No Crossing the Cross Bay Bridge

Don't try to cross the Cross Bay Bridge on a bike.

The pedestrian and bike path is closed for repairs until at least October, which is a bummer - I like doing the loop around Jamaica Bay.



Luckily, there is a shuttle bus that will take you and your bike across the bridge.
Luckier even if you happen to run into one of the local cyclists who has the driver's number on speed dial to make sure you don't have to wait forever.
I have no idea what the wait time is normally - due to my exalted company it was only about 15 minutes.




Still, it's a bit weird to end up crammed on a passenger van half way through a ride.
By the time I get that far down, I'm usually a pretty ripe and the poor guy sitting next to me and the nice clean couple on a date certainly wished that I had chosen a different route.

In the end, you can get across - I'd just recommend sticking to the Marine Parkway Bridge for now.

Biking to Roosevelt Island

Less Hate, More Love Part III



In celebration of one full week since my commuter bike was stolen (and my inability to get over it and just replace it) I'm posting another of my favorite local rides - across the bridge to Roosevelt Island.


View from the Southern tip of Roosevelt Island

The very fact that Roosevelt Island exists is a little strange. A product of the Urban Development Corporation, it was supposed to be a suburban, car-free utopia in the center of NYC.
Over the years, I've known a number of people who've lived there, and they all did enjoy it to a certain extent.

The thing I enjoy most about it are the spectacular views and the fact that you can be completely and totally alone.
Past the ruin of the old smallpox hospital (BikeDummy, Sept. 2007) all the way at the tip of the island, is a spot to view the complete panorama of the East River - from the United Nations to LIC.
And it's almost always empty.


The United Nations to the West


Long Island City to the East

To get to Roosevelt Island by Bicycle - either take the tram from 60th street in Manhattan, or bike across the bridge at Vernon Blvd and 36th Avenue in Queens.
The surface of the bridge is metal grating so I wouldn't ride across it unless you've got a mountain bike. It's also currently under construction, so on windy days the dust is really awful.
The path is very narrow and is used by pedestrians as well, so you may need to dismount and walk your bike.
Once across, just follow the roads. The island is a closed loop so it's not like you can get lost.



If you're in the area - drop by the Socrates Sculpture Park or the Isamu Noguchi Museum for a bit of culture.

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!

As seen in...Blissville

I haven't seen one of these in a while, at least not in NYC.

I realize that I'm exposing my ignorance, but I never even knew there was a 'Blissville'.
(It's not called bike dummy because I'm a brain surgeon.)

As seen in...Riis Park

As seen in...Fort Tilden

I took a wrong turn at the corner of the Atlantic Ocean and ended up in Fort Tilden.
Corey Kilgannon for The New York Times wrote about Fort Tilden like this:

"TO reach the beach at Fort Tilden, keep the missile silos on your right, the munitions buildings on your left, and head due south of the cannon batteries.

Remember this, because there are no signs to point the way, no scents of sunscreen, lifeguard’s whistles nor flying Frisbees; just these military landmarks, the briny breeze and the roar of the surf.

It is not for everyone. It can be a bit of a hike to the water, and there are no lifeguards. Visitors, in fact, are warned not to swim, because of the dangerous tides. There are no convenient bathrooms, snack bars or other amenities.

The fort, built in 1917 as part of the city’s coastal defenses, was used through two world wars and part of the cold war to keep the enemy — German subs, Japanese bombers or Russian nukes — from reaching New York.

For the explorer, the treasures of Tilden truly unfold. The more you wander the underused pathways of the park’s 317 acres, the more bizarre the place gets.
At Tilden you can do bombs and barracks, or beach blanket bingo. Or both."



Beyond the parking lot, a maze of empty back roads winds its way through the beach grass and wild roses. The road surface is fairly smooth, the sea breeze is cooling - and there is absolutely no one around.
From what I've gathered, the beach at Fort Tilden is used primarily by surf cast fisherman who purchase a permit from the Parks Department which allows them to park somewhat near the water.
For everyone else, it's a hike - or take a bike.





Personally, I suggest a bike. But that's just me.

Biking to a Different Beat

This has nothing to do with my personal experience of bicycling. But I'm always telling people who bitch about trying to bike in traffic in NYC that there are a million different ways to enjoy riding in this city.
It doesn't have to be about exercise, or efficient transportation, or 'being green'.
It can be about exploration, or community, or I guess, even about rockin' the beats.

This is an excerpt from today's NYT.
For the full article, go here.
For the phat photos, go here.

By COREY KILGANNON
Published: November 29, 2007

A new biker gang is roaming the streets of Richmond Hill, Queens. This crew of mostly teenagers can be seen riding along 103rd Avenue just west of the Van Wyck Expressway. The bikes roar, but the booming sound has nothing to do with engines — because there are no engines. They are ordinary bicycles, not motorcycles, although these contraptions look and sound more like rolling D.J. booths. They are outfitted with elaborate stereo systems installed by the youths.

“This one puts out 5,000 watts and cost about $4,000,” said Nick Ragbir, 18, tinkering with his two-wheeled sound system, with its powerful amplifier, two 15-inch bass woofers and four midrange speakers. It plays music from his iPod and is powered by car batteries mounted on a sturdy motocross bike.

The riders are of Guyanese and Trinidadian background. In those countries, turning bicycles into rolling outdoor sound systems is a popular hobby.

“It’s really big where I come from in Trinidad,” Mr. Ragbir said. “When I first came to New York, I started with two little speakers. People here thought I was crazy because no one here has really ever seen it, except maybe for some Spanish dudes with a radio strapped to their handlebars.”

He added: “People say, ‘It’s the next best thing to having a system in a car.’ But it’s better because you don’t even have to roll down the windows.”

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...Riis Park

Wandering among the picnicking families in Riis Park with a live parrot perched on his head.
He was dancing to Caribbean Queen by Billy Ocean - I kid you not.

As seen in...Richmond Hill

From the New York Times, By JEFF VANDAM
Published: January 28, 2007
The words ''Republican Club'' remain in arched black letters above the four-columned entrance to the Colonial Revival structure in the Richmond Hill neighborhood in Queens, but the building's paint is peeling badly.

No one is allowed to enter the 1908 building on Lefferts Boulevard near Hillside Avenue. A protected landmark despite its near-death condition, it is unsafe, and there are growing concerns that it may collapse...

In 1974, a rally to support President Nixon ended in a hail of eggs thrown at the club's doors and four arrests, after anti-Nixon demonstrators got rowdy.

click here for the complete NYT article