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!

Bikes Not Going Their Way

 

For the past two years, you may have had difficulty in buying a bike—the one you want, anyway. If you managed to find your machine of choice, you probably had to pay more for it than you would have in 2019.

You may have had a similar experience in procuring parts to repair, refurbish or update your favorite ride—or even if you were looking for accessories like water bottle cages or a pair or riding glasses or gloves.

The reason for the situation I’ve described is the COVID-19 pandemic. It disrupted supply chains and even closed production facilities at the very moment when folks took up cycling as a way to avoid buses and trains or to get exercise or mental cleansing in a way that allows for social distancing.

But at least you could get something you could ride, whether or not it was your first choice, as long as you were willing to pay and could wait. 

The folks in Russia aren’t so lucky. (Ok, the Ukrainians have it worse, but bear with me!) The way things are going, they won’t be able to get bikes, parts, accessories, apparel—or much of anything—at all.

A number of bicycle and bike-related companies have suspended their operations in the country. The list includes SRAM, Trek, Specialized, Tern and Quality Bicycle Products (QBP). Also, leading bicycle tire manufacturers Continental, Michelin, Pirelli and Bridgestone have joined their ranks.  

Those companies, no doubt, were motivated by the difficulty of doing business in Russia due to banking sanctions and that some shipping companies, including Fed Ex and UPS, have stopped delivering to the country.  But one representative also says “there’s a social aspect too” in the companies’ actions.

A Joycean Parade of Cyclists

 Today is, of course, St. Patrick’s Day.

Since I am not Irish (at least, not to my knowledge!), I will not tell you whether or how to celebrate this day.  I will say, however, that so much of what we’ll see today is what I’ll call Celtic Kitsch. (Confession:  I was in college before I knew that the “C” at the beginning of “Celtic” is pronounced like a “k.”  Until then, I’d been pronouncing the word as “sell-tick,” like the basketball team in Boston.) The truth is, few can agree on what is “authentically” Irish. Although schools teach the Gaelic language, nearly everyone speaks (beautifully) the language of their colonizers.  And, apart from Roman Catholicism with a strong monastic tradition—which the young are largely abandoning—we actually know little about pre-Anglo Irish culture and history.

James Joyce understood as much.  Although all of his writing is set in his native country—which he lived away from for most of his adult life—he is not part of a “Celtic revival.” Instead, he used Ireland—Dublin, mainly—as a lens through which he could explore how people move through life, and how it moves through them—and, perhaps most important, our minds re-assemble it all, whether in images or language—or simply deal live with it as the chaos it is.  

Some have said that Joyce’s works—specifically Dubliners and Ulysses—are therefore to literature what Picasso’s Cubist paintings are to art.  Others have called him the first “cinematic” writer.  I agree with both, and would add that his narrative style is like a bicycle ride:  Whenever I take a ride, even one I’ve done hundreds of times, I see not only people and things I haven’t seen before, but a building, a city block, a tree or a seashore from an angle or in a different kind of light (or darkness) from what I saw on that same ride on a different day.

Martina Devlin, Darina Gallagher and Donna Cooney seem to understand as much.  On Sunday, they participated in a Dublin St. Patrick’s Day parade that includes a procession of 100 cyclists dressed in Ulysses-themed Edwardian clothes. They took spectators on a journey through places in the book.

Martina Devlin, Darina Gallagher and Donna Cooney (Photo by Norma Burke)

Cooney, the artistic director of the Dublin Cycling Campaign (now there’s a job I wouldn’t mind having!) said this year’s bicycle procession and St.Patrick’s Day parade are particularly special because February was the 100-year anniversary of Ulysses’ publication.  But the essence of the event might have been best summed up by Devlin, a writer whose speech included an excerpt from the novel and began with this:  “One of the landmark days in my life was when I learned how to ride a bike.”

“I felt as if I were on the road to somewhere.”

As were the cyclists and marchers in the Dublin parade, 100 years after Ulysses came into the world.