Lost in Suburbia

Nice day, no?

I fiddled and diddled. Messed around with some crossword puzzles. Then I launched. I intended to ride for a couple of hours but the good weather got the best of me.

I headed south toward Mount Vernon. On the way I got a good look at the Fort Hunt bald eagle nest. The thing is massive. I didn’t have my good camera with me so I didn’t try to take a picture of it. I’ll bet it’s twice the size of the Belle Haven or the Morningside nest.

Little Nellie must have been feeling frisky because we blew right by Mount Vernon and kept going. We hung a left into Fort Belvoir, riding through the base and eventually ending up on Telegraph Road.

The ride was a roller festival. Up and down every mile or two. Every third or fourth hill was a challenge but my legs were fresh. My normal bike commuting week, when I ride all five days, is 150 miles. This week I rode only 109 miles over three days. Fresh legs are good. The weather was splendid, around 70 degrees, light winds and low humidity.

After riding the ups and downs of Old Colchester Road in southern Fairfax County, I reached US 1 just north of the Occoquan River. Southbound traffic was backed up for about a mile. I guessed (correctly as it turns out) that I95 was a parking lot. Traffic was spilling over to all the side streets and soon I was in it. Near the old Lorton prison complex, I found myself on a narrow road in a long line of cars. I bailed.

A block later a cyclist flagged me down. He was from Pittsburgh. He was riding across country in stages. He was totally, utterly lost. Welcome to Fairfax County! I set him straight. Shortly after sending him on his way, I stopped to check out a roadside historical marker. Did you know that a series of Nike missile sites were arrayed around DC and Baltimore during the Cold War? Did you know that Lorton Virginia had nuclear warheads on its Nikes? This may explain why Lorton’s official motto is Just Nuke It.

I ended up on Ox Road. There were no oxen on Ox Road. Just a herd of unyoked SUVs. I tried the side path for a few miles but it was bumpy and the pristine pavement of the paved shoulder called to me. This may be the only road in all of Northern Virginia with a paved shoulder. So I rode with the big dogs. Other than having SUVs buzz past me at 50 miles per hour for an hour, I was having a great time. Whoosh.

North of Burke Virginia (I have been to Burke ten times in 30 years. I live seven miles away. You figure it out.) I stopped at a Burke eatery called Tiger Mart. I dined on a fine Snickers bar and some cheese crackers. The guy behind me in line bought a quart of oil. He must have been thirsty.

The roadway narrowed. I entered Fairfax City which has a road network designed for peak traffic, in 1956. At one point we were down to two narrow lanes, a curving descent and a recommended speed of 20 miles per hour. I went 23. Take that Fairfax City.

North of the charms of Ffx City, I entered cycling hell. In a half mile, I had to negotiate six interstate on/off ramps. Thank God the drivers were kind to me. There are no accommodations for cyclists along this stretch of road. I believe the traffic engineers who designed this mess should be required to ride a bike through it in the rain at night without lights.

Having survived the I66 hellhole, I cruised down Maple Avenue into Vienna. Ooh, more traffic. What fun.

I stopped twice to buy some real food but long lines turned me off so I hopped on Little Nellie and headed for home on the W&OD trail. The W&OD is predominantly downhill and refreshingly free of motor vehicles. Zoom.

I took a right on the Mount Vernon Trail near the airport and headed into the wind for the last ten miles. Happily, the trail was not congested with weekend wanderers. I arrived home after 69 miles. The Snickers and crackers had worn off.

Off to Chevy’s for some Dos Equis and a burrito.

Today was [Trumpet fanfare!!!] my 50th bike commute of the year. I knew it was supposed to rain this morning so I watched the radar on TV very closely and set out for work when there was a clear gap in the storms. About 1/4 of a mile into the ride, I saw a flash and heard a boom. It then occurred to me that the guy at the TV station who lines up the doppler radar echos with a map needs to find a new job.

I wore shorts and a shirt under a rain jacket. It worked okay. There was a whole lot of standing water along my route so my feet got soaked.

I lucked out in that there wasn’t any more lightning and thunder. Just rain. Lots and lots or rain.

The upside to this nasty weather was that the Mount Vernon Trail was empty. No tourists. No people with dogs on 15 foot leashes. No five year olds careening all over the place on training wheels. No Lancelots blowing by me without warning inches from my left elbow. Just me, Little Nellie, and a few bazillion gallons of cold rain.

As I rounded the bend at Gravelly Point, the rain was joined by a gale force crosswind. I had to lean into the wind to avoid being blown into the Potomac River, where white caps were dancing.

The westerly wind came in handy when I turned onto the 14th Street bridge. It blew me across the Potomac. As I reached the Tidal Basin, I could see that the cherry blossoms had succumbed to the storm. Thousands of little blossom petals littered the sidewalk and street. I’m sad to see them go, placed along the trail by eastern redbuds’ purple blossoms. And soon we’ll soon be dealing with the 17-year cicadas. Eek!

I walked into Swings for Friday Coffee Club and the six cyclists who were there laughed at me. I probably looked like a wet rag. We stood around a couple of tables, drinking coffee and letting the morning’s rain run off our clothes onto the floor. Normally, on Friday mornings I take my coffee with a heaping spoonful of estrogen. Not today. For the first time ever, it was all guys. Was it something we said?

The ride to Rosslyn across the narrow path on the TR Bridge featured a first: not one stop for DC-bound cyclists. I did have to slow to squeeze by a runner but she gave me plenty of room.

When I arrived at work, I was greeted with this:

The bike parking had been taken over by movers. I pushed some of their moving stuff out of the way and tied Little Nellie to the hitching post. Then it was off to the fitness center where I used an abundance of towels to dry off my stuff.

By the end of the day, my office reeked of wet wool. It’s amazing what an odor just two wet wool socks can put out.

The ride home was dry and warm. The MVT was clear sailing all the way home. My pair of geese is back where they belong in Dyke Marsh but there were no gosslings. Yet.

What’s August Going to Be Like?

It was t-shirt and shorts day. No need for layers since it was already 65 degrees outside when I left the house. I have been so obsessed with the cherry blossoms in DC that I forgot about the one on the front lawn. It’s a weeping cherry and Little Nellie thinks it looks fine.

The ride in was as splendid as a bike ride could be. My only problem was the fact that I got only 5 hours of sleep last night because it was 80 degrees in our house. We are experiencing a bit of a heat wave here in DC. The thermometer hit 90 today which broke the record. Fortunately the humidity was low, so there were no dead bodies along the Mount Vernon Trail.

Unfortunately, the lovely weather has brought out the Lancelots, cyclists who think its reasonable to buzz past you without warning at 25 miles per hour. I will not cry when I see one of them under a BMW.

On the way home I diverted into DC for a final ride by the cherry blossoms. It seemed a good ten degrees cooler in DC. There were people everywhere. I rode two laps around East Potomac Park, meeting up with Dana from the Friday Coffee Club. We continued on through the epic traffic jam, on to the 14th Street bridge, and south on the MVT. I mentioned that it seemed significantly hotter on this side of the river. Dana said, “That’s because we’re in the south.” He should be a meteorologist.

We had a fierce headwind. Dana tucked in behind me and was kind enough not to rear end me when I came to a near stop several times. At the south end of the airport, Dana turned off on the Four Mile Run trail. I continued into the wind.

Near the power plant two passing runners looked like they were having seizures. I heard one of them say “bugs”. A second later I was in one of those spring time bug clouds. Ack!

The rest of the ride was honest work. I didn’t see any interesting waterfowl. Or raptors. My recent regulars weren’t around, but I did see Hardware Store Guy. He owns the hardware store near my house. He rides a red Serotta up and down the MVT in the morning.

Tomorrow I get the day off. My daughter has a lacrosse game and my wife turns 37 again.

Snowblind in Springtime

Shorts were the order of the day. Yeah, baby.

Little Nellie appeared to get the worst of yesterday’s ride. She was making making more noises than my joints which has me a little worried. I isolated one noise: my rear fender was rubbing against my rear tire. Fixed.

Yesterday a clicking sound appeared during the last hour of my ride. It was worse today, maybe because I didn’t have a 20-mile-per-hour headwind to mask the sound. It only clicks when I pedal. So this is either a bottom bracket bearing gone bad, a pedal in need of a dab of lube, a seat post or saddle rail problem. I can deal with the pedal easily enough, but the other three could mean big trouble. Of course, since Little Nellie is a folding bike, it could be that one of the half dozen oddball parts on the bike is misbehaving. Time will tell.

Little Nellie is overdue for some TLC anyway so I hope to get her to 10,000 miles before she disintegrates.

The tailwind on the Mount Vernon Trail was most appreciated after yesterday’s long ride. I looked to see if my Dyke Marsh Canada geese were parents yet. Overnight Mother Goose gave birth to three retired men with fishing poles. They were lined up like See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, sitting on their folding lawn chains in the narrow grass strip between the water and the Parkway. I hope they don’t make it a habit of fishing there.

In Belle Haven Park the Hoppy Runner came cruising by, with nothing on his head and shorts on his bottom. This is perfect running weather, and he looked pretty happy.

The Belle Haven nest was empty but in a tree next to the MVT there was a sentinel. An osprey high up in the tree was positioned so that he could see both the river and the nest. He looked serious. I wasn’t going to mess with him.

By the time I hit the halfway mark of my commute near the power plant, the clicking from my bike was really getting on my nerves. North of Old Town, traffic on the Parkway was all gummed up because of a collision. I do believe the Prius is kaput.

French Braid Girl came rolling by. She’s sporting some Annie Hall sunglasses. Stylish.

A virtual Cossellian plethora of cyclists passed me on the way to work today. I felt old and pathetic. Then again, they will get to work early and I will still be out here enjoying the splendid weather. Ah, ‘tis good to be the tortoise.

I have a new regular. He’s John Roche Clone. John rides with black rimmed glasses and a wool cycling cap. So does JRC. I have waved to the clone three times now, each time wondering what he must be thinking. Shortly after passing JRC, I saw Bob (Don’t Call Me Rachel) Cannon coming by. He didn’t see me. He was in a morning trance. Or maybe he has a clone too.

The ride home began with another encounter with tourists lacking situational awareness. A huddle of seven or eight Asian people, probably Japanese tourists on the hunt for Cherry Blossoms, had completely blocked the Mount Vernon Trail. On the right of the scrum was a rock wall and the GW Parkway. On the left of the huddle was the front of a line of parked cars. I rang my bell and slowed to a crawl. After a few seconds somebody called an audible and they awkwardly dispersed, but only enough to let me squeeze by. As I was about to clear the group two bikes coming from the opposite direction closed in on me swerving to cut speed as the huddle re-formed behind me. I nearly hit the second bike. I turned and yelled, “GET OFF THE TRAIL!!!” I think by this point, having nearly been hit by three cyclists, they may have gotten the hint.

Truth be told, I feel sorry for people like this. They are disoriented by their surroundings, trying to get their group organized, and getting yelled at by the locals. From now on, whenever I go abroad, I will make it a point to obstruct the locals whenever possible, just to even the score.

I made the executive decision to take my life in my hands and ride over to DC to take in the cherry blossoms. I’d say they were about 90 percent of the way to peak. I rode the Hains Point loop in the hopes of seeing some of my cycling friends. None were to be found. I decided to walk around the perimeter. Instead of locking Little Nellie, I decided to walk her around. At first I followed a wheelchair. This made for plenty of room for my bike and me. When the wheelchair pusher ran out of steam, I had to fend for myself. I took about an hour to get all the way around. I had to stop dozens of times so that I wouldn’t photobomb the tourists getting their picture taken with the blossoms. Everyone was very civil. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when you’re going snowblind from blossoms.

The ride home was into a strong headwind. I didn’t much mind. It was actually warm out. What a strange feeling after five months of being all bundled up. South of the airport French Braid Girl came by. She looked happier. Maybe it was the tailwind that was pushing her along.

I arrived home after dark. 37 miles in shorts. Not too bad.

For pictures of the blossoms, check this out.

Could It Really Be Spring?

The weather report called for temperatures in the low seventies. I prepared by taking yesterday off the bike, mowing the lawn and doing a number of chores. I waited until I saw a 5 and a 0 on the digital thermometer in our house.

Off I rode on Little Nellie and felt very strong. It was obvious that I had a tailwind. About three miles from home, I passed the Morningside nest and spotted a white head. Hopefully, we’ll have some eaglets soon (if we don’t have them already). A mile further on I looked left as I crossed the Dyke Marsh boardwalk. The pair of geese I saw earlier in the week were still waddling about. It was a bit troubling that papa goose was on the far side of the Parkway. It would suck if he became roadkill. (My wife and I once saw a black SUV mow down a mama duck and a few of her ducklings as they tried to cross the Parkway. The surviving ducklings were a sad sight, waddling around in a panic.)

The Mount Vernon Trail was very crowded, which is typical of a warm, sunny weekend day. The tailwind made passing easy. I cruised to the city with surprisingly little difficulty. At Gravelly Point, a plane came in for a landing. A man transfixed by the plane wandered directly in front of me looking up. “YO!” He came back to reality and hopped out of the way.

The tailwind became obvious when the trail curved along the river bank. Little Nellie was a happy camper.

I turned to ride up the ramp to the 14th Street Bridge. Now with the wind in my face, it was time to work a little. Bikes were coming down the ramp in a long line. There was a fence on the left and a highway ramp on the right. There were three bikes in front of me. They stopped. No warning. The two women in front were having a conversation. The guy in the back said nothing. I veered to the left (thankfully there was a little room) and stopped with my front wheel next to his rear wheel. For some reason I blurted out “What the fuck are you doing?” It was louder than intended, perhaps because my expectations of a smooth ride to DC had been dashed. The guy turns to me, objects to my remark and starts explaining the situation (as if it wasn’t self-evident) . While he’s jabbering, I look up and two cyclists are coming down the hill, passing the long line of bikes, straight at me. I turn to my new personal friend and yell, “Move your god damned bike NOW!”

I think this blows my chances at the Cherry Blossom Festival Mr.Congeniality award. And I am sure he thought I am a total asshole. He has a point. I don’t care. Safety comes first.

On the DC side of the bridge, chaos. I weaved through the buses and tourists. I could see that the trees along the Tidal Basin were nowhere near full bloom so I headed for East Potomac Park. Into the wind.

I saw a few nice trees but the whole experience left me frustrated. If I hadn’t lived here for decades I’d swear that this whole cherry blossom thing is a hoax.

I rode upriver to the Lincoln Memorial, crossing Constitution Avenue through one epic traffic jam. I spotted a Park Service employee helping people cross the street. He just laughed. It was so bad that there’s nothing he could do.

I back tracked on the opposite side of the Mall and past the White House. Pennsylvania Avenue was not very crowded. Cherry Blossoms, even disappointing ones, trump the leader of the free world.

I don’t much like cycletracks but on this sunny day it seemed like the most civilized way to ride through town. All but one turning car yielded to me so I felt safe. At Meridian Hill Park, here were no drums to be heard and no acroyogis or hula hoopers to watch so I plodded up the hill and kept on keeping on. The cycletrack dies out at 16th Street so I took for a ways. At a four way stop, a car behind me went through the intersection out of turn. The car that had been slighted laid on his horn and followed the offender up 16th, passing me. He stayed on his horn for a block until he pulled up next to the offenders who were obviously lost. They exchanged words. The offenders turned onto a side street out of which came a DC police cruiser. The cop pulled over the SUV driver, apparently for making a public nuisance out of himself. I felt bad for him. He won’t win Mr. Congeniality either.

I turned off 16th and found 14th with a bike lane. It ended at a T on Aspen Street. A left turn and soon I was cruising down a series of S curves into Rock Creek Park. This road is part of the 50 States Ride so I have ridden it several times. It is the bestest.

At the bottom of the hill I turned right and headed for Chevy Chase (the neighborhood not the actor). I spent a few minutes on Rock Creek Trestle The creek is way down there.

Reversing course, I made for Bethesda Row and its fine array of eateries. After crossing a busy street the trail makes a hard left turn. The woman cyclist in front of me was wearing the full bike rider kit (matching lycra top and bottom). She clipped into her pedals and seemed to be going at a snail’s pace. As I was about to pass her, she waved me by with her left hand. In her hand was a lit cigarette. Carbon makes bikes go faster, or so they say.

I ate at Bethesda Bagels because it’s good and I am boring. I always eat there when I bike to Bethesda.

Instead of dealing with the Capital Crescent Trail crowds I headed out on the quiet side streets of Bethesda. A right hand turn put me on Bradley Boulevard, normally a busy road but not I had PEDs in my pedals. After passing through Avenel I picked up Falls Road. A left on MacArthur Boulevard had me descending through the woods of Great Falls Park, The windy road is flawed only slightly by the bumpy pavement, otherwise this one rivals the downhill into Rock Creek Park.

I was headed into the wind but the descent made me unaware. At the Old Anglers Inn, I jumped on the C & O Canal towpath for the ride back to DC. Now that I had slowed down, the headwind was annoying. Little Nellie’s short wheel base does not make for a comfortable ride on rough surfaces. I bounced along slaloming among the walkers and runners. I spotted a big great blue heron standing still on a log over the canal. Even with the bumps, the ride on the C & O Canal is a thing of beauty, Except for the gnats swarms. For about four miles I encountered clouds of flying black bugs They don’t bite but they get into everything, your mouth, eyes, hair, ears. And your whole body gets covered in them. Ick.

After switching over to the paved Capital Crescent Trail, I looked at the Seussian Cormorants perched in the trees along the Potomac. They do this every year, feeding on the fish swimming up river to spawn.

Back in the city, I decided to avoid the cherry blossom scene and the Mount Vernon Trail, I took the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge to the MVT for about a mile then crossed over to the Pentagon. With a stifling headwind, I followed roads past the vast Pentagon parking lots and Long Bridge Park, through Crystal City and Potomac Yards. In Old Town Alexandria I followed Columbus Street, several blocks from the touristy madness. After waiting at a stop light, I started pedaling when it turned green. The car opposite me starting coming through the intersection too. A green taxi coming from the cross street blew through the light. I think the light must have been back lit for the driver. If I had had a tailwind instead of a headwind, I’d have been roadkill. The taxi missed us both.

South of Alexandria, the Mount Vernon Trail wasn’t crowded so I hopped on it and slogged into the wind.

At home, I took inventory: my hands hurt. my back hurt. my arms hurt. my knees hurt. My face and thighs burned.

Spring is here.

For some pix check out my Flickr page here.

Nearly Spring

Here in DC we are being tormented by a winter that just won’t let go. We have had one day over 60 degrees so far this year. March was colder than January. The wind has been blowing day in and day out. No mas.

I didn’t ride to work yesterday so that I could attend my daughter’s lacrosse game. She is the goalie. Watching your kid in goal is difficult. If she performs well she will come home with bruises and contusions all over. If she doesn’t the team probably loses.

It rained overnight, right up to the moment I left the house. It was in the low 40s or high 30s and I had a headwind. So I put on all my rain gear. Of course, it stopped raining.

Despite the wind, the ride in was pleasant. Two ospreys were messing around at and in the air above the Belle Haven bald eagle nest. I think they are taking over. Ospreys are pretty impressive, unless you have a bald eagle around. Bald eagles are rock stars. Ospreys sing folk tunes.

I have noticed this week that some of the geese are sitting in the grass. I am pretty sure they are mothers about to lay their eggs. Every year two geese set up house on a very narrow piece of grass where the waters of Dyke Marsh pass underneath the GW Parkway. There were two geese there the last few days. By next week we should be seeing fuzzy goslings along the Mount Vernon Trail.

I rode Little Nellie to the Friday Coffee Club. I passed by DC’s famous cherry trees. They are still not in bloom, but the big show should start in a day or two.

Coffee Club was crowded again. This week some Arlington bike commuters began a separate get together. I say “accept no substitutes!!”

Work was work-like.

By the time I left for home, spring had made an appearance. It was 60 degrees and I had a nice tailwind to end the workweek. I packed my rain gear and went with shorts and short fingered bicycling gloves. My fingertips were pleased to be liberated from long fingered gloves.

At the south end of Old Town the Mount Vernon Trail passes a small wooden area that has river overflow in it. I could hear spring peepers making their calls as I rode by. In a couple of days, the frogs near my house will be making quite a racket.

April Fog Day

I really didn’t want to go back to work today, but I have to admit that riding nearly the entire way in pea soup fog made the transition from a week off much easier.

There’s a little dip in Collingwood Road about 1/4 mile from my house. The fog had settled in so thickly that I could barely make out the road ahead. I had some blinky lights on front and back. My executive decision to remove my helmet mounted headlight seemed a bit premature.

I also decided to wear shorts because the forecast called for warm afternoon temperatures. Of course, the fact that it was only 45 when I left the house made for an invigorating ride, particularly when descending the Park Terrace hill at 30 miles per hour.

There wasn’t much to see along the river. The sun was doing its best to burn off the fog bank but the fog was winning the battle.

Fog is water vapor. When it hits your skin it turns to water. Did I wear my waterproof jacket? Of course not. That would have made sense. I’d already made two bone-headed decisions. I was on a roll. Three for three.

I looked down and noticed that my wool arm warmers were covered in droplets of water. It looked like tinsel.

Rolling along the Mount Vernon Trail I spotted a form running toward me. It was Hoppy Runner, one of my regulars who runs with a pronounced hop on one leg. Later, in Old Town Nancy Duley appeared from the cloud. Two miles further on French Braid Girl made her appearance.

There was no hope of seeing whether the cherry blossoms were blooming. Hell, I couldn’t see the other side of the river. The Washington Monument was a shadow. I expected that the fog would lift but about an hour into the ride the river was socked in. I took a picture of the Kennedy Center. I swear it was there the last time I rode to work.

DSCN2162 — If you look really hard, you may see the Kennedy Center. Really.

When I got to work there was a strange new bike in the rack. It had an electric assist motor. I think we are going to see more and more of these in the years ahead.

By midday the temperature had reached 66. The ride home was looking pretty sweet. Unfortunately, the wind picked up by the end of the day. It was coming from the west north west which meant I would have a tailwind for most of the ride.

On Saturday, I put new brake pads on the rear of Little Nellie. The brake levers were now very tight. And, as luck would have it, the pads were sticking to the rim. I tried to adjust them several times to no avail. I watched a video when I got home to see if I was doing anything wrong. Not really.

I’ll probably swing by my local bike shop tomorrow after work. They should be able to free the pads up. If they can find them in the fog.

Pix from today’s ride can be found on my Flickr page.

March Right Outta Here

March is over. FINALLY!

It wasn’t a very productive month for cycling, mostly for family-related reasons. Also, I wimped out when I thought that the Mount Vernon Trail would be too slippery for safe riding.

I rode 434 miles, 312 on Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent. The remaining 122 were on Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist. I have yet to ride The Mule this year. The Mule is tanned, rested and ready.

I only did 15 rides this month. Ten were commutes (8 on Big Nellie and 2 on Little Nellie). The remaining rides ranged from a short 2 ½ mile trip to the hardware store and a 56 ½ mile to the bagel store (in Bethesda). We could really use a decent bagel store in Mount Vernon. Of course, even with a bagel store, we wouldn’t have a railroad trestle above an urban canyon to hang out on while we ate, but you can’t have everything.

The big highlight of the month was the Vasa ride on Saint Patrick’s Day. (Did you know that Saint Patrick drove all the snakes out of Stockholm?) I did most of that ride with Lisa, who has become a regular ride partner these days.

Big Nellie reached a milestone late in the month, hitting 32,000 miles on the odometer. Little Nellie will probably never catch her two siblings who are slugging it out to reach 33,000 miles this year. I expect to hit 10,000 miles on Little Nellie later this spring so that’s not half bad.

My mileage for the year is 1515, or 505 miles per month. April will be another month of intermittent commuting. I have a bunch of lacrosse games to attend and a school musical. (My daughter is a busy second-semester senior in high school.)

The highlight of April will almost certainly come this week when the cherry blossoms finally bloom. And there is no better way to see them than on a bike.

A Sure Sign of Spring

After a week off the bike, I was dying to get outside on a warm-ish spring day. So I headed to DC to check out the cherry blossoms. I figured with the nice weather I’d probably run into some of my new bike buddies. Six miles from home, Ted and Jean came rolling by. Jean didn’t spot me and kept riding but Ted turned around and we talked for several minutes, as Jean faded into the distance.

After our chat, I rolled northward through hoards of tourists in Old Town Alexandria. On bike touristy days, the Mount Vernon Trail is usually a nightmare of clueless out-of-towners riding painfully slowly, stopping in the middle of the trail or doing button hooks. Today was not so bad. I made it to DC on Little Nellie in about an hour.

At Gravelley Point I spotted the first sign of spring: a bike tourist on her way up the coast. The Mount Vernon Trail is part of US Bicycle Route 1, the Eastcoast Greenway and Adventure Cycling’s Atlantic Coast and Potomac Highlands routes. Bike tourists are always interesting to talk with and Courtney was no exception. She’s on her way from Charleston SC to Maine where she will begin a J-O-B. (How we hate that word!) Good lick Courtney. Great talking with you.

Courtney the Bike Tourist - Take Me With You!!!!! — Courtney the Bike Tourist – Take Me With You!!!!!

While talking with Courtney I looked across the Potomac River and I could see that the cherry blossoms were not yet in bloom. I rode to DC anyway to check out the scene. The city was SWARMING with tourists!!!! In addition to people wandering around the Tidal Basin in a vain search for a white bloom, there were mobs of people wanding the National Mall where the annual kite festival was going on. The crowds were no doubt made bigger by the fact that March Madness is residing at the Verizon Center just a few blocks north of the mall. It amazes me that people actually drive their cars to the mall on a day like today. I followed a car with Louisiana plates for the better part of a mile along the mall. Dude, dump the car. It’s useless!

After dodging my 1,233rd tourist, I got in line with a Segway tour and made an escape on 14th Street. Once over the bridge, I was treated to a tailwind on the Mount Vernon Trail. I saw a woman on a bike with her handlebar basket over flowing with flowers. It’s Easter weekend or she’s got a hot date. Or maybe she’s biking to a wake. Who knows.

Not far from where I saw them earlier, I came upon Ted and Jean again. We stopped and chatted across the Parkway from the Belle Haven bald eagle nest. As we did, Ted spotted a red tailed hawk in a nearby tree. The bird took to the wing and gave us a nice show. Jean showed off her new bike, a red Specialized beauty. Bike envy!!!

Shortly after seeing Ted and Jean I left the Mount Vernon Trail and headed up the Park Terrace hill. A man wearing bunny ears was posing for a photo with his kids in their front yard. He asked me if I was going to make it to the top of the hill and I said I was (I wasn’t even out of breath). I don’t think he realized how silly he looked with the ears on his head.

I stopped at Sherwood Hall Gourmet to pick up a Gary’s Lunchbox, my favorite sammich. After lunch, I changed the rear tube on Little Nellie. My rear tube has had a slow leak for over a month. I pulled the tube out, inflated it, and tried to find the leak. No dice. I spent 15 minutes listening and running my hand over the tube. I gave up and put a new tube in. I suspect the old one has a leaky valve.

Another sign of spring is yardwork. I spent 2 hours after lunch pulling purple weeds out of my gardens beds and my lawn. Even with annoying yard work, spring is way better than winter.

Some more pix of the day’s events here.

Bulldogs, Windmills, and Cranes

After less than a day at home to catch our breath, Lily and I, joined this time by Gin, headed by car to Indianapolis to visit Butler University. The drive is long but not very stressful. We left just before sunset and ended up driving I-68 through the mountains. There was still plenty of snow on the ground and an occassional light snow fall as we drove. A couple of times we drove through snow devils, swirls of snow that engulfed the car for a few seconds.

We crashed at a hotel in Morgantown WV. Then as we left I suggested breakfast at Shoney’s, saying that since we were in West Virginia we had to be within a mile of one. And sure enough, we were.

We drove I70 west from Little Washington PA to Indianapolis. The first 100 miles we were driving parallel to the route I took across Ohio in 2003 and 2005 on a couple of bike tours. Just seeing the names of Belmont, Bethesda, Quaker City, Cambridge, Zanesville and Newark brought back all kinds of memories.

After checking into a hotel on the outskirts of Indy and finding nowhere to eat nearby we drove downtown and were all really excited to see plenty of places to eat. We ate at a Rock Bottom Brewery then called it a night.

Thursday, we took a tour of Butler University, a rare mediun sized school, located in a neighborhood of upscale and architecturally diverse homes. In retrospect, the school and the neighborhood reminded me of Boston College.

We drove from Butler to the Broad Ripple neighborhood which has several quaint restaurants. We ate at a pub (they had the English football league standings on a tote board near the front door). The vittles were fine.

I didn’t expect much from Indianapolis, but I came away thinking that I could actually enjoy living there. They have a huge bike commuter station in the heart of downtown. There’s also a cycle track that we happened upon that is really top rate. And Butler apparently has its own bike share operation. And did I mention that bike commuters get to ride on a pool table? Yeah, I could handle riding to work in Indy.

After lunch we headed north to the booming metropolis of North Judson. In its day, it was a railroad town. Its day is no more. We went there to visit my in-laws who live on a farm of sorts outside of town. I say “of sorts” because there are no crops or livestock. It’s a house on a big ole piece of sandy land. It takes 4 days to cut the grass.

My mother in law took us to a nature preserve nearby where we were to see some sand hill cranes. There is a running joke in our family that sand hill cranes don’t exists because every time we’ve been taken to see them, there are none to be found. This time was different. There were a few hundred cranes off in the distance in a field. We saw them fly and walk about looking like extras from Jurassic Park.

We went out to dinner at a restaurant in a town called Toto, after which the Oz dog was named. The next morinng we we check out the birds that my in-laws have in their yard. The trick apparently is to use a dozen feeders with different feed in each one. After hanging out we left at noon, driving straight through to home. It took about 13 hours door to door. Not a lot of fun. I did learn that eating Chex Mix when you are dead tired will boost your blood sugar enough to keep you from driving into a ditch. Vanilla Oreos are not nearly as effective because after an initial blood sugar boost, you get an insulin crash. Then you have to eat more cookies, soon becoming a cookieholic.

I don’t know if my daughter will be a Bulldog or a Tiger next fall, but at least she had the chance this week to kick the tires of two universities that had the good sense of accepting her.

You can check out some pix of our adventure here.