Eel X(treme)!

All zero of you readers probably thought that (a) the eel didn't happen or (b) I never came back.

Well, I'm here to tell you that it did and it was probably the best one since the first one.

There was nearly 20 people and all but two made it all the way through the ride in some fashion. No one did the 70 miles route the right way. Since even though I came up with the thing, I led a group astray through People's State Forest. Though in sacrificing some dirt, we rode the extremely fun road ("road") descent through the middle of the park. 

I think the route road extremely well, so no plans to change it for next year in an meaningful way and I think the date was perfect for "fall color". Maybe I'll charge $2 and get some kind of food option. Maybe not. I got a whole year to think about it. Read more!

Reflect on This

American exceptionalism and auto-centric culture go hand-in-hand. These foolhardy beliefs make me want to get back to investigating handlebar-mounted weaponry. Maybe a bayonet?

A local teenager was recently struck and killed while riding his bicycle. For possibly the first time ever, the newspaper had the decency to not delve into the blame game, leaving any mention of helmets, reflectors, or distracted driving out of the article. They even used this as another reason to support better treatment of pedestrians and cyclists. Fucking unheard of! And the first comment on that editorial?

I totally agree however even though stated, more emphasis must be put on bikers. I leave the house in the dark every morning. On my way I pass people on bikes with no rear (maybe no front) lights, dark clothing and maybe a reflective stripe on their shoes. This is on country roads that aren't that wide and curve around. Often you see them very late and although not difficult to avoid a moment of distraction and it would be tragic. They may have the right to use the road, but they also must use it safely.

I see dark cars with tinted windows often driving with no lights on. Sometimes the annoyingly loud music is the only indication that a car is nearby. Those with hearing impairments would be at total loss. Typically, because such motor vehicle operators can not be bothered to either fix or turn on their lights, they also can not be bothered to stop at intersections or pay attention to others on the road.

All of this is to say, what the hell is your point? Most suburban and rural cyclists make themselves visible from outerspace with neon racing gear, reflectors, and lights. Urban cyclists are a more diverse lot, but even people who are more difficult to see are not invisible. If one is driving his vehicle with headlights on, he should be able to observe people, animals, and other objects that might also be on the street. I drove rural Connecticut for years and never hit anything while I was driving the speed limit. I mention this because I killed an opossum and the guilt with haunt me for as long as I can remember it locking eyes with me that split second before I crushed its head with my tires. I was going well over the speed limit on a winding country road. If I had been driving more slowly, I would have had the ability to miss the creature. Every time other animals -- squirrels, dogs, cats, raccoons, deer, chipmunks, and one emu -- darted in front of me, I was able to avoid contact. I could be wrong, but not one of those bastards was equipped with reflector vests or lights. Read more!

Riding the East Coast Dirtway: Let's Go Ride a Bike Summer Games

Is it right to say that I missed the boat? Maybe if it's a hybrid boat-bicycle the idiom would make more sense.

Really, I do not know how it happened. I read Let's Go Ride a Bike religiously, which for me is more often than sporadic, sometimes with vodka involved, and no dread of hellfire. Then again, I'm not getting younger and certain pieces of information go in one eye and out the other. What makes my neglect in this instance particularly odd is that prizes (that I would want) are involved.

I noticed that the LGRAB Summer Games existed sometime in mid-June, yet did not figure out until a few days ago -- conveniently during a heat wave -- that I could still participate. Just in time for the third part (new territory), I was able to go on a little adventure that incorporated three of the challenges, and provided for a possible new one that they might include in future competitions. I promise that I'm doing this for all the right reasons, but the possibility of winning a Queen Bee pannier sweetens the deal.


On Sunday, I met the following challenges:
1. Explore new part of town by bike
2. Ride a greenway
3. Have a bicycle picnic

That's the short version.


The recent heatwave kept me inside for days on end and before that the Jenny was making some unhappy sounds (still bitter about being strapped to the front of a bus I think) as well as automatically shifting through several gears, so I had not ridden in awhile. I took the LGRAB Summer Games as the incentive to make time on Sunday to go for a picnic just off the East Coast Greenway, and to get to the ECG, Interstatement and I would travel through a section of Hartford that I'm not too familiar with. This loop would take us through Hartford, Windsor, South Windsor, Manchester, East Hartford, and then back into Hartford.

Before fun and games, I agreed to accompany Interstatement to his church in the North End of the city, as it was on the way. To be more precise, it's in the North East neighborhood, which is terribly stricken with violence. This is where Hartford gets its reputation from. I was not thrilled to be going through here, but it was early on a Sunday morning, which meant that most of the troublemakers were probably still sleeping after causing problems all night. I had not biked in this area before, so this fulfilled one challenge.

I have also never evaded a cop before.

I did not mean to, exactly. As we were traveling past the site where a police officer was shot a few nights before, a cruiser rolled up. The cop rolled down his window and began talking. I had just gotten into a good rhythm and did not feel like breaking it. About a block ahead it occurred to me that maybe I ought to stop. By the time I did and turned around, I saw that Interstatement had satisfied the officer with some answer that caused him to go on his way. In my own neighborhood, I'm not exactly among the racial/ethnic majority, but I spend a bit of time outdoors and must look like I fit in more. The experience yesterday annoyed me, but I guess it is not horribly offensive. White people, traveling in that neighborhood, are most likely there to buy drugs. (Side note: the data is a few years old now, but only 1.1% of people living in the North East neighborhood are white.) And yesterday, before my day of riding, I was definitely white. Now, I'm more of a red hue.

We did the church thing and then fielded questions from churchgoers who were surprised to see bicycles (instead of cars) being used as going-to-church-transportation. (Hey, if you want to show respect for God, stop crapping all over the planet with your SUV.) From here, we traveled through more sections of Hartford that I am not too familiar with, but which felt far less blighted and dangerous than those we passed through to arrive at the church. We went through a section of Keney Park, which I had not been through before. Keney Park is one of the largest parks in New England and I had previously only seen about one-third of it.

Eventually we landed on Windsor Avenue and started searching for the side streets that would get us to the Bissell Bridge, which would take us over the Connecticut River and along I-291.



While I have traveled over I-291 numerous times by car, I have never done this on a bicycle, nor have I seen the part of South Windsor that is still farmland. This is exactly where the bike path took us. South Windsor, a town I grew up near, is a place I associate with the worst ills of suburban culture -- strip malls and cheaply-built McMansions. Despite what the graffiti on the bridge might want us to believe, it's not threatening enough to "run this shit."



After a pleasant ride through corn fields, we cycled through an industrial section, finally winding up at where I-291 begins/ends in Manchester.

We arrived at Wickham Park dripping sweat and more than ready for our picnic lunch of wine and cheese.


A lot of parks in Connecticut do not permit alcohol, a fact I had forgotten until we arrived. Not sure on Wickham Park's policy, we planned to do a quick photo shoot, pour the wine, and then put the bottle back in one of Interstatement's cargo bike panniers.





I took photos, poured wine, set out the crackers, and was just about the open the cheese when a ranger came over. I had already evaded a cop that morning, but I have the utmost respect for park rangers, so I took a deep breath and waited for it. We learned the area we were using was actually reserved, but that there were other non-reserved areas in the park we could go to. He suggested we "chug" the wine and find another table. What? No trouble?

Since the church group of 150 or so people were supposed to show up for their tables any moment, we quickly packed the crackers and smartly chugged the wine. Just following orders.


The new picnic area actually worked out well, if not better. There was a lot of shade from trees and it was closer to the side we would be exiting from anyway. After lunch we visited the park's Aviary (or "birdiary" if, like me, you can't ever remember the word "aviary"). My photos are not as awesome as they could be since the fence was in the way.













The last stretch of the adventure would involve riding on a greenway. The East Coast Greenway is described by its website:

The East Coast Greenway is the nation's most ambitious long-distance urban trail project. By connecting existing and planned shared-use trails, a continuous, traffic-free route is being formed, serving self-powered users of all abilities and ages. 3,000 miles long, the Greenway links Calais, Maine at the Canadian border with Key West, Florida. Alternate routes will add another 2,000 miles to the ECG trail system.

This green city-to-city travel corridor was launched in 1991 when the East Coast Greenway Alliance formed to make this vision a reality. The East Coast Greenway will be entirely on public right-of-way, incorporating waterfront esplanades, park paths, abandoned railroad corridors, canal towpaths, and pathways along highway corridors.

I had previously ridden on most of the section planned for that day, but it was when I rode less frequently; thus, I was looking forward to conquering the hills that used to be awful for me. No such luck. I rode it, but due to the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act the pavement was all dug up! Almost the entire section was dirt. Not hardpacked dirt, or even gravel, but loose dirt which made riding even on flat surfaces a challenge I was not expecting. We had to keep stopping because my thighs were burning. Little did I know, I was also getting wicked sunburn in spite of having diligently applied SPF45 sunblock that morning.



By the time we hit the street section of the ECG, I was happy to ride in traffic because it meant a hard surface. Next time, I am bringing more water and the bottle of sunblock.
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Real Ride Hartford (and West Hartford) Bicycle Parade

Preface: There were photographers with actual camera mounts for their madly expensive gear, so if you want to see "professional-looking" photos, I'm sure those will be online somewhere in a few days.

Saturday evening's bicycle parade made me very proud, happy, and relieved that I live in Hartford. More on that later. We began at Real Art Ways on Arbor Street. Here, people had the chance to tart up their bikes with lights and random art supplies provided by Anne Cubberly. There was a fish bicycle
(perhaps a reference to the quote often falsely attributed to Gloria Steinem?), cat bike, horse bike, clock bike, and demon bike. Those stuck out the most in my memory. Others were piled with lights and glowing orbs. One gal had a plastic flower on the front of her bicycle -- it dispensed bubbles! I did not get the chance to talk to her, but I see a mobile bubble dispenser as part of my future. At least two riders had awesome camera mounts which I am sure enabled them to take focused, high resolution, non-blurry photos that they are not going to be ashamed of showing to the public. There was at least one tandem and it was rigged with a souped up vuvuzela. That I can not describe each and every bike says something about the turnout. There was at least four times as many people there than I expected would show -- some coming down from Boston for the event.


The parade turned right onto Arbor Street, then right up Capitol Avenue. We turned left down Flower Street, crossed the railroad tracks, and then turned right onto Farmington/Asylum. The ride stopped at ArtSpace (555 Asylum Street) so that we could meet up with people who were attending the Art for AIDS fundraiser. It would have made more sense to stop in the back lot instead of on the incline of the street, but it also would have made sense for the stops to last ten minutes or more to allow for a drink/bathroom break. We did not go inside ArtSpace or Billings Forge, so the purpose for stopping at each place was unclear. In the future, more work could go into allowing for people at each venue and on bicycles to mingle, if that's the point. I'm not saying it wasn't fun. I thought it was a blast. But the stops could have been a bit longer. Anyway, I know that the original plan was for this ride to take an hour. I think the route planners forgot that it was going to be a slow ride, made perhaps even slower by the presence of a DJ being hauled on a trailer behind a bicycle. You just can't take corners fast on that kind of rig and who wants to rush along a trailer full of awesome?

From ArtSpace we continued into and through Bushnell Park, but only a sliver of it to cut behind the Legislative Office Building and Armory. We looped back onto Capitol Avenue and then Broad Street so we could stop at Billings Forge. Since an artist briefly spoke to the group, this stop seemed more meaningful. There was some kind of solstice event supposedly going on at Billings Forge. When we rode through, it seemed like only a few people were outside of the venue/compound.


Here is where dynamics got weird. And by dynamics, I mean that almost everyone in the parade was white and we were about to head further into Frog Hollow -- an area I am convinced was virgin territory for a number of the cyclists. Disclosure: I am perhaps being overly sensitive about this because I live here and am very familiar with the area and people. Before heading back on Broad Street and down Park, I overheard a couple people making remarks about how they hoped the musical selections for the area were "appropriate." This was followed by several Speedy Gonzalesesque cheers. Very not okay. Very WTF. Guess this reminded me that I can not stereotype all artists or bicyclists as being open-minded or aligned with progressive values. Maybe instead of a bubble machine, I could rig my bike with a flamethrower in order to more productively deal with racially and ethnically bizarre comments.


Riding up Park Street made me proud to live in Hartford. It was around 9-9:30pm, I'd guess, and the sidewalks were busy. People were outside cheering us. Really cheering us. There is this great vibe that emanates from the area and makes it hard not to smile, honk, wave, and holler back. A strong contingent of kids joined us for a ways, riding their BMX, department store, and low-rider bikes on sidewalks and in the streets. The photo at the beginning of this blog post is of two of them. I yelled for them to join in, and two or three stuck with us for the rest of the ride. These kids made the event seem more like a parade and less like a regular old ride. Another funny indication that some riders had no idea where they were: I overheard one woman getting nervous about the presence of a police cruiser coming down Park Street. Really? Really?! I got stopped by a cop on Park once for looking suspicious while pushing a wheelbarrow filled with shovels and pitchforks. He wanted to know why I had these tools, so of course I told him something like they were for stabbing someone to death and then burying her. My memory on that conversation blurs a bit. Maybe I said they were for farming. I don't recall. A little traffic on the street is nothing they aren't used to. Hell, just a couple weeks ago, in the lead up to the Puerto Rican Day Parade, the street was used to showcase everyone's decorated rides, causing far more severe traffic jams, and the police involvement was kept to a respectful minimum. The government that governs best governs least.



I hope this ride was educational for non-local or non-bike-commuters, as the amount of broken glass in the bike lanes and streets is something that a large number of people are now aware of and could complain about. There are some immediate infrastructure differences between Hartford and West Hartford. The moment we crossed into the suburb, the pavement became smooth. The only real debris there was roadkill. While a less comfortable ride, I felt safer in Hartford. Cars seemed to give us more space and props in the city. The horns were cheering us, not expressing impatience with us and then zooming past at 50 miles per hour. During the week, I experience plenty of impatient, distracted drivers whizzing past me in the city, but on Saturday night, they all seemed chill.


And then we crossed into West Hartford. The pavement became so smooth and we could hear the sound of our tires against it, which is to say that nearly all of the observer encouragement ceased. While passing one of those restaurants with outdoor patios (I know which one, but I'm not going to give them free publicity) on Park Road, we actually received polite golf claps (not to be confused with booty claps. we received no booty claps that I am aware of). There were a few cheers, but the ratio of noise to people was sorely disappointing. C'mon! Live a little! It's okay to break with decorum, particularly on a beautiful Saturday night in the summer.

Around this area, someone asked, "What are you doing?" to which I responded, "Riding a bicycle!" Duh! "But what for?" "To ride. Because it's fun." Someone else jumped in to give a convoluted explanation of what we are doing. My policy? When people ask stupid questions, keep the answers short so that they can understand. If we were riding for "something" we would have had signs or shirts announcing that probably.


We turned onto South Quaker, then left onto Boulevard. Here, the street got very dark and even quieter. Up in the Center, we did some zigzagging and I did not bother paying attention to all of the road names. Some of the people dining outdoors on LaSalle Road were more supportive. We looped around, returning to Main Street and then cut through Blue Back Square. Again, a decent number of people outside, but too, too quiet. We took Farmington Avenue down to Sisson Avenue, Capitol Avenue, and then Arbor or Orange (depending on whether or not the cyclist felt like following directions), back to the Real Art Ways parking lot. The only part of the ride where there were impatient motorists seemed to be on Farmington Avenue, in West Hartford Center, and Blue Back Square. But for the few jerks behind steering wheels, there were a number of patient motorists who waited calmly while everyone passed.


Despite the amount of broken glass and potholes, I do not think anyone popped a tire. I only saw one person fall, and it was one of those "can't get my foot out of the clip" incidents -- toppling over, more than a violent collision. She said she was okay. I heard something pop or snap on another rider's bike but don't know what happened. Some shit fell off my bike when I hit one of the many potholes, but the lost items were not integral to the operation of the machine, and I basically knew they were not going to stay on because I rushed the decoration process.

It was heartening to see so many females and even a few children riding, which of course begs the question -- why am I not seeing this many women on the road normally?


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Postcard from Glenwood Canyon in Colorado

Interstate 70 finds a way through the west side of the mighty Rockies via Glenwood Canyon, a beautiful drive many of us have prolly made driving cross country. This time, I noticed the multi-use path along the river and decided to check it out since I had my bike with me. Wow! This thing is a feat of engineering in which the builders really worked hard to preserve trees and the canyon and not just blast though....and it shows! If you ever find yourself driving through here and want a fantastic break, bust out yer bike or walking shoes and go exploring. I think there's about a dozen or so miles of path.
It's super fresh to see the tunnels for cars while gallivanting under the dang road! The road noise varies depending where the trail is in relation to the cars and trucks.


The trail moves from the sides of the Interstate, to under, to next to and all over again as the roads and trails meander through the steep, twisty canyon. Its sometimes awkward and noisy with speeding cars a few meters away, sometimes strangely peaceful and quiet, but always surreal. so very urban in many ways, but in a huge natural canyon.


You usually don't share a path with paddlers carrying boats in Hartford!


But then again, the Hog River doesn't have much great white water to paddle! Not that there aren't some great adventures to be had paddling in Hartford, or for that matter, under Hartford!


There's some artwork along the way including this memorial which was enjoyable and musical

more pics...

I wasn't the only cyclist enjoying watching the paddlers bob up and down through the rapids.


The scenery and break from driving made me quite happy!


so did an avocado after the ride!

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Badass hawks

Johanna and I tried to do some mountain biking today, but it didn't go very well because I thought it'd be a cool idea to ride without tools, a pump, a tube, or anything other than my wallet, keys and phone. So, I was punished by mountain bike gods (or cyclocross gods, because I was riding my 'cross bike) and got a flat.

After regrouping, Johanna decided to go for a run instead and I rode around on the old Stumpjumper. Nothing interesting, though I did encounter this sort of creepy guy. Then later, there was this badass hawk that I happened upon that had just disemboweled a duck. Damn! The fury of nature!


I couldn't figure out where the hawk had flown, so I did not get a picture of him/her. Read more!