Joel's Commutes

Morning Commute

7am always comes too early. Nothing is worse on a cold morning than the soft screech of an alarm clock rattling around in your head, but we all deal with it. I reluctantly roll myself out of bed, head to the living room and pull on my bike clothes and shoes, sit down for a few minutes to collect my thoughts and prepare for the commute, and by 7:20 I'm out the door and on the road. If its a cold morning (below freezing) it takes me about 2 miles to warm up, but if its in the high 30s to low 40s I warm up within minutes.

The first section of the ride, right out the front door is what I call 'the 'burbs', a straight half mile shoot through some ugly apartment complexes, low rent housing and slowly turning into middle class houses. I turn left out of the burbs and ride underneath one of mankind's most nefarious creations, the infernal interstate. If there are homeless dudes hanging around and I'm in a good mood I'll toss them a wave. There usually aren't any however.

Next, I cut across traffic and head down a one mile straight shot through 'ugly town', a conglomeration of gas stations, restaurants, sprawling pavement and auto body shops; terribly ugly piece of town, hence the name. After crossing the final intersection of ugly town I enter old town, which is similar to Hilo's old town only a little bigger. For the first time I have a 'bike lane' painted right next to the car section, which is nice. Old town lasts about a mile before the road turns towards the coast and I enter 'the stretch' a 3 mile coastal highways which offers beautiful views of the bay and ocean with the surrounding mountains. I usually start feeling real good on the stretch and begin picking up serious speed and raising my cadence to about 100 rpms. If there are fellow bikers, especially roadies, I pull past them if I can*.

As the stretch begins to enter the town of Fairhaven I take a left and begin 'the climb' a mile stretch of agonizing climbing which climbs about 600-800 feet in elevation. The climb ends at the SPIE building where I lock up my bike at the bike stand and take a minute to survey the beautiful mountains and ocean that my climb affords me a view of. I laugh quietly to myself as I see people drive up in their cars carrying the same frustrations they left home with. Don't they know there's a better way? I head inside and hit the showers, wide awake and ready for the day.

My ride back home in the evening, during the dark is an adventure in its own, but with the additional challenge of terrible traffic. I'll write more about the evening ride later.

** One commute a while back when I was coming to the end of old town a roadie (road biker) cut me off at an intersection, pulling out in front of me. Now usually I'm not a super competitive person... except for on the bike. My strategy was not too pass this guy as he was obviously muscular and on a superior pavement machine, however I banked on the fact that he underestimated my baggy shorts and DH tires, and I think he did. I trailed him about 20 feet back and hung just to his right so I wouldn't get the benefit of his draft. After about 30 seconds he looked back in an attempt to see how much he gained on me and in seeing that I was right there he upped his cadence and speed. I matched him. The next time he looked back he was a bit shocked and continued on. After about a mile I was still feeling good and thought at a couple times that I could have moved in for the attack and maybe even passed him but I didn't want to risk it. When the time came for me to turn off for the climb my pulse rate was high and my legs had swollen up a bit with blood but the endorphins were just beginning to hit so I felt on top of things. By the time I reached SPIE I was smiling... a morning commute should not be this much fun! Cars are for suckers!

Evening Commute

There is just something about an office job that makes me tired, that just drains my willpower. I'm not new to this phenomena, I experienced it during my office job in Hawaii too. Suffice to say, when 4:30 roles around, I am more than ready to ride home.

After gearing up, changing my clothes, and unlocking my bike its go time. Because SPIE is situated on top of a steep, steep hill (the hill of a million tears), the first part of my ride is eye watering fast. 1/4 mile of pure descending interupted by two intermitent stop signs which allow me to test the outer limits of my brakes. After the descent, and the crossing of a busy highway I am into my favorite part of the commute, a part I like to call the ocean run.



The ocean run is a collection of long bridges and coastlines (which are only available to walkers and bikers) and allow for beautiful views of the ocean and surrounding mountains. In the morning, the fresh scent of salty ocean air is refreshing, but in the evening after a long day in the office the experience is invigorating.




This type of dimly lit sky and light rain is pretty typical of a Bellingham winter. I don't mind it too much since I'm used to a much stronger rain. However I must say, the dim skies and wet rocks make for a beautiful ride experience that the camera cannot capture.



Unfortunately for me, this is where the nice, quiet, reflective ride ends. After this short bridge I enter a section of gnarly dirty aley-ways in downtown, or rather Gnar-town. One neat thing to point out is that at the end of this bridge, right before the aleys there is a 'bike shop' which basically consists of a small run down building with a pile of maybe 500 old bikes. Its basically a Dakine bike shop, only a little lower class. I love what they do there though, they offer cheap services and really care about getting people out of their cars and onto bikes. Every town needs a passionate, less-than-mainstream shop like this one. They have my respect.



This intersection is a portal to a terrible world. I managed to snap a shot in which it was not plugged with a 100 cars, and that in itself is quite an achievment. What follows this intersection is 'ugly town' which I've talked about in the morning commute write-up. Its industrial, crowded, no bike paths, and where I usually have a close call every now and then. I dislike this part of town especially in the evening because of the cars. Whenever I see fellow riders down here we always give each other that understanding nod and ironic look. What else can one say? Sprawling pavement, autobody shops, and a women's only gym makes for an angry, angry place.



After ugly town I plop right into the 'burbs, a stretch of apartments at the end of which I live. I also like to think of this place as 'Little Mexico' because of the fact that half that country seems to live in about 2 complexes on the street. See Senor. Its not uncommon to have a vehicle or two try to take my life down here as well. But, I really do think I have good reflexes, I see these things before they happen meaning I spot the car before they spot me which lets me get real close to them before I slam on my brakes and start yelling. Good fun!

Additional Thoughts, Lessons from the Commute, 12-4-2008
I recently had my two year anniversary at my work office. Two years during which I've commuted to work every day on my Cannondale Prophet through sun, rain, ice, and even a few times snow.
I'm sure some rides have been better than others, but at this point I no longer think of individual rides, the trips have become part of a larger commuting experience I engage within daily, something that extends beyond the SPD cleats and rubber tires and into the core of who I find myself to be. I don't commute by bike because I think its fashionable, or because I want the exercise, or even because I think its environmentally low-impact. I think that if you have to find reasons to commute by bike you aren't a true cyclist, the spirit just isn't there. A cyclist pedals because that is what they do; the action springs not from justifications but from internal definition. I bike because it is a form of life I find myself entangled within, its a syntactic structure through which I filter and organize my perceptions of transportation and recreation. The more I ride the more I realize that 'finding the flow' is not just an activity to be experienced on the bike; the perception of flow is something that can be sought in all arenas of life; a bike is simply the best catalyst for coming to the realization. The sheer fluidity we experience from floating through a trail when everything seems connected, effortless and continuous is a state of existence that can be found in non-pedaling life. Encapsulating it is a puzzle I'm working on.
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