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A scene from the other day. A 13 mile solitary ramble along my local gravel roads through the silent countryside. Just myself, my bike, the busy streams with places to go, rivers to meet, and rocks to tumble over, the yawning woodland undergrowth waking up and stretching their dull gray winter arms skyward to reveal a bright green underwear, just the thing to wear for the arrival of spring. The trees are also musing over what to wear this spring. Most are opting for their preferred color of green in various tones and hues. The more flamboyant trees have already started decking themselves out in this season's perennial fashion favorites of brilliant pinks, whites, lavender, and fuschia.
Only a few days ago all such color selections were still locked up in brown buds and tiny pods, just waiting for the word that Spring's catwalk had begun. My friend E and I were out hacking down the gravel roads on our winter fat steeds, ambling and chatting the full 9 miles while our horses, nonplussed by the animated human conversation gaily echoing above their relaxed ears, took a mundane approach to the entire ride by walking with their heads down, contempting how nice it was anytime we humans met another human on the road and stopped for some more animated chatting while they could relax one hind foot at the halt and take a quick snooze.
It was during the ride that E asked me about my bike ride in DC that past weekend. I turned to look back at her, and grinned. "It was ....interesting", I replied. "Were the cherry blossoms open?" she asked, knowing that had been the major headliner for the Ebike Lovers of Washington DC's Saturday and Sunday ride event. 24 to 32 miles down along the waterfront and Anacostia River to enjoy the 1st and 2nd day of spring by riding under the famous cherry trees of downtown Washington DC. "Sadly, no." I said. "Not yet. But everything else was ready for Spring. Trust me when I say it was a real adventure."
We had arrived at 9am, about an hour before the meet time at Hains Point in downtown DC, and as we unloaded my bike I was already astonished at the numbers of cyclists already zooming past us, filling the single lane of road looping the edge of the narrow point even as more cars, carrying more bikes on back racks, fell in line behind the packs of cyclists, each driver taking advantage of any open spot in the rapidly filling parking spots by slipping into an available bay. The bustle in the air all around was evident, but we were early enough for me to take time to chat with our parking neighbor who was unloading her electric bike, complete with a small doggie carry case strapped to the front fork. I decided in that moment that this was going to be an interesting ride.
"No cherry blossoms at all?" E asked, surprised. "Not a one, anywhere." I admitted as our horses strolled on. I turned to look at her again. "You would think that the start of the official Cherry Blossom Festival would have had some trees in bloom, but..." I shrugged. "It didn't seem to bother anyone. That place was jam packed with people."
By the time 10am had rolled around, all 26 ebikes had gathered together, their riders meeting and greeting in high praise of the stunningly beautiful...nay, make that absolutely perfect in every way... 2nd day of Spring and the excitement of the highly anticipated ride. So many of the club members had signed up for the Saturday ride (capped at the mandated limit of 25) that the club leader, Gregory, had opened a 2nd ride on Sunday, which had also quickly filled to maximum with a growing wait list of other members, those not quick enough (unlike me) to have made Sunday's roster. Gregory gathered all the riders together for a brief but thorough speech on the ride while handing out rider packets to all the attendees. I wish I had had the foresight to shove my packet into my panniers, or at least had looked inside to pull out and keep the ride map on me, a decision that would impact me later on. Too much excitement, too much fun meeting new ebikers, and not enough paying attention. Par for the course. I zipped over to where my car was parked, handing my packet to hubby (who had settled in to reading his Kindle for the duration of the ride), and hurried back to the group as it collectively took off into the flow of other cyclists bound for the local bike trails threading along the already busy waterfront under the branches of thousands of cherry trees.
"Not a single blossom. That's too bad." E said, sadly. "Well," I quipped, "not unless you want to count the two big blossoms painted on the massive cherry blossom banner hung down at the waterfront for the 2021 festival." I laughed. "Honestly, I don't think the crowds even noticed. The place was packed solid, bikes and pedestrians everywhere. It was a mob scene."
The kaleidoscope of colors that swirled around me was almost overwhelming. It seemed as if the entire population of the city, exhausted by being kept indoors and imprisoned to avoid the relentlessly cruel lash of the pandemic, was so eager to escape into the fresh warmth and sunshine that it had, enmass, spilled out into the streets in a delightful tsunami of colorful summer fashions and a joie de vivre that set the very air to sparkling with happiness. What colors the trees still kept hidden, the collective human population had not. I looked around, my senses drinking in the brilliant crush of effervescent humanity, all eager to be out and enjoy the day. It had been at least a decade since I had regularly visited DC, but I felt like the country girl visiting the big city at that moment for the first time. Our bikes blended into the colorful mosh pit of the teeming throngs as we dutifully cycled in close formation behind our intrepid leader down the busy pathways to the famous Fish Market where we stopped and were given a brief description of the place's significance before heading off in a conga line past many of Washington DC's famous, and sometime little known, cultural treasures. I had not been aware that DC was home to a monument to the Titanic. A surprise to me, as well as a few others of our group as we did a pause to gaze up at the beautiful granite statue while our leader gave a brief history of it.
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I was determined to check out Wikipedia on a more expanded history of the monument, but at the moment our group was off and running...or rather cycling...through the downtown city streets in pursuit of the meandering (and sometime missing) bike path that would take us upriver in a salmon run of other cyclists that were headed to our destination 12 miles away - the Anacostia Aquatic Gardens Park. I wish there had been time to stop to take photos, but maybe another time. We rolled along nonstop through beautiful parklands and along the river, pausing at a crossroads for all the riders to assemble before heading down a dirt path towards the picnic area for lunch and another expanded chance to socialize and check out our different ebikes. Lunch was the prelude to a side jaunt to the Arboretium which would add an additional 8 miles to the 24 mile loop.
"So why did you decide not to ride to the Arboretium?" E asked. I shrugged. "I figured those trees there would be wrapped up tight, still in winter mode. I didn't think there would be much to see, frankly. I was happy to head back." I glanced back at her with a grin. "And that's where it got interesting".
Gregory had given the group the opportunity to continue on with him to the Arboretium, or to head back to Hains Point. Two of the ladies in the group, who knew the way, were heading back, happy to take anyone else wishing to go back with them. I noticed they were grouping with one or two others, but turned away for a brief second to converse with one of the riders (we were going to share phone numbers) before I left. However, as I turned my head around, ready to join the few going back...they had disappeared. Gone. Left. My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe they had left that fast. Here I was in an unfamiliar area, faced with 12 twisting tortured miles of finding my way home. And no map.
I heard another rider behind me, also left behind, ask Gregory about the way back. "Just plug Hains Point into Google maps" was his confident answer. "It will show you the way back." I looked at the other rider who didn't seem anywhere near as confident as Gregory to trust Google's sometime questionable ability to map a return home safely for a bike. I glanced down at my Garmin GPS, and the two redundant GPS apps up and running on my smart phone. If I'm anything, I'm resourceful. I may have left the paper map behind, and the Garmin was no help because it was loaded with the 32 mile route, but I had something better. A GPS app that had had recorded a digital bread crumb trail. I only had to retrace my steps following my prior path to take me like the perfect guide right back to my car. No sweat.
I turned to the gathered group and announced I was heading back and if anyone wanted to follow me they were welcome to do so. The two other cyclists who wanted to go back gratefully fell in behind me as I asked a final time for anyone that wanted to head back. It was just us three, so off we went. I smiled as I watched the tiny dot on my GPS app begin tracking backwards down the red line that had been laid for the first part of the ride. All I had to do was keep the moving dot solidly on the red line, and I'd be fine. My two shadows stuck to me like glue, following me at a nice social distance without letting me out of their sight for a second.
E laughed. "Very clever," she said. I laughed as well. "Yeah, it was all well and good except when I overrode the moving dot and had to backtrack. That, and going the wrong way down the one way streets because that's where the red line took me." I shook my head in disbelief. "I'm sure the two guys with me were justifiably horrified."
In truth for the first several miles the bike path was reasonably civilized, meandering in a pristine blacktop ribbon over the undulating terrain. It was actually very nice to travel at my speed and to look around more at the sights. The path had become packed as the morning had seceded to the afternoon, but my two shadows and I easily kept up an 18mph pace. At one point an unfamiliar yet friendly voice behind me said "I really like the pace you guys are setting". I glanced over my shoulder at the young guy sitting off my wheel at a polite distance, all kitted out in bright lycra riding a very thin, twitchy stick of a very fast road bike. Two other guys in lycra followed behind him in close formation, hands down on the drops, faces tightly focused, reeking of a professionalism that only comes from long hours in the saddle riding fast with others of the same skill set on expensive road bikes. I smiled at the guy who grinned back. "You know you're following elecric bikes, right?" I asked. "Oh, yes," he replied happily. I'm guessing that not only keeping up, but actually passing a trio of ebikes, was making his day. I nodded and said that as soon as oncoming traffic on the opposite side of the path let up, I'd let him know so he and his friends could pass. He was a delightful person and we passed the next mile in easy banter until traffic opened up a window for him to pass. We exchanged goodbyes as he and his friends jumped onto their pedals and zoomed past. I hope riding pace with our ebikes made their day. I'm sure we did.
By the time the three guys in lycra had disappeared into the mass of colorful cyclists populating the trail, my red lined trail showed me we were about to reenter the city. I stopped for a quick drink of water and to check that my two shadows were doing OK. They were full of ample praise for my leadership (which was about to become their nightmare, unbeknownst to them) and repeated again and again at how grateful they were for leading them back. I apologized ahead of time for those moments when I outran my moving dot and needed to make a u-turn or two (or four) to get back on track, but they assured me it was no problem for them. The one guy said he had tried using Google maps to get back to Hains Point but Google kept trying to send him the wrong way on a lot of twisting roads. So again they were VERY grateful for me leading the way back.
One trick I learned early on in Endurance riding - when one's route through 50 miles of trail was small ribbons tied onto tree branches leading the way in otherwise trackless mountains far from the reach of humanity...as in if you miss a ribbon and get lost you could well find yourself up you-know-what's creek - that you always periodically check the landscape features of where you've been in case you need to backtrack. Landmarks seen one way often look completely different when viewed from the opposite dirrection, thus validating having a bike mirror, or glancing over your shoulder from time to time. I had noted certain landmarks along the bike path in the morning ride that were familiar features come that afternoon on the return trip.
Even with the noted landmarks, the next 6 miles was just unfamiliar enough to force me to pay closer attention to my bread crumb trail, all the while negotiating missing parts of the bike path as it went through a confusing jumble of messy city construction, riding the wrong way down one way streets and being fascinated (and quite surprised) by all the cars that dutifully, and with extreme politeness (not one horn sounded or driver yelled), yielded their side of the road to me by moving over into the adjoining lane. Moses parting the Red Sea. Or, in my case, a loony lady on an ebike. To my credit I did hug the road shoulder as much as possible, and wave a polite thank you to the motorists, all while feeling the horror of the two guys behind me.
But the moment of wrong way streets was mercifully short lived, and we arrived safely at the waterfront to be confronted by an even greater obstacle besides a very twisting red line leading home. We were now surrounded by a herd of humanity equal only to herds populating the Serengeti. There were people everywhere. All masked, all having a wonderful time in the spring weather. Couples strolling hand in hand, people in crowded outdoor restaurants with tables jammed as close to the path as possible only inches away from my handlebars, friends laughing and calling out to one another as they crisscrossed the wide pathway, cyclists, skateboarders, inline skaters, and everywhere families with kids in abundance. Toddlers and little kids on trikes were everywhere, often stopping traffic in its tracks as the little urchins gleefully and without conscious thought wandered across the path in a confusing trajectory of abstract zigs and zags headfirst, and sometimes in abrupt reverse, followed swiftly by dads who, with the accuracy of pro football players, would dart into the throng of moving and paused humanity to scoop up their giggling offspring, apologize profusely to all within hearing, and return the errant child to the safety of mom and their stroller. All this with barely an inch or so to spare for our bikes.
Going the wrong way down one way streets was a price of cake compared to the waterfront fandango.
I was multiprocessing as fast as humanly possible following my red line, the moving dot, the people, the path, my bike in crowded conditions, and every loose child in the vicinity without running anyone over staying upright, and still maintaining on course.
What a riot it was. So many people, such a grand day, and everyone so very very happy. Behind all the masks were people ready to live again. The steady rhythmic vibrant heartbeat of humanity being able to be with one another again. It was wonderful.
Despite the few course adjustments and one or two u-turns, we made it back into 100% familiar territory, and only a few moments later my bread crumb trail ended where it began. We had returned at Hains Point safe and in one piece.
E and I finished our ride, and a week later I noticed my cherry tree at home, almost overnight, had burst into bloom. I can only imagine how gorgeous the trees in DC were looking as well.
Maybe next year the trees will meet the ebike group with pink blossoms unfurled. Maybe next year I'll stop and actually get a few more photos. Maybe next year I'll even take a map with me, too.
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Three identical Vados ready for the ride. Mine is the one in the center with the pink panniers .
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Our fearless leader, Gregory (in the salmon colored jacket) giving the welcoming speech before a bevy of 26 masked ebikers headed off on a wonderful group ride in DC to (not) see the cherry blossoms.
More photos here:
Sunday's ride
Saturday's ride
Sidenote on the Titanic memorial
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6.6 km from my new flat in a village familiar to me from my e-bike trips.
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