Or, rather, between the highway and the trail:
It’s like a little world all its own, with a meandering creek, no less.
Category: Tours, Trails & Group Rides
This was the first in a series of five progressive rides offered by Tim C., of the Bicycle Club of Philadelphia. Each Saturday in March we meet and ride ten miles more than were completed the previous week.
I take the train into meet the group, and usually have a little while to wander around 30th Street Station until it’s time to meet up, the train schedule being what it is. On this trip, I noticed that there is still a pile of debris in back of the station (or is this the front? or formerly the front?), but Drexel has put up a bright new banner across the street. The perpetually revolving door leading to the construction site is now stilled; that’s probably going to reduce the utility bill a bit.
Then I typically have a few minutes to kill once I get to the meeting point. I like that, but when it’s this cold, it’s important to keep moving. These geese were completely unconcerned as Basil and I circled around the shambles of the Italian Fountain behind the art museum. (They’re looking pretty fit considering that they’ve just survived a winter.)
I finally got a shot of The Outbound Station coffee shop, where the group has often stopped in the past. Ironically, considering how often I’ve been there and failed to get a photo, it was closed today. It’s a nifty little place, bicycle-themed, just off the Schuylkill River Trail — and our putative destination today.
I suspect it has had a harder winter than those geese; I hope it will be open as the season warms up, and that we’ll have the opportunity to pop in again in the future.
Saul posed with Basil at the Outbound.
He looks quite at ease next to a Brompton, doesn’t he?
We ended up at the 401 Diner, where we were treated very nicely. Basil was even offered special accommodation behind the counter, which was truly beyond the call of duty.
Saul snapped a shot of Basil tucked behind the front counter. Basil really was small enough to fit, and no one seemed to find him in the way.
The sky was changing as we clattered down the track on our way home
and we were met by the slightest of snow flurries as we stepped off the train.
(Why, yes, that is a wee bit of cat fuzz next to the tiniest of snow flakes. It’s a problem. I roller Basil’s bag regularly, but he does have occasional contact with perhaps too many cats. They like him; what can I say?)
This was technically a 25 mile/40 km ride, for purposes of the progressive, but Basil and I managed a little over 30 miles/48 km before hopping on the train and heading home. A great ride, and great company — what could be better?
Categories
Mid-Winter Thaw
. . . with tiny rapids:
It was as beautiful to hear as to see.
It didn’t happen. On Friday we had snow — a lovely, fluffy snow. It had stopped by Saturday morning, so I got up at 5 AM, and Basil and I caught an early train to Philadelphia.
It was 18 degrees (F) (just about -8 C), which made it the coldest day I’d been out with Basil. I was well-prepared, though, and, except for my hands, plenty warm enough, thanks to seven carefully arranged layers of clothing.
I rode from the train station to the group meeting point, as usual. The trail had been well-salted, and the portion up to the Art Museum was safe to ride. For the first time, I saw very few joggers, and only three other bicyclists in the forty-five minutes I was in and around the trail.
Once past the most-used section, trail/sidewalk/road conditions were pretty bad. I couldn’t quite capture them with my camera — in these photos, you can’t see the way lumpy ice and water puddles were co-existing, for example. There was an amazing amount of ice under that fluffy snow, too.
It became clear, very quickly, that I didn’t have the skill necessary to deal with these conditions. (I really wondered who did!) Tim, our experienced and intrepid ride leader, had reminded me at the end of last week’s progressive that the rides were only canceled if it were snowing or raining an hour before the start — not for wind or cold.
I waited until a bit after the ride start time so that I could tell Tim that I was opting out. (I’d pre-registered for the ride, so he’d have known I’d planned to come.) When Tim didn’t materialize, I figured something was up. Sure enough, when I got home and checked the club listing, I realized the ride had, indeed, been canceled. (I’d only checked the weather before leaving at 6 AM. Lesson learned!)
Later, I discovered that Tim had left a message on Mr. Diarist’s phone on Friday night, and Tim explained that he’d canceled due to ice on the roads and paths. This was actually a great relief — apparently it isn’t a good idea for anyone to ride on ice!
So no 55 mile (88.5 km) grand finale to this series, but Tim’s going to do another progressive in March. I can’t wait!
Basil and I set out to catch the train, as usual, early in the morning, for the third in Tim’s BCP progressive series.
The Philadelphia Museum of Art was looking majestic and quite wintery.
Two of us met up with our fearless leader. Last week’s ride was 35 miles, so this one was ten more, bringing us up to 45 on our third Saturday in a row.
Our first stop was for coffee and sandwiches at the Outward Bound in Conshohocken. Yet again, I failed to get a picture of this nifty little cafe. Just off the Schuylkill Trail, it’s a perfect spot for a warm drink and a quick bite. Next time, I’ll make sure to get a snap before I cross the threshold.
Mila (I hope I’ve spelled her name correctly) was colder than she expected to be, and ended up heading back while Tim and I forged on. We reached our mid-point — the Betzwood Trailhood on the Schuylkill River Trail, and checked out the map.
We started off the map to the southeast, and turned around at the northern border of Valley Forge Park. You can probably just about make out the “Betzwood Trailhead” caption near the center, above.
When we returned to Manayunk, it was time for more libation. We stopped at Salon L’Etoile, which really is a coffee shop, though it’s hard to tell that it’s here, in a glimpse from the street. Tim is very fond of latte; I had a lovely, adult, cocoa. (Update 2/1/13, see below.)
Basil fit right behind my chair, and just under the counter.
Total mileage for me was just over 46 miles, and I deeply regretted not doing the additional four to make it to fifty. However, this ride, though not much further than a couple of previous rides, had been much more difficult. I was well and truly worn by the time Basil and I made it home.
WeatherSpark explained it: These were the highest winds I’ve experienced while cycling: 17-24 MPH (roughly 27 to 38 KPH) with bursts to 27 MPH (roughly 43 KPH).
Map image from Schuylkill River Trail.
Update 2/1/13 — an observant correspondent has pointed out that there really is a salon beneath that canopy, and suggests that the coffee shop is not named “Salon L’Etoile”. A little research confirms the truth of this: The coffee shop is to the right, under the canopy in the photo, and is called either Cafe Volo (just about everywhere) or Volo Coffeehouse (on their unfinished website). Thanks, Saul!
Categories
Sunday Ride
The day after the second progressive ride, I met up with a really nice group of people to ride from Conshohocken to Phoenixville. It was a very typical day for this first half of January. Crisp, cold and clear.
That’s not a complaint. I really like these days.
Destination: Phoenixville, whose independent theater, the Colonial, has its own web page.
This crowd I’ve fallen into always has a snack destination in mind. We need fuel, right? Most of the group went to the Artisans. In spite of the fact that you can see Basil there, a couple of us snuck off to Steel City.
Steel City’s Dark Chocolate Cocoa was calling to me. (The sharp-eyed will note that this photo is from August. I forgot to take one on this trip. The lure of dark cocoa was that strong.)
I took one more shot over looking the river, on the way back. We’ll have snow here soon, probably for a couple of months, until mid-March, and the scenery will be much different, unless this turns out to be an atypical year.
This was an unexpected opportunity, and I met a bunch of new-to-me cyclists who turned out to be great people. I’m hoping to see all of them again on future rides!
This trip was roughly 30 miles, if I remember correctly, but I rode 35 miles in all, for total mileage for the weekend of 75 miles. Not bad for a barely-reformed couch potato.
Amtrak seems to be generally bike-friendly, and I take Basil on board without any problems, and with no disguise.
If I wanted to, though, I could bring my Brompton aboard as carry-on luggage: He’s nearly half the weight limit of 50 pounds, and, as you see, fits nicely into the carry-on verification schematic, even though the seat post isn’t fully dropped in this photo. I might pop him into a bag if going the carry-on route, though, just to avoid any questions.
(Basil’s under-seat bag tucks right next to the frame when compressed. It’s not going to cause any carry-on issues, even though it’s technically over the line here.)
So I took a trip into Philadelphia to give Trophy Bikes, the Philadelphia Brompton purveyor, another try. I haven’t had much luck dealing with this shop, but hope springs eternal, I guess. The shop I knew was in University City, just three easy blocks from 30th Street Station. When I got there, though, there was no shop.
The building is empty. It must have been an abrupt departure, and perhaps an unhappy one. There was no information on the storefront regarding the closure, and a local business owner told me that the landlord had torn down whatever Trophy had put up to inform customers of the change.
Unfortunately, Trophy hadn’t bothered to post the closure on their website. I’d gone to the website that very morning to get directions from the train station. Hours, directions, the address, everything was right there on the website when I checked it, with no indication whatever that the shop no longer exists. That was really annoying.
I got directions to a second Trophy location, which involved taking the subway. I’d been on the Philadelphia subway only once before, years ago, and it had been a rather unpleasant experience. I was game to try again, although the shop owner who gave me directions warned about the neighborhood near Trophy, telling me it wasn’t safe to ride in. I’m a smallish woman; this may have figured into his reckoning.
A friendly guy at the travelers’ information kiosk in the 30th Street Amtrak Station told me how to get to the 30th street subway station, and which line to take. The station was a lot cleaner than I remembered. It was also pretty empty.
Unlike most SEPTA signage, the subway signs indicated cardinal directions, which make it easy to figure out if the train is going in the direction you want to travel. That’s very helpful if you don’t know intersections or terminal points.
The car I entered was about one-third full of riders. The seats were clean, and there was plenty of room for Basil. LEDs showed each stop, also a great rider service.
Getting to Trophy Bikes “North” required descending an infelicitous stairway into an underpass, and cycling several blocks. Oh, and it’s on a one-way street. (Just FYI, in case you need to know.)
Then I discovered that they opened four hours later than the University City location, another annoying surprise. I was early, since I’d expected to be into, and gone from, the University City location long before now.
When the store finally opened, a friendly guy adjusted my brake in about two seconds flat, and refused to charge me for it. That was only the second more-or-less positive interaction I’ve had in five Trophy-related interactions.
However, my positive reaction was somewhat tempered because when I asked if a Brompton mechanic was in, I’d gotten a rather hesitant response. Brake adjustment, I was told, they could do. Otherwise, the staff would “learn as we go” as far as other Brompton repairs.
Well. Not on my Brompton, they won’t. I’m guessing whoever worked on Brompton repair has gone the way of the University City location. Or the employee just didn’t know what he was talking about. Either way, bad news.
I headed back to the subway stop. I’m used to New York City’s MTA. In general, empty platforms aren’t typical. This one wasn’t totally empty, but close. At least there was a bridge. (This stop, Spring Garden, is above ground, obviously.)
And this view of Philadelphia was fantastic:
Also, there was a helpful attendant, ensconced in what looked like a bullet-proof cubby. He was worried that I wouldn’t be able to get Basil through the gate. It was a good thing he was there for other reasons, though, because my Independence Pass, theoretically with a magnetic strip (?), couldn’t be read by the gate mechanism.
The noise level was deafening, as the stop is between 95 and Spring Garden boulevard.
When I got off the train at the 30th street subway station, in the early afternoon, there was only one other person on the platform. He was a bit distant from where I was, facing the other direction, between me and the even-farther-away elevator. He was stumbling, and making some kind of noise. I went for the stairs at my end of the station, a good walk in the other direction.
Altogether, not the most satisfactory of days. Then, when I got home, I saw this:
Having just gone through what was altogether — both coming and going — a rather creepy subway experience, it was a little weird to see this. The attack occurred on a nearby line, at roughly the same time (3:22 in the afternoon, according to the surveillance tape), just three days earlier. Note the deserted platform, although this, too, was the middle of the day. The Philadelphia Inquirer, in this article, noted that
The Broad-Ridge Spur, which runs from Fairmount and Broad to 8th and Market streets, is SEPTA’s least-used subway line, with about 8,000 riders a day, and its three stations are often lonely places.
I rode the Market-Frankford line, and got off (and back on) at a stop quite geographically close to the one where this attack occurred. My experience on this day leads me to conclude that there is more than one mentally ill person hanging around Philadelphia subway stations, since this one appears to have been arrested. Also that deserted Philadelphia subway stations, in some cases, are the rule, not an exception.
All in all, I don’t think I’ll be going back to Trophy, or giving them a sixth chance. There’s not much of a carrot, and though the sticks are theoretically only potential, none of this is anything I need. Or want.
On the right train, in the right seat, your Brompton makes a fine foot rest:
Haul out a paperback, the e-reader, or a magazine. Ahhh.
Categories
Five Boro Bike Tour!
We’re in! Basil and I are registered for the 2013 Five Boro Bike Tour — 42 miles through all five boroughs accompanied by 30,000 people and their cycles. Registration — a 24-hour-only event — opened at noon on January 22, and by 12:08 our verification came through, with a follow-up email confirmation at 12:19. (Yes, I was ready to go at the stroke of noon.)
I’ve met a surprising number of people who have done the tour, and have also enthusiastically (and extensively) researched reviews and anecdotes online. Apparently, this event has equal potential to be triumphant, miserable, fantastic and/or the most awful thing imaginable.
What it won’t be, it seems, is your standard 42 mile bicycle ride. In spite of a slew of helpful prep tips online, if history repeats itself, huge numbers of people will dust off their bikes for this event alone — there will be gawkers, photo-takers, overwhelmed Sunday riders (are they Sunday riders if this is the only time they ride during the entire year?), and people who just plain have no clue about how to cope with either the route or the massive number of Other People.
Never mind — it’s an experience, and I knew that Basil and I had to attempt it at least once. (We’re training, though, just so you know.) Roads are closed for the event, and, let’s face it, I’d never, ever, be able to ride through all five boroughs of New York City on a single day on my own.
I’ll be gawking, too, and taking photos. But I’m going to do my best to remember that it’s an event, not a race, and closer to a party — think “celebration of New York” — than a pure cycling moment.