When I was an undergraduate, one of my favorite rides took me along the Delaware and Raritan Canal Towpath. One of my favorite rides in Paris follows the Canal St. Martin, and one of the highlights, for me, of cycling in Montreal was the Lachine Canal path.
All over the world, as canals designed for barge traffic fall into disuse, paths alongside them--which were often trod by horses and mules that pulled the barges--turn into all-but-ideal cycling and walking lanes.
Some folks in northern Illinois have discovered as much: a trail alongside the Hennepin Canal has become a magnet for cyclists. It's so popular, in fact, that it will become part of the Great American Rail Trail.
The Hennepin Canal connects the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers through northern Illinois. Like the Delaware-Raritan, St. Martin and other canals, it once served as an important link for water transportation. Now it is a draw for all sorts of recreation, including fishing, boating and hiking as well as cycling.
For one thing, paths along canals are flat. But, perhaps most of all, canals are almost always scenic, whether because of the landscapes surrounding them or the industrial structures that line them.
Say "Idaho" to most people, and they think of "potatoes."
You might think about them if you're a cyclist: They are, after all, a good energy source. (An old riding buddy used to keep two baked spuds in his jersey pockets.) But you might also associate another word with the Gem State: "Stop."
Way back in 1982, the state passed a law allowing cyclists to treat red lights as "Stop" signs and "Stop" signs as "Yield" signs. It also allows cyclists to ride through a red light if there is no cross-traffic in the intersection. These provisions allow cyclists to get ahead of the traffic proceeding in the same direction, making it far less likely that they'll be struck by a turning vehicle.
Since 2011, a few cities in Colorado have enacted stop-as-yield policies. A Paris decree, issued in 2012 and amended in 2015, allows cyclists to treat certain stop lights (designated by signage) as "Yield" signs. It also permits cyclists to turn right at red signals or, if there is no street to the right, to proceed avec prudence extreme through the intersection. To my knowledge, no other US state or other jurisdiction has passed a similar law, though a bill with essentially the same provisions as the Idaho statute was introduced last year in the Utah state legislature and is still making its way through the Statehouse.
But the Utah Yield won't be the second piece of statewide "red-as-stop, stop-as-yield legislation." On Tuesday, Arkansas Governor Asa Hutchinson signed Act 650, which gives cyclists the same rights as the 1982 Idaho law.
So now that there's an Idaho Stop and it looks like there will be a Utah Yield, Arkansas has to come up with a catchy nickname for their law. I should think any state that can call itself "The Land of Opportunity" shouldn't have any trouble finding one.
Most days, my commute takes me over the Randall's Island Connector, a car-free bridge that runs underneath the Amtrak trestle--and over the Bronx Kill.
Even though crime is at an all-time low in New York City, the Bronx Kill isn't the only "kill" in the Big Apple--or the Empire State. Before the English came in, the Dutch colonized this area, along with nearby parts of New Jersey and Pennsylvania, in the early 17th Century. "Kill" comes from the Middle Dutch "kille", which means "riverbed" or "water channel".
So New York had lots of kills even before the Mafia started dumping their bodies in them.
Well, the organization J.Edgar Hoover didn't believe in probably wouldn't have left corpses in something so shallow as the Bronx Kill--even when it's full. Sometimes the waters cover all those pebbly areas on the shore, and beyond. One morning, the Kill actually flowed just a couple of feet (or so it seemed) below the bridge.
The Bronx Kill's flow has nothing to do with rain. Rather, it's affected by the ocean currents, as are the other Kills in New York City. The Bronx Kill connects the East and Harlem Rivers, both of which are misnamed because they are tidal estuaries. Like the Bronx Kill, they have no current of their own: The direction of their flow is dictated by the tides.
Even with the water so low, I am glad the Connector exists. My younger self might have ignored the junk revealed by the receding tide and hopped across while hoisting my bike. Or I might have gone looking for the Randall's Island Salamander.
