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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Bikes Outside: Fuji Mount

It has been a while since we've gone downtown for Bikes Outside, so this morning finds us a stone's throw from the northeast corner of Bushnell Park, where this well-preserved old Fuji was locked up.

The all-steel wheels and cottered cranks suggest this was at the lower end of Fuji's offerings in its day, but the details in the half-chromed fork and handsome lugged frame show that budget-minded customers were not starved for quality or aesthetic appeal.

Green is my favorite color for a bike, and I'm usually game for an odd shade, the more dated the better. In that sense, the acidic lime hue of this Special Tourer does not disappoint. Very much at home with said color are the three-bolt chainrings, centerpull brakes, stem shifters, and 27" wheels with plenty of clearance for fenders. It's an unabashed 1970s period piece, and I love it. While I'm disappointed that Fuji no longer offers such a color, they have not forgotten their roots. Their site shows that they still make an old school chromoly-framed touring bike, as part of their retrogrouch-pleasing "Classic Series" They simply call it "Touring" now, but it's still pretty special.


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Marvelous Bikes

Can you think of a more fitting mascot than the Incredible Hulk for a bike shop? Wait, do bike shops sell eggs?

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Bikes Outside: There Is A Rose In Spanish Hartford

This Independence Day edition Bikes Outside brings us to the Firebox Restaurant at Billings Forge in NoFroHo. Huffy is an unmistakably American brand, though I'm not sure how late they actually built bikes in the USA. Seeing as our nation has trended away from nuance and detail with regards to just about everything, I say that if its a Huffy, it's American!!!

This Huffy is in decent shape for its 30-something age and has a whopping big dose of utility in the form of a giant front basket. I had a Wald basket like this on my Skykomish in Portland and it was extremely useful. I got so accustomed to using it that the front end of the bike felt disconcertingly light, downright twitchy, the one time I rode without a load. The D-R's owner seems to have run into the same snag I encountered with my big basket: it makes bike locking that much more awkward. That means this Huffy's radical angle of repose is a forced function of utility rather than a hipster high-lock. High-locking does increase visibility as well, and my impromptu photo shoot was noticed by one of the Firebox's employees, who seemed very amused that I was so interested in the old bike, which he said belonged to one of the waitresses.

The Desert Rose exists in a stylistic limbo, having cast off the swoopy lines of muscle bike era frames for a more angular BMX (albeit step-through) form, while hanging on to the banana seat and ape hangers that ruled the youth bike market in the age of Aquarius. It has the requisite color scheme that ranges from pink to pink to mauve, with a bold departure in the form of a splash of maroon for good measure. I think girls' bikes were sort of an afterthought, although "Desert Rose" does sound a bit more rugged than the pretty princess treacle that endures to this day. There's something kind of tough and resourceful about this bike. I like that.

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Stank Locker

In case you're asked to check your bags at the front desk of the oldest art museum in Hartford, you can use this photo as proof that your junk'll probably fit just nicely in one of their complimentary lockers. One locker holds: massive cargo bike pannier, two helmets, and a medium-sized purse. Sure, we could have taken two lockers and not gotten everything wrinkled, but I think the point needed to be made.

Before we reached the museum, we had to do some rush hour traffic riding. Before that, I practically got marriage offers from some dudes in my neighborhood. It went something like this:
DUDE ONE: We need us a simple girl like that.
DUDE TWO: Yeah, all these girls 'round here all they want's for us to get expensive cars and drive them around.

DUDE ONE: (to me) Hey, can I ride wit you? I'll behave.

This was one of the better random street pickup attempts I've been victim to, mostly because I agreed with them. Too many females see males as chauffeurs and ATMs. Relying on a man to supply one with these things is just setting oneself up for disappointment. Thus, I quote Destiny's Child: "I depend on me if I want it."




At the museum, we saw that someone thought himself too good for both wheels.

This is not the first time I spotted a unicycle downtown. Last year, someone sped around Main Street on one, doing tricks and hopping off the curb.

Before hitting the after party, we wanted to ride home to make some wardrobe adjustments. Interstatement picked up a passenger for the back of his bike -- a friend in the neighborhood who was too lazy to walk his self home -- and I once again dazzled onlookers by being able to pedal in heels. Here's a secret: it's really not that hard. In fact, it's way easier to ride a bike in heels than it is to stand still in them. What sucked about the ride had nothing to do with my footwear. The seat on Starry Starry Bike was still at this high, strange angle, and I've been spoiled riding the Jenny, which allows me to sit upright. I have a cranky back and any hunched over posture, if not immediately uncomfortable, at least promises to cause me discomfort the next day.

We rode home and then back downtown, locked the bikes on a random railing because there are no visible bike racks outside on Columbus Boulevard, and proceeded to check out the after party before running into a friend stumbling down from a mere few blocks away. Sure, he left later than we did, but I think this makes a sound case for why he needs a bicycle yesterday.

Also, if you need more information to pull out if the subject ever comes up, bike helmets and panniers were allowed into a swank restaurant in the Convention Center/Science Center vicinity.

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Sky Pilot

With my recent trip to Oregon came all the excitement and uncertainty of plunking myself down in a completely unfamiliar place. I knew I would surely want to do a lot of exploring. My natural inclination was to bring a bike along, but I was quickly discouraged by the steep asking prices from the airlines and parcel carriers. Even the 26" folding bike frame I own would have been considered "oversized" and subject to their steep penalties. Renting a bike for a three-week span of time would have also cost a small fortune.

My solution: find a cheap beater bike on Craigslist, ride it for the duration of my stay and unload it as I prepared to leave.

I started seriously surfing the Portland craigslist a few days before my departure. Several promising bikes were gone the day they were listed. It seemed that used bikes moved fast around there. I found an ad for a Skykomish Granite Point, a Pacific NW regional brand mountain bike with Shimano Deore components, a huge seat, a pair of clip-on fenders, and an asking price of $60. I called the number in the ad. The woman who answered still had the bike and was willing to hold it a couple of days and meet me somewhere after my flight arrived. We stayed in touch by phone and arranged a meetup.

Upon arrival at PDX Airport, I took the MAX light rail to a nearby stop and met the seller (and her father, a wise precaution for a rendezvous with some random stranger from across the country) in a nearby parking lot. The bike (and for that matter, the seller) did not disappoint in person. It was a solid machine that looked to be of an early 1990's vintage, with Tange Chromoly frame and forks, Shimano Deore components, and a paint job that was even more obnoxiously bright than in the photo. The only downsides I could see were excessively brake-worn rims, a clunky adjustable stem and the aforementioned huge seat, which proved as chafingly uncomfortable as I had imagined. It was easily worth $60 or more, especially given how cool and accommodating the seller had been.

I paid and thanked the young woman and hopped back on the MAX. Upon arriving in downtown Portland, I got off and quickly found an upscale bike shop. I bought a big Wald basket (under $20 new) and proceeded to crudely and quickly install it on my new Skykomish right on the sidewalk in front of the bike shop. I later refined and lowered my quickie basket install, bought and installed a nice used Zefal rear rack (in which my U-lock stowed snugly) added water bottle cages and swapped on a better used stem at the excellent Citybikes co-op (public workstands FTW!) I love it when a plan comes together! I took to my new ride immediately, and it took me all over Portland and beyond, on and off-road, with little complaint.

There was one problem. I was growing fond of this bike. Trips to bike shops and bike co-ops had allowed me to customize the fit and specs of the bike to my liking, as well as meet and chat with some cool people. I traded in the ginormous "comfort" seat for credit toward a new saddle that suited me better at Citybikes. The twice-weekly evening sessions at UBI (where students can work on their own bikes after class) had enabled me to get it functioning better than ever with a new 7-speed cassette and new bearings in both hubs and the bottom bracket. The rims were pretty wasted, so that was a strike against selling or donating it to someone who might keep riding it until a rim failed. I did not need another bike, certainly not another mountain-cum-commuter, as much as I approve of the genre. My rationalization powers (they can be formidable at times) kicked in and I decided to send the Granite Point back east.

I remembered that Greyhound ships parcels station-to-station for short money. I don't live far from Union Station in Hartford, so this option was full of appeal. I spent the last evening work session at UBI disassembling the bike and the wheels (I kept the hubs and tossed the worn-out rims) I obtained a bike box from one of the local bike shops and packed it full of the Skykomish, my "Thesis wheels" from the wheelbuilding course, books, tools, and protective padding in the form of scrap cardboard, pipe insulation and generous amounts of dirty laundry. On the eve of my flight home, one of my UBI classmates drove me to the bus station in his veggie oil-powered Mercedes 240D (The sole time I rode in a car during my three week sojourn was still unmistakably Oregonesque). Price-wise, shipping came to about a dollar a pound.

My parcel arrived in Hartford, well-scuffed but intact, one week later. My transplanted bike has been unpacked and awaits future tinkering in the basement. This bike is not a huge priority, but I do have a plan for its enhanced city commuter makeover: New handlebars (North Roads or some swept-back equivalent) new cables, a more permanent pair of fenders and a new set of rims laced to the hubs. I'm leaning toward building my first set of 650B wheels for it, as the frame has plenty of clearance for them and they would better suit the smoother terrain where this bike was at its best. Also, I have difficulty leaving well enough alone, but you probably knew that already. One way or another, the mighty Skykomish will ride again, and you'll probably see it around when it does. With that paint job, it'll be hard to miss.
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Brother Night

The past few days have been discouraging on a number of fronts, and my oft-chosen pick-me-up of a bike ride has been robbed of its comforting power by the oppressive heat and humidity. I put off a round of errands on the Yuba until the evening, hoping for better. My hopes of escaping some of the days discomfort were a limited success at best. A dinner invitation from a friend provided the welcome distraction of tasty food and a frosty beer. The heat finally broke somewhat as night fell and I headed homeward. After a few blocks, I realized I was beginning to feel better. The cooler night air and uncrowded streets were unraveling the knots of stress that had tethered me down for days. This was too good to pass up. I veered off course and arbitrarily decided to ride in five towns before returning home.

I had already started in Hartford and made my way to West Hartford. I meandered southward through the side streets of Elmwood into Newington, turning off to visit the Iwo Jima Memorial and a bit of New Britain. From there it was south and then eastward through Newington Center to Wethersfield, where I followed Ridge Road back up to the Hartford line, taking Fairfield Ave and a scenic cut through the Trinity College campus before returning home. It was after midnight by then, and I was tired and contented.

The flashing LED headlight on my bike exists as a visibility beacon for others rather than actually enabling me to navigate well in the dark, so my route was limited to more well-lit thoroughfares. I did see a number of places that I would like to explore sometime during daylight hours. I would like to get a brighter headlight one of these days. They can cost hundreds of dollars, but I think I could legitimately write off such a purchase as a mental health care expenditure.

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Voluntown?

Everybody likes the Hartford Bike Tour. And, it's back again this year. Perhaps you're not just content to ride it, but would like to be extra involved. Here's some information below:

Hello!

The Discover Hartford Bicycling & Walking Tour is back by popular demand! The last Tour in 2008 was such a success that there will be a 3^rd Discover Hartford Bicycling & Walking Tour 2010 on Saturday, September 11, 2010. Together the event co – presenters, Bike Walk Connecticut (formerly Central Connecticut Bicycle Alliance) and the City of Hartford are planning a fun-filled day which can only take place with the help of many volunteers.

The planning for this year’s event is underway and we’d love to be able to count you in as a VOLUNTEER! The event will again include two bicycle routes; each 10 miles and 25 miles, as well as 1 mile walking tours. We have made a few changes to the routes and we hope that everyone will enjoy them again this year.

Whether you are signing up for the first time or returning to volunteer again your help is necessary and greatly appreciated. We need lots of people to help with registration, set up, clean up, route riding, signage, etc.

If you can volunteer please fill out the attached form and send it to Nicole Glander, our Event Coordinator, atnicoleglander@msn.com or fax 860.727.0055 (phone 860-727-0050) and you will be hearing from us again sometime in August with instructions. We look forward to seeing you in September!

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Bikes Outside: Stolen

Recently, a friend asked me if I could take a look at an old bike she had. It had been sitting neglected for a long time before she got it and had a rusty chain. A couple of days later, I was walking to Cinestudio and spotted this old Univega locked to a tree on the Trinity College campus. I like old Univegas, even the lower-end models, and this one was prime Bikes Outside material for sure. It had an adorably small 40-something centimeter frame-- look at how the top tube and down tube share a single lug with the head tube- so precious! As I snapped a few pictures of the boom-era ten speed, I figured there was a pretty good chance this was my friend's bike and made a mental note to ask her about it the next time I saw her.


The next time I saw her happened to be this past Thursday afternoon. She confirmed that 1) This was indeed her bike and 2) It had been stolen sometime that very morning. Aw, crap!!!

Thus begins two simultaneous searches: the pragmatic quest for a smallish road bike to replace the pinched bike vies with the odds-challenging quest to somehow recover the absent 'Vega. Hopefully it didn't go to a scrapyard. Sadly, many serviceable discarded and stolen bikes meet this fate, where they fetch pennies on a good day and are quickly destroyed by equipment used to indiscriminately shove and stack the piles of metal. On the chance that it hasn't met such an ugly fate, I'd appreciate you keeping an eye out for an old gray Univega with steel 27" rims and dubious provenance. Share leads in the comments or email my screen name (at sign) blert.net. It's a long shot, but it would be great to find this bike.

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