Hartford's Zoo - Found it.

While wandering around today taking in the last of the leaves and generally exploring areas Northwest of Hartford, I came across a curious "No Parking" sign on an abandoned road in Keney Park.  Then there was the animal enclosure.  Putting the clues together, I'm guessing that I stumbled across the ruins of the Sherwood Forest Zoo that closed in 1976.  Keney Park is always surprising me.  I've got to get out there for some rustic urban camping.  Maybe a weekend overnight soon to try out my new winter bag.

In honor of all the whiny folks complaining about parking woes in Hartford.

Who knows what they kept here?  

And a ride is not complete without some gratuitous graffiti peeping along the train tracks.  There were several new burners near the Hartford and Windsor line.  I'm bummed that I won't be able to make it to the ground breaking for the new skate park at Heaven on Monday (@4PM).  The neat part about Heaven having "legal walls" is that I actually get an opportunity to watch the process of creating graffiti.  Just stop by the park and there is good chance you'll find someone working on a new piece.

Riding the dike behind the dump mountain on the North side of Hartford.  They are capping the mountain with a seam sealed rubber membrane and covering that up with something that looks like AstroTurf.  The fences are down, and I'll bet (but I haven't checked) that the views from the top of the mound are pretty stellar.  I'm excited that the space may be converted to novel uses in the future, but curious where we are sending all our trash in the meantime.  Out of sight, out of mind I guess.

And you shouldn't miss the Bike Walk Connecticut Annual Dinner.  Tuesday, November 12th at Central Connecticut State University.  Get your tickets before the 5th and save $5.

Read more!

Blocked

I don't do "heartfelt" or "sentimental," so the plethora of gratitude posts/articles leading up to and on Thanksgiving always infect me with good old-fashioned alienation and bitterness. People who do not have a fractured relationship with their families do not get this; so, it's been a week or so of knee-deep guilt and general annoyance. After all, a lot of these same people who love to talk about gratitude run out the next day to be rude to fellow beings at the shopping malls, nevermind support the Black Friday nonsense that requires minimum wage workers to report in at three a.m., forcing them to leave their own Thanksgiving dinners early so that they can take a nap before work.

What does this have to do with bicycles?

My pissy mood lifted enough today to recognize my gratitude for being able to ride a bike and for owning a decent one. This allows me to ride faster than the speed of street harassment. I can travel more safely late at night by myself. My brakes work.

Recognizing this, I took a shorter-than-expected jaunt down by the Connecticut River. When we begin to get snow and ice, I am switching from my Jenny to Starry Starry Bike, with the intention of maintaining Jenny's good looks and lack of saltiness. I had not even reached Downtown before realizing that I would have been better prepared for the ride with a balaclava and thermos of hot chocolate.

The ride to the river is always interesting. I cut through Sheldon-Charter Oak and South Meadows, which means passing buildings and beings that have both seen better days. The Capewell Horse Nail Factory and Colt Armory are two such places. As for the people, this area has a number of homeless shelters and soup kitchens, and it's along the highway and railroad, which some live along. I guess this traces back to gratitude too, because I live in a community where we actually have services and resources for the hungry, homeless, and ex-offenders. It might be uneasy at times to ride on past, but at least we are not outsourcing our "problems" for others to deal with.

Arriving at the secret creepy entrance to the Riverwalk, I saw the gate was closed and I could find no way around it. I suppose I could have jumped it and lifted my Jenny overhead, but honestly, that was a lot of effort to put forth on a Sunday morning. I figured I'd just ride on the roads further, go into Charter Oak Landing, and hook up with the path there.


What I discovered was that the path was obstructed by construction equipment. My assumption and hope is that they are finally getting around to completing Riverwalk South, the unpaved section of path between Charter Oak Landing and Mortensen Riverfront Plaza. It's never been too difficult to either ride or push my bike up the unpaved part, but as much as I might think I'm the center of the universe, other people may actually want to use this path, including the elderly and those in wheelchairs. What I learned over Thanksgiving vacation is that the elderly do not enjoy off-roading it through any parks. In fact, slightly uneven sidewalks can make them cranky.

I was hoping the Riverfront Recapture website would have more information on the project, but there's nothing more than a vague reference to the plans.

Circling back, I got distracted by something I wanted to take a photo of and ended up heading the wrong way on a one-way street. This would not be a big deal except that after I was halfway down the street, people came pouring out of a Polish church and I found myself standing on the sidewalk, with my bike, just waiting for the street gridlock to subside.

Thinking I'd get something more out of this, I tried to find coffee and a snack Downtown, but unless I wanted a F.B.S. there was nothing for me. The Sunday after a holiday is reason for all the good places (anything but DD) to shut down.

Read more!

Bikes on Dikes

It began with what was meant as a short detour on the way home from Colt Park -- a jaunt along the paved Riverside path.

But Saturday was the first time this summer that we were not faced with disgusting humidity, 85+ temperatures, or some crazy hail-tornado-thunderstorm-Armageddon warning. Instead of turning back when the pavement ended, we kept going on the path between the Connecticut River and the flood barrier.

Every single time I have ridden past the paved part of the path, I have encountered less than optimum riding conditions -- ice, mud, and most recently, sand. Starry Starry Bike would be awesome for these rides, but for some reason, I am always finding myself here on a bike that lacks awesome knobby tires.

Still, it's quiet. As Interstatement reminded me while I was kvetching about the precarious ride, we had not seen any pesky baby carriages in some time. Nothing makes me happier than being away from screaming babies and their often smug, entitled parents, as one is wont to be subjected to in the disputed territories.

A deer jumped across the trail. We did not encounter anyone once we reached the sandy part of the path, though we could hear the whining of dirt bikes across the Connecticut River.

The path dumped us out somewhere near the highway, a dike, and a giant billboard advertising pizza, which is basically torture when there are no decent pizza joints in that neighborhood. We rode alongside the tracks for a bit before finally finding ourselves back on the pavement, cutting through Keney Park, and then heading home.

*Somewhere along this route, I believe, is where I picked up a case of poisonivy. I won't post pictures of that.
Read more!

Dear Jenny

In October I walked into a bicycle and sandwich shop in Provincetown, almost as an afterthought before leaving town. It was a blustery day in the off-season -- which I contend is the only time to see Cape Cod – and our visit to the Edward Gorey House was the priority item on the itinerary for the day. Going into the bike shop made me feel like a little kid again, in that I wanted just about everything there, but could not afford anything at the time.

There were picnic backpacks more practical than baskets, but less aesthetically pleasing. Even on sale, they were more than the $10 I had given myself as a vacation allowance. There were colorful horns in the shape of pig heads. Weeks later, while watching a documentary about one of the entertainment venues in town, I learned that the awards granted to drag queens were these horns, but repainted metallic colors. The store was geared toward tourists, but was not filled with the typical schlock. To me, it seemed intended for the person who was so inspired by the beauty of the Cape as to suddenly need picnic and cycling equipment. Somehow, having gone to Provincetown every autumn for the last five years, I had never stopped into the shop.

I do not remember exactly how it happened. Maybe Interstatement pointed her out to me or maybe I stumbled upon her myself, but it was love at first sight.

I notice color. Her strong, yellow frame radiated amidst rows of boring navy and black frame bikes. Her handlebar grips and saddle were both leather with visible x's of stitching on the grips. This was a bicycle that begged to be ridden proudly about town, along the beach, and through the beech forest. Her name: Schwinn Jenny.

After a bit of swooning, we departed, heading back into the cold, October rainstorm. Try as I might, I could not get her out of my head. I fantasized about riding her around town. These were not general fantasies, but detailed ones that included various outfits and destinations.

Then it occurred to me. What if she's good to take 'round the block a few times, but doesn't have what it takes to go the distance? What if she's all style and no substance? Like any love-struck fool, I stalked conducted some research before making a move. Who else had taken her out? Did she disappoint? Did anyone actually ride her 'til the wheels fell off? Ten pages worth of Google searches showed that nobody out there has been talkin' smack about my Jenny. On to phase two.

I recently adventured out to WilliRico with Interstatement because he wanted to visit Scott's Cyclery, and I gravitate toward old factory towns, especially ones I spent lots of time in during the 90s. This is another place I somehow never stepped foot in, even though I was in Willimantic at least three days a week for four years. I was not even 100% positive where it was on Main Street, and as a result, we schlepped a heavy folding bike from where we parked on the other end of the downtown. While he barraged the owner with questions about things I did not have any vested interested in, I wandered around the store, this time feeling less oppressed by my financial situation; soon, I could spend a little money again.

Among the new bicycles and related equipment were some old-as-dirt bikes, including a Bone Shaker. I quickly found an inexpensive set of fenders for my daily bike. There was a nice range of bicycles that I would actually ride in the shop (i.e. not those crazy racing bikes with curvy handlebars that do absolutely nothing for me aesthetically or physically) and after exhausting the main part of the store, I headed back toward the repair section. It was here where I saw her: my Jenny. She was next to an adult Trike, folding bike, and the BoneShaker.

My heartbeat quickened. I inched the surrounding bikes away from her so that I could marvel at close range. Things blurred. Next thing I knew, a worker was holding my credit card as collateral and I was putting on a helmet so I could ride Jenny around the block. Only days after a snowstorm, the roads were gritty and a little icy. There was no slipping or skidding. She shifted gears without a hiccup as I headed up the hill toward the hospital. If I could have ridden home, I might have just kept going, not because stealing from a local bike shop is cool, but because it ached to return her. I promised the clerk that I would return in a few weeks for her.

When the big day arrived, I called ahead to make sure Jenny was still there. It would have been a long drive followed by a hard letdown had I arrived to see her spot in the shop vacant.



Our first time was not in the middle of a sunny afternoon like I'd imagined, but late at night. Every jolting pot hole was muted by her springy saddle. The return trip home was even later, nearing four in the morning. She softened the blow of being awake at that hour.

Our first real time together, though, when everything jived, was only just today. It was in the mid-30s, bright, and a relaxing end to a chaotic week. She beckoned.

We meandered out of Frog Hollow and arrived at Constitution Plaza downtown. The paved path along the Connecticut River was cleared of snow and ice more than most sidewalks I have seen this week. We passed a handful of people out enjoying Riverside Park. After taking a few victory laps in the parking lot by the Boathouse, we headed down the unpaved path. This was a rougher ride. The Jenny handled better in the snow and on loose rock than I was expecting her to.

We saw animal tracks, a sign warning us of the firing range, and a tree that was mislabeled with a poster that read "bike." She shifted effortlessly on hills. Even with the layer of snow, she put on the brakes faster than my other bicycles are able to in dry conditions. She handled the mud just fine, thankyou. Most importantly, I did not humiliate myself by falling off her during our first daytime ride.

On the way home I spotted the Barrio Style bike and his owner. It was like getting a glimpse at a celebrity while wearing Prada and riding in a limo, for a change. Except in this case, the limo was my Jenny, and she was looking foxier than any car I have seen in this area.
Read more!

1938 Hurricane Aerial Photos

The Connecticut River in Hartford is a subject in many of our posts, and we spend a lot of time down along the banks of the silty, sandy Connecticut.

Brendan is hosting a 'cross race down at Riverside Park in October, 2009. Last fall, he hosted The Eel down along the river, and this spring, he hosted The Eel 2. Ken frequently takes quick rides late at night to "kiss the river". Last year, we hit as many bridges as possible on one ride. El Presidente de China has praised the railroad bridge north of the Bulkeley Bridge. I frequently use the push-up spot between the Bulkeley and Founder's Bridges, on the East Hartford side of the river. I went swimming on the East Hartford side on a ride that was documented last year. We also occasionally met up below the Founder's Bridge before critical mass rides last year. Also, I distinctly remember Vasudeva the ferryman from Siddhartha, but that was in India.

Many of these events and experiences have happened between the dikes. At one point the dikes didn't exist. Would we have the same bicycling and bridge resources we do now if the dikes hadn't been built?

The Connecticut State Library has 132 aerial photos taken shortly after the Hurricane of 1938 had passed. These photos are incredible. I suggest you go look at them and see how different the city looked up to its neck in water and without dikes.

Read more!