Posts
July 2nd & 3rd
Why should the fourth receive all the attention? I left the Medrona neighborhood of Seattle midday on the second and rolled home just before dark on the third. It is a wee bid surreal that a trip across the continent that once took pioneers, at least the ones that made it, the better part of a year can now be a four hour flight. I, of course, managed to cover the drastically shorter distances on either side of that in seven times the time. It was more interesting!
I even opted for a car ride! Sis and her brand new husband were headed to the store, so by joining part way, I cut two miles off my walk to the airport. Yes, where I parted company with them was next to the light rail that could take me directly there, but I had nine hours before check in and a desire to truly experience the twelve miles along that route, so I walked. To credit my judgement a little, for more than half that distance I walked parallel to the tracks, so a bailout wasn't far away.
Until it wasn't. I can walk twelve miles in a lot less than nine hours, even carrying a thirty pound backpack, so I went exploring. That, after all, was the point. Google suggested a route to include a pass through South Center, but it seems, despite just spending two weeks experiencing how un-bike&pedestrian-friendly the Seattle metropolis can be, I decided to opt for a more direct route. Oops. Soon enough, I was reminded of a phrase I developed on another visit years ago: faith in Google.
So I hopped over the Jersey barrier. That made the walk along what was mostly a highway without the limited-access designation almost pleasant. And hey, there were lots of blackberries growing there, so it had its perks! Well fed, I even found a worn path through the hundred feet of woods that connected me to a neighborhood road away from the heavy traffic. Yes, that did rejoin the main road, but with sidewalk this time, and Google suggested a turn to rejoin the original suggestion in a mile.
Well, don't have too much faith in Google. The road was there, but it was packed with cars right up against a steep embankment with all of zero shoulder. Nope, I didn't feel like dying there, so I walked another half mile before turning into an apartment complex that might, just might, put me close enough to cut through the woods. Yes, what I wanted was close, but alas, on the other side of a chain link fence. I could at least connect through, back up to the main road I'd left, without backtracking.
Back over the Jersey barrier again, at least until the thicket grew too thick, I walked another mile down to another, unfenced, access to the concrete recycling facility, happy to enter on a decommissioned roadway that kept me a half mile from the facilities, down another path, and lo, there's a worn foot track that will deliver me directly to the--drum roll--paved multi use path!
In addition to sometimes heeding Google's suggestions in the area, I've also learned the path signage is quite poor. Luckily, I disregarded the "Trail Closed Ahead" sign, and just around the corner was the "Detour" sign. Sure, the detour signage ended before the detour, but I crossed a parking lot and even managed to find the trail again on the other side. Luckily, nine hours was plenty of time to walk twelve miles, so I even had time to use the thrift store coupon I received for donating water bottles earlier in the week (yay, a hi-viz long sleeve jersey is now in my wardrobe!) and then readjust my faith in Google some more when it told me to cross to a sidewalk that ended after 200 yards and then cross back again.
I did make it to the airport, even including passing through a wooded park, and I didn't even feel the need to don the bright yellow jersey, although on the busy stints I'd already survived, I had been flapping the one foot triangle of hi-viz cloth I'd collected from the roadside in the first couple miles of my walk. I even figured out that the torn edge of a soda can makes a reasonable cutting tool for ripping seams to remove the grey vinyl backing from one side when traveling without a knife to avoid the checked luggage fee. Hey, I did want an adventure!
At Sea-Tac, I even had an hour for a nap once I was through security and into the concourse, and I may have even slept for a couple minutes of that. I'd specifically selected red eye flights both directions because I used to sleep well on planes, but then again, I used to sleep well in general before the TBI. I did sleep a little on the plane, maybe, but at the very least, I sat and rested, and then I landed in Boston. And then, I found the shuttle bus to economy parking, and yay, my bike was still right where I locked it. Conveniently, the covered bike racks are just a quarter mile ride from the T station, and after two transfers, I'd made it to Back Bay and the Fitchburg commuter rail line.
That's when I finally looked at the commuter rail schedule. It was an hour and a half until the next outbound train. Hmm, if I climb back out of the station, find the sun to orient myself west, I could reconnect with the Charles River paths and ride to Waltham where the commuter line is once again right next to the river, if I hurry! I did made, with maybe four minutes to spare, which was just enough time to learn I was at the inbound boarding point and then ride another 200 yards down to the outbound landing. No, I never saw a single sign for any of this, but I'm a rare male who believes in asking directions.
I also asked the conductor if I could buy a ticket onboard, but he told me I didn't have to as Friday trains are free this month to make up for the schedule shifts during the football (soccer, for 'mericans) world cup. Yay, free train ride! A couple people were even willing to relocate from the vestibule with folding seats so I could tuck my bike there. And then, a few stops later, another person with bike boarded, so I suggested he overlap bikes with mine, facing the opposite direction.
Good move, it meant I met the person who's name I can't quite remember but was maybe close to Giles. As he stood with his bike, the first thing to catch my eye was the racey set of wheels, so looking past his legs, I was able to read the brand, named after a middle eastern wading bird. In its day, the days of 26" wheels, Not-Giles' bike had been a seriously high end bit of hardware. I like old bikes, and I'm not afraid to admit it, so I acknowledged to Not-Giles that I was admiring his bike. We started talking, and with the fifteen minute stop for mechanical issues, we had plenty of time to chat. It was a great conversation, and I don't say that lightly. I was happy to meet someone I'd guess as early college age (he did once refer to himself as "teen") who was aware of bikes, bikes on the road issues, and had formed plenty of insightful thoughts of his own. Not-Giles, if you read this (he did take this blog's title), I apologize for not quite remembering your name (I didn't mention in our chat, but yes, I have a traumatic brain injury from being hit by a car, so I'll use that excuse), but it would be great if you correct that in the comments!
The train did start moving again, and I exited a few stops after Not-Giles in Leicester to enjoy a sightly longer, but significantly less Worcester, ride back home. I even managed to reload water twice, once at playing fields and then again from the tap on the side of a school. To clarify, "reload water" meant drinking three bottles and then leaving after a fourth filling. It was hot, upper nineties, quite a change from Seattle's "Junuary". They say summer starts there July fifth.
I did make it home, in daylight no less. These days, I don't fly much, but next time I do, yeah, I can see working to further perfect my multimodal bike to Boston. Heck, I might even try the free Friday commuter rail again this month for a more leisurely wander in Boston as another test. And oh yes, the day after all this was the Fourth of July, so congratulations, I guess, to the United States for achieving one quarter of Hitler's goal: the thousand year Reich! Yes, I know that's unpatriotic, but nationalism is too often just one more reason for people to kill other people on the other side of an imaginary line. Sigh
Comments
Post a Comment