April 22, 2009

A Wednesday evening and quite bike-able – warm and lovely in the TC. At this point I figure I should start to stretch out my rides a bit; there's no excuse (weather, conditioning, daylight) to not go for a longer ride. I decide to do my old downtown loop with and extra loop (Basset Creek) lumped on top. The last time I did the downtown loop was Easter and the last time I did Basset Creek was years ago (in fact I think I've only biked that trail two, or maybe three, times ever).

Yes. a lovely day for cruising, and I keep the camera in the pocket as I have a lot of ground to cover before dark. But when I get to Loring Park it is so stunningly beautiful and pleasant, such an unbelievable little gem in the heart of the urban space, that I can't resist stopping on a little bridge there and looking at the ponds, the sky, the people, and the birds. Red-winged Blackbirds are everywhere, some fighting over territory. Wood ducks calmly ply the reflective waters under puffy clouds.





Back on the trail, I get to my usual left turn under I-94 and jog just slightly to the right this time, then cycle up, climbing the spiral walkway to cross over the old rail corridor and area the city uses for materials, scrap, and whatnot. It's been a long time since I've been over this way, but I find my way onto the old patchwork of trail sections, streets, and bridge crossing very easily and naturally, as surely as I found my way from the Central Station to the Vondel Park youth hostel in Amsterdam after having only been there once two years earlier.

Here it's shaping up to be a wonderful evening – folks are playing soccer in Bryn Mawr Park, and further up there are several groups of adults playing a game we used to call kick-soccer (also known as kickball to many) in Bassett's Creek Park, not a few of them lolling about or sitting on the trail as though it were some kind of sideline bench. I just carefully run that gauntlet as they stare, as though I were the oddball. Here I pull up to Glenwood Ave by the old bottling plant.

And I know I should keep moving for time's sake, but I can't help a quick search for the remains of the secret spring that and Eastern European follow told me about back on one of my early rides. It use d to be mobbed on Saturday mornings by people coming to collect the supposedly medicinal waters until it was closed off by the authorities. All I know is that he said it was in this general area and off of Glenwood Ave, so I poke around a little off the road in likely spots.

Could this be it?



Or this?


I'll never know. Later I would try some Internet research and only find the notions that there were indeed two natural springs near here (Glenwood and Great Medicine, the latter in Theodore Wirth Park), and apparently MNDOT drained and closed these as part of the I-394 building project. I'm utterly curious about this whole matter, but can't find anything more about it ... yet.

For now I'm on a beautiful ride, and I know I should not have taken time out to look for the secret spring and take pictures. I consider turning back for a shorter loop home as the sun is rapidly sinking in the sky. I figure if I have an hour of daylight left I'll be fine though and pull out my phone to check the time. Oops – by my rough calculations I've only got about 35 minutes. Still I can't resist following the rest of the creek trail as the next section is the one I'd looked forward to, so over the bridge I go and onto the rough, broken, narrow, muddy trail that leads through secret woods and next to intriguing backwaters and ponds. I've got he right bike but the wrong tires, again, for this rough terrain, but I do just fine, and it's a hell of a lot of fun to pick my way through on the best level spots.

This fun stretch of trail is shorter than I remembered, though, and before I know it I'm dumped out into Theodore Wirth well north of Highway 55, with the sun going down and actually quite close to a "bad" part of town (North Minneapolis), although you'd never guess that in this quiet parkland. I start heading down the road, south, and actually get a little turned around at the intersection of Wirth Parkway and Plymouth Ave North. Someone has pulled a trick and revolved the signpost so that the actual streets are represented opposite of reality. I'm a little disoriented, still, but believe it or not when I see an old model car with exhaust pouring out of its tailpipe and the stereo blaring go tearing up what is labeled as Wirth Parkway, I just know that is the wrong way. I head south on the real Parkway and before long all is familiar again, with known spots like the quaking bog and Eloise Butler wildflower gardens along the route. I really get pumping here, seeing as it is getting dark and I'd like to at least hit the Greenway before the sun really sets. There are some hills in here too so I start to get a real and genuine workout. I sneak across Highway 55 (something I normally would never do) because of the late hour and clear opportunity to do so. It's shaped up to be an incredible evening, and even though I'm running late, I can't resist stopping to take a look at a and photograph of one of Minneapolis' lesser known lakes (Brownie).



After this point the ride is no longer in question – it's no longer exploration, but a full-on workout. As I skirt around the western edge of Cedar Lake, riding the road in favor of the trail around the other side), I'm lathering up and in full racing mode. I grab the remaining chuck of the Kenilworth Trail and by the time I make the turn onto the Midtown Greenway, I'm embarrassed to admit that I begin to cramp. I get a cramp in my left, then right, calf. Unbelievable – I don't remember this since soccer tournaments a decade or more ago. Well, I did work out hard the day before, and recently upped my running mileage at the gym, so ... maybe ... or could it be that I'm just getting old?

Experience comes with age, though, and I adapt my pressure on the pedals and settle into an easy groove, just spinning to keep the cramps at bay ... no time to stop. And it's as enjoyable as ever, after all, to sail back on the Greenway as the light drains from the sky behind me ... very very slowly. In the end I make it all the way back home before it even get close to real darkness, and I guess I'm about as satisfied and proud as I could reasonably be for a middle-aged exploratory urban biker with a blog that no one reads.

April 17, 2009

Unseasonably warm (in the 70s) and time for a group ride. It's the Snake Trail (long loop, counterclockwise, which is the right and proper way to do it.) I call it the Snake Trail because there used to be posted signs stating that the bluffs along the trail were home to two species of rare and threatened snake. The signs mysteriously disappeared at some point; I hope the snakes didn't. I never did see one of those snakes here, but I've seen the usual Bald Eagle and Cliff Swallows, plus various other creatures along this trail (mainly rollerbladers). This part of the ride is actually on the Big Rivers Regional Trail, which connects to the Lilydale Park Trail that takes you through said park to Harriet Island across from downtown Saint Paul. Today it's a group ride, warm out and pure pleasure, little time for pictures or contemplation. I took this ride once earlier this spring, but only the short loop – I didn't ride the Lilydale portion. I can see that the water's been high (still is, but not as high as it was and that makes me wish I'd gotten down here sooner). Pickerel Lake is higher than I've ever seen it. It looks like a real lake, not just a marsh habitat. I'd love to stop and look for birds and grab some pictures but the group keeps moving. Did I mention that it is a lovely, pleasant day, unseasonably warm? It is, which is why we all agreed on the spot to do the long loop rather than looping back on the I-35E bridge. We stop for a water break at Harriet Island, where as usual things are mellow and pretty and timeless ... it's always pleasing to sit in the sun and look at the docked faux-paddlewheelers. We wrap back over the Wabasha bridge into downtown, then I take us down the hill to grab a favorite stretch of trail that fronts the river behind the clusters of new, gingerbread condos. That stretch of trail is closed (again!) though and we need to weave around one or two of the new behemoths to re-access the trail on the other side. Then it's smooth sailing again ... but I finally do stop to document an old warehouse (or part of a power plant?) that's being torn down.

Old and New

I wonder what they will do with the newly available piece of real estate once this old structure is finally erased from the scene.

Saint Paul Scene

After this we have to climb up the hill and find the trail alongside Shepard Road – not a very pleasant trail, typically, thanks to an unending stream of racing traffic.

Along Shepard Road

It's not so bad, today, though, and I enjoy some of the views down on the river bottomland from high up on the ridge. Soon enough we're across the I-35E off-ramp and down the hill to Crosby Farm Park. Unbelievable – I can see insects hovering above the pond already.

Crosby Trail

Crosby Scene

Looping back through the woods and to the river again, there is still one big puddle across the trail, but it's easy enough to glide through it with both peddles up. Back along the river trail that leads to Hidden Falls Park, the places where I had to ride through the river a couple weeks ago are now high and dry ... no wood ducks today! We keep moving. In the parking lot at Hidden Falls I hear what I swear sounds like a wild turkey over on the bluff. We stop and confirm – yes, there are turkeys over there somewhere, all right, we hear a gobble every couple of minutes but we never can spot them. Eventually we cross the Ford Parkway Bridge and eventually on home. It turned out to be a long, but thoroughly enjoyable ride ... but long! We earned ourselves a Friday treat – Galactic Pizza.

April 16, 2009

Achy and tired; it's hard to get myself motivated, hard to get up off of the couch. Finally out in the evening on the bike, everything is OK, but I'm still unmotivated and unfocused. I can't get interested in any agenda or any kind of organized ride, so I just wander aimlessly.



I find myself on the Light Rail Trail, the Stone Arch Bridge, Boom Island, The East and West Bank U of M campuses, the Augsburg campus, and so on. I ended up spending most of my time at BF Nelson Park, which is adjacent to Boom Island and the site of some development I was suspicious of in a previous post. Since that time I consulted my source at Hennepin County and found that they are doing some interesting things here, including creating a "wetland" (looks like it will be one small pond to me) and putting in some trails and a canoe landing along the back-channel of the river. Back up on the hill it looks like there will indeed be some new parking (yep, that means pavement) and other infrastructure. I spent some time in this area around some mounds of dirt and rubble at the future site of a statue that's already been transplanted a couple of times.



What pleases me about this outing is that I seem to have recovered a skill or art I thought I'd lost – wasting time. It's great to wander, get on and off the bike, watch people and things, not know where I'm going ... to meditate on heaps of rubble and massive, round orange buoys ... I spent a great deal of my youth on pointless endeavors such as this, and only in the last decade did I lose that thread in day-to day life. This empty exploration ... this regarding of things that don't matter, that will never add up to anything ... it stirs my soul. I had forgotten about the richness of such trifles.

April 12, 2009

It's Easter Sunday, which means nothing in particular to me ... or it didn't until today, anyway. Easter is my new favorite holiday. As it turns out this is a wonderful holiday for atheistic cyclists in Minneapolis.

I'm out in the evening, with maybe an hour and a half or two before sunset, and I'm in the mood for pure exercise/mediation. I have to run an errand first, though. I need to peddle by the East Lake Library and return a book. That has me cycling up the bike lane on Minnehaha, so I take the opportunity to grab a couple of long overdue shots (there is one more I wanted, as well, but the activity in front of the store made me think this was not the most opportune time).

As I said, I want exercise and mediation, so after I accomplish these tasks, I zip the camera away in the back trunk and settle in for a ride. It seems like a good day to try my old Downtown Loop. This is my favorite "mixed ride" – it's a mix of urban and green space, long stretches of clipped-in trail peddling and unclipped stop-and-go street riding.

The ride has 6 distinct stages, not counting the segments getting to and back from the trails:

1. Down the LRT (Light Rail Trail). This is always a fun cruise through light industrial spaces and behind those biker bars (the other kind of biker), next to the light rail stations at Franklin and Cedar/Riverside. I usually see African kids playing soccer on the tennis courts by the freeway and it's fun to weave slowly between the African ladies who are usually walking on the next stretch of trail in their multiple layers of fetching, brightly colored and pattered wraps and scarves.

2. Hang a left at the Metrodome on 11th Ave. Here it's good to have at least one foot unclipped as this starts the part of the ride where you sometimes have to deal with heavy car traffic. Today, though, it's like a ghost town, and it makes for easy sneaking (cheating the red lights if there is no cross traffic). Snake down the sidewalk through Elliot Park, where some of the local fellas are usually playing basketball (and they are today, too!) Head up 9th Street – here is where you really need to watch it as you'll probably get caught at one red light after another ... even when there is no cross traffic, the usual MPLS scheme applies – lots of stop and go for no apparent reason. For this reason it's tempting to sneak, but this means concentrating carefully ... I once hesitated at a red light, thinking I was going to sneak, then thinking better of it as a car sped up a one-way street out of nowhere; I couldn't get unclipped in time, crashed to the pavement and gashed my knee open. Yes, a nasty accident at 0 mph. Nothing like that today though – thanks to Easter Sunday there's next to no traffic and I'm able to sneak effortlessly through one light after another.

3. Hang another left and ride up Nicollet Mall. It's always fun to bike up this street as 'regular' cars aren't allowed – just buses, taxis, and cops. Strangely they limit the hours that bikes are allowed here; I never understood that. I also always thought it would be better to make this a complete pedestrian-only zone and run the buses up the two parallel streets on either side. It would be a lot more pleasant to dine outside or have a drink at one of the many sidewalk cafes here without the roar (and diesel fumes) of buses. But, as I said, it's always fun to bike up here, especially in summer when there are lots of folks sitting outside drinking and dining. Lots of good people-watching (and lots of people watching the bikers) and that almost carnival atmosphere of crowds and freedom.

4. Go right up onto the Loring Greenway, a surprisingly under-known and under-appreciated urban passageway for peds and bikes. It's a shady, pleasantly landscaped, almost European space, and I just love coasting down, slaloming slowly down to Loring Park, a gem in its own right. Here you can fly down the hill and grab the curves ... just watch out for unaware peds, dog-walkers, lovers, etc. – there are typically plenty of them here. But not today; it's relatively abandoned, just one middle-aged woman who gives me a pained look, as though it is just too difficult to get her dog, on a long leash, off of my side of the trail, even though she sees me coming from the top of the hill and has plenty of time to tug him over if she wants to. I love this park, though; the mixture of urban and nature is truly remarkable. I even once saw a bittern in the reeds along one of the ponds – just once, but that was enough. After snaking across the semi-gated bridge, it's up and across the heavily-trafficked Lyndale Ave. It's important to wait your turn here -- do not try to sneak! Still :Keep an eye out for wacky drivers here! Just because you have a green light and a ped crossing signal does not mean that some car-bound jacktronaut will not force you out of your lane or onto the sidewalk. Today it's no problem, though, stress--free and mellow. When I get across I break with my plan of just riding and not photographing. I've been so critical of the new Guthrie that I decide to stop and grab a few quick shots of the old one – or the spot where it once stood anyway.

Isn't it nice to know that the fine, old Ralph Rapson-designed building was erased from the landscape so that passersby could admire this bare hillside? I'm sure they have some plans for this space, and it will, eventually, be put to better use. But for now, we have this patchwork of mismatched sod to contemplate, and the new Guthrie to admire, with all the charm of a lurid slaughterhouse. Not to be overly critical.

5. Anyway, it's great day to be on the bike and swing around tiny Spring Lake, then sneak under I-94 to grab the "bicycle highway," the wonderful Cedar Lake Trail. This is a great stretch of divided trail, interstate highway style, with posted exits, on-ramps and all, that takes one from heaping scrapyards and remnant snow-heaps into a lovely green corridor. It's great chance to clip in and stretch out – a great opportunity for exercise and/or pure meditative riding. The trail takes you all the way uptown, with only a couple of road crossings where (most) of the cars yield to bikers. Today is sublime, quiet, and wonderful – the trails slips back up between Cedar Lake and Lake of the Isles, taking me to the last segment of the ride.

6. The last segment also provides a good, long stretch of clipped-in riding: the Midtown Greenway in all its glory. There is usually great people-watching along this stretch as well. Typically I just fly back to Midtown on this arrow-straight ribbon of trail that sits in an old railway bed down below the streets, but today there is a bit of a headwind, and there is some labor required. But, no worry, I just go steadily, in deep mediation, with no desire for speed today. By the time I make it to my trail exit at Hiawatha I realize I have gotten a bit of a workout. And I've seen a good bit of the city. And I've meditated. I'm calm and at peace. Easter is my new favorite holiday.

April 10, 2009

Yes, there are a couple of places where accumulations of snow and ice still exist in the Twin Cities. One is this great mound, capped by dirt and litter, in a holding area of sorts adjacent to the Light Rail Trail near its junction with the Midtown Greenway bridge over Hiawatha. Still quite formidable, it looks like it can hang on for some time yet as we ease into spring.

I'm out with plenty of time for once and in the mood for exploring. Never mind all those colorfully clad folks whizzing by me, fueled by the full moon and near-spring weather and competitive juices – I just want to go slowly and check out the scenes.

It's just a tad "chilly" when I do pick up speed, sailing down the LRT past the famous Riverside Plaza buildings to 11th Ave, where I hang a right, head on across Washington Avenue, then left on the river road to the old Stone Arch Bridge. The water is coursing over the dam; I haven't seen it this high in a long time.

It's still too early for the cormorants who will come to roost in their favored spot here. No Bald Eagles, either, but I do spot a lone Canada Goose patrolling the area of the downed tree where I'd studied an eagle on my first ride out this year.

Off the bridge I can't resist following the route of that old ride, hanging a left to go see how things look around Boom Island. Today it's smooth sailing, and the back pathway on the east edge of Nicollet Island is totally dry, not the active riverbed it was last time. This has long been one of my favorite biking spots in the cities, especially when I reach the old bridge that crosses the back-channel over to Boom Island.

But today something is amiss. The area around the north and east shores of the lagoon and back channel has been scrubbed and flattened, apparently in preparation of some new construction or "development."

I had taken the charm of this spot for granted, but now it is developing an ambiance of terribly open, uncluttered genericism. After a short sally onto the island, I turn back to study the area a little more. It looks like the whole space around the back side of the channel is being prepped for something. When they replace the great old steel bridge with its wooden decking, will that mean it's time to leave town, to move to some other city?

Heading back from whence I came, I notice how much of the vegetation and tree cover has been cleared from the hillside on the west side of the trail. This also contributes to the new feeling of openness that I don't care for.

The old trail was always comforting for its sheltered, shady, sequestered quality. That combined with its unpaved simplicity (a comforting surface of dirt and gravel, and the placid water alongside, made it feel almost like a path in Europe somewhere. I hope they don't ruin it ... whoever "they" are.

Heading back south, I'm now well warmed and there is plenty of daylight left, so decide to visit another favored stretch of trail, the one that flanks the east bank of the Mississippi down below East River Road. It's a beautiful ride; I've always loved this stretch of elevated trail bed, and with the current high water it's even better.

As the trail drops down to riverbank level, though, there are some challenges in store. The river is not over the trail, not quite anymore, but the mud and slime remains. The fellow in front of me, with his simple cruiser, decides it's best to dismount and take a higher path.

I've got the right bike (cyclocross) but the wrong tires (skinny slicks). I decide to give it a try, but unclip from my pedals just in case it does not work out. Surprisingly, it's quite bike-able! The second challenge has deeper water and more mud, and the river is in part of the trail. Again, it's well bike-able!

The third challenge is the one that does me in ... it's not the mud or the water but the giant tree lying across the path that has me foiled. I try to grab the little walking path up and around, briefly, but again it's the right bike with the wrong tires and I can't keep my grip. So I dismount and walk back through the mud. Lots of fun!

All good things must come to an end, they say (whoever "they" are). I slide by a couple of favored slots where the river backs up into the bottomland. I sometimes see interesting birds here, like bitterns and kingfishers, but it's too early in the season for them, and today it's only mallards and geese. I climb the big hill and grab the path along East River Road, winded. Then I just sail on back across the Peace Bridge over the big river one more time, thinking, "wow, that was fun." About as much fun as a forty-something, married guy can have in the big city on a Friday night.

April 8, 2009

Time to try something different. I head off at a decent hour for once, determined to do the Snake Trail backwards. I don't think I've ever done it in this direction before. It is still a bit "chilly," although warmer than my last time out, and I do have the orange hat in my bike trunk if needed (along with binoculars, camera, and all the rest of my supporting props). Easy cruising down to the river trail and across the Ford bridge. My knee is a little sore as I take the bike lane heading south along River Parkway East in St. Paul, but in no time I'm screaming down the hill at the north gate of Hidden Falls park, dodging potholes, cracks and open seams as best I can. Biking along the pathway by the river's edge is a dream; it's great to see the water lapping up high along the banks. In some spots it's overtaken the usual borders, inundating trees and vegetation. This is all pleasing to me for reasons that I won't go into now. The one disconcerting element is the white froth that tops the water in swirls for as far as the eye can see. I know that a certain foam is natural, but I suspect the churning action produced just upstream at Lock and Dam #1 has whipped up some detergent, chemical, or and/or other synthetic crap that's been washed or pumped into our river. I ease around a barrier, just into the grass, that warns of a trail closure. yeah, I know, I've seen these signs before, and usually it means there's a little puddle across the trail. And soon enough I come across the first puddle. It's a big one, though – big enough for three pairs of ducks to be swimming in it. Once I get up on it I see why. It's not a puddle, but the river itself; there's now a backwater up across the trail and extending into a small ditch on the other side. The cool thing is that only two of the pairs are mallards – the other are my first Wood Ducks of 2009! Skittish as ever, they fled before I could get my camera out to document them.

I decide to follow my usual policy and bike through the water. This is deeper that usual, though, and my feet and front bracket get soaked. But I make it through. The second place the river is over the trail looks even deeper. It also looks muddy and slick on the concrete bottom, so I'm stuck for a moment in contemplation.



I decide to get off the bike and wade it. Bad decision. The river water is damned cold, and instead of each foot cycling through it, they both get a thorough and complete soaking. It's halfway up my calves. When I get to the third river crossing, I stay on the bike and just power on through in a low gear. YES! I climb up at last to good, dry land and turn around, pausing for a moment to look back.

Soon enough I'm sailing along through the bottomland at Crosby Farm Park. It's plenty warm out and I even unzip a layer or two. What a pleasant spring day. The next step is to climb the hill (Not bad, actually, then down again, through the tunnel, and up onto the I-35E bridge. Here I stop to behold the view of the high river, up out of its banks in spots, creating lush new habitat for mallards and geese.

I also put a few drops of grease onto my chain and sprockets before heading on across the river. I wind down and around and hitch up with the Snake Trail for and unbelievably easy climb. This section is probably the best trail in either city, both in terms of surface quality and pure scenery/ambiance. I look at the still empty holes in the limestone bluffs of the cliff swallows who have not returned yet, and I'm surprised to see some small waterfalls iced over. A sign warns of falling rock, and I hear the limestone crack and see some small chunks fall. It's uncannily peaceful and quiet up here today, with very few souls on the trail. All I can hear is the chirp of Cardinals. Robins, and Chickadees (with the faint hum of interstate traffic in background, of course). Before I know it I'm through he little village of Mendota, across the Highway 55 bridge, through the grouds of old Fort Snelling, and back home. What a satisfying ride. I never did have to put on my orange stocking cap.

April 6, 2009

Rain, snow, out of town travel, and a case of carpal tunnel syndrome (or something of that order) have kept me from my appointed rounds. I managed a few walks around town (Nokomis, Harriet, Crosby) and was happy to see some old friends (Bald Eagle, Crow, Mallard) and some new arrivals (loons, hooded and common Mergansers). Amazed to see a thin shelf of ice hanging on at Nokomis, then stunned to see an even thicker one covering perhaps 2/3 of Lake Harriet. Water is over the trails, just a bit, at Crosby.

I have lingering shoulder and wrist problems, all stemming from the same pinched-nerve issue related to excessive computer work I suppose, but on this Monday afternoon I finally achieve the necessary level of self-disgust and get out there on the bike. It's evening, not much time left, so my options are limited.

I opt for "The Lakes Backwards," basically the same ride I described on the last post, only in the opposite direction. It's a bit shorter since you skirt along the eastern edges of Lakes Calhoun and Harriet rather than rounding them on the farther, western sides. The creek portion of the ride also tends to be easier since most of it is downhill.

Out the door, as soon as I turned north I was really laboring due to the stiff headwind, and, I hate to admit, this also made it a bit "chilly," especially on my old, sensitive ears. I really fought that wind all the way up to where I accessed the Greenway at Hiawatha, and then as predicted things got quite a bit easier. It was just a slow, easy, steady climb right into that sun that was beginning to sit itself down onto Uptown.

It was still a bit brisk, but in another sense ideal riding conditions, for there were very few could on the trails. I stopped for a moment at the shuttered fish stand on the shores of Calhoun to grab a quick shot of the lake and put on an orange stocking cap under my helmet.

Grabbing the lakeside trail and heading south, the wind was at my back and I was breezing along, and from there on home it was strictly butter.

I only stopped once more to behold the surprising remnant ice (I think of Calhoun as being out in the open and so figured the ice would be long gone). Back down at Harriet I was shocked to see the ice was apparently all gone. There was no logic to any of it, not that I could figure anyway. I flew on home over the nearly abandoned trails, not allowing myself to be bothered by the odd, inattentive stroller pusher, dog walker, or jogger heading the wrong way in the wrong lane of the trail designated for bikes only.