Like many people in these pandemic times, I have been bicycle riding more than usual. The closed roads in City Park have made it our go-to location for family cycling. I have been cycling as my favorite recreational activity to stay fit and sane. Finally, now that I am able to work in my office (new space that lends itself well to COVID-safe working) I am able to take a route that is almost entirely on the partially closed 16th and 11th Avenues, so I am also commuting by bike almost every day.
One summer, in addition to the AYH trips, I spent a few days with Tom's family at their summer home in Maine, and we brought our bikes. His father was an artist, and their home was like something out of Little House on the Prairie - off the grid, a hand pump for water, wood burning stove, outhouse, kerosene lamps for light at night, apple orchards and vegetable garden - and a big barn that served as an art studio for his father, who was an artist. We then rode our bikes from Maine to my parent's home in Vermont - easier said than done as there are really no East-West direct routes in that area of Northern New England, so we spent a lot of time zigging and zagging along little rural roads, sometimes dirt roads, but we did ultimately make it. We then rode our bikes back to New York from Vermont, though I have no recollection of where we stayed along the way. (That's Tom on the right and me on the left in the photo.)
Even though we lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, during the rest of the year there were many cycling options. We, of course, could do the road loop inside Central Park, which is about 6 miles. We also regularly rode our bikes up Riverside Drive to the George Washington Bridge, then across the bridge to the New Jersey side. Once across, you could ride south on a little local road a short ways, hang a left, and you found yourself on a beautiful relatively little used two lane road that went right down to the Hudson River. You could ride this road - River Road - through a park along the river back under the bridge and North about six miles to Englewood Cliffs. From there you could do a a loop back to the bridge on 9A, a local road. If we had more time, you could continue North for a few miles and then turn left on onto Closter Dock Road, then North again on a series of little back roads. A favorite destination was a little farmstand - probably the closest farmstand to NYC accessible by bike. I would fill up my empty panniers with fresh produce, and other treats (they had amazing apple cider donuts) and then we would head back to New York. This round trip was about 25 miles. If we had even more time and energy we would continue North all the way to Bear Mountain - Harriman State Park, which made it about a 60 mile round trip.
I joined the Century Road Club Association, the oldest (founded in 1898!) and largest cycling club in the country, and began racing in their Saturday and Sunday morning races in Central Park. There was also a bicycle track in Queens, the Kissena Velodrome, and I would sometimes go out there to do track racing. I also remember during this era getting to meet and spend some time with the legendary bicycle racer John Howard. One thing that was interesting about bike racing in New York, was that it was a total reflection of the diversity of the city. This was not the bike racing of "Breaking Away" - but full of people of color, of immigrants, bike messengers.
At West Side bikes, I worked for many years all the way through college, not just as a repairman, but as a salesperson and assistant manager. I remember learning how to true wheels from our Jamaican master mechanic, and getting introduced to the City Island sailing culture by our manager, Richie, who was an avid sailor and lived year round on his sailboat on City Island, commuting every day by public transportation. (Found this photo on the Web, from 1970, and do believe the kid in the shorts and long hair could be me.) I have memories of being robbed at gunpoint a few times, and also of a regular visitor who worked at WBLS and would come by about once a week with a bag full of "cutouts," the "for promotional use only" records that radio stations would get, which they punched a hole in the sleeve of, to designate them as not for sale. He would sell them to me for something like a dollar each. This was the height of the classic R&B, Soul and Disco era, and I was also developing an interest in DJ'ing and this really boosted my collection and love of this music - Donna Summer, Stylistics, Harold Melvin, Teddy Pendergrass, George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic, Bohanon, Kid Creole. I think in this era I was riding a Lejeune road bike, and a Peugot track bike, plus a fixed gear city bike I built out of used spare parts and an old Raleigh frame.
Divorce happened, an interim move to Tarrytown (which put me even closer to thew Aqueduct trail for cycling) and eventually remarriage, and a move to Manhattan, where there was really no room to store a bike, so my hybrid bike was sold to a friend, and my aging but still beloved Motobecane Grand Jubilee touring bike went via Craigslist (I was able to find this image of the exact bike I had), and for the first time in decades, I was bikeless. That Motobecane had been with me for 20 years and parting was painful - still regret having gotten rid of it.
Next up: a move to Denver, a very bike friendly city. After a year or so of using the old beater city bike I brought with me from Philly, I sold it on Craigslist and upgraded to a new Fuji hybrid city bike. Began biking to work regularly (Denver is a more business casual - or just plain outdoorsy casual city, so much easier to bike to work most days), and also began doing longer rides on the weekends - first time in years I was doing rides of 20, 30, as much as close to 50 miles. But I began to feel limited by using my hybrid city bike for the longer rides. Began researching and eventually bought a Tommaso Illimitate "adventure" bike, what is also sometimes called a "gravel" bike. Basically a road bike, with frame geometry and equipment (like disc brakes) that make it better equipped for rough roads and trails, while still be light enough, and the tires thin enough, to perform well on pavement - but not really the capability of a mountain bike. Tommaso, which I found online, is a really great company that uses the brand name - and spirit - of a vintage Italian bike company, but sources their equipment and assembles their bikes out of a facility right in Denver. They only sell direct to consumers so their pricing is excellent, as well as their product.
And now, having a third daughter, who is nine, I can once again go cycling with my kid. We do lovely rides along a section of the 71 mile long High line Canal trail that is tightly packed gravel/dirt and very rural feeling, often stopping for a picnic lunch, and we also are able to do family rides, including both my daughter Esme and my wife Sophie in City Park, which due to the pandemic is now car free - something we hope can be continued. We have taken our bikes (or rented bikes) on trips to the mountain towns as well- Aspen, Vail, Steamboat, Telluride - one of the huge advantages of living in Denver.
This has gotten me thinking of my long history with bikes, and thought it might be fun to reflect on my life in cycling.
Do not remember when I first learned to ride. I remember perhaps at around the age of six my father trying to teach me to ride, doing the "run alongside holding onto the back of the seat then letting go" thing but he had little patience, and I was probably a difficult student. He gave up and so did I. I remember a couple of years later - I was perhaps 8 by this time - I was getting embarrassed that I had not yet learned how to ride, so I took the bike out onto the sidewalk in front of our apartment building (83rd and Riverside Drive in Manhattan) by myself and started trying to ride (Of course, this was an era when an 8 year old could be out on the street in New York City without a parent and it was not a big deal). I remember repeatedly falling, getting back on, trying again, over and over. Finally it clicked, and I just kept riding and riding around our block over and over again, utterly gleeful. I remember coming back upstairs and my mother being alarmed because my knees and elbows and hands were all raw and bleeding from all the falls, but I was feeling no pain.
Later, as a young teen, I got my first "10 speed" - it was not a high end bike, just a basic entry level, what we would now call a road bike. Me and a friend Tom became avid cyclists in middle school and it extended into high school. (An interesting side note. My childhood friend Tom became an avid Central Park birder, and had a brief moment of fame/infamy when he was kidnapped by rebels on a birding trip to Colombia and escaped his captors.)
In that era American Youth Hostels in New York (now Hosteling International USA) ran a very extensive summer program of bicycle trips around the country (and in other parts of the world), mostly for teenagers, with some for adults. Most trips mixed camping and youth hostels as accommodations. They also ran day trips and weekend trips in the metro area. As a young teen I began going on the day trips and weekend trips, and from the age of around 13 to 16 my summer was mostly devoted to doing a multi-week AYH trip. One trip started in Montreal which we flew to with our bikes packed into boxes, then cycled down through Canada to Grand Isle in Northern Vermont, then down through Vermont, across Massachusetts to Cape Cod, then a few days each on Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard. It was actually on this trip that I met some members of the US Olympic Nordic ski team, which was based in Vermont, and used cycling as their off-season training activity. This was actually my introduction to Nordic skiing - something I knew nothing about at the time, which has become a lifelong passion as well. Another trip was six weeks in Hawaii, travelling by plane between Oahu, Kauai, Maui and "The Big Island." and on each island cycling, camping, hiking (and swimming, of course). These were extraordinary experiences, with one adult leader and about ten teens. We had to travel our route every day to get to our next destination, manage shopping, cooking, cleaning, making and breaking down camp, dealing with mechanical breakdowns, sometimes emotional breakdowns - not to mention inclement weather. Through these trips I became not just an accomplished cyclist, but also a committed outdoors-person, and had early experiences in leadership. Sadly, AYH decided they wanted to build an urban hostel, not by itself a bad idea, but the massive needs of that capital project essentially caused it to shut down everything else they did - no more organized trips, no more nonprofit bike and camping shop with really affordable prices. They also operated ski trips in the winter - nice organized day trips and weekend trips to nearby mountains like Hunter Mountain, or further north like Vermont. None of those valuable programs ever came back. This UPI story written right when they were starting to create the youth hostel gives a sense of what was lost in quest of the hostel.With four younger brothers, my youthful cycling (and outdoor) experiences influenced many of them, who also became avid cyclists, campers, hikers and Nordic skiers.
Other favorite rides? Down to South Ferry in Manhattan, then catch the Ferry across to Staten Island, and ride around Staten Island. An easy quick ride was just visiting Snug Harbor, but many longer, beautiful rides around the island were available. American Youth Hostels (AYH), the cycling association, also ran the annual Montauk Century, which was a favorite ride of mine, and the Five-Boro Bike Tour. Starting in Jamaica Queens, the Century ride would take you all the way out to the tip of Long Island - Montauk Point - where a reserved train would be waiting to take us all back to Queens. While the hundred mile ride was rigorous by itself, I would ride my bike to the starting point and back home again, making the ride more like 135 miles. And while the route was relatively flat (no Colorado-style "triple bypass" here) weather variability could subject you to unrelenting headwinds the entire way (and of course sometimes rain and unseasonably cold weather). I still remember one year of driving cold rain and headwinds. About halfway through the ride I literally keeled over from exhaustion because my fingers were so cold I could not unpeel them from the handlebars. Eventually I got my fingers to move and found a bag of "gorp" - a mix of nuts, raisins and bits of chocolate - and stuffed a few handfuls into my mouth. That almost instantaneous boost of energy got me back on my bike and finishing the ride. This story from the New York Times in 1998 captures a bit of that experience of exhilaration...and exhaustion.
I also began hanging out in bike shops, getting after school and weekend jobs as a mechanic. I worked at a shop on 72nd street between West End Avenue and Broadway for a while, at Bicycle Renaissance (still there!) on Columbus Avenue, and then at West Side Bicycles on 96th Street and Broadway. At Bike Renaissance their chief mechanic was known as Mexico, and actually lived (I assume not legally) in the basement. When I first met him (late 60's?) he was probably already in his 60's. He was not Mexican, but actually indigenous Chilean or Peruvian, but in that era in NY, if you were Spanish speaking and not Puerto Rican, then you were deemed Mexican, which is how he got his nickname. Mexico became my friend, my guide, my mentor, teaching me not just bicycle mechanic skills, but also life skills. I remember him once telling me in response to some comment that probably revealed my materialism or White privilege. "Chum, I have all I need here and I am happy, I make my rice and beans, and sometimes I have a tomato as a treat, I have a dry place to sleep, I ride my bike and enjoy the city. What more than that do you need Chum?" He road a fixed gear bike (long before "fixies" became popular) and that was part of my introduction to track bikes and track racing, and because his leg muscles were already weakening a bit from age and he could not brake with just leg strength alone, he had modified his bike gloves with a big piece of thick leather attached to one of his gloves and when he needed to stop he would just put his hand on his front wheel to slow himself down.
When I went away to college (Purchase College, just North of New York City), I realized I had the opportunity to be a bit of an entrepreneur because there were no bike shops anywhere near the campus, and many bicycles being used by students in need of repair and upkeep. I got the administration to make available to me rent free a room in the basement of one of the dorm buildings, and using my bike shop connections to stock it with the necessary repair tools and spare parts. Posted store hours, and was open for business. Definitely helped me pick up some extra spending money, and fill a need on campus.
And the summer before college I even took my bike with me to a summer program at Cambridge University, flying into London, then packing up my bike and cycling to Cambridge. It was about a 70 mile trip and given timing issues I did it over two days, without any real planning. In a little town at about the halfway point I stopped for a bite to eat. In a scene that seemed out of a movie, a boy - maybe 10 or so - sat next to me and asked if he could bum a fag (a cigarette). Told him I did not smoke and even if I did I would not have given him one because he was two young to smoke. He heard my accent and started asking me about America. After a bit he said I needed to come home with him and meet his mum and dad and have dinner with them. Not really sure mum and dad would be as excited about meeting a strange yank, I nonetheless went home with him and had the most amazing time with this authentic real British working class family. They ended up inviting me to spend the night - insisted - and I slept in their daughter's room, who they made bunk with the boy. Her room was totally plastered in teenie bopper boy posters - David Cassidy and the like. After dinner I played frisbee in the back yard with the boy, who had never seen one, so I left mine with him as a gift. Once in Cambridge, my bicycle of course gave me a mobility to explore the countryside I would not otherwise have had.
After college I continued my interest in cycling and decided that while I still had some flexibility in my schedule, and was young enough, I would like to be an AYH tour leader, as a way of giving back to the program I got so much out of, but also to get to engage in some serious bicycle touring and get paid for it. So I went through their rigorous training program - sort of like the National Outdoor Leadership School but with the specific objective of learning how to lead a tour of 10-12 teenagers on your own for a period that could extend for several weeks. After being certified I led my first trip - it was about a month long, starting in Toronto, biking up into Algonquin Park where we stopped for a few days for canoeing and portaging, then over to Ottowa, followed by a bike up past the Laurentian Mountains to Quebec, then back down to Montreal, from which we trained back to NY. Two big memories from that trip: 1) While just outside of Quebec, cycling through some spectacular countryside and getting roadside raspberries, and fresh fire roasted corn on the cob. Brought some raspberry jam home (carefully packed of course) and it was the best jam I have ever had. 2) While in Quebec I got seriously sick while staying in the youth hostel, to the point where I had to go to the hospital. I was terrified of the fact that I was incapacitated yet responsible for this group of young people. Could they help get me to the hospital, then manage without me for a couple of days until I was well enough? They came through with flying colors, and I was so proud of them, but also of the independence, leadership and responsibility that I think I had instilled in them.
Given my interest in the arts, I began developing an idea for a tour of European arts festivals as an AYH trip. They loved the idea, assigned me a trip planner to work with and we put together an exiting trip that unfortunately could just not be done logistically by bicycle. It was planned as an adult trip using rail travel and youth hostels. There ended up being ten trippers, all women, between the ages of 18 and 28. I remember our youngest participant was extremely privileged and spoiled, and did not really know how "rustic" the trip was to be. All her gear was packed in a huge hard-bodied suitcase while everyone else had backpacks (wheeled bags had not yet been invented). After a couple of days of her being unable to really navigate her suitcase through trains and walking, I forced her to ship half her stuff home, and buy a cheap backpack for what remained. I will say in the course of the trip it was rewarding to see her truly grow out of her "spoiled brat" persona. We flew into Zurich then trained to Montreux where we stayed in a hostel and got to experience several days of the Montreux Jazz Festival, including taking a funicular up to the alps for a day of hiking. We saw James Brown, Chick Corea, Mike Oldfield (Tubular Bells) and lots of great unknown artists and big bands on the outdoor stage. We then took rail to Rome for a few days (no specific festival - just toured the ruins, the Coliseum, Roman Senate, etc.). The big take-away from Rome was that the youth hostel was in a Mussolini era brutalist concrete building, and was very sketchy and dangerous. Then on to Florence for the Spoleto Festival, where the hostel was in an idyllic Renaissance era villa just outside the city, with much of the architectural detail and frescoes still intact. From Florence, we traveled by rail to Avignon for the Avignon Theatre Festival - an especially memorable performance of King Lear in the courtyard of the Palais du Papes, then to Arles by the Coast for the Arles Dance Festival. All in all, a memorable experience, but of a bit of a digression from bicycle trips.
The third trip I led was up the coast of Maine to Bar Harbor, a couple of days in Acadia National Park, then the ferry across to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. We then circumnavigated the island, including a couple of days in the interior canoeing, under the leadership of a local guide Granville Nickerson, who was quite the character. He lived year round in this remote area of the park in a little cabin where he survived on the occasional modest guide income. He was probably about 75 and had a girlfriend who was probably about 25. He was immensely strong, but also a gentle soul. He was a master baker, and served us his signature bread - can still taste it. After circling the island we ended up in Halifax,and flew home from there. I actually co-led this trip with the woman who was to become my first wife, and I remember the staff-person at AYH telling us they almost never approved co-leaders, and that leading a trip together likely meant we would either end up married or never want to see one another again. Clearly the result was the former.
Later, after getting married, we did a bike trip through central and Western New York together one time (her family was from Buffalo). We flew with our bikes to Buffalo, then got our panniers and gear all set up and biked to the Finger Lakes. Did a few winery visits and tastings, by bike, and stayed at a lovely bed and breakfast there, then we biked up towards Rochester, where we stayed with family, then biked back to Buffalo.
Then life happened. Work became more and more demanding, first one kid, then two, added more parental responsibilities, and it became harder to prioritize cycling. But as the kids got older, and with a move to Westchester, cycling started to re-enter the picture. Living in Ardsley, I had easy access to the North-South County Trailway - a "rails to trails" system that used the right of way from the old Putnam railroad tracks - 36 miles of car-free bike bike riding on a dedicated paved trail. Also nearby was the Old Croton Aqueduct trail, which used the right of way from the original 19th C. aqueduct that brought water from upstate to New York City. This trail is almost 30 miles of beautiful packed dirt trail, smooth enough that you could ride it with a road or hybrid bike, or a mountain bike. So once again, I was riding regularly, sometimes with the kids.Riding these trails is idyllic...
But after moving to Philly, with the bikability of the 75 mile long Schuylkill River Trail beckoning, I bought a used city bike from a friend and began riding regularly again, and it was joyful! My office was close enough to where I lived that I could bike to work sometimes (had to wear a suit so much that bike commuting was rarely possible).
So now I am once again biking regularly, commuting to work almost every day (about 7 miles round trip - but its something...), and doing one or two longer rides a week, usually for a total of about 50 miles. Definitely slowing down - no more averaging 18 mph on my rides - more like 13-14 mph, and not really doing serious mountain passes like many Colorado cyclists. Mostly cycling alone, which is getting frustrating - but has been hard to find a cohort of folks to ride with. All the meet-up groups and cycling clubs seem to be organized around serious cyclists, and I do not want to feel like I am holding a group back. And cycling alone does offer the benefit of being a time for thought and the benefits of solitude. Denver is blessed with great recreational cycling trails - Cherry Creek, Platte River and High Line Canal, are all accessible to me, and there are many others too. Sadly, my trusty Fuji hybrid was stolen out of our building's bike parking area in April, but I was able to pick up (at a great little shop in my neighborhood called SloHi Bikes) a very nice Giant Escape 2 Disc that I love. I was luckyto find it given that the dramatic rise in cycling due to COVID has resulted in a serious bicycle shortage.
I realize now I have been cycling seriously for over 50 years, and my cycling life after lots of ups and downs is once again up. Biking is now a serious part of my life, much as it was back in the 70's - I have done long distance touring and bike camping, I have raced, I have commuted, and I have done recreational cycling. The only thing I have not done in a serious way is mountain biking, though I think maybe that cow has left the barn at this stage of life.But you never know.
Life is good...and better with cycling.
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