You can't get there from here

Lost in the Bronx ... again.



So I tried to bike to City Island the other day.
And I should know better.
It's not that I don't know where City Island is. It's a lovely gem of a neighborhood located off the Long Island Sound in the Bronx.

I've just never biked there.

And when I've never biked somewhere, I break out the trusty NYC cycling map, follow the marked paths, and never make it where I'm going on the first try.
You might be wondering if my bike dummyness extends to an inability to read maps. Well, let me assure you that it does not.
I am convinced that the official NYC cycling map was drawn by someone who hates cyclists and wants to kill us all - and I think the same person is now in charge of planning all the new bike lanes (but that's a whole other essay).

I've done a bit of riding in the Bronx. It's a lovely borough.
According to the bike map, there is an unbroken greenway leading from Van Cortland park, through the New York Botanical Garden, down along Pelham Parkway North, and across to City Island.

I had some stuff to do, so I headed up the West Side, across the University Heights Bridge, and down Fordham road towards the Zoo. I've biked this before, so I didn't let the traffic and buses get me down. It's horrible, but I was headed for a nice secluded pathway, so who cared.
I hit the park, made a left and tried to find the connection to the path coming down from Van Cortland Park. - Remember, all the roads I've been on so far are recommended bike routes - and I'd only almost died five or six times, not too bad.
I followed my map, but found no sign of the mystery bike path through the Botanical Garden. I even asked the security guard, who kindly informed me that not only were bikes not allowed, he had never heard of a path nearby.
I tried on my own and ended up - I kid you not - ON THE MOSHOLU PARKWAY.
My fault. Just check the map. It's patently obvious that you should be in the oncoming traffic lane in order to find the entrance to the path. (irony intended)



By the time I got around to Pelham Parkway and discovered how nasty the road surface is, I was ready to head back to Brooklyn.

And then my adventure really started.

I ended up on crappy ass streets, going up and down hills, struggling with bike lanes that go nowhere, stop suddenly, don't exist, or magically enough - end on the Bruckner Expressway.



By the way, thanks for the sign. Maybe it would have been more helpful at the intersection before this so I could have gotten off this one way street.

I was tired, hot, and in the process of discovering that spray-on sunblock does not work as well as the greasy, goopy kind when I made a wrong turn on Randall's Island.
(See my post about fear of lightening.)

So I lived through the storm.
I made it back to Brooklyn.
I was pondering the insanity of some of the bike lanes I was being asked to ride in, when heading up Sands Street (recommended bike path), my rear wheel dropped into a pothole and I felt the tire blow.

Just to add insult to injury, by the time I made home - it was raining again.

Thunder and Lightning

The Triboro Bridge is frightening...

So, I went for a ride, and it didn't go well.

By the time I got to Randall's Island, I could see the storm clouds gathering.



Normally, I don't mind riding in the rain.
I don't actively seek it out, and if I'm commuting, I hate it. But on a warm summer day, at the end of a long ride, it can be kind of nice.
Not this time.

The pedestrian/bike path of the Triboro Bridge is a little daunting at the best of times. The construction annoys me. When it's windy, the barrier feels suspiciously low. And when you approach the metal-caged on-ramp and see lightening repeatedly hit the bridge, well then it's time to run away.



Thunder cracked directly overhead, the sky opened up, and I wondered if instead of a bike, I should have built an ark.



So, there I was... underneath the Triboro Bridge. In the rain.



For those of you who have never crossed the Triboro by bike or foot, it can be very confusing. The DOT provides this map, but I get confused all the time, so here's a simple explanation.



There is no direct route for cyclists and pedestrians from Queens to Manhattan or the Bronx. Instead of following the traffic, the path drops you on Randall's Island from all directions.
You need to cross the island and find the correct span for the borough you are going to, making the bridge a two-step process.

I haven't actually taken the Manhattan entrance this year, so I can't vouch for it, but if the ramps are open, they're at 124/126th and Second Avenue. If not, the stairs are at 124/126th and First Avenue.
Alternately, there's the Ward's Island Bridge at 103rd Street and the FDR, which is for bicyclists and pedestrians only. Ward's Island connects to Randall's Island.

The Queens entrance is the stairs at 27th and Hoyt.

The Bronx entrance is the ramp structure at 133rd and Cypress.

Cyclists need to be very careful. The path is broken by steep stairs.
When you see the spray paint telling you to slow down - SLOW DOWN!

Follow the white rabbit

"I know why you're here, Neo. I know what you've been doing.
I know why you hardly sleep, why you live alone, and why night after night, you sit at your computer.
You're looking for him.
I know, because I was once looking for the same thing. And when he found me, he told me I wasn't really looking for him. I was looking for an answer.
It's the question that drives us, Neo. It's the question that brought you here.
You know the question, just as I did."

"Who is The 0001?"


Ed DeFreitas
President, Five Borough Bicycle Club

Knock. Knock. Neo

2007 NYC Century - There I Went

Slow and Steady did not win the race.
But I did finish my first century.

For all my planning and list making, I was too nervous to sleep. I felt the beginnings of a cold coming on on Friday which I promised myself I could have later if it would just go away until after Sunday. Instead, it put me in bed for most of Saturday which made it really difficult to get to sleep (as opposed to bed) at a reasonable time.
I awoke before my alarm, walked my very confused dog, picked up my carefully prepared bike bag, and then decided to ride to a different subway stop because mine is a little lonely at the best of times, and I don't count 5am as the best of times.
I was already running late - and I hadn't even left Brooklyn.
There were a bunch of cyclists on the platform, and many more on the train. I ended up in a conversation with a guy on a mountain bike and no helmet who said he was going to ride the 100. He was very polite, and kept insisting he didn't need a helmet, so I gave him some safety pins for his number and wished him luck.
By the time we all managed to haul our bikes up and out of the subway, it was 6:15 am and I was not feeling too happy with myself. Considering how little sleep I got, I could have been there by 5. Starting on time didn't seem too much to ask.
I got myself a cue sheet, stuffed it in my trunk and took off with a bunch of other late arrivals.
My first surprise was the long swoop down Riverside Drive. I don't know why I thought we were going through the park, but obviously, we weren't.
I wish I'd taken a picture of Times Square at dawn. There is something refreshingly sleazy about Times Square when it is empty that the tourists and the Disneyland gentrification have stolen from it over the years. Sort of like catching the prom queen on her early morning walk of shame.
The early parts of the ride were frenetic and full of moments of panic. I was riding with people who were much faster than me, and the effort it took not to get dropped at every light was making me wonder how I would finish the 100.
A lot of the people starting early seemed to come from bike clubs. Lots of hand signals and yelling 'Clear' and 'Passing'. Endless clicking in and out of clipless pedals at stoplights. I'm not used to riding in a group, so the argot was both strange, annoying, and oddly compelling. Fairly quickly, I was joining in - pointing at holes, signaling turns, and motoring along a little faster than I would have gone on my own.
Ain't peer pressure grand?

Crossed the Brooklyn Bridge as the sun was rising, curved around through Dumbo, and then off to Prospect Park.
The route through Brooklyn is very familiar to me, so I settled down a bit and found a more natural pace. I was getting passed a lot, but I no longer felt like I was getting 'dropped'.
I peeled off to use the rest room at Coney Island and for one shining moment had the early morning world all to myself. I didn't remember there being a generous number of bathrooms at the Canarsie Pier, and I just couldn't face the long lines. Ate bananas one and two, bemoaned the lack of things NOT made of chocolate, recognized a couple of people from the subway, and took off toward Queens.
The section through Queens was the least familiar part of the route for me. And now I know why.
I hate to say this. It's really quite rude. But...
I never want to see Queens again.
The ride into Flushing was beautiful.
In all my years in NY, I've never seen the Unisphere's fountains turned on. It is an awe inspiring sight. Flushing is about at the halfway point on the 100 mile ride, and I felt pretty optimistic about my chances. Brooklyn had seemed easy, Manhattan went by so fast, it was barely a memory, Queens would pass into the Triborough Bridge, and I would only have the Bronx to finish.
Oh, no, no, no.
Queens sucked.
Forest Hills. Jackson Heights. Richmond Hill. Are you seeing the pattern?
From Flushing to Alley Pond Park and back again to Astoria, all I did was ride up and down, up and down. Hills, hills, hills. I hate hills.
My lowest moment came in Alley Pond Park, where after what felt like miles of hills, I was finally flying down a long, steep, downhill to the rest stop, when I saw riders struggling back up the hill toward me. I realized at that moment that every foot I descended I was going to have to fight my way back up, and I crumbled inside. Things were starting to hurt, the day was getting hot, and that Godforsaken corner of Queens felt like the end of the earth.
I decided to call my family and friends to inform them that I would now be living at the Alley Pond Park Rest Stop - because there was no way in hell that I was getting back up that hill.
One powerbar later...
I decided to leave.
There's no use living at a rest stop where you have to wait on line to get a banana, and I was in no mood for a line.
So I took off toward Astoria in hopes that getting back on a recognizable route would perk me up.
Some parts of the ride back across Queens were lovely. There are stretches of waterfront promenade that are breathtakingly beautiful. However, there are also seemingly endless stretches of hilly, asphalty, sun beating down on you, cars trying to run you over, semi - suburban streets, that I am not likely to revisit anytime soon.
I arrived at Astoria park and was heartened to see some familiar faces. - Not that I actually knew any of them, but I kept finding and losing the same basic group of riders. - The bunnies to my tortoise.
Ate bananas three and four. PBJ number one and orange number three. Was momentarily confused by the sign that said, "55 milers - 5 miles to go. 100 milers - 28 miles to go. 75 milers - (scribble out) 28 miles to go."

Huh?
I rode this part of the route on Monday.
It goes over the Triborough to Randall's Island, across to the Bronx, and then East across Bruckner Boulevard. I thought the 75 milers had been riding with us up until this point and were almost done.
Confused.
Maybe delirious.
Went over the Triborough, which didn't back up as badly as I expected, but I think it probably sucked earlier in the day given that you have to carry your bike up and down three sets of stairs. Onto Randall's Island, and then - across the pedestrian bridge to 106th street?
Wait a minute.
This isn't how it's supposed to go.
But there are the green C's.
Pointing North.
Right smack into a Saint's Day Parade.

So, off I went, across the Willis Avenue Bridge and into the Bronx.
I really enjoy riding in the Bronx. There are some bike paths that are true hidden gems. But I was not enjoying myself this time. My back hurt, my left hand was going numb from clutching my handlebars too tightly, and all of a sudden, I developed a blinding, shooting pain in my knee every time I had to put pressure on the pedal to grind up a hill.
My odometer said 90 miles. I was almost home.
I fought my way to Van Cortland Park, dreaming of Advil and cold water. Ate bananas five and six, and orange number four. Compared odometers with a guy who got lost in Queens and somehow managed to shave three miles off the route. I was going to make it.
The volunteers were giving advice and pep talks. "Last rest stop before the finish in the park. Remember to use the rest room. Only eleven more miles to go."
WHAT?
My odometer read 96 miles.
How was that possible? Maybe my odometer is set wrong and I just never noticed because it's a cumulative discrepancy. Oh God. Riding 10 miles in pain is one thing. Riding 17 was way too much. ...But I had already done 6 of those miles. I only had 11 more to go. ...I was so close...How could I give up now?

That little voice is really annoying sometimes.

I saddled up and took off.
This time, there were no groups to go with. We were stretched out too thin, and the faster riders were already done.
I know this part of the ride really well. Which is a good thing, because, going up a hill in Washington Heights, I had my first mechanical failure of the day. My chain slipped, and I tumbled onto a parked car. Some nice marshals made sure I was OK, and I hopped onto the back of their group and let them lead me back down to the park.
110th Street seemed like a foreign land. Bright and crowded, with blaring music and daytime park users. It was like crossing the international date line and landing the day before you left.
I saw the guy whose classic Italian racing jersey I had admired in Bayridge, and the kid who I passed in Flushing riding what looked like a food delivery bike, complete with metal basket. There was the 'hotter 'en hell' chick who left me in the dust at Alley Pond Park, and finally, the guy in the green t-shirt who I saw for the first time at 5:30 in the morning on the subway platform in Brooklyn. Just then, I felt that I knew them all.
I stood for a moment the the afternoon sun and wondered if it had all been a dream.

As Seen In...Hell Gate

Built in 1917 by Othmar Ammann, and engineer Gustave Lindenthal, the bridge over Hell Gate is more properly called the New York Connecting Railroad Bridge.
Ammann was also the builder of The George Washington, The Triborough, The Throgs Neck, The Bronx Whitestone, and one of my personal favorites, The Verrazano Narrows Bridge.
Le Corbusier once called Hell’s Gate the most beautiful bridge in the world.
I love the view of this bridge from the bike path on the Triborough - I just wish the stairwell leading to the path on the Bronx end didn't stink so much of shit.

I See Cs

I went out for a ride, and look what I found.
They've marked the roads for the upcoming NYC Century and I couldn't help myself. I started following the green C's up through Brooklyn and then on to the Bronx before I came to my senses - and started losing the sunlight.
I'm getting less freaked out and more excited as the day draws closer, and today's little test run was actually a lot of fun.
It was pretty easy to follow the route - even without any kind of map, although I did run into one WTF? that has to be the result of financial or political route gerrymandering.
Right after crossing the Pulaski bridge into Long Island City, the route takes a quirky turn down to Gantry Park for one block of teeth chattering cobblestones before it returns to 5th street. I mean, Huh? Is that necessary? For a view of the mega-condos and the back of the Pepsi sign I have to dismount off my bike or risk a flat? Whose bright idea was that? Seriously, it's a detour to one stinking block on the waterfront. Anyway, I think that part is on the 55 mile route, so if you are riding that distance on skinny wheels, look out.

I picked up the 100 mile route at Astoria Park and followed it over the Triborough and into the Bronx. I knew I didn't have enough time to do the whole loop of the borough and make it back home to Brooklyn before the sun set, so I bailed in Sound View and set out for the University Heights Bridge. I saw one green C in Inwood, but I was heading for the bike path, so I let it pass.
Those things are like popcorn. You want just one more before you go home.

A Little Hell, A Lot of Heaven

Oh Wow.


I set out to find the South County Trail again.
I keep hearing that the Putnam Trail is in fact paved and passable on a road bike, but considering the mini - disaster that was my last attempt through Van Cortland Park, I decided to give up on that for the moment. I skipped riding through the park entirely and stayed on Broadway heading north.
I think I can honestly say that the stretch through Yonkers is the most miserable I've been on a bicycle, without actually falling over. The traffic is terrible on Rt 9. It's all buses and potholes and cobbles and exhaust and then - hills. Hills, and hills and more hills.
I think I've mentioned that I hate hills. I'm not a triathlete. I'm not in training for the tour de Georgia (don't even get me started on that name). I ride for fun and because it's a great way to explore my surroundings. Ok, I mean there is a great deal of personal satisfaction in achieving goals and feeling healthy and strong, but I don't go looking for things to climb over.
Up and down, up and down, the wind whipping into my face off the Hudson. In the words of the inimitable Bob Roll, I was "Doing the PaperBoy".
I forget who he was describing when he said that, but unlike me, I think that rider bonked while climbing an alp.
I thought about bailing out, but I knew I'd just be pissed the whole way home.
Long story short, I found the entrance to the South County Trail at Barney Street in either Yonkers or Hastings - on - Hudson. It runs right between the Saw Mill Parkway and Saw Mill River Road - and it is heavenly.
Paved, shaded, tree-lined, smooth, picturesque and a complete and total surprise to me. In classic Bike Dummy form, I used to live about a third of a mile away from this path when I got out of college - and Friday was the first time I ever saw it.
I felt like I could go forever.
Unfortunately, I got a late start, so I started to lose the light around New Castle. I had just enough sun left to take a slight detour around part of the Croton Reservoir, dive down to the Mount Kisco Metro-North train station, and head home.

view across the reservoir to the
Brooklyn Botanic Garden Research Center at Kitchawan

If anyone knows of a more pleasant way to get to the trail head from NYC, I'd appreciate hearing about it. I'm not even sure where it starts on the southern end.
To see my route, click on the map to go to bikely.com.

Henry Hudson D'Oh

New York is an amazing city. I've lived here all my life and I still discover something new every day. Bicycling has added tremendously to my knowledge of the city and the surrounding areas, but recently, I've had a run of frustrating bad luck.
One of the reasons why the city is so intriguing is that it is always changing. Stores, buildings, fads and causes come and go. Entire neighborhoods disappear. New ones spring up to take their place. Sometimes it feels like every night the city folds in upon itself and unscrambles into something new by morning.



I took this while crossing the Broadway Bridge at the top of Manhattan. The point in the distance is at Spuyten Duyvil - one of my favorite named locations in New York. According to Wikipedia, some of the origins of the name are Speight den Duyvil, Spike & Devil, Spitting Devil, Spilling Devil, Spiten Debill and Spouting Devil. Meanings include "Spinning Devil" or "Devil's Whirlpool" or "Spite the Devil."
I thought it would be nice to return via the Henry Hudson Bridge - the bridge at Spuyten Duyvil, but instead, I ran into this:



Closed, closed for repair, re-routed, non-existent. I've had some strange Karma going on that's drawn me to every fenced-off, under construction route in NYC, but this was a first - you can get on it - you just can't get off on the other side.
D'oh

“I'll never look like Barbie. Barbie doesn't have bruises.”

You have to whine really annoyingly and be wearing torn fishnets when you say this, just like in ‘Sid and Nancy’. Or you could just be me.
I don’t even have a drug habit or doomed affair with a rock star to blame. I just fall over a lot.
This time I didn’t even fall down. I fell up.


I was riding through Van Cortland Park in the Bronx for the first time and like many of my experimental expeditions, I got lost.
Van Cortland Park is huge. At 1,146 acres it is New York City's fourth largest park. It is home to the country's first public golf course, the oldest house in the Bronx, a protected wetland, and the borough's largest freshwater lake. I know this because I passed all of these repeatedly as I tried to find the entrance to the Putnam Trail and my chosen route into Westchester.

View Larger Map
It turns out, most of the trails in Van Cortland Park are not paved. It turns out that now that I’ve looked online, the Putnam Trail is unsuitable for a road bike. I think I’ve mentioned before that the NYC Bicycle Route Map sometimes feels like it was drawn by someone who wants to kill all cyclists, well I don’t want to sound unappreciative, but sometimes they really are out to get you.
Following the NYC bike map, I’ve encountered more closed roads, closed bridge crossings, and listed bike trails that aren’t bikable than I thought possible. It’s really making me want to put together some kind of online clearing house of up to date route information so that we don’t all have to go through this. Hmmm.
Anyway. As I biked in ever more frustrating circles on gravel trails, I finally dropped my chain. I was at the base of a commanding set of steps that lead up to the Van Cortland House Museum and I thought that might be my best bet to find actual pavement and maybe a place to fix my derailleur too, so I hefted my bike up onto my shoulder and started the walk up. About half the way up, I tripped, fell on my bike, and to add insult to injury, punched myself in the nose with my own handlebars.

Some days I just shouldn’t get out of bed.
Am I the only one who can’t ride a bike without bashing some part of myself on something? At this time of year, how bruised are you?