and the Ferry.

I took these photos with my iPhone.  Depending on which way I turned, each was recorded as a different locality.  This one is recorded as "Bayonne"

and these are "Brooklyn"

Even this

which is every tourist's vision of the Manhattan skyline, is marked "Brooklyn."  I took all of those photos within a couple of minutes, from the ferry deck, and did nothing more than turn at a slightly different angle with each shot.

Ironically, I would ride through Brooklyn on my way home.

St. Patrick's Day Sandwich

I had a St. Patrick's Day sandwich.

No, I'm not talking about corned beef and cabbage.  Rather, two fabulous cycling days sandwiched St. Pat's holiday, which featured rain, drizzle and more rain.  Wednesday was sunny and clear, if a bit nippy, but yesterday was more like a day in the middle of May:  sunny, with a slight breeze and temperatures that reached 22C (72F).

So, yesterday, I took advantage of the weather--and the extra hour of daylight at the end of the afternoon, thanks to Daylight Savings Time--and pedaled up to Greenwich, Connecticut and back.  

Of course, being so early in the Spring (or not officially Spring, if you look at the calendar), some plant life isn't quite ready to express the weather.  I didn't mind, though:  the tree in that photo is still beautiful, I believe, in a New England sort of way.  

I must say, though, it's odd to see bare trees as folks strolled along the common in T-shirts, tank tops, shorts or light, flowy skirts.  Then again, I was wearing my lightweight knee-length "knickers" and a long-sleeved T-shirt--and fingerless gloves.

On Wednesday afternoon, after riding to the World Trade Center and taking the PATH train to Journal Square, Jersey City, I pedaled along Kennedy Boulevard down to Bayonne, where a park entrance enticed me to take a detour. 

That park, the Richard A. Rutkowski Park, which includes the Hackensack Riverwalk, abuts Newark Bay, which forms part of the boundary between New Jersey and Staten Island.  Now, this park isn't Big Sur or Acadia, but it has its own charm.  For one thing, it's nicely landscaped and the paths are well-constructed.  For another, it has something of the aesthetic of a post-industrial park like the Cement Plant Park in the Bronx but the waterfront in Rutkowski is still active:  Ships come and go, and the docks and factories still hum with activity.  Somehow all of that makes the sensation of riding by the water all the more calming, especially late in the day, at least for me.

From there, I pedaled down to the Bayonne Bridge for the first time in a few years.  It had been closed so that the span could be reconfigured to allow larger ships to pass.  I am happy to report that the reconstruction includes a bike and pedestrian lane that's better than the old one.  For one thing, it's wider and better-maintained.  For another, it is on the east side of the span, which offers better views than the old one on the west side. Best of all, it lets you off at Trantor Place, where directions to the Ferry (to Manhattan), Stadium and Snug Harbor Cultural Center are clearly marked.  

My only criticism of the new lane is that it's a bit difficult to access from the Bayonne (New Jersey) side.  The entrance ramp rises from Kennedy Boulevard between 7th and 6th Streets.  It's set back and not clearly marked, and because Kennedy is interrupted by a highway entrance and takes a turn on the other side of it, it's easy to lose your way. (If you continue to go straight, you'll end up on a different street altogether.

From the bridge, I rode Richmond Terrace, which winds along the North Shore of the Island and passes Snug Harbor.  The main problem with the Terrace, for cycling, is that it's narrow and almost everyone drives well over the speed limit.  There's been talk of constructing a cycle lane alongside it, or on parallel roads, to allow a safe cycle route from the Bridge to the Ferry.  

So my St. Patrick's Day "sandwich" included enough riding, I think, to burn off the calories I consumed on the day itself--all of them from Irish (or Irish-American) delicacies!

Cyclists Can't Get Off (Or On) The Island

Every decade or so, some resident of Staten Island tries to resurrect the movement to “free” his homeland from the colonial clutches of New York City.  Much of that impetus is really no different from the change in politics people undergo when they morph from single city dwellers to suburbanites with lawns, SUVs and broods of kids:  No matter how much evidence (statistical and otherwise) they are shown to the contrary, they become convinced that the taxes they’re paying for their plots of land and shelters are subsidizing freeloaders in the city they’ve left behind.

Ironically, there is a strong argument for those Staten Islanders who want to liberate themselves from the Big Apple, even though they never use it:  geography.  You see, although the Island is one of the five boroughs of New York City,  it’s actually closer to New Jersey than it is to Gotham—or, for that matter, any other point in New York State. 

Early governors of both states noticed as much and nearly fought an intercine war over it.  The reason each side wanted it is that the Island, which sits at the point at which the Atlantic Ocean meets New York Bay (at the Verrazano Narrows) and the Hudson River, is the Gateway to New York Harbor.  That distinction was even more important then, long before trucks hauled goods on Interstates and airliners ferried passengers across the ocean. 

So how did the island become a county (Richmond) of New York rather than New Jersey?  It was the “prize” in a boat race.  Or so legend has it. Really, you can’t make this stuff up.  Ever since, some New Yorkers have wondered whether the Empire State actually lost and Staten Island was the booby prize.  That, of course, begs the question of what New Jersey won.  The Nets?

Joking aside, this capsule history is actually relevant to this blog and, in particular, to the subject of this post.  You see, the secessionists’ worst nightmare has come true, in a way—at least if any of the secessionists are cyclists.
  

From Bikensurf

Right now, it is impossible to pedal to or from the Island.  And the only way to get to or from "the forgotten borough" with your bicycle—aside from hauling it in or on a motor vehicle—is to take the Staten Island Ferry to or from Manhattan.  According to a Port Authority official with whom I spoke yesterday, this situation will continue for “about two years”.  That, of course, begs the question of whether those years will consist of “New York minutes” or Biblical days.

Of the bridges that connected Staten Island to the rest of the world, only the Bayonne had a walkway cyclists were allowed to use.  It was closed in September of 2013 for an extensive rebuild which will result in raising the roadway higher above the water so that newer, larger ships can pass.  From May to October of last year, the Port Authority operated a bicycle shuttle across the bridge.  But that shuttle will not be available this year, as the bridge is closed to all traffic, motorized and otherwise. 

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you might recall that I've crossed the Bayonne fairly often.  I could do a nice half-day ride by pedaling across the RFK Bridge, up through Harlem and Washington Heights to the George Washington Bridge, along and down the Jersey Palisades, then to the waterfront of Jersey City and Bayonne before crossing to Staten Island and taking Port Richmond Boulevard, which snakes from Superfund sites to the hill of Snug Harbor and some of the most stunning views of the lower Manhattan skyline.  Then I’d hop on the Ferry and, after disembarking, I could pedal or take the subway home.

Now, I would have to end that ride in Jersey City or Hoboken and turn back—or take the PATH train or one of the boats to the World Financial Center.  I’ve done both, and they’re not disagreeable.  But, to me, neither quite compares with taking the Ferry from Staten Island. 

Besides the Bayonne, three other bridges go to and from Staten Island.  One is the Goethals, which had a very narrow path just barely wide enough for most people to walk across.  When my parents were living in New Jersey, I used to take that path because, while not the most pleasant ride, it was convenient:  Once I disembarked from it, I could ride across Elizabeth to State Route 27, where traffic wasn’t terrible.  However, I tried to use it about three years ago, only to find a gate across it.  When I asked a Port Authority officer whether it would open again, he claimed that it never was legal to ride or walk across.  When I explained that I used to take that path “all the time”—and I wasn’t the only one who did—he said it simply wasn’t possible, for there never was any path.  "Well, I guess I broke the law," I said half-jokingly.  "Maybe you did," he replied, suppressing a grin.

Anyway, the PA official with whom I spoke yesterday told me the Goethals is getting similar treatment to the Bayonne and will have—as the Bayonne also will—a “twelve-foot wide bike and pedestrian lane”.   Yes, in “about two years”.

As for the other two connections—the Outerbridge Crossing and the Verrazano-NarrowsBridge—neither ever had bike/pedestrian lanes. The Outerbridge (which is actually named for its builder and is not, as many believe, so named because it’s the “outer” of all of the crossings) takes motorists from the west shore of the Island to Perth Amboy, New Jersey. 

The Verrazano, on the other hand, brings cars, buses and other vehicles to and from Brooklyn.  In his infinite wisdom, RobertMoses didn’t want to deface his last great project with provisions for people who want to walk or pedal.  (It's claimed that he didn’t want buses to cross the span.)  In his vision of the world, everyone would have his or her own car and get in and use it to get in and out of the city—where he or she would work and perhaps shop, but not live.  Even how people played would be determined by the internal combustion engine:  He built Jones Beach, accessible Long Island’s highways but not by the Rail Road or any bus line. 

(Given what I’ve just described, it’s surprising that he actually built the Kissena Velodrome—and that he himself never learned how to drive!)

For me and other cyclists who don’t live on Staten Island, the situation I’ve described is an inconvenience or annoyance.  But those who live there can’t get off the Island—or escape from New York.  I just hope, for their sake, that they aren’t secessionists.  Somehow I don’t think very many of them are.

The Bridge, When We Come To It: A Shuttle

A couple of years before I started this blog, the walkway of the Veterans’ Memorial Bridge, which connects Rockaway Beach with the Queens “mainland”, closed for repairs.  The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, which controls the bridge and most others (as well as tunnels, the PATH trains and the Port itself) in this area, provided a shuttle van across the bridge during the “cycling season”, which PATH deemed to run from May to October. 

Of course, it wasn’t as convenient as riding across the bridge walkway.  And, of course, it stranded those of us who ride year-round.  But at least the service was reliable and the drivers courteous and helpful.  

 

I can say the same things about the driver I encountered today on the shuttle across the Bayonne Bridge.  He is a Port Authority contractor, as were the drivers who ferried us across the Veterans Memorial Bridge.  I don’t know whether he’s a cyclist or not, but he said there needs to be more bike access on bridges and other byways.  “Cycling and walking have to be encouraged,” he said.  “There’s just too much traffic.”

As courteous and helpful as he was to me, I didn’t get the sense he was parroting some party line or simply what he thought I wanted to hear.  If anything, I had the sense he’s the sort of person who doesn’t do—or, perhaps, is incapable—of such things.  So, when he unloaded my bike on the Staten Island side of the bridge, I thanked him profusely.  “I’m just doing my job,” he demurred.

But that, of course, wasn’t the only reason I was expressing gratitude.  As I get older, I am more grateful for my opportunities to ride as well as for the great and small ways in which people are helpful or simply hospitable—and, of course, for a gorgeous day like today.

Across The Bridges

On this blog, I have posted many images--and many more words--about cycling across bridges, mainly in New York City.

Even before I became a dedicated cyclist, I was fascinated by bridges.  Perhaps it has to do with seeing, in my childhood, the construction of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.  I was living in Brooklyn, not far from one end of the span.  I had no idea of what lay on the opposite shore, at the end of the long cables that were descending like steel cocoons woven from arches that rose like slender, elegant apparitions from the metallic ripples of the bay.  I didn't even know that the place was called Staten Island.

It just amazed me, to no end, that something could be built over a body of water to allow people to move from one place--sometimes, one world--to another.  Bridges like the Verrazano (When are they going to add a bike lane to it?) and the Brooklyn, with their long approaches to their towering arches, dramatically convey the sense of such a journey:

Then there are those bridges--like the Bayonne and Marine Parkway Bridges--on which you feel everything opening around you and there seems to be nothing but water around you.  Those bridges are usually not suspension bridges and thus do not have webs of supporting cables surrounding you:  Such spans are flat or have a single arch in spanning the length, rather than several stretching across the width, of the bridge.  If you're agoraphobic, you don't want to ride across them.

On the other hand, some bridges enclose you.  In parts of the Williamsburg Bridge, these "walls" of girders are rather elegant:

But, at other times, you can feel as if you're cycling in a cage.

Perhaps the strangest sensation I ever experienced in crossing a bridge (apart from the time lightning flashed around me on the Brooklyn Bridge) came from underneath me, when I crossed the Pont Jacques Cartier in Montreal.  The bike/pedestrian path was not paved.  Rather, it was an open metal grid deck.  You've probably driven over it:  Sometimes it's used on bridge road surfaces because puddles can't form on it as they can on asphalt or other surfaces. 

While it made for a surface that wouldn't be slippery on a wet day, it also exposed the St. Lawrence River, churning more than 100 meters (about 30 stories) below.  Also, at the time, the arced fence that now encloses the pedestrian/bicycle lane had not been constructed. 

I can hardly recall any other time when I rode with so little separating me and my bike from a large body of water with a strong current.  It was quite the crossing, quite the journey.

A New Randall's Island Bridge For Cyclists?

Today I took a ride to New Jersey, along the Palisades and through Jersey City, Bayonne and Staten Island. From the Island, I took the ferry to Manhattan and cycled up to the 59th Street Bridge, and home.

I've done this ride any number of times before.  However, along the way, I took a little detour on Randall's Island.  

Earlier this year, I'd read that the city planned to build a pedestrian/bicycle bridge from the Island to the Bronx.  Right now, it's possible to use the walkways on the Triborough (RFK) Bridge.  That's exactly what I did today. However, those walkways have their own perils for cyclists.

The Triborough is really three spans that lead into Randall's Island.  One such span, which is close to where I live, connects Queens with the Island.  This span is the most-photographed (for good reason) of the three, and many people think it is the Triborough.  Then there are spans from the Island to Manhattan (at 125th Street) and the Bronx.  

Actually, the Bronx spur is bookended by walkways on its east and west sides.  As those paths approach the Island, they zig and zag like Alpine slalom courses enclosed by concrete walls.  Then they converge at a single steep ramp that ends abruptly at a curve in the island's main road.

The bridge would eliminate those ramps (as well as the stairs one must ascend in order to access the walkway to and from Queens) and instead would be continuation of one spur of the island's mostly-complete bike path.

I am eager to see the bridge completed, not only for making a part of my ride more pleasant.   It is seen as a vital link between the paths and fields of Randall's Island and a greenway that's supposed to be built in the South Bronx. 

 Some residents of that neighborhood walk across the Triborough, but many more drive or take buses to play soccer, softball and other sports and games, have picnics and barbecues, or to fish, on the Island.  In addition to making a bike ride easier and more pleasant for folks like me, I would hope that the bridge would also entice some Bronx residents to walk or ride bikes to the Island.

The South Bronx part of Asthma Alley.  Actually, it's the buckle in New York's asthma belt: The neighborhood's 10451,10453, 10454, 10455 and 10474 ZIP codes have the highest juvenile asthma rates in the United States.  (They are also part of the nation's poorest Congressional District.) Obesity rates are also high in the area, as they are through much of the Bronx.  Ironically, even though much of the fresh produce sold in the NY Metro area goes to the Hunts Point Food Market (located in the heart of the South Bronx), most residents of the surrounding neighborhoods cannot buy fresh fruits or vegetables in their own communities.

Anyway, enough about subjects about which I don't know much (apart from having written an article about the asthma rates).  I am hoping that the new bridge's construction proceeds quickly but safely.  But I have to wonder whether that will happen after seeing the  sign on the left.

It says that Con Ed, the local utility, is removing duct work from underneath the scaffolding. I hope this doesn't delay construction!