The fountain in back of the Richardson Library. (click to enlarge)
Bike Friendly Richardson has organized a bicycle photo scavenger hunt for October. The idea is to ride a bike around the city and take photos of sculptures or fountains (with your bike in them – to prove you really did it, I guess). There is a list of fourteen sculptures and a map to help you out.
This is a lot of fun and right up my alley. I’ve already taken photos of my bike in front of a lot (maybe most) of these already, though I’ll do it again in October. I rode around the other day and grabbed a few – now I’m working on post-processing the photos… uploaded a few to my Flickr page.
The cylinder sculptures at the Block.
I sort of wanted to use my old Raleigh Technium for the photos – it’s a bit more photogenic than my crunchy commuter bike. But I don’t want to pack my camera crap into a backpack and lug it around the city. I’ve pretty much worked out how to carry my camera in a pannier and my tripod bungee corded to the rack in the back of my commuter bike.
“On my tombstone they will carve, “IT NEVER GOT FAST ENOUGH FOR ME.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, Kingdom of Fear: Loathsome Secrets of a Star-Crossed Child in the Final Days of the American Century
Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas (click to enlarge)
“Sometimes it’s a little better to travel than to arrive”
― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values
The Four Noble Truths
1. Life means suffering.
2. The origin of suffering is attachment.
3. The cessation of suffering is attainable.
4. The path to the cessation of suffering.
There is a path to the end of suffering – a gradual path of self-improvement. It is the middle way between the two extremes of excessive self-indulgence (hedonism) and excessive self-mortification (asceticism). Craving, ignorance, delusions, and its effects will disappear gradually, as progress is made on the path.
This Friday I went on a local bike ride that I have wanted to try for a while but never had a go until now. It’s the Dallas version of Critical Mass. The Critical Mass rides have been going on internationally in their present form since the 1990’s. They are large and informally semi-organized rides with the dual purpose of having bicycling fun and acting as a political protest where cyclists take over the streets.
I was invited by the good folks at Bike-Friendly Cedars so I rode my bike to the Arapaho DART station near my house and rode the train south through downtown to the Cedars station. I could have driven to a closer launching point, but I wanted to keep up with the spirit of the ride and only rely on two-wheel-human-powered power… well, except for the huge electric powered train… but you know what I mean. I guess I’m saying I wanted to avoid the automobile for the evening.
I rode around the Cedars a bit then met up with the folks and we rode to the Main Street Park. I don’t know how many riders were there… I would guess a few more than a hundred. That’s not a huge number – until you get them stretched out in a group along the road. I have been doing enough of these rides now that I run into a handful of folks I know at most every one. It’s a bit of fun.
We started out east into Deep Ellum. Sony had a couple sponsored riders on trikes with generator-powered boom boxes to provide music. The ride was slow and crowded – that’s the only downside of these types of things… you have to concentrate on the wheel in front of you and the folks on either side that you can’t look around too much – it takes a lot of concentration to ride in an irregular pack like that.
A wide variety of bikes and riders – from carbon speed-demons to heavy steel retro-cruisers to stripped-down fixies to Wal-Mart mountain bikes. I try to talk to anyone with unique bikes (tonight a Brompton Folder, and a homemade fixie) to learn the various dimensions of bikerdom.
They were corking the intersections – sending bikes out to block the cross traffic so the entire mass of bikes could get through at once. I have really mixed feelings about this – it is technically breaking the law and undoubtedly pisses some drivers off. But that’s one of the points of the ride (that’s why it’s called Critical Mass) – to take over a few streets for a few minutes one evening a month. Bikes have to wait on cars the rest of the time – have to give way to the hurtling metal… I guess taking over for this short time isn’t too bad. Plus, car drivers should learn a little patience – it will make their life a little more pleasant.
After turning into the Exposition Park Neighborhood we moved through part of Fair Park and then turned north into East Dallas. I had no idea where we were until we suddenly jumped up onto the Santa Fe bike trail. This pulled the line way out and it was dark by now – looking ahead at the long line of led-lit bicycles working their way along the narrow strip of concrete was quite a sight.
Unfortunately, there was a bad accident near White Rock Lake – apparently (I didn’t see it) a woman coming the other way without lights collided with some riders while they moved to the left to pass. The entire group stopped, and then moved off into The Lot so that the emergency crews could get in.
After a while, the ride moved off, but a bunch (including me) decided to stay at The Lot. There was food, music, and good beer.
I still needed to get home, so I decided to ride to the DART Station at the north end of White Rock Lake, about five miles away. Another rider offered to ride with me so we took off. The trail around the lake is usually so busy that I have been avoiding it – but at eleven or so at night it was deserted. Our lights were good enough to see without any problems and some summer thunderstorms (all missing Dallas) had coursed through the area and cooled the air… it was really fun riding.
I enjoyed it enough that when I reached the train station I kept going. I wanted to get up to the Forest Lane Station, about another five miles, so I could catch the Red train and get home without a transfer. I am very familiar with this stretch of trail during the day and it was a blast to ride it in the pitch dark (it’s through creek-bottom woodlands and there are no lights whatsoever).
The only difficulty was a stretch of the Cottonwood Trail just south of the train station had a collection of homeless people sleeping on the trail and I had to be very careful not to run somebody over. That would be very painful for everyone.
I caught a train at Forest and when I boarded the car I found a couple of other riders that were also on the way home from Critical Mass. Sort of cool to be talking bikes on a train scooting through the city in the middle of the night.
The last few late night miles home from the train station were fun too – no traffic and a cool breeze. I think I might try some midnight rides here in the Texas Summer – find a route free of cars and obstacles – especially people sleeping in the way.
This weekend, I wanted a nice, longish, slow bike ride – something through some varied spots of city and where I could make a stop or two for a rest and maybe a beer. There was a very strong southerly wind so it was an easy decision to ride the DART train with my bike to somewhere south and then ride back home. I rode to the Arapaho station and hopped the train downtown and past to the Cedars Station in Southside. From there is was about a twenty seven mile ride home – through The Cedars neighborhood past the Dallas Heritage Village to the Farmers Market. Then under the freeway to Deep Ellum and up the Santa Fe Trail to White Rock Lake. Finally up White Rock Creek to the Cottonwood trail under the High Five Interchange. At that point I could take my familiar route home from work.
A high point of that trip is the Santa Fe Trail. I have ridden that trail more than a few times – it’s one of my favorites. In the paper today was an article about the trail and some of the attractions along the way – Bike the Santa Fe Trail to these 10 landmarks and eateries. A good article – even if it misses more than a few good spots. I decided to ride it and stop off at The Lot for a rest along the way.
I had been to The Lot a couple weeks ago on a really cool bike ride. It was the Friends of the Santa Fe Trail Bike Ride & Pub Crawl. It was a benefit ride for the improvement and upkeep of the trail. For a donation you were able to ride with the group and get a brew at each stop on the way.
The ride started at a really nice bike shop across from Fair Park – Switching Gears Cyclery. It a cool place – set up for city transportation style bicycling, not only the carbon-fiber-spandex-speedsters.
They had a keg set up in the repair shop and everyone had a quick cold one before we toured off through Fair Park and around the southern part of Deep Ellum .
Before long, we were at our second stop – Deep Ellum Brewing Company. We were given a complimentary glass and a beer ticket. The Saturday tour crowd was in full swing and there was live music. A bunch of fun.
Bikes lined up at the Deep Ellum Brewing Company
Then we all saddled up and set out up the trail. It was a large and diverse group – everything from fixie track bikes to fuzzy customs and anything in between. The motley agglomeration of pedalers kept everything at a fun, leisurely pace – slow enough for conversation and contemplation. The best way to ride a bike.
It seemed too soon when we all arrived at The Lot. This is a new restaurant/beer garden located near the spillway of White Rock Lake. They have build a bridge over a drainage that connects the place directly to the Santa Fe Trail. It’s great… you can go for a pleasant ride or a run or even a bit of a walk and simply slide over and across and there you are.
The new bridge from the Santa Fe trail into The Lot
Everybody sat around outside and talked bikes and cities and other stuff. The place used to be a sand volleyball and swimming pool sort of club. I noticed that the beer garden is lined with concrete ledge that still has the depth markings on it – they filled in the pool to make room for seating.
So this weekend I decided to stop by the place again. There was a nice crowd on a warm day and a live band playing. I stayed for a bit and rested, until I decided I had better get back on the road – I was only halfway home, after all.
Trying to integrate bicycling into daily life – using a bike as transportation rather than a child’s toy – here in Dallas, the worst city in the country for cycling, I have become very sensitive to the barriers that cross potential cycling routes. Barriers… that leave chokepoints. All the trails in the world are merely outside exercise paths if they don’t have a way through the barriers. Barriers like highways, or railroads, or worst of all, rivers.
The Trinity River, as rivers go, isn’t much to write home about. In dry weather it’s not much more than a muddy green strip of particularly wet swamp. However, as a barrier, it’s more than river enough. Until recently, there has been no safe way to get across this riverbottom no-man’s land.
The City constructed a trail over an old railroad trestle (next to a failed attempt at a whitewater canoe feature) but they neglected to connect it to anything and it is useless for transportation. There are grand plans for the future, but I’ll believe those when I see it.
But now, there is something… something pretty good. There has always been twin roads over the Trinity, connecting downtown with Oak Cliff – the Houston and Jefferson viaducts. Built at different times, with different designs, they have been twinned, with one going in and the other going out.
Money has been found and now, the Houston Viaduct has been closed for construction of a Streetcar Line that will run from the Convention Center in Downtown across the river and over to the edge of the Bishop Arts District. In the meantime, both in and out traffic has been routed over the Jefferson Viaduct.
And, wonder of wonders, one lane has been blocked off and marked out for bicycle traffic, one lane going each way. There is now a safe and reliable route from Oak Cliff into downtown on a bicycle.
Bicycle Lanes on the Jefferson Viaduct from Oak Cliff into downtown, Dallas.
It’s been there for a few weeks now, but I haven’t had a chance to ride it until Sunday. I took the DART train down to the Convention Center with my commuter bike hanging from a hook in the middle car. A little girl in a stroller stared at me, sitting there holding my bike’s rear tire to keep it from swaying with the train’s motion, wearing a helmet and sunglasses, the entire way. Meanwhile, a con man with a little shell game monte played with tiny red plastic cups on a newspaper folded across his knees relieved her mother and a friend of a quick ten bucks.
I left the train in the parking garage under the Convention Center and wound my way up into the daylight by the new Omni Hotel, then looping around to the viaduct. I rode across, visited a little gateway park, then came back, pausing to take a few photographs here and there.
The bike route was nice – the bridge had a bit of a hill to it, but nothing too difficult. The views in all directions are pretty spectacular – you never notice how impressive when you are in a car.
The only downside is that the approaches to the bike lanes are very awkward on both ends. Since this is a converted one-way bridge, with both bike lanes on one side – there is no good way to get cars and bikes on and off without a lot of confusing and difficult signage and odd routing.
One odd thing is that there is an old deserted parking garage in the middle of the span. It had been built to service long-gone Reunion Arena and it now sits abandoned – acres of bare concrete and sweeping ramps. Surely something useful (maybe a rooftop park?) could be done with this monstrosity.
I didn’t spend too much time – I was meeting Candy for lunch at Lee Harvey’s in Southside and then I had about twenty five miles to get home. That’s a long way on the heavy, inefficient commuter bike… but the day was nice and I was in no hurry.
“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.”
― Abraham Lincoln
Up close, there are only brush strokes, you can’t see what you are looking at.
“What I need is perspective. The illusion of depth, created by a frame, the arrangement of shapes on a flat surface. Perspective is necessary. Otherwise there are only two dimensions. Otherwise you live with your face squashed up against a wall, everything a huge foreground, of details, close-ups, hairs, the weave of the bedsheet, the molecules of the face. Your own skin like a map, a diagram of futility, criscrossed with tiny roads that lead nowhere. Otherwise you live in the moment. Which is not where I want to be.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale
Only with distance, in space and time, comes clarity.
Graffiti, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas
“A portrait is not a likeness. The moment an emotion or fact is transformed into a photograph it is no longer a fact but an opinion. There is no such thing as inaccuracy in a photograph. All photographs are accurate. None of them is the truth. ”
― Richard Avedon
“The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had brought. Leafing through the pages, he found a story about Narcissus.
The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a youth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.
But this was not how the author of the book ended the story.
He said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears.
‘Why do you weep?’ the goddesses asked.
‘I weep for Narcissus,” the lake replied.
‘Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus,’ they said, ‘for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand.’
‘But… was Narcissus beautiful?’ the lake asked.
‘Who better than you to know that?’ the goddesses asked in wonder. ‘After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!’
The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:
‘I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.’
‘What a lovely story,’ the alchemist thought.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
When I first moved to Dallas and worked downtown, I remember trooping out together at lunch and walking from the Kirby Building (which was offices then) over to the Spaghetti Warehouse which at that time (1981) sat alone in an empty sea of abandoned brick warehouses, west of downtown.
“This is such a cool area, somebody ought to do something with it,” I said.
My cow-orkers laughed at me, as was their habit. “This place, these old empty buildings, what a silly idea.”
But of course, in the next few years they were developed. The West End Marketplace was installed in a gigantic old cracker factory next to the Spaghetti Warehouse and for years it was the place to go for things to do. I remember going down there on the day it opened (maybe 1985?) and it was very exciting. The building had four floors of retail, topped with a food court and movie theaters. Next to the building was Dallas Alley, a narrow neon lit defile that gave access to a plethora of nightlife options. If memory serves, it had at least five nightclubs built into its base: a piano bar, a contemporary live music club, a blues bar, a saloon, and a giant multi-level dance palace. It was a blast.
But all good things come to an end, and big city nightclubs and urban retail… the end usually comes suddenly. After a few years of bright lights and a few years of decline, it all went dark. The West End Marketplace closed and is still mostly vacant. Dallas Alley was reduced to a slightly scary route to get north to the now-growing Victory area. The Spaghetti Warehouse is still there.
Back in the day, Dallas Alley was lined with sculptural tributes to great Texas Musicians. These have been stolen, vandalized, or fallen into disrepair. It’s a shame.
Roy Orbison’s glasses, though, still remain.
My old Raleigh Technium and the Tribute to Roy Orbison in Dallas Alley.
Bill Chance 