Some Recommendations For When You're In Montreal

This is how I said "au revoir" to Montreal

or, perhaps how the city said "au revoir" to me.

I discovered Le Cafe des Chats while walking down rue St. Denis, trying to delay getting on the bus to the airport for as long as I could. It was raining but still agreeably mild; I found myself wishing I had a bike.  I know, I could have taken a pair of Bixi's wheels, but I didn't want to deal with the terminals.  

Cats are, to me, the most agreeable rainy-day companions. The ones who inhabit Le Cafe were rescued from local shelters. Management has a list of ground rules, which include not picking up the cats or disturbing their sleep. But, other than those sensible guidelines, the cafe has no restrictions; they'll let you come in and take a look, but if you want to sit down, they'll ask you to buy something eat or drink.  I ordered--naturally--a "Meow-cacino".

If Le Cafe des Chats was a great way to leave Montreal, the Auberge Manoir Ville Marie made me feel very welcome and at-home from the moment I arrived.  

It's a few minutes from the center of downtown, in a working-class French-speaking neighborhood that may be showing early signs of gentrification.  One nice thing about its location is that it's very quiet: It's the sort of neighborhood in which most people are in bed by eleven or midnight because they're going to work in the morning. The ones I encountered were friendly and helpful when I asked for directions or was carrying my bags from the bus. 

The hotel itself isn't merely self-consciously charming; it feels like a very, very human space.  Much of that has to do with the proprietess, Shahrzad, who is also one of the most truly stylish people I have met in a long time. You can feel her enthusiasm for life; she talked excitedly about some of the artists who have stayed there--and whose exhibits she attended.  I mentioned that I write and was happy that I could talk (however superficially, I later thought) about Rumi and other Persian poets.

She carved this most welcoming of spaces out of an old post office building. Some work is still being done on the sidewalk in front of it, but inside, you'll can bask in the glow of your day's adventures and get a good nights' sleep.

(P.S.  The hotel's staff let me keep the bike I rented in a storeroom.)

Another establishment I highly recommend is Velo Urbain.  One thing I found very interesting is that the shop repairs and sells used bikes; they don't sell new bikes, but all of their rentals--including mine--are new.  As the owner, Phillipe, explained to me, there are "moins des problemes" in doing so.  

He and I spoke--and, before I arrived, exchanged e-mails--in French.  However, one of his employees, Thomas, is thoroughly bilingual in English and French.  Both are very helpful; in fact, Thomas realized, in fitting the bike to me, that I have rather long legs for my height and moved me to a larger-size frame than the one he'd normally recommend for a person of my height.

Even if the Norco I rode weren't brand-new, it still would have been better than most other rented bikes.  The icing on the cake was this:  $50 CAD for three full days.  (At current exchange rates, that's a bit less than $40 USD.) They ask only that you leave some form of ID (I left my New York State non-drivers' ID, issued by the Department of Motor Vehicles) and that if you're renting for a full day, weekend or week, that you return the bike before they close (7pm; they open at 11 am).  You don't need a reservation; you can just show up and ask to rent.

Velo Urbain is located on la rue Papineau, near l'Avenue Mont-Royal.  What that means, of course, is that if you want to challenge yourself right away, you turn left on the Avenue and start riding up the Mont.  Or, if you want to ease yourself into riding, you can explore the neighborhood around the avenue, which abounds with cafes, restaurants and stores of just about every type imaginable.   

Croix de....?

Just a couple of pedal strokes away from my apartment, I chanced upon this:

I don't know whether the two crossed posts were intended to prop up the wires or the light fixture.  Perhaps they were intended as a monument to something.  Whatever their purpose, they looked ominious against a sky ready to drop its wrath.

For a moment, I recalled a cross I reached (but didn't bear) on bicycle:

Photo by Mute*

Yes, that is the Croix de Fer on top of Mount Royal in Montreal.  It's visible from just about anywhere in the city. (At least, it seemed to be when I last rode there, about a dozen years ago.)  The 1974 World Championships were held in Montreal; a Belgian racer said the climb up Mount Royal was one of the most difficult climbs he encountered in his career.

Said Belgian won the race.  Three guesses as to who he was...

(Yes, Eddy Mercx.)

Now, I wonder what the "cross" in my neighborhood was made from.  I don't think it's fer.

Ground Transportation

At almost any major airport, there is an exit for "ground transportation".  In really enlightened cities, it means a bus, train or some other conveyance that will take you to the city center.  In a place like LaGuardia International Airport--where I disembarked last night--it means taxis, hotel or rental car company shuttles, an "express"  bus that (for $15) brings you to Grand Central or Penn Station (or the Port Authority Bus Terminal) or a city bus that connects with other bus lines or subways in other parts of town.  For some, "ground transportation" is whatever they drove to the airport, or whatever some friend or relative is driving to pick them up.

This was my "ground transportation":

 

La Guardia doesn't have any bike parking facilities.  It doesn't even have the basic bike racks one finds by the Air Train station at John F. Kennedy International Airport.  But I decided that, for this trip, I wanted to try parking my bike at the airport.  For one thing, the LeTour is my "lockup" bike.  For another, I was going only for five days--which meant that I wasn't carrying very much with me.

But, most important of all, Terminal B--from which my flight to Montreal departed--is only 7.25 km (4.5 miles) from my apartment.  I figured, correctly, that I could pedal there just about as quickly as any taxi driver could take me there, especially if there was traffic.

I locked the bike to one of the railings just outside the terminal building.  As you can see, I parked it behind the bins to keep it from blocking pedestrians or people in wheelchairs.  Also, that spot probably protected it from damage caused by errant carts and such.

If I were to pack light enough, and were going on a short trip (say, a week), I could imagine riding to JFK which, depending on the terminal and my route, is 22 to 25 kilometers from my place.

Riding to my bike to Newark Airport would be more difficult because of the Hudson River crossing:  The only all-bike route would involve going up to the George Washington Bridge and riding down to Jersey City, from which I'd have to take US 1 and 9 (a major truck route) across Newark Bay into Newark.  Even if I were to take the ferry from downtown Manhattan to Jersey City, I'd still have to ride the truck corridor.  I've ridden it before, but I'd rather not, especially if I'm carrying a load worrying about catching a flight.

Of course, I could also ride into Manhattan, take the PATH train to Newark and ride from the airport from there.  As with riding to LaGuardia or JFK, it could make sense if I pack light enough.

All I know is that this time, riding to LaGuardia and back turned out to be a relatively hassle-free experience that saved me $11 in bus and train fares, or $25 on taxis.  The next time I'm traveling under similar conditions (light load and short trip), I would ride to the airport--LaGuardia or JFK, anyway.

(More about riding in Montreal tomorrow.)

Schizophrenic Measurment Systems

On a Montreal street, I saw a sign like this:

In French, “foot” is “pied”.  Apparently, the same translation is made when “foot” refers to the unit of measure rather than the bodily appendage. 

Such a sign is not remarkable until you realize that Quebec, like the rest of Canada and the world, uses the metric system.  Thus, that speed limit sign that reads “50”—in kilometers per hour, of course-- translates into a speed limit of about 30 miles per hour. Likewise, those one-pound packages of pasta, chips or other food become 500 kilograms (about 17.5 ounces, or one pound and 1.5 ounces) and gasoline, beer and milk are sold by the liter rather than the gallon, quart or pint.

That “pied carre” sign is oddly reflective of the standards (if they might be called that) in bicycle measurements.  Until the 1980s, British bikes, as well as most Japanese and high-quality American bikes, used British standard measurements for everything from bottom bracket threads to frame sizes.  Often, the metric equivalents were provided along with their Imperial counterparts.  So, for example, a one-inch steerer tube would also be marked as 25.4 mm.

The other main standards of bicycle measurements were Italian, which is still (mostly) in use and French, which was found on most continental European bikes not make in Italy.  Both standards were metric, although some of the Italian measurements (such as bottom bracket and steerer tube sizes) were metric “translations”, if you will, from Imperial sizes.  I can find no explanation of why they were so; I am guessing that they were leftovers from the days when Italian racers, like their counterparts in other European countries, were using BSA components.

Only the French system of threading and measurement was completely metric. The handlebar stem quill (the part that inserts into the fork) diameter was 22.0 mm; the British and Italians used 22.2 mm, which is 7/8”. Most American bikes and some Japanese bikes exported the US took 5/6” diameter, which the Japanese usually listed as .833” and is today known as 21.1 mm.  My Schwinn LeTour, made by Panasonic in Japan, uses that size. So did my old Nishiki International.

At one time, it was commonly believed that if the worldwide bicycle industry were to adopt a single set of standards, it would be the French system, as it was the most consistent and because almost every country besides the US was using the metric system for everything.  But, because of the influence the American bicycle market came to exert over that of the rest of the world, the ISO standards became a veritable mishmash of metric and inch measurements.  Bottom brackets are 1.37 (or 1-3/8) inches by 24 threads per inch and headsets are 1 or 1-1/8 inches.  (A few tandems and early downhill mountain bikes are 1-1/4.)  On the other hand, everything from seat post diameters to axle lengths are expressed in millimeters.

Perhaps the most bizarre aspect of bicycle measurements comes in frame sizing.  British and American frames-- even customs and Paramounts—and Japanese bikes made for export up to 1980 or so were built with inch sizing.  So, my International was 23 inches; the next size down was 21 and the next-largest size was 25.  My Romic and first Trek were 22  inches; my subsequent road bikes had 55 or 56 cm frames.

Now almost all road bikes have frames measured in centimeters.  However, most mountain bike frames are, and have been, marketed (at least in the US) with inch measurements.  So, while my Bontrager Race Lite had an 18-inch frame, the Land Shark road bike I would get a few months later was 55cm.

A certain cartoon exhorted its viewers to “BlameCanada!”  Hmm…Could our neighbors to the north be the reason behind our schizophrenic system of measurements?  Then again, “pied square” I saw was the only instance of Imperial measurements I saw in Montreal. (You won’t find it in Paris, or anywhere else in Europe.)  And it was used only in reference to real estate.  I wonder why that is.

Connecting The Lanes In Rubber City

One of my pet peeves about bike lanes is that, too often, they go to and from nowhere, or they begin or end without warning.  So they are essentially useless for urban cyclists who want to commute or do any sort of utility riding.  Bike lanes like those certainly won't make cycling a viable alternative to driving or even mass transportation, at least for most people.

Well, the folks at Copenhagenize design of Montreal (which actually has a coherent system of lanes) seem to understand.  Best of all, a city here in the good ol' U.S. of A. is hiring them to create a "cycling grid" that will allow cyclists to get to and from their homes, workplaces, schools and places where they shop and enjoy their recreations.

Granted, that city isn't as big as Montreal or Copenhagen--or my beloved Big Apple.  But I couldn't help but to feel good that the Copenhagenize consultants have been brought into the hometown of a favorite bike blogger of mine.

I am talking about Akron, Ohio, were resides one "Retrogrouch".  Mayor Dan Horrigan has announced that a $127,000 grant from the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation will be used to hire the folks at Copenhagenize.  They have agreed to take on the task of connecting the city's existing 25 miles of bike paths and another 16 that are expected to go online soon. 

The biggest challenge, according to the consultants, will be to decide which of the Akron's streets should be conduits for cyclists traveling between the city's major bike trails.  The goal, according to the mayor, is not only tourism, recreation and exercise, but also to make viable routes for bicycle commuters.  

I haven't been to Akron.  But I can't help but to think Horrigan is looking to nearby Pittsburgh, which has made strides in recent years toward becoming a "bike-friendly" city.  Like many other cities, Pittsburgh simply can't build more streets and would be hard-pressed to construct more highways.  And it can hardly fit more vehicular traffic into its streets than it already has.   People in the mayor's office seem to have noticed as much, and how the erstwhile Steel City is becoming a center for higher education, medicine, high technology and other industries that employ educated professionals--in short, a smaller inland version of Boston.  And, also in short, a city full of people who see the practical as well as the psychological and physical benefits of cycling to work or school, or for fun.

Perhaps Mayor Horrigan is thinking about how Akron might transition from being the Rubber City to something else altogether.  Whatever it becomes, it should be welcoming and accomodating to cyclists, according to Horrigan.  "To truly become a bike-friendly city, Akron needs a core network of connected bike lanes that will link our neighborhoods to key destinations and business districts across the city," he said in a press release.  Those lanes need to be "safe and welcoming for all users, and designed with input from the residents and stakeholders they serve," he added.

We Can Use The Jump, And The NY Post Needs To Get A Grip

The other day, I chastised the Mayor of Montreal for his plan to paint lanes that would be shared by bikes and buses on some of his city's main thoroughfares.  An editorial in the Montreal Gazette  lambasted the idea--rightly, in my opinion.

Today the script is flipped, if you will, in my hometown:  a sensible piece of bicycle policy is proposed, but an idiotic newspaper editorial denounces it.

You probably wouldn't be surprised to find out that said editorial is in the New York Post: you know, the rag that became famous for headlines like Headless Body In Topless Bar and has lately become the print media's biggest cheerleader for Donald Trump's candidacy.  They've published a lot of diatribes against cyclists and this city's attempts to be more "bike friendly".  Some of the latter, to be fair, were on the mark, if for the wrong reasons,  such as their early criticisms of bike lanes.

Today their editorial begins thusly:

It seems it's not enough to ease up on anti-social behavior, from urinating on the street to public pot-smoking:  Next, the City Council may let cyclists legally jump red lights.

Here in New York, many intersections have traffic signals with four-way red lights and "walk" signals that precede the green light by 20 seconds.  In principle, I think it's a good idea, because it allows pedestrians to enter the intersection before, and thus be seen by, motorists who might make turns.  If anything, I think the interval should be longer along some of the city's wider streets such as Queens Boulevard, along which many senior citizens and disabled people live.

The City Council proposal would allow cyclists to follow the pedestrian signal in crossing an intersection.  Frankly, I think a 20-second interval for "jumping" red lights makes even more sense for cyclists than it does for pedestrians, especially for cyclists crossing intersections from bike lanes.  Twenty seconds is plenty of time for cyclists to cross just about any intersection, and even the slowest cyclists at the widest boulevards will have enough time to get through the immediate traffic lanes and avoid motorists making right turns.

The Post does have one thing right:  Many cyclists already do that because we know that it's much safer to cross that way than according to motorists' signals.  But I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a paper of their caliber compares legalizing the practice to tolerating public pot-smoking and urination.

If you follow the logic, if it can be called that, of some of the Post's other editorials and articles, allowing public urination unfairly privileges 49 percent of the population (of which I am not a part:  boo hoo).  So, perhaps, it's not surprising that the esteemed editors would follow the passage I italicized above with this:  It's not as bad as it sounds.  Then, they use even more tortured, to put it kindly, logic to dismiss the City Council proposal.

Usually, when folks like Denis Cordierre propose wrongheaded policies about cycling and pundits endorse them (or oppose good ideas), I can attribute it to a lack of knowledge about-- usually because of a lack of experience in-- cycling.  The Post, however, has magnified that lack of knowledge with an apparent inability to construct a cogent argument. Had any of my students submitted anything like it, he or she would see lots of red ink upon getting it back!

I wonder what Alexander Hamilton would think of that editorial--or the Post?

In Memoriam: Jocelyn Lovell, Canada's First Cycling Star

The star was ascending.  Or so it seemed.

The time:  late 1970's-early 1980s.  The place:  North America. 

The '70's Bike Boom was over.  Some people discovered bicycle touring during the heady summer of Bikecentennial.  Not many stuck with it:  careers and families and such detoured them.  (Also, some had a "been there, done that" attitude after touring the country.)  And whatever awareness people might have developed about bike touring, or any type of cycling done by adults, didn't translate into a lifestyle of which cycling would be an integral part.  They continued to drive to work, school and for shopping and recreational activities.  They might take the bike for a spin in the park, but it was a novelty, much as taking a horseback ride during a vacation is for many people.

Still, there were some signs that the United States and Canada might one day join some of European countries and Japan among the elite cycling nations.  Nancy Burghart had dominated women's racing during the 1960's.  During the following decade, a new generation of American women would dominate the field to an even greater degree.  In fact, one could argue that Mary Jane ("Miji") Reoch, Sue Novara, Connie Carpenter and Rebecca Twigg turned the US into the first "superpower" of women's cycling.

Men's racing on this side of the Atlantic (and Pacific) was also improving by leaps and bounds, though they were pedaling through longer shadows cast by such riders as Anquetil, Mercx and Hinault.  Still, during the period in question, the world began to notice American male cyclists, especially after they took home seven medals, including three golds, in the 1984 Olympics:  the first time American men won any hardware since the 1912 games. (Connie Carpenter and Rebecca Twigg won the gold and silver, respectively, in the inaugural women's Olympic road race that year.)

Canada wasn't about to be left out of the picture.  In those same Olympic games, Steve Bauer took the silver medal in the men's road race, and Curt Harnett did the same in the 1 km time trial.  In the road race, someone you've probably heard of finished 33rd:  Louis Garneau.  Yes, the one with the line of bike clothing and helmets. 

Although Bauer's and Harnett's victories were sweet for our friends to the north, they highlighted the absence of another rider who, many believed, could have won, or at least challenged for, a medal:  Jocelyn Lovell.

Six years earlier, he'd won three gold medals at the Commonwealth Games.  Later that same year, captured the silver medal at the World Cycling championships. Those victories highlighted a career that saw him win medals in other Commonwealth as well as Pan American games, as well as numerous national titles, throughout the 1970s.  He also represented Canada in the 1968, 1972 and 1976 Olympics--the latter of which were held in Montreal. 

Lovell at the 1976 Olympics in Montreal

Like the United States, Canada boycotted the 1980 Summer Olympics, in protest of the then-Soviet Union's invasion of Afghanistan.  Thus Lovell didn't make the trip to Moscow, where the Games were held.  He turned 30 during the course of the games.   It seemed, then, that if Lovell were to ride in the 1984 Olympics, they would probably be his last.

But he never had that opportunity.  A year before the opening ceremony in Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, tragedy befell Jocelyn Lovell. Late in the afternoon of 4 August 1983, he was out on one of his daily training rides near his Missisauga, Ontario home.  A pair of dump trucks approached him from behind as he crested a hill. The first swung around him.  The second ploughed over him.

That he wasn't killed was a miracle. However, from that moment onward, he would never move any part of his body below his shoulders, ever again. 

According to friends and acquaintances, he never accepted his fate.  He always said that one day, he'd be on a bike again.  He may well have said that on Friday, 3 June:  the day his battle ended, at age 65. 

Such an ending is particularly sad for someone who was noted for his souplesse:  his fluid form astride a bicycle.  Observers remarked that he and his bike simply seemed to belong together.  The terrible irony is that someone who had such physical grace would have to spend half of his life completely unable to use it.  He did, however, become an advocate for spinal cord research and other related causes.

Although relatively few in the US know about him, any of us who are cyclists and benefit in any way from the current interest in cycling owe him a debt of gratitude:  He helped to put our continent on the cycling map.  And he always kept his hope alive.  What is more American than that?

Coming Home To Another Fall Ride

Last week, during my trip to Montreal, I wrote about (among other things) the autumn light and air.  Well, today had a particularly autumnal feel--at least in part because the weather was colder than it's been in six months or so. When I was talking to my mother a little while ago, I joked that I brought the cold, and the season, back with me because I knew I wouldn't have any trouble getting them through US Customs!

Anyway, on a day so typical of this season, thoughts turn to foliage and red barns and such.  Well, the leaves are starting to turn brightly in local parks and fallen leaves stream along the curbs.  But there aren't a whole lot of red barns in this city.  However, in some neighborhoods--including my own--there are houses that provide a rather nice backdrop for the blaze of colors.

But I also figured that if I went a little north of the city, the colors would be even brighter and there would be an even better stage for them.  And Arielle, my Mercian Audax, was just begging to be ridden.  And I wanted to ride her.   The bike I rented in Montreal was actually pretty nice, but it still makes me appreciate Arielle--and my other Mercians--even more than I had before.

So, after pumping her tires and filling a water bottle, we were off to--you guessed it--Connecticut.

It was just past noon when I started riding, and I knew that it's starting to get dark around 6pm now.  Still, I figured, it would give me enough time to ride there, take in some autumn light and air in the Nutmeg State, and get home before dark.  Although I have lights, there are a couple of parts of the route I prefer not to ride in the dark.

I was riding against of the wind most of the way back--which meant, of course, that I was riding with it most of the way back.  The funny thing was that I didn't feel I was pedaling particularly hard on the way up, in spite of the wind that, at times, gusted to 35 KPH.  And I didn't think I was pedaling particularly fast on the way back.  Yet I made it back before sunset.

Really, I can't ask for more of a Sunday afternoon ride in the middle of October.  

When I got home, I felt invigorated, as I do after a good ride, but not tired.  I often feel that way after long rides on my Mercians, but especially Arielle.  Tomorrow, or some other time in the near future, I'll write about a possible reason.

What's Worse Than A Bad Bike Lane? Bad Bike Lane Regulation!

One of the reasons why I don't like to use bike lanes, at least here in New York, is that motorized vehicles frequently pull in and out, and sometimes park in them.  I've even seen drivers use bike lanes for passing.

The problem is that if a car pulls in, or parks, in the lane, there is no room for you to get around it, especially if the lane is "protected", i.e., has a barrier between it and the street.  At least, if only a painted line separates you from the street, you can veer into the traffic lane.  

Another problem is that drivers often pull into the lane without warning--and, it seems, without looking to see whether cyclists are in the lane. If you are riding in the street and someone makes a sudden turn, you most likely can move over or shift into another lane.  You don't have that option in a bike lane--again, especially a "protected" one. 

I did not notice such problems when I recently rode bike lanes in Paris and Montreal:  Drivers in those cities seem more cognizant that bike lanes are for, well, bikes.  That, or the regulations that prohibit motor vehicles are more strictly enforced.  

On the other hand, it seems that cyclists in other American cities have experiences with bike lanes similar to the ones I and other cyclists have in New York.  Bob Collins, a blogger and news editor for Minnesota Public Radio, offers this:  "The biggest problem with bike lanes in the Twin Cities isn't cyclists; it's people who insist on parking their cars in them."

That statement is particularly notable because during the past few years, Minneapolis has stolen some of Portland's, as well as San Francisco's and New York's, thunder as a "bike friendly" city.  In 2015, Minneapolis was the only US municipality in Copenhagenize Design Company's index of the world's 20 most bike-friendly cities.  Montreal was the only other North American city on the list.

(Copenhagenize's previous indexes were published in 2011 and 2013.  I am guessing they will publish another this year, though I have seen no indication of that on their site.)

Anyway, Mr. Collins shows us that there is no end to the ignorance or hostility of lawmakers when it comes to cycling.  Some want, or claim to want, to make things safer for us.  Others simply don't want to upset drivers, who make up a much larger constituency than cyclists, or see us as renegades, scofflaws or worse.

I don't know which, if either, of those categories includes Minnesota State Representative Duane Quam.  Instead of working on regulations to keep motorists from driving or parking in bike lanes--or, for that matter, from texting or talking on cell phones while driving--he has the brilliant idea of limiting access to bike lanes and deterring young people from cycling.  

At least, that seems to be the intent of the bill he's filed with the State Legislature.  Among other things, it would require anyone who wants to use the bike lanes to take a safety course, register his or her bike and pay an annual $5 fee.

But the most absurd part of that bill stipulates that anyone who rides in a bike lane has to be at least 15 years old.  "It's not clear where people under 15--kids going to school comes to mind--are supposed to ride their bikes," Collins wryly notes.  He also notes another onerous aspect of the bill:  that it applies only to areas with "structures devoted to business, industry or dwelling houses situated at intervals of less than 100 feet for a distance of a quarter mile or more.  

In other words, as Collins astutely observes, it is aimed at Minneapolis and St. Paul.  Representative Byron comes from Byron, a town of 5063 residents--and no bike lanes.

Au Revoir, Montreal. Peut Etre Nous Reconaissons!

The sun has to set on every journey.  Some wise old person said that, I think.

And so today my latest Montreal experience ends.  I'll tell you a little more, and share some observations with you, if not tomorrow, then in another post that's coming soon.

(I took those photos at the point where the Lachine Canal empties into the St. Lawrence.)

A Cross I Didn't Have To Bear

It's been a while since I've been to church for anything but a wedding, funeral or memorial service. (At least they weren't my own!) But I have to admit that I at least stop and take notice when I see a cross looming over a landscape, like the Croix de Fer atop Mount Royal in Montreal.

For me, oversized crucifixes are both awe-inspiring and intimidating.  On one hand, I am impressed with the effort it takes to build any large structure that stands out in its environment. On the other, I can't help but to think about people who've been tortured and killed while or by hanging, whether from an upright tree or crossed staffs.  

Sometimes I wonder whether the person who constructed a large cross-like structure intended it to mean more than just its ostensible function--which, in this case, seems to have something to do with sails.

Somehow, seeing it over the water seems especially fitting today, the anniversary of Columbus' "discovery" of the Americas.  (I think Vikings, and possibly even Phoenicians, got here before him.  And neither they nor he "discovered" anything:  There were plenty of people living on this side of the ocean already.)  Colonizers claimed lands in the name of their church as well as the rulers of the countries from which they sailed.

Although I was pedaling into the wind when I saw this "cross" during a ride along the World's Fair Marina, my trek wasn't nearly as difficult as anything a "cross" represents!

 

A Long And Restful Sleep

I didn't post last night because I got home dead-tired and fell asleep not long after walking through the door.


Thursday is my longest day of the week, work-wise.  And I did it on about half as much sleep as I'd planned.  Plus, it seemed, everyone--and I'm not talking only about my students--had some pressing issue, question or need.   Sometimes there are just days like that.


Riding from home to my main job, to my second job and home again, I felt surprisingly fluid.  Yes, I felt as if my legs were just flowing through each pedal stroke.  And I felt even more surprisingly strong, considering how little riding I've done since Christmas.  So what made me feel so tired when I got home?


Perhaps it had to do, at least in part, that I rode a bit more than I'd planned.  On my way home, I decided to ride a bike/pedestrian path along the southern edge of Kissena Park.  Close as it is to my commute, and other rides I do, I hadn't ridden there in a very long time.    So my memory of it was faulty, to say the least.  As I result, I made a wrong turn coming out of it.  Then I made another wrong turn. And another. 


My errance (Is that the noun form of "errant?") took me, among other places, around the perimeter of a cemetery.  And it was dark.  That, of course, is not an aid to someone who is a direct descendant of Christopher Columbus and inherited his navigational skills.  Well, OK, I may not be the great-great-great-great-whatever of CC.  But you get the idea.


One thing I wasn't going to do was to sleep in that cemetery.    For starters, it was very cold and windy.  More to the point, nobody ever plans to do such a thing.  At least, I didn't the one time I did it.


It happened back in the days before my first ATM card.  I didn't have any credit cards then, either.  I didn't buy traveler's checks, as I had done for my first European tour a couple of years earlier.  So all I had was cash.  And I was almost out of it the night I rested under the stars in a graveyard.


I knew that I was in New York State, somewhere near the point where its borders with Massachusetts and Connecticut meet.  I knew that because I crossed, during the course of that day's ride, from Massachusetts into Connecticut before seeing a sign that read "Welcome to the Empire State," or something like that.  


It was, as I recall, the fourth day of a ride I took from Montreal to New Jersey.  I'd carried a sleeping bag with me, which I didn't use until that night.  The day was hot, though not humid, which is unusual in most of the Eastern United States. I was tired: As young as I was, riding more than 80 miles with a load (small as it was) through a hilly area was a lot for one day.  


Most people's navigational skills decrease as they grow weary.  When your skills are like mine, they shrink into non-existence at times like that night.  If someone had told me there was a hostel or some other place fifteen feet in a straight line in front of me, I probably wouldn't have found it. 


Tired, broke (almost, anyway) and lost.  What did I do?  I rolled out my sleeping bag.  At least the night was clear and full of stars, with absolutely no threat of rain.  And it was quiet.  Very quiet.  But I was too tired to be disconcerted by anything, so I fell asleep almost as soon as I got into my bag.


I had a very long and restful sleep, as I had last night.

On The Path Across America: The Hennepin Canal

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. 

If We Want Bike Share To Work In New York

The buzz in New York City cycling (and other) circles is about the Bike Share program, which is scheduled to begin by the end of this month.

About 300 kiosks have been set up; the number is expected to double over the next few years.  Perhaps in response to complaints about them, the kiosks are movable.  In Paris and London, where two of the earliest bike-share programs began, the kiosks were trenched into the ground, making them difficult to maneuver or remove.  The Big Apple instead took its construction cues from Montreal, where the kiosks are anchored by nothing more than their own weight. Thus, spaces can be moved or removed for construction or emergencies.

Commuter at Capital Bikeshare kiosk in Washington, DC. From Velojoy

Some people questioned the wisdom of adding so many more bikes to the city's streets.  I, for one, think questions should have been directed at the idea of trying to shoehorn as many motorized vehicles as possible into the city's streets--which seemed to be the Department of Transportation's guiding policy for decades.  It's not the number of bikes on the street that increases the risk of injury or death, as some allege.

Such critics point to the three cyclists who were killed during Velib's first year of operation in the City of Light.  Rather than to blame a bike-share program--for, essentially, getting people to abandon their pre-Velib modes of transportation--more attention needs to be paid to the conditions in which urban cyclists ride.

Just as Parisian cyclists learned about the dangers of turning trucks, truck drivers learned to pay more attention to cyclists--and to warn them about "blind spots."  After three years of cycling in Paris and three decades in New York, as well as riding elsewhere, I honestly believe that most truck drivers are courteous and do their best to drive as safely as possible.  At least, that has been my experience with them.  (I'll admit that my view might be colored by the fact that relatives of mine have driven for a living.)  However, it doesn't hurt to remind them that they share the streets with cyclists and that sometimes they are steering their big rigs across the paths of bike lanes.  

The Department of Transportation--and, sadly, local bike-advocacy organizations like Transportation Alternatives--have never done that.  Rather, they have focused their efforts to cautioning cyclists about the dangers trucks pose to them. While such warnings are justified and useful, I think the other side of the story must be presented.

Also, having cycled in London, Boston and Montreal (all of which now have bike-share programs), as well as Paris, New York and other cities, I can say that my hometown has some of the worst street conditions in the developed world.  One of the running jokes is that some potholes have their own ZIP Codes; some in the tonier neighborhoods have elevators and concierge service.  Seriously, I have seen cyclists lose their balance and even fall because they were rattled and bounced on road surfaces that are more lunar than terrestrial. In one instance, a woman's front wheel was caught in a pothole when she dodged an opening car door. Fortunately, she suffered nothing worse than a few scrapes and a couple of bruises.

So, while I applaud the Bike Share program, I still think that the Department of Transportation need to look at what else other cities did--whether in education, infrastructure repairs or other areas--as they implemented their bike share programs.  Otherwise, the program will have a similar effect to the construction of bike lanes:  It might get more people to ride, but it won't make for a safer, let alone more bike-friendly,environment.