If you plan it, there’s a chance they will build it.
A small, energetic group of neighbors on Beacon Hill in Seattle developed a plan for safer biking and walking connections between local schools, shopping district, library, and light rail. It connects the gateway to Beacon Hill at Lewis Park, to our crown jewel with the spectacular view of the city at Jefferson Park, along low-traffic streets with modest hills (for the city of seven hills).
Crossing Spokane Street's 4 lanes of traffic without a crosswalk. Happens every day, but without the luxury of banner waving attention.
The People Powered Parks Parade was a celebration of the plan — really the first and most important step in any change we want to be in this world. The parade started appropriately at Jefferson Park and demonstrated the need for a safe crossing at Spokane and Lafayette. Colorful flag wavers stopped 4 lanes of traffic to allow the 120+ walkers and bikers to safely pass. It was an awesome “take back the street” moment!
Crossing Beacon Avenue near the busiest neighborhood library in Seattle and light rail station.
Following fine examples to the south in Portland, the Beacon BIKES plan creates routes on streets that parallel busy arterials, and moderates vehicle traffic on those routes to encourage slower driving and more biking. These “Bike Boulevards” or “Greenways”, when well placed, also means fewer cyclists wanting to take the arterial—seems like a win-win situation.
So hats off to our neighborhood activists creating “Better Infrastructure Keeping Everyone Safe” or Beacon BIKES!
Mayor McGinn and council members Rasmussen and Bagshow came out to show their support for the plan, but my highlight was riding besides these future "heels on wheels" girls.
Sporting some "Petal Power" and my new flower vase bike accessory.
We passed the sign above on our trip in Portugal. It was the entrance to a big highway … not a road we wanted to travel on anyway.
I particularly enjoy the way the wheel on the wagon makes the sign look like a cartoon figure sticking its tongue out at you.
But signs are important. They give instruction and information. They warn you not to proceed, or they lead the way.
Which is why I’m excited about the U.S. Bicycle Route System. Signed routes all across our nation that will announce: “Cycling is a viable travel option.”
In 1976 the founding members of Bikecentenial (now the Adventure Cycling Association) established a bike route across the country and invited the nation to come along for the ride. Without that defined route, many people would never have pedaled across America.
When the U.S. Bike Route System is complete, people will have positive reminders that bicycle travel is possible in every state. Seeds of bicycle travel dreams and possibilities will germinate in the minds of passing motorists, bus passengers, and cyclists alike.
But dreams take a lot of work. The logistics of creating this nationwide network are mind boggling. If you are as excited about this project as I am, the first thing you can do is donate. I have. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Small amounts add up fast.
Get in on the ground level of a dream. Donate ten bucks. Ten years from now you’ll realize you were part of something really incredible.
If I had to choose one photo I’ve taken that captures the view of the world you get when you travel by bicycle, this is it.
Up close and intense.
It’s 1995. Nelson Mandela has been president for less than a year. I’m on a five-month bike trip in South Africa, where I’m told by dozens, no, hundreds of people that if I travel in the former homelands that I’m a dead man. Period.
I go anyway. I’m afraid.
I come across a school. Someone notices the bike traveler and a mob of students comes charging down the hill.
My first reaction is to flee. But instead of taunts and shouts of anger, I hear laughter.
The kids surround my bicycle and I take out my camera and snap a few shots.
I look back at this photo and wonder about the lives of these students, now adults in their late twenties. I look at the smiles. The intensity and zeal. I hope that life has treated them well.
None of them knows the gift they gave to this traveler that day. The anxiety that had been welling up in me for weeks melted away in an instant. I continued my journey with their smiles etched in my memory … a potent remedy to prejudice and fear.
A policeman stopped our progress through the small town of Manteigas, Portugal. There was no traffic — no apparent accident or emergency. We parked our bikes and waited.
We heard the music of a marching band long before the processional turned a corner and came into view. It appeared as if the entire town was decked out in ceremonial garb — women with bright green shoulder capes — young boys and girls in white and cream robes. Old men with bright red vestments, marched with tall narrow banners attached polls.
Then came the band. Young and old with their shiny instruments and coats with brass buttons and gold rimmed caps. They played somber tunes. No smiles or waves. This processional was in honor of the martyr Saint Sebastian.
I was wishing this crowd would get a move on. We needed to find a place to stay and it was quickly getting late.
But then I began looking closely at the faces that passed by and my anxiety melted away. How long has that man played the tuba in this band? I wonder what the flute player does for a living? Does the band practice weeknights? To they enjoy it? Whose cap is that little kid wearing?
What’s it like to grow up in a little village in the mountains in Portugal? How many feet have walked these cobblestones? Is someone actually pulling the rope on the church bell, or is it automated?
My mind pleasantly wandered as the music played on. And by the time the band had disappeared up the hill, I found that I liked this town. I had a connection to it, however small.
Friends are getting ready for their first trip to Spain and feeling a little pressure to “do” all the things in the guidebook. It made me think about how I like to engage with cities I visit, and I realize it’s not much different than what I like to do in my own city.
Kusina Filipina mural across from my Seattle neighborhood bus stop
I visit neighborhood parks and playgrounds, eat in neighborhood cafes, and I walk (or take transit) everywhere. I love it because I get to see real life up close and personal and not what the tourist board wants me to see. Even at home in Seattle I’ll take in the block-buster exhibits at the art museum, but I really enjoy spotting street art on those neighborhood walks and along transit lines. That art feels like much more of a connection to the current trends, politics and emotions of a place.
Here are a few scenes from Seattle, Bogota, Lisboa and Seville
There is a moment after a long, grey winter, when, late in the afternoon, the sun breaks through the curtain of clouds, and the colors explode off the pavement. It’s brief. It’s magic. It’s spring.
I gasped in horror. No. That’s not true. I just hung my head in disappointment. Really? This is progress?
I was standing in an enormous parking lot in Folsom, California. I had a speaking engagement at the REI located at the Folsom Gateway shopping center.
A real estate website states, “Folsom Gateway II is one of Northern California’s premiere regional shopping centers.” And later offers this highlight, “Highly visible, prime retail location on the Highway 50 Freeway, viewed by 200,000 vehicles daily.”
Notice how the above description gives vehicles the gift of sight.
And that is appropriate. Because cars, not people, appear to have been the focus of this development.
Cars get the prime real estate. The entire middle of the complex–big box stores on one end of the parking lot–fast food and chain restaurants on the other. The distance between the retail and food is so great, that people get in their cars and drive across the parking lot from one to the other.
The shopping complex has followed building code, I’m sure. There are sidewalks and bike lanes and even a few little benches for people to sit. But they were all empty. The scale is so huge, so spread out, that humans find it daunting.
Does anyone really want to walk the mile and a half along the edge of the big box buildings to the Starbucks? (It’s much closer in your car).
If someone was to consider walking, the intersections are so wide that I imagined rest stations halfway across with water and snacks to prepare pedestrians for the second half of their journey.
The parking lots are clean, with lovely new banners that one would find at the entrance of a Renaissance or County Fair. But no jugglers, musicians or food booths await your arrival. In reality, the banners just dress up a an ugly, ocean of asphalt.
Premiere? Is this the best we can do?
If our goal is to increase the rates of obesity and diabetes. If we want to encourage people to stay in their cars. To walk less. To spend as little time outdoors as possible. Then this truly is a premiere example of how we should move forward.
The phrase might sound trite and overused, but standing at the edge of Crater Lake in Oregon will “take your breath away.”
For most visitors — who arrive and travel around the lake in a car or motor home — that phrase refers solely to the beauty of this national treasure. But for a much smaller and more fortunate group of travelers, the phrase will also relate to their lung capacity.
Crater Lake is along one of the Adventure Cycling Association’s newest routes, the Sierra Cascades Bicycle Route, which takes cyclists on a stunningly beautiful, roller-coaster ride from the Canadian border to Mexican border. You can tackle it all in one swoop, or break it up into a series of smaller trips.
But however you do it, when you get to Crater Lake … do the loop (also known as the Rim Drive).
Many bike travelers pass on it. They have been climbing mountain passes for weeks and the thought of a hilly, 33-mile side trip is daunting. The elevation profile looks like a silhouette of the Alps.
But resist the urge to skip it and move on. Take a day off if you need to. Find someone in the campground who will look after your gear and do the ride sans pannier or trailer. Then pedal one of the most scenic roads in America. Folks may tell you the loop is best traveled in a clockwise direction. That advice is probably coming from visitors driving large motor homes, who can more easily pull into parking lots at scenic overlooks by traveling in this direction.
But you’ll be on a bike. You don’t need a large parking lot. So buck the trend and cycle counter-clockwise around this jewel. You’ll have less traffic on your side of the road, and better light to snap photos like the one above.
It was a bright spot in a very bleak day. We were struggling through the mountains in central-eastern Turkey. The roads were rough, the grades were steep, and the wind blew so hard you could lean into it and never fall over.
We met a couple of men at a roadside chai stop. They invited us up the hill and we soon discovered that they were teachers. We were introduced to their classroom full of Kurdish students, all dressed up in their bright blue-and-white school uniforms. As their teachers translated, the students asked us scores of questions about our travels.
Then it was time for them to sing for us. They lined up and struggled through a couple of short songs. Then one of the teachers singled out one of the girls and called her to the front of the room.
She opened her mouth and a voice mature beyond her age filled the room. I still get goose bumps listening to it.
The weather and the road were still bleak … but that little girl’s voice reminded us once again that the journey is always worth the effort.
Update: I am God: Cycling India won by a large margin. So India it is!
You can buy tickets in advance here. Cascade Bicycle Club’s Presentation Series
I am God: Cycling India
Tuesday, April 12, 7PM
REI, Seattle
Even under the threat of snow, the crowds came out and packed REI’s Seattle flagship store for Any Port in a Storm: Cycling and Wild Camping Through Portugal as part of the presentation series of the Cascade Bicycle Club.
Due to the success of the show, Cascade has asked me to present again on April 12th. But I haven’t chosen the show yet. I’ve been giving presentations at REI and Bike Expo since 1994–when slide projectors reigned supreme and no one knew what a world wide web was. I often have folks ask, “I missed the India show. Will you ever be doing it again?” Or, “I’m planning a trip to Turkey, are you presenting that show in the Seattle area?”
Here’s your chance to influence which show I present in April. Reply to this post with the show you’d most like to see from the list below. I’ll tally your choices (along with the votes I get from my audience at Bike Expo and my email list) and the show that comes out on top will be presented on April 12th.
And the choices are: (vote totals: final) I am God: Cycling India (31)
Fear and Hospitality: Cycling South Africa (15)
So Close and Yet So Far Away: Cycling Cuba (5)
The Bad Road: Cycling Turkey (6)
A Tale of Twos: Cycling Thailand and Laos (9)
Please only vote if you live close enough to actually attend the show. I’ll announce the winner soon after Bike Expo (March 12 & 13).
