Or, Why the D train goes slow over the Manhattan Bridge,
Or, Why you should follow bike lanes when you can, or at least stick to one-way streets,
Or, Why bike riders wear gloves,
Or, Which is longer around the park drive: Prospect Park or Central Park?,
I took a bike ride from the Upper West Side to Prospect Park and back again this morning. It was awesome. I rode my bike a total of 28.75 miles in about 3 hours time, including a few breaks, and some slow street riding. The route I took:
- Down riverside park and the west side highway until right past the World Trade Center (forgot to make the turn at Chambers!).
- Weaved through downtown to the Brooklyn Bridge.
- Over the Brooklyn Bridge
- South on Jay Street and Smith Streets and East on Schermerhorn Street.
- South on 3rd Avenue
- East on Sackett and Berkeley Streets to Prospect park.
- A loop around Prospect park
- Around Grand Army Plaza, and North on Vanderbilt Ave
- West on Bergen Street
- North on Court Street (oops!) and then on Smith Street, Jay Street, Brooklyn Bridge service road
- Over the Manhattan Bridge
- North on Christie Street, West on East Houston Street, and North on Bowery, Fourth Avenue, West on 23rd Street, North on Madison, West on 33rd Street, North on 6th Avenue
- Around the Central Park drive (taking the 100th Street Traverse, thank Heavens!), out on 90th Street and home
You can find the route as a Google Map.
Down Riverside park, too far.
I left the house at 9:15. I went by the bike shop to fill up some air; the other guy there had a flat, but didn’t seem to understand the English I used to point it out to him. I started my odometer as soon as I got into Riverside park at 95th street. The ride down was as pleasant as it always is. Notably missing were the Tibet protesters on 44th street (I found out that the Chinese Consulate is on 44th somewhere around 10th or 11th avenue… what a cheap country). As I breezed past Chambers, I was daydreaming about Stuyvesant and my dad’s apartment, so I ended up going east once I got below Ground Zero at Albany Street (the first crossing). I noticed that the Freedom Tower is now above ground level!! It is about 1 meter tall.
I weaved around the streets down there (Albany, Trinity Street, Liberty Street, William Street, Beekman Street, and Centre Street) to get on the Brooklyn Bridge.
Into Brooklyn
The Brooklyn Bridge is really steep! It was just one big uphill to the first tower, pretty flat over the middle of the span, and then I just flew down the other side. I was feeling really good at that point, though, thinking I should take off work more often and just ride around the city. That’s probably the fast track to being off work permanently, though.
Once I got off the bridge, I had my route to Prospect Park memorized: Jay Street, Myrtle Ave, Carlton Street and then pretty much straight into the park. It would also take my past Fort Greene Park. I found Jay Street easily enough (remembering it was “right” of the Brooklyn Bridge, i.e. North), but I blew pasta Myrtle Ave. Why? Because Myrtle Avenue is a pedestrian promenade in Downtown Brooklyn. I only figured that out on my way back.
I managed to improvise, and stuck to Jay Street (wondering why it turned into Smith Street… and then became one way in the other direction), so I just went in the direction I knew I should have been going.
Once I got out of Downtown Brooklyn on Schermerhorn, the ride was really nice. There were hardly any cars on a wide street, and so it was a license to just burn rubber. It was even better when I hit Flatbush Avenue (really Flatbush Expressway from what I could tell): I ended up on 3rd Avenue, Sackett Street, and Berkeley Street. These are similarly empty streets, and the latter two were beautiful, shaded, and had lovely townhouses. I knew I was getting close to Prospect Park when the streets got shadier and the townhouses got prettier.
Prospect Park
I didn’t even realize I was in Grand Army Plaza, even when I passed the enormous Victory Arch, which I only saw on my way out. In fact, all the way through the park I was keeping an eye for a turn to Grand Army Plaza so I could have a look at this place.
I made note of my odometer when I first entered the park: 11.8 miles. I was really curious how long around the park was, but as soon as I started riding I wished that it was really, really, far. It was that beautiful. I don’t know if it is prettier than Central Park, although it certainly seems to be bigger. I am fairly certain that if you stop and listen on the east drive, or the southern half of the west drive you won’t even hear the street traffic around the park. Talk about seclusion.
The one thing about the park drive there is that it is one big uphill and one big downhill. I hit 27 miles per hour on the west drive (downhill), and was quite tired hauling my butt up the east drive. Nonetheless, I noticed the large lake on the south side of the park, and the huge fields in the center, and woods all around. I really felt like I was miles from anything (certainly miles from Manhattan, but all the way through Brooklyn I thought I should move here.).
When I reached Grand Army Plaza again, I was really surprised: the odometer read 15.2 miles! The ride around the drive was only 3.5 miles, compared to Central Park’s 5.5! I wasn’t sure I was in the right place when I got out, but I did notice the arch I was looking for, so I turned out.
About three-quarters of the way around the park, I got a call from my office (no, not Where the hell are you?!), but I did stop, and I noticed my palms were getting abraded from the grip tape on the handlebars. Being stupid, I picked off the dead skin from a forming callus. I regretted this about 7 miles later when I subconsciously had moved my weight onto the crotch between my thumb and index finger: when I got into the shower at home, I noticed was a thick, tender red line from the handlebars.
Out of Brooklyn
My ride out of Brooklyn was less fraught with confusion than in the other direction, because I had a good sense of where I was now. I shot north up Vanderbilt Ave, and then stopped for an Arizona Iced Tea before going West on Bergen Street. (I also knew which way to go because there was a sign for Bike Route to Downtown Brooklyn, which I followed.)
My sense of direction wasn’t that sharp, as rode right past Smith Street (expecting a sign Bike Route to Brooklyn Bridge), and found myself at a dead end on Court Street. This is quite a lovely little street, which had the most commercial, pedestrian traffic I had seen in Brooklyn. I found my way back to Smith Street, and followed the signs over to the Manhattan Bridge.
My ride over the Manhattan Bridge was very funny. Just like the Brooklyn Bridge, it is about a half mile uphill, and then a half mile downhill. Having gone about 20 miles at this point, I was feeling a little beat for a powerful uphill ride. Little did I know I was going to get a kick in the butt.
One thing about the Manhattan Bridge is that the B and D trains run adjacent to the bike path. As I was riding up the path a leisurely 9.5 miles per hour, I heard some honking from the train going in my direction. I looked over to see the motorwoman shouting at me: Pick up the pace! I couldn’t pass this opportunity up, so I shouted back at her: I’ll race you! I shifted up and hauled ass up the bridge at 18 miles per hour. When my speed would flag, she would honk her horn at me. I glanced over and see her eyes staring intensely at me, and I would think Why does she want me to work so hard? Is she bored? Once I got to the top of the bridge, it was easy to keep up my speed. Towards the end of the bridge, she honked and waved me goodbye. Now I know why the train over the Manhattan Bridge goes slowly.
Through Manhattan
The last time I was on the lower east side on my bike, I remembered the only real way out was to ride in the streets alongside aggressive cars. That proved true this time. However, more threatening than the north-south avenues were the crosstown streets. When I cut over on 23rd Street, I found the cars completely unforgiving. However, when I took 33rd street, it was empty and quite a pleasant jaunt. The moral? Keep away from major cross-streets on your bike.
I was hoping the revamping of Broadway traffic between 34th Street and 42nd Street was complete, as they were supposed to add a pedestrian seating area and separated bike lane (something I can really appreciate now!). At 35th street, there was a car doing work on the area, and I saw the bike lane was south-bound only. I’ll have to come back and enjoy this improvement in a few weeks, I suppose.
6th Avenue proved to be a mess of traffic in the upper 40s. I had fun weaving through the stopped traffic with two other bikers (I think they may have been less entertained.). I also saw a black runner I had noticed two weeks ago on summer streets: he was running happily along on the left side of the street on 6th avenue. He looked a little tired, but he was surprisingly nimble: when he got cut off, he did a spin and doubled back on himself; he took powerful strides to get past cross-traffic that had the light.
It turns out this traffic was not your average accident. When I came up on 54th Street, just past the Hilton Hotel (it made me think of meeting the recruiter from EWT on the top floor last fall), I saw a car that had crashed and burned, quite literally. The fire department was standing over the smoking wreck with a fire hose, pouring water over the engine. A crowd was gathered, and at least three trucks were pulled over. There was no trace of injury, or the other vehicle.
Through the park and home!
There was nothing special about my jaunt through Central Park. I entered at 6th Avenue, and rode up the east drive. At the big hill on 74th street I started to push myself, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. I thought I have been riding for as far and long as a marathon, and this is a wall. I got off and walked most of the way up the hill. I gulped water at 90th street and sat on a bench and listened to a couple of painters eating pizza talk about the economics of getting stiffed on a job: The guy said, you can sue me for the last payment, but I’ll bury you in equal sized legal fees. Or, you can come and work on another job I have down in Atlantic City.
A bird shit on my leg. I finally got back on my bike, cut over at 100th street, and got out of the park at 90th street and stuck to bike lanes on 91st over to Amsterdam Avenue, and finally pulled into the house. The odometer read 28.75 miles, and the time was 12:15.
