I saw this bike in Rosslyn today as I was going to lunch. Whoever is riding this machine has travelling light down to a science. Handlebar bag and seat bag and that’s IT! Note the absence of a water bottle is made up for by the canteen strapped to the front of the handlebar bag. I would venture to guess that I carry more stuff to and from work than this cyclists carries wherever he may be going.
Summer brings overnight storms. They sometimes knock trees down along the Mount Vernon Trail. I was riding down the serpentine path from the Old Stone Bridge when I came around a corner to see the cyclists in the white shirt holding his hands up telling me to stop because a tree had fallen across the trail. The speedy bike commuter behind me, possibly screened by me, saw the warning too late. He hit is brakes and fishtailed. Then his front wheel slipped on the yellow stripe in the center of the trail and down he went. He didn’t stick, sliding instead. I think he was more mad at himself than hurt. He didn’t seem to have a scratch on him and his shorts were intact.
When I arrived at work I sent an email to the National Park Service office in charge of the trail and advsied them of the tree.
On the way home he rode past me and remarked “No pictures tonight”. He explained that he was unharmed and all was good and sped away. When I got to the scene of the fallen tree there was no evidence that the tree had fallen. Not even sawdust. The National Park Service once again did an amazing job of clearing the trail.
After a late night of watching the rain fall down at Nationals Park, I awoke in a bit of a fog. Unfortunately the fog in my brain was accompanied by humidity outside. I rode off into the mugginess officeward.
There was considerable leaf and twig debris on the roads. Somehow this debris was concentrated along the right side where I normally ride. So I boldly moved toward the center of the lane. No drivers’ egos were harmed.
Near Belle Haven Park, a tree had fallen across the trail. According to fellow bike commuter Reba, the tree nearly nailed a passing runner. As a former marathon runner, I can attest that this can ruin your whole day.
I made my way around the tree on foot and proceeded northward-ish. Near the power plant, I came upon a tractor trailer which had fallen across the trail. I rode around it on the grass.
Near the Memorial Bridge, a gaggle of geese formed an occlusion of the trail. I rode through them undaunted. One goose mouth a goose obscenity at Little Nellie, I am pretty sure this goose is a columnist for the Washington Post. He was probably upset that in years past geese were ticketed for using the trail.
Over the course of the day, it got muggier. Or as the French say, “I’ll fait icky.”
I rode home under ominous skies. Sprinkles turned to light rain. Distant rumbles turned to thunder booms. The tractor trailer was gone but the trail was blocked by a cyclist chatting with a surveyor and a pedestrian. I stopped for the pedestrian almost certainly ruining my credibility as a bike terrorist.
On Union Street in Old Town, the bike lane was blocked twice. The first blockage was by an SUV double parked in the bike lane. Shortly thereafter the but end of a luxury car was parked so as to preserve the entrance to a townhouse’s garage. It’s butt end blocked the trail.
At King and Union a King Street Trolley (actually a bus) stopped mid-block obstructing my way up Union Street. I was begining to think this was Block the Bicyclists Day, sponsored no doubt by the Washington Post.
The last five miles home were under a steady rain. The distant thunder and lightning suddenly became directly over head. BOOM! CRACK!
Uh oh. Not good. The hairs on my calves (the lower part of my leg, not my baby cows) stood on end. Eek.
Pedal pedal.
Fortunately, that was the worst of it. I arrived home soaked having somehow not terrorized anybody.
You may have noticed that I have been making oblique references to the Washington Post today. This is because Courtland Milloy, a Post columnist, wrote a column today that expressed his exasperation with having to share the city with cyclists. In addition to some veiled racist remarks, he said that the $500 fine for hitting a cyclist with your car was worth the expense.
Mr. Milloy’s column demonstrated an astounding combination of ignorance, intolerance, and race baiting, quite the trifecta. It also contained many factual errors. Here are some facts for Mr. Milloy to think about:
I could go on with more examples all night.
In my entire life of riding about 100,000 miles I only know of one death by cyclist. This happened when a kid at my grade school lost control of his bike and struck an old lady walking home from church. As bad as we all felt for the victim, we felt equally bad for the kid who was going to have to live with this for the rest of his life.
I hope Mr. Milloy parks his car and his hate. If he rode his bike in the city he might see what I see.
I don’t like riding my bike in DC during rush hours, but I’ll do it to get where I need to be. That doesn’t mean I am an inherently bad person or anti-car or racist. It means that I am rational. I dislike driving in the city too. The difference is that in a car I have steel barrier between me and people like Mr. Milloy. On a bike, I am apparently a viable potential target for a pathetic man with a small mind.
Mr. Milloy should be ashamed of himself. As a 30-year subscriber to the Post, I have but one request. Stop running his columns. They are reckless, irresponsible, and hurtful. Find someone with a positive voice to fill the space.
Lisa is a busy person, multitalented and goal oriented. After riding 137.28 miles last month she decided it was time to ride a century, 100 miles in one day. Gradualism is not one of her strong points.
Lisa recruited some #bikedc friends, Ryan, Justin, Ted, and me) to ride from DC to Purcelville on the W&OD Trail. Once in Purcelville our plan was to have liunch at Haute Dogs and Fries.
The ride was set for Saturday July 5 at 7 a.m. We would be at the intersection of the Custis and W&OD trauls in North Arlington. Since this is 15 or 16 miles from my house this meant getting up at 5 a.m. Fortunately, we all agreed that 8 a.m. was as early as anyone could tolerate so 8 a.m. it was.
After waking up and daundling I left the house ten minutes late. I chose to ride Big Nellie. my Tour Easy recumbent, to save my back. I rode as fast as I could to the start stoppoing every 15 minutes to adjust my front fender. The fender stay was rubbing against the side of the ture making an annoying buzzing sound. (On the fourth try I realized that the screw holding the stay was loose. One tunr with a screw driver and peace and tranquility returned.
I arrived at the starting point to see Ted and Ryan. Ted was actually shivering. It was in the 60s. I opted for a long sleeve shirt but Ted was wearing a sleeveless shirt and paying for his miscalculation. Justin showed up. Also sleeveless. What did they thing it was July or something?
Lisa rolled in about 8:40. We decided not to kill her.
Off we went on the ever so gradual uphill ride to Purcelville. As we got underway, we spread out. I found that Big Nellie was in the mood to roll so I was going faster than my usual 12 mile per hour trance speed.
In Vienna we stopped for coffee and pastries. My bagel was filled with EPO, Once we got underway, Justin and I were rolling along in the high teens. A MAMIL in a Discover jersey rode by somehat agressively. Justin and I were letting him pull us all the way to Reston where we waiting for the Ryan, Ted and Lisa.
We kept rolling along in one configuration or another, stopping in Herndon and Lessburg. Then we made the final push for Purcelville. The W&OD gets slightly steeper for its final 10 miles. The leafy canopy shading the trail offer a welcome break from the bright sunshine. The uphill grade, however, is a bit of a morale buster. As Ted, Ryan, and Justin sped away, I hung back wondering what happened to Lisa.
She had Fourth of July legs. She was pedaling away but the bike gods were denying her speed.
She made it to the end of the trail with a smile on her face which is pretty much the point of the exercise.
A passerby took my camera and had us pose for a series of photos under the Purcelville sign at the restored train station.
Then we rolled through town to Haute Dogs where we made short work of an array of hot dogs. I had the Fenway Dog because it is made exactly the way I make a hot dog at home. I also drank mass quantities of Coke which topped off my sugar and caffeine stores.
After a brief visit to a nifty bike and coffee shop we headed back to the trail. Justin, Ted, and Ryan led the way. Lisa decided to save her legs and glided (glid? glud?) as much as the grade and tailwind would allow. I stayed with her and,at one point, actually rode two miles without pedaling. I could have done more but for some congestion on the trail.
We met up with the three amigos at Leesburg. Ted, Ryan, and Justin all had to speed away to family obligations so Lisa and I rode the long trail back to North Arlington. We stopped for drinks, bannas, and ice cream along the way. (We also passed two breweries who had signs on the trail. I’ll have to come back for a taste some other time.)
Lisa took the Custis trail into town and I headed down the rest of the W&OD to the Mount Vernon Trail. I rolled into the driveway after 111 miles. I decided not to have a shower beer so as not to be a bad influence on my impressionable children: one of whom made mojitos for our guests on the Fourth, the other was drinking beer while watching the Red Sox/Orioles game from atop the green monster in Fenway Park. (If a parent sets an example and nobody sees, does the tree make a noise?)
Thanks to Lisa for setting this up. Her account of the festivities is here. My pix are here.
Readers of this blog are well aware that one of my favorite peoples in all of #bikedc is Rachel “Don’t Call Me Bob” Cannon. First she was an anthropology grad student. As her frequent tweets clearly demonstrated that didn’t work out. (She really grew to hate spending hours reading academic bafflegab.) So she switched to Museum Studies. (If anybody wants to give her a massive grant for academic persistence, she’d happily accept, I am sure.) In addition to these nerdly persuits, Rachel also does such things as giving bike and Seqway tours of DC, installing bike racks all over town, selling books at a terrific used book store, and interning as a snail classification expert at the Smithsonian. She also plays lute and bassoon in a Renaissance Emo band. (Actually, she does play an instrument but with all this activity I just can’t remember what it is.) And as if she wasn’t busy enough she also volunteered at cycling events around town. (She was rewarded for her good citizenship by being run over by a driver during last Decembers Cider Ride. She has recovered from her injuries.)
In addition to cycling and a warped sense of humor, Rachel and I have another thing in common: we both have a weakness for apple fritters. Apple fritters are pastries with a bazillion calories that people should never, ever eat.
BWA HA HA!
A co-worker at my old job called them Sugar Encrusted Pastry Bombs. That pretty much sums it up.
Rachel recently took an internship at the Hammer Museum in tiny and remote Haines Alaska. Yes, it’s a museum dedicated to hammers. She started a blog about it an, in one entry, was bemoaning the high cost of food. It seems there is a limited supply of everything except salmon. (You can probably get a good deal on moose or caribou meat but you won’t see me asking for a bite.) I’m not a big fan o’salmon but even if I was I imagine there is only so much salmon that you can eat in one summer.
So I got to thinking. Why not send her a fritter? The fritters we both like are sold at M. E. Swing’s coffee house, home of Friday Coffee Club. Unfortunately, I got this idea at 11 a.m. on Friday, long after Swing’s had probably run out. I did a web search for bakeries near my office in Rosslyn, Virginia. I found one about a half mile away.
Over lunch I hoofed it up the hill and found BeanGood. And sure enough they had fritters. Big ass fritters. Nearly the size of a Frisbee. Frisbee Fritters!!! These babies could send even the most hardened fritterholic into insulin shock. I bought two.
I wrapped them in a plastic bag, put them in a Priority Mail flat rate box cushioned within by some wadded up newspaper and mailed the box to the museum.
It was Memorial Day weekend. It was going to Alaska. I figured it would et there sometime in late June.
It got there (available for pick up at 10:45 a.m.) in two business days. Dang!
A day later Rachel got the box.
I’d have paid good money to see her expression when she opened it.
This will have to do.
(I hope she doesn’t mind that I clipped this picture from her Twitter account.)
Best of all, they are edible! Woot!
Enjoy the feast, Rachel. I know I speak for a whole bunch of people back here in DC when I say “We miss you.”
The idea was to go to Meridian Hill Park to hang out with my friend Florencia. Trouble was that we were meeting at 3 and I had a day to kill.
I decided to go for a bike ride. I’ll bet you saw that coming, didn’t you?
I took off aboard Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, heading north along the Mount Vernon Trail toward the city. The weather was perfect: warm, low humidity, a refreshing breeze, a puffy cloud interrupting the blue, blue sky. The trail was somewhat crowded but I made a reasonable pace. Now and then I came to a crawl waiting for a cluster of weekenders to step aside. Just north of Old Town Alexandria a car did a u-turn across the trail. (For some reason cars do this a lot when any point in the road would suffice.) At this point in the trail there are railroad tracks on the right. As I came to a near stop for the car, a cyclists came up behind me and passed me, crossing over the left rail in the process. The cyclists was a MAMIL, middle aged man in lycra. Actually, since he was clearly in his sixties, he probably qualified as an OMIL (the “O” being for “old”) but OMIL doesn’t quite roll of the tonque.
As the car left he began to cross back in front of me. I glanced to the left, saw his skinny front tire, and thought “He’s goin’ down in three, two, one…” BAM! His tire caught along the rail and down he went directly in front of me. He didn’t roll or skid he just stick the landing on his shoulder, hip and knee.
MOAN. “Entirely my fault. My fault.” Must have been a RABIL (retired altar boy in lycra).
I came to a stop a couple of inches from his sad repose. Two sets of walkers came along. One guy said, “Don’t move, mate.” AMT! Aussie Medical Technician.
We waited for the OMIL to get himself together and watched as he sheepishly called the wife for transport home.
I rode on weaving in and out of the trail peeps. I stopped at Gravelley Park to use a green room and watch a plane take off then headed into the city on the 14th Street Bridge. I expected that the city streets would be congested with the Rolling Thunder Memorial Day event so I stayed along the river. Ohio Drive and Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway were both barricaded so I could ride in the street all the way to Georgetown.
After a brief dance with the cars underneath the Whitehurst Freeway I picked up the Capital Crescent Trail and headed to Bethesda. The trail was crowded as expected. Dodging the walkers, bladers, runners, and cyclists took my mind off the fact that the steering on Big Nellie was messed up. One second it felt like the front wheel was going to leave me behind, the next it felt like the wheel was tracking in a rut. I gave it a good looking over in Bethesda but I could see nothing wrong.
After eating a slice of pizza at Bethesda Bagels (their pizza is as good as their bagels and that’s saying something) I took the Georgetown Branch Trail to City Bikes in Chevy Chase. There a mechanic (Travis, I think. I am awful with names) took Big Nellie for spin. He said the steering felt fine to him.
On I rode reaching the trestle over Rock Creek Park. I love the view from the treetops here.
Since I had about two hours to kill at this point, I headed north on Beach Drive in Rock Creek Park. I hadn’t ridden this road in ages and it is a beautiful place to roll. I took a wrong turn but went with the flow and ended up climbing out of the park into Kensington MD. Once there I checked my map app and found my way back to Beach Drive. I took it north all the way to Garrett Park MD. There was method in my route. I figured that if my steering failed she could come and get me at our friends’ Rulon and Heather’s place in Garrett Park.
My steering didn’t fail so I did a uey and headed back toward DC.
Since I was now going slightly downhill my pace picked up. The sketchy steering made this a tense ride but I made it without problem. I stopped to refill my water bottles and headed out of the park up the gradual hill to the Mount Pleasant neighborhood. I kept pace with a woman on a road bike and thought that the new Speedplay Frog pedals made climbing infinitely easier.
Once I was our of the park I proceeded to get lost. I think this may be my greatest cycling skill.
I knew that all I needed to do was find 16th Street and I could find Meridian Hill Park so I focused on that task. In short order I was at the park. An old man was playing chess. Groups of people where picnicing on the grass. Bench sitters were people watching. Frisbees were being tossed. Dogs were being watched. A woman in a bridal gown carried yellow flowers as her soon to be husband stood along side in his suit. The drum circle beat out a cacophonous rhythm.
I was a half hour early so I hung out alone and relaxed. After a while I spotted a woman wearing what looked like dark pink-ish tight pants. Flor? No way. I’ve never seen her in colors. So I hung out some more.
A little after three, I duck walked my bike around the park and soon pink tights lady stood up and waved. It was Flor after all. She promptly jumped aboard Big Nellie. Flor is small and Nellie is big so her ride lasted only a few yards. I think Flor secretly wants a recumbent. It would probably just fit in her efficiency condo. (Not.)
More friends arrived. Food came out. Conversation ensued. Sun shine. Breezes blew. The slack liners did their thing a few feet away. Flor’s rock climbing friend Jonna showed up with a surprise. She was on the nest as they used to say in the moving picture shows. I guessed she was six months along but she is due in three weeks. Go girl!
We hung out for three hours and then it was time to hit the road so that I’d get home before night fall.
The ride down 16th Street was surprisingly devoid of motorcycle traffic. That didn’t make it any less interesting because Big Nellie’s steering was turning my downhill glide into an adventure.
I made it home without incident, 64 miles for the day. Along the way, Big Nellie’s odometer turned 36,000 miles. Maybe the steering is dying of old age.
So I declare the day a success. Perfect weather. Windy roads in Rock Creek Park. Friends and breezes in the park.
Now it’s time to take Big Nellie to the bike doctor for exploratory surgery.
Pix of the day are here.
The weatherman was calling for temperatures in the high 50s. There was just one thing to do. Go for a long ride. Justin, John and Ryan were going to ride a 60-mile loop from DC to Alexandria to Prince Georges County to DC. I was going to join them but between my bad back, my late return from picking up my daughter at BWI and a profound sense of sloth, I opted out.
Instead I headed out to run some errands as part of the 2014 Errandonnee Challenge. After doing some yoga and mastering the day’s crossword puzzles, I hopped on The Mule and headed to Old Town for some exciting banking action. Not knowing if the Mount Vernon Trail was ice free I took side streets all the way to Alexandria. The hills that I encountered did not much bother my back which is still beset with random nerve pains.
Once the banking was done I headed to Haute Dogs and Fries, a rather ambitious little hot dog place at the north end of Old Town. I had a Fenway Dog and an Haute Dog with some fries. It was most scrumptious. On the way out I checked my Twitter feed and saw that my friend Rachel (Don’t Call Me, Bob) Cannon was feeling lonely at her job at a nonprofit used bookstore in DC. Since I like Rachel and books and had nowhere else to be, I decided to be there. I happened to glance at the menu board on the way out and saw that they sold Whoopie Pies. I figured Rachel could use a little Whoopie in her day and procured one.I chose the red velvet pie over the Guinness pie because a Guinness Whoopie Pie would make me hurl. (I am a thoughtful gift giver.)
Once the Whoopie Pie was safely stowed in my handlebar bag, I was off and riding. The Mount Vernon Trail is notorious for being congested on nice days and today was no exception. Once onto the 14th Street Bridge I had a brief reprieve before riding into thick swarms of tourists. Maybe that should be swarms of thick tourists, but either way there were a lot of them.
I made it to 17th and K Street in DC and could not find the bookstore. After a few tweets to Rachel and some Google mapping I found it. I tied up The Mule next to Rachel’s new green Surly Disc Trucker, a touring bike to die for. I had bike envy. Rachel bought the Surly after being run over by a car in Prince Georges County last December. It’s nice to see that some good came out of what was probably a horrible experience.
As readers of this blog know, I think Rachel is pretty darn cool. She’s a grad student, snail wrangler, DC bike tour leader, bike rack installer, book store clerk, kitty saver, and erstwhile sitcom star all in one. We talked a blue streak for about an hour. We solved global warming, the Ukranian and Venezuelan Crises, and acute Nutella addiction syndrome.
Before I left I bought a book on her recommendation. I did a little browsing and saw that this store is one that I have to come back to with an empty pannier or two. In addition to books they sell CDs and DVDs. Even with the low prices, I could spend some serious money at this place. The store is called Carpe Librum. It is owned by a nonprofit called Turning the Page. Proceeds from sales go to benefit DC public school students and families. They accept donations of old books, CDs, and DVDs so I may actually take them some of mine in the future.
As I was leaving the bookstore, I checked my Twitter feed and saw that Ted was riding at Hains Point along the Potomac River about a mile away. Hains Point is on the way to the 14th Street Bridge so I headed over to see if I could find Ted. Sure enough, I wasn’t there more than ten seconds when I saw him on the road ahead. We did two 3-mile loops down to the point together. The weather was pretty darn splendid.
After leaving Ted, I crossed the river and headed for home on the Mount Vernon Trail. It was even more congested than earlier but I had a nice tailwind and the views were hard to beat so I stayed on the trail. Once clear of Old Town the traffic on the trail thinned out. I saw a photographer at the Morningside bald eagle nest so I stopped to check things out. I didn’t see the nest but a man and a woman came running toward me. As they approached I realized the woman was Kate, a friend from my former job. She and I worked an Earth Day event one year. I have tried to get her into cycling but she prefers to huff and puff up hills on her own two feet. To each his own. We had a brief chat and went our separate ways.
My odometer registered 40 miles as I pulled into the driveway. 60 degrees, 40 miles, 3 friends and 3 errands. My work here is done.
Errandonnee Summary
Errandonnee #2
Category: Store other than a grocery store
Miles: 6
Observation: You do mobile banking your way, I’ll do it mine.
Errandonnee #3
Category: Lunch
Miles: 1
Observation: If you call hot dogs, Haute Dogs shouldn’t you Frenchiy the “dogs” to so you get Haute Chiens? Mais oui.
Errandonee # 4
Category: Library (cause a used books store is pretty close to being a library)
Miles: 9
Observation: If I lived close to Carpe Librum, it would make sense to just move in. What a find! Thanks, Rachel.
Some Flickr pix here.
Four hours of sleep and a stuffy head do not a happy bike commuter make. The ride to work was drudgery made worse by the headwind, cold-ish temps (30s), and incessant need to blow my nose and cough up all kinds of gunk. We’re having fun now.
On the plus side, the Mount Vernon Trail was all but empty so The Mule and I could enjoy my misery in solitude.
The weather reports called for snow this evening. At 4 pm I checked the radar. It was raining along my entire commute route. Just to the west, like the jagged index finger of a wicked witch, there ran a long, thin red band (ice), followed by a sea of blue (snow). I finished up a few odds and ends and started packing.
I was on the road by 430. There was some slushy stuff mixed in with the rain. Not too bad. As long as that red streak stayed to the west I was in good shape.
It rained and rained. Yet I was completely comfy. I wore my Marmot Precip rain suit. This is outerwear originally designed for the military and it really works as advertised. You won’t win any cycling fashion shows wearing it and it makes you about as aerodynamic as a flabby moose (floose?) but you’ll stay warm and dry. And so I was.
I plodded along ignoring my speedometer. I usually commute at 11-13 miles per hour but I was definitely off the low end of that range. Along the way I saw some cyclists and runners without rain gear. They looked unhappy. I was all smiles. I was so happy I didn’t even think about being sick and groggy.
Considering the craptastic weather and my cold, I’d say the first bike commute of the year was a rousing success.
There is an inch of snow outside as I write this at 10 pm. To celebrate my first bike commute, I will eat some quiche and work from home tomorrow. Regrets to Mary and Rhoda but the only Friday Coffee Club I’m doing this week will be in my kitchen.
Kona, anyone?
It was a splendid early October morning for today’s bike commute on The Mule. Too bad it’s August. Oh well. I broke out a long sleeve t-shirt (that my daughter bought me in Alaska ironically) and hit the road. I was in the zone the whole way to work. I said hello to the Hoppy Runner and Nancy “Lumberjack Jersey” Duley along the way but I don’t recall anything else. You know the David Byrne feeling you get when you drive somewhere for the umpteenth time, you arrive at your destination, and think to yourself “How did I get here?”
During the day, John Roche, BikeDC’s Godfather of Craft Beer, announced the details of this year’s Hoppy 100 ride. Last year’s ride was pretty epic, 100 miles, three beer establishments, a ferry ride across the Potomac, a torrential downpour, and a ride home in the dark. What more could you ask for. (And one of the beers was even called Derecho!)
This year’s ride will be a little more urban in focus and only 73 miles. In order not to tie a car up for the day, I’ll have to ride to the start in DC. This should push my mileage for the day up to 100 miles.
There seem to be quite a few folks interested in this year’s escapade, including my personal riding buddy and returning Hopster Lisa. Also, joining us should be Alex Baca who I’ve done two rides with.
My choice of steed is up in the air. I hope to pick up Big Nellie from Bikes at Vienna on Saturday. We’d been waiting for a fork from Big Nellie’s home base in California, but they sent it to the wrong bike shop. Tim of BatV is hopeful that I’ll be back in the foam seat (just doesn’t have the same ring as “back in the saddle” does it?) again on Saturday. All that said, if it rains on Sunday, I’ll probably ride The Mule cause The Mule’s a good mudder.
Well, the ride home was so nice that words fail me. I had lots of company. There were so many bikes streaming across the 14th Street bridge I did a double take. Of course, most of them blew by me within the next mile. People coming toward me were talking and smiling. If I had regular pants on, I would have sworn that my fly was down.
The last few miles were a bit of a slog. I rode up the Park Terrace hill without my usual verve, which is saying something because I normally climb like a crippled gnu.
Time to shut it down again for the night. Gotta get up early for Friday Coffee Club.
You could not ask for a nice day to ride a bike. Warm, breezy, sunny and dry is an awesome combination. It’s a little bit of Vermont in DC. It was the perfect day to try out my new prescription sunglasses. I pulled Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, out of mothballs and headed out for parts to be determined.
We headed up the Mount Vernon Trail. Traffic on the trail on nice summer weekend days is usually pretty heavy but it was tolerable today. I decided not to press my luck and left the trail to cross the Potomac River on the Woodrow Wilson Bridge trail. The bridge trail was very crowded but everybody was polite and considerate so I made good time. On the connecting trail in Maryland I passed an interesting tandem bike, a Hase, I think. The stoker sits in front on a recumbent seat. The captain steers from behind the stoker on a conventional bike saddle with conventional handlebars. The riders seemed to be having a blast.
I pedaled up the half mile hill to Oxon Hill Road which is being completely rebuilt to the south. Not wanting to ride through the construction site, I turned north. The intersection at Oxon Hill Farm has been redesigned to deny a left hand turn. I couldn’t figure out how to get to the farm any other way so I turned left anyway. Take that MDOT.
I rode back down the long hill in Oxon Hill Park to Oxon Hill Cove. The trail through this parkland, owned by the National Park Service, is a mess and really needs to be torn up and repaved. (I will refrain from bitching about Congress and how it seems hell bent on turning our public infrastructure into East Germany 1978.)
One mile and a big climb later I was on the streets of Anacostia. As usual, Sunday in Anacostia means church and church goers dressed in Sunday best. I took Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard (is that the longest street name in DC?) down and up and down through the neighborhood. Instead of taking the 11th Street bridge over the Anacostia River to Capitol Hill, I turned instead into Anacostia River Park. I headed north, up river, exploring side roads here and there. A nifty new bridge takes the park trail north toward Benning Road. Coming toward me on the bridge was a chatty pack of women on bikes. Nellie from the Washington Area Bicyclists Association was at the head of the group. I recognized one of the riders as a regular Mount Vernon Trail bike commuter. She has a blinky light that swivels on the top of her helmet and a very serious bike commuting demeanor.
Since none of the women said “What a man!” as I passed on continued onward. I spent a few minutes trying to find the entrance to the Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens but only succeeded in finding the solid waste disposal facility for DC. Fail.
I crossed the Benning Road bridge and took the Anacostia Trail downriver on the west side of the river. Next I meandered through Capitol Hill where I took a break at Eastern Market. After some food and drink, I headed to the Capitol (because it’s there) and then up the Metropolitan Branch Trail. A left put me on the contraflow bike lane on R Street. (Contras make good bike lanes.)
My wanderings took me through a street fair of sorts complete with a farmers market and bike repair, because you need some peaches with your new brake pads. Up U Street where all the people who can’t get to the beach were eating brunch. I turned up 15th Street and headed into Meridian Hill Park. The park is usually filled with people doing acroyoga, slack lining, and hula hooping, and a very entertaining drum circle. Sadly the only activity was a bunch of people having picnics and an ultimate Frisbee game.
Up 15th Street to 16th I rode. Traffic got a bit heavy so I started to zig zag to the east and the north. I managed somehow to ride past the Tacoma Park home of Mike, the world’s most loquacious randonneur. (He and his wife Lisa hosted a rest stop on the 50 States Ride last year.)
I pushed onward into the confusion of downtown Silver Spring. If there’s a silver spring anywhere about it’s probably paved over or built on. I spotted a sign for a bike trail that eventually led me to the Georgetown Branch Trail which meant it was time to head for home. After spending a few minutes enjoying the view and chatting with people on the Rock Creek Trestle, I headed toward Bethesda Row for a bit of iced tea. After refilling my water bottles, I hopped on the crowded Capital Crescent Trail and headed for Georgetown and the Potomac River waterfront. The trail is downhill the entire way and the downhill combined with the tailwind to make this a perfect ride.
The river north of Key Bridge was choked with kayaks and canoes and powerboats and other floating things. DC sure likes its water. All this activity made the going kind of slow on K Street which runs by the packed Georgetown Waterfront Park. I pedaled along and was soon at the beach volleyball courts near the Lincoln Memorial. A couple of Park Police officers cruised at 5 miles per hour on the trail making sure that none of the scantily clad volleyballers were drinking or evil doing. As he drove the driver of the cruiser sucked at a Slurpee. (Um, can we move along guys? Please.)
With the help of my tailwind, I rode down Ohio Drive past several softball games (I saw two batters hit frozen ropes in the process.) As I rode across the Potomac on the 14th Street bridge my tailwind became a cross wind strong enough to lean in to.
The Mount Vernon Trail was as crowded as I suspected but the trail users were generally well behaved (an abnormality on a nice summer day, to be sure). As I cleared Gravelly Point Park I went to take a drink from my water bottle. As I pulled on the valve with my teeth something clicked in my mouth. It was a porcelain veneer crown on one of my front teeth. Bummer. Luckily I didn’t swallow it. Hopefully my dentist can glue it back on. (It was put in about 20 years ago so I’ve got nothing to complain about.)
In Old Town I decided not to deal with Union Street which is usually teeming with touroids on days like today. I rode down Royal Street where, in front of Saint Mary’s Catholic church, a couple was setting up a series of long tables with carvings of various Christian people and scenes. I found Jesus on South Royal Street.
Not wanting to take a couple of mulchy detours on the MVT, I took the Park Terrace Drive hill instead. I rode up the hill in the saddle at 8 miles per hour, twice as fast as on my recumbent.
I pulled into my driveway with 62.9 miles on my odometer, a metric century (100 kilometers).
One life, some bicycles. A million possibilities, zero clue!
Information and news from David Goodrich, author of A Hole in the Wind.
Coast-to-coast US bike tour
Exploring Nevada's backroads by bicycle
Just another manifestation of my obsession with riding
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Follow my Journey!
just a girl on a mission to pet every puppy in the world. #stillatourist
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Welcome To My Adventures
A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel 