buy me some coffee…

There’s this man I see around town. I’ve noticed him because of the way he gets around. He has a bicycle, and he uses it, but he doesn’t exactly ride it. He sort of shuffles along while straddling the bike. It’s almost like the bike is his two wheeled walker. He looks like he could be more than seventy years old and he’s very frail, so he may need some help standing. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him without the bike. Whether he’s moving along or just standing there, he’s always got that bike underneath him. I see him all over town, so I know he gets around, even if not too quickly.

Yesterday, I pull up to a stoplight where he’s posted with his bike. He’s got a sign saying he’s homeless and asking for help. Because the weather’s nice, my window is down, so for a few moments we are face to face just a few feet from each other. He looks past me, slightly above me, but I still feel like he’s looking straight at me. He’s quiet for a moment, then loudly and strongly says “buy me some coffee.”

I’m actually on my way to the coffee shop but running an errand first. The light turns green and the car behind me blows its horn when I don’t move. There isn’t any time for me to dig in my bag for coffee money. I tell him that I’m running an errand, and I’ll give him some coffee money on my way back. I mean it sincerely, but five minutes later I pull up to the same intersection to find him being harassed by a cop. The cop parked in the intersection with the red and blues flashing, and he got out to talk with the man. But from the way the cop is standing (all puffy chested) and from the smirk of authority on his face, I know they’re not talking… they’re not having a civilized conversation. Conversations happen between equals, and it’s obvious the cop doesn’t think this man is his equal.

I think for a moment about intervening. I’d say the man is my grandfather and offer to take him with me to get coffee if the cop would just leave him alone. I could even throw his bike on my bike rack and whisk him away from the oppressive authority figure. But then I think about what it would take to separate the man from his bike, even if only for a few minutes. Surgery comes to mind. It wasn’t pretty. Then I think about the unusualness of the bike riding above him for a while (on the roof rack), when he’s so used to the bike being underneath him… like the bike is riding him. Daydreaming ends abruptly when the light turns green, and again I have to leave him in that intersection with no coffee money.

I’m approached for money all the time. I usually don’t give out any because I usually don’t have any to give. Something about the way this man asked for coffee money spoke to me. No… he didn’t ask for coffee… it was more like he told me I could buy him some. Coffee and bicycles are dear to me. I think everyone in the world should be able to drink good coffee and ride a bike. So when this fellow bicyclist let me know that I could get some coffee for him, I was almost thankful he let me know. I just wish I’d had the money more handy.

Column: New park offers mountain bike trails

The Herald-Sun
November 25, 2004 10:37 am

DURHAM — Residents of Durham and Orange counties are about to enjoy a new park at half the usual price. That’s because the new Little River Regional Park and Natural Area has land in both counties, straddling the county line. And since we’re sharing the land, we’re splitting the cost of this exciting new project.

Opening Dec. 5, Little River is the first joint effort between the Durham and Orange County parks and recreation departments and only the second regional park in the state. At nearly 400 acres, it’s much larger than most county parks — roughly the size of a state park.

Most exciting is that the park gives Durham and Orange residents the first public mountain bike trails in either county.

“This is a huge benefit to Durham and Orange residents,” says Lori Taft, recreation and parks management director for Orange County. Fifteen miles of trails are planned for horseback riders, hikers and mountain bikers. The more than 6 miles of singletrack opening in December were designed and built by volunteers with the Durham Orange Mountain Bike Organization (DOMBO).

Taft says that of all the groups that have volunteered time to get the park ready, none has worked as tirelessly as DOMBO. DOMBO carefully and thoughtfully divided the singletrack into two loops: one more challenging than the other.

Singletrack, the gourmet of mountain bike trails, is a thin strip of trail winding through the woods. It gets its name from its width; it’s just wide enough for one bike at a time.

The beginner loop introduces novices to riding over roots, rocks and bridges. Cross-country connoisseurs will love the more advanced loop, which has some of the most challenging climbs, rock gardens and log crossings in the Triangle area.

The significance of opening singletrack at Little River is that Durham and Orange county governments join the Wake County and the state parks departments in recognizing the demand for public places to mountain bike.

Opening day celebrations kick off at 2 p.m., with a group ride on the beginner loop. The park’s main entrance is about 12 miles north of downtown Durham on Guess Road. Look for signs just inside Orange County.

None of this could have happened without the help of the Triangle Land Conservancy, Eno River Association and trail-building grants from the state government. Special thanks go to George Newton, who originally donated the land for preservation.

Looking forward to opening day, Taft says, “I hope to continue to work with DOMBO.”

sss3

Poor quality pics from this weekend’s ride.

perl, dropping into the bowl on Route 66.

perl_bowl.JPG

nicomachus running out the rollercoaster drop on Right Loop.

runout_small.JPG

Both trails are at New Light. See trianglemtb.com for info on New Light.

SSpots of Time

Phillip Barron
Originally published by BikeReader.

Sweet are those moments when all your skills converge and you clear a technical section with more grace than you thought possible. That’s what I call flow. Others call it groovin’ or dialed-in. “’Spots of time’ was the phrase Wordsworth used for such moments,” says Appalachian writer Ron Rash, “but the poet’s words were no better than mine because what I felt was beyond any words that had ever been used before. You need a new language.” I hope you’ve experienced what I’m talking about. It’s a rush like no other. In the mountain bike community, there are as many reasons to ride as there are riders. It took 15 years of mountain biking and the experience of single-speed mountain biking for me to realize explicitly what I’d known only implicitly all along: to me, finding flow is my reason to ride.

For Wordsworth, spots were key moments in his life; they formed remarkably vivid memories. He talks about the compression of time, the heightened senses, the feeling of being inside something important. He experienced spots most consistently in nature, and although many call his experiences mystical Wordsworth denied any supernatural element to these moments. Rather, they are about as grounded in this earth as you can get.

I ride to find that state of flow in the woods. This doesn’t mean that I ride slowly or on flat trails. There is a state of grace that a rider can achieve while riding over roots and rocks, through rollercoasters and bowls, over logs and logstacks, and all the while maintain speed. Flow is possible on a technical trail – it’s just harder to find. But, the difficulty reaching it is what makes it so rewarding. It’s about dabbing less, stepping out of the pedals as little as possible. It’s about accepting what comes around the corner. It’s about loving the challenge of the trail laid out before me.

In a state of flow I briefly forget that my bike and I are two separate things. I forget that I am a clumsy bi-ped who can’t move gracefully down a mountain without help. I forget that it shouldn’t be possible to travel this fast over roots, rocks, twists, and turns. I move so smoothly, so instinctively that it is difficult to say that I am responsible for my movements, since no deliberate act of will could fit so harmoniously into the environment. When in flow, I’m not totally in control of my actions. There’s something else going on, something more than me, a bike, and a path. It’s as though the three merge temporarily. Flow never lasts long – usually no longer than a few seconds at a time. But these moments, scattered throughout a two hour ride, convey a lifetime of experience.

The lifetime, the wisdom of these moments is what interests me most. Nietzsche took moments like these as evidence that the there is no end-point at which history is aiming. He knew, because he experienced moments of clarity where all the wisdom of eternity seemed within reach, that the present contains within it everything we need to find meaning in the world. “The world is complete and reaches its finality at each and every moment. What could ten more years teach that the past ten were unable to teach!” I don’t know about history’s aims or universal meanings, but I do know that the compression of time in these moments is something special.

These moments are wise in the sense that every spot of time or moment of flow has taught me something. I’ve learned some new skill or that I’m capable of something I’d not experienced before. Compressed time isn’t the same as time slowed down. Time slows down when you fall. You know you’ve lost your balance, you know you’re past that critical point where you could have caught yourself, you know you’re going to slam your shoulder into that rock. It all happens in slow motion, maybe because your mind is working twice as fast as normal.

Compressed time isn’t slow – if anything, it’s sped up. Maybe this is where we recover the time that slows down when we fall. Nor are spots of time or sessions of flow inevitable. When you fall, the crunch of the shoulder to the rock is inevitable; every thought that races through your mind before the crunch just delays what is guaranteed. Falling, no matter how drawn out, has a clear end. You see it coming.

But a spot of time is different; experiencing one is not guaranteed. Nor is it clear, while you’re in one, how long it will last or even whether it will end. When you’re in a spot of time, you aren’t conscious of anything else – not even the fact that you’re in it. You realize what just happened only when it’s all over.

More than irregular, spots of time are also elusive. I never experience one when I try to. I know I’m more likely to experience one in the saddle of my single-speed than in front of a glowing computer monitor, but that’s about it.

Before going single, I had my own ideas what to expect: tougher climbs; more cautious, thoughtful riding; keeping the momentum. What I wasn’t prepared for was how quickly I felt freed from thinking about speeds and gears. My first few single-speed rides were experiences in liberation. I was focusing on the trail, not on the bike. I’m very comfortable with my bike – I’ve had it for four years, I have probably 6,000 off-road miles on it, and I’ve ridden it up and down the East Coast. But as a single-speed is the first time that the bike moves like it is an extension of me and not just a machine I manipulate. As a geared bike, at best, I just manipulated it well. Now, before turns or hills, I spend my time picking my lines, not my gears. Keeping momentum on climbs is a challenge of a different sort, though not as difficult as I expected.

Some people insist that a spot of time is something experienced in stillness. That clarity is something you achieve through meditation, cross-legged on the floor staring at a candle flame. Maybe. Like Wordsworth and Rash, I meditate in motion. There is a stillness, a calm, within flow, but it is more spiritual than physical. The urge to mountain bike comes from the soul. Riding in the woods is a spiritual experience, but not a religious or even a mystical one. Like Wordsworth, I’ve found greater solace in staying firmly planted on dirt.

Standing on dirt with me, Norman Maclean says of the elusive nature of these moments that “poets talk about ’spots of time,’ but it is really [fly] fishermen who experience eternity compressed into a moment. No one can tell what a spot of time is until suddenly the whole world is a fish and the fish is gone.”
Read more

Column: Think safety first when stopped at a traffic light

The Herald-Sun
November 9, 2004 2:11 pm

DURHAM — This week, I want to answer some of the questions I’ve received. I’ve gotten a lot, and I want to thank all of you who’ve written in to show support for the column. Today, I humbly offer answers to three of the toughest questions you’ve asked.

First, Meg Gallagher writes: “When I commute to work from downtown (against the flow of into-the-city traffic), I often find myself at street lights that will only be triggered by a car (especially left turn signals). Rather than wait 10 minutes for the rare car going my way, my solution is to get off the bike and walk it across the street; but even that has angered some drivers. What can I do?”

Meg, what you describe is all too familiar. People and bicycles usually don’t trigger the inductive loop sensors in the pavement. Loop sensors, however, will detect just about any metal. So, some will detect your bike. To see if your bike can trigger the detector, make sure you stop your bike in the middle of the turn lane, before the white stop line. Be conscious of where you’re standing, and make sure you’re not blocking a car from also pulling up to the sensor.

Sometimes it’s tempting to ride through the intersection when it’s safe, regardless of the color of the traffic light. Pete Schubert, a local bicyclist, encourages riders to wait for the green. “If this means waiting an extra 45 seconds at a red light, I use the time to rest, observe the road in all directions, scan for debris and plan my path through the intersection and beyond.”

Alison Carpenter, Durham’s bicycle and pedestrian transportation planner, says, if the light will not change, the safest thing to do is “to dismount and cross at the intersection as a pedestrian.” She also encourages you to contact the city with intersection improvement requests. You can use the Durham One Call system (560-1200).

Next, Paul Novak writes, “the major reason I’ve not tried mountain biking is because I can imagine only destruction and erosion of the land. Activities that destroy the very features that bring me to an area don’t make any sense to me. Will you comment on this in your column?”

Paul, you’re absolutely right. Increased traffic on any trail, whether hiking or biking, risks more erosion to that trail. But a mountain bike, by itself, is no more damaging to a well-designed trail than a set of hiking boots or horseshoes.

Generally, singletrack is less obtrusive than other trails; it’s narrow (4 feet is the most you need), and usually zig-zags across the fall-line of a hill. This way, the trail is designed to minimize erosion.

The mountain bike community has some unwritten, but fairly well self-enforced, rules about when to ride. We don’t ride in or within 24 hours of rain. Riding (just like hiking) when the trail is wet can do serious damage to both the trail and the root systems of trees.

If you want to try mountain biking, ride only when it’s dry. If you’re not sure whether a trail is sufficiently dry, then ride only trails in public parks. Lake Crabtree’s and Beaverdam’s singletrack are monitored, opened and closed by park officials. These trails won’t be open unless it’s OK to ride them.

One important way that mountain biking helps protect natural resources is that it gets people to care about places they might not otherwise care about. If you ride the trail network at New Light or Little River, you get invested in the land. You don’t want it to change. You’ll stand up if the land is ever threatened with development.

All this said, you’re still right. Whether we’re mountain biking, hiking, riding horseback, fishing, geo-caching or whatever, we need to respect the land we’re using. Ideally, everyone who uses trails also volunteers some time repairing the trails from erosion and building features to prevent it.

Another simple way to help protect a natural area you love is to carpool to the trailhead.

Finally, Kim Clark asks, “as a novice I have enjoyed the [American] Tobacco Trail very much. But how do you decide which roads are more bike-friendly than others if you are looking to venture out where there are no bike paths? I know distance isn’t the only criteria in deciding if a route is ‘bikeable.’ “

Kim, these are a few things I do to find good biking routes.

I pick a route that will more or less make a loop back to where I start; that way I don’t have to backtrack. This just makes the ride more interesting. I do this either in my head (if I know the streets well enough) or with a map.

I look for roads where traffic is light, and I try to avoid roads with little or no shoulder. I want at least two feet of shoulder (room to the right of the outer white line that defines the lane) when I ride.

Unless there is a comfortable shoulder or bike lane, I avoid roads with high speed limits. Without a wide outer shoulder, I don’t ride on a road marked 35 mph or above since most drivers are really traveling closer to 50 mph.

If I want to test a route that I’m not sure of, I ride it on a Sunday morning. That way there’s very little traffic (if any), and I’m free to check things out.

Bicycling in groups or with at least one other person also helps negotiate traffic.

I hope this helps, but I’m afraid you’ve all asked deceptively complex questions. I welcome more questions, tough or easy.

There’s also a local listserv that cyclists may be interested in, and you may want to bring up your questions there as well. It’s at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/durhambikeandped/ It’s a low-traffic site with some very helpful folks.

sss

for a while now, we’ve been trying to get together a regular single-speed sunday ride. it finally worked out this past weekend, and it was great to meet some other single-speeders.

ssssmall.JPG
a post ride pic.