I don't know who she is—I'm sure she is a lovely person—but that hair! →
Long Island lives large. It's the land of big hair, big boobs, big nails, and big attitudes.
The Daily Show captured it thusly:
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Long Island Wants to Secede | ||||
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It's impossible to argue against the reality—and the comic genius—of that clip.
Riding the Island
So, I just returned from our annual trek to my outlaws' homestead in bucolic Mt. Sinai. It sits just uphill from Port Jefferson on the northern shore of the island. For the intrepid amongst us, Port Jeff is where the cross-Sound ferry embarks for Bridgeport, CT. Port Jeff is an old, established town with a still-active port, despite the now-defunct shipbuilding industry.
This, however, is a cycling blog, not an "Isn't-Local-America-Great!" blog, so I'll get focused.
My cycling—in the week we were there—featured two standout experiences:
- Riding with BCB (beautiful and charming bride)
- Riding the hills of Northern LI
Why Long Island Should Suck
Watch the embedded video.
The quintessential transport for the sharp-dressed Lawn GuyLand man... →
Now consider what it would be like to be on the same roads as those gentlemen.
Not pretty.
We've traveled up to The Island (much more Peter Benchley than Scarlett Johansson) for many years, and I've read Newsday enough to become uncomfortable on the road. Cyclists get hit there with some frequency in all sorts of circumstances. I've read the accounts. Riding there is intimidating. (I write "intimidating" because BCB will eventually read this. The appropriate word is "terrifying".)
Long Island should suck because it is a land of aggression. It is a place where toughness is rewarded and weakness is dismissed. Drivers are fast, decisive, and committed. They "shoot the gap", squeal their tires, and flip the bird with a righteous impunity that flows from their DNA.
Long Island should suck because the culture demands it do so, and woe betide the outlander who invades their territory. Woe...woe...
And to hell with you fags on your carbon-aluminum ball-knockers! You're fresh meat for the grinder. Feel the bite of my steel behemoth!**But this is my sport. Risk is a part of it, and managing that risk is a daily reality.
It's what we cyclists do.
**NOTE: No one on Long Island uses words like "woe" or "behemoth". If you do, you get punched in the face.
Why Long Island Didn't Suck
I didn't die.
This is a good thing. Otherwise, you wouldn't be reading this incredible blog posting.
Among my other accomplishments:
- I didn't get hit
- I didn't get run off the road
- I wasn't flipped off
- I didn't flat
- I got lost and received helpful directions (when I asked for them)
- I suffered (in a good way)
- I saw some truly lovely areas of our fine country!
Why didn't it suck? All of the above, but most importantly: It's the roads, stupid!
It's a half-mile quad burner that kicks up to 20% gradient for 75 feet.
Welcome to East Broadway! →
Now, 75 feet may not seem like a long distance. Fair enough. But consider that it it rises one foot for every five feet you travel forward. Your bike has (about) a four-foot wheelbase, so you are on a steep pitch.
Too technical? How about this: remember when you were a kid and you rode your bike up a steep hill, crossing back and forth across the grade because it was too steep to ride it on your singlespeed? Right. That's East Broadway. I have 20 gears on my bike, and I still want to ride sideways!
Long Island has a bunch of these beauties. The best part? They are quiet roads in towns and villages, and people aren't trying to kill you while you ride them!
Deer, Duck Ponds, and Nuclear Plants
Three rides in three days tell the tale: Nissequogue, Eatons Neck, and Wading River. All were quiet, challenging, and beautiful. In 150 miles, I was pleasantly, happily, and satisfyingly surprised.
Nissequogue
It rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? I have no idea how the locals pronounce it. I pronounce it "Nissy-Queequeg", like a drag-queen version of Moby Dick's Queequeg.
The highlight of this ride is the 1.4 mile descent into Nissequogue (and thus, ascent upon return). The Nissequogue River spills into the Long Island Sound, just to the north of the town, so the area has a wetland/marshland feel to it. Old trees, deer, and salty, tidal air greet you on this quiet road. In the two days that I rode that road I saw fewer than 10 cars. It's the kind of place where you pass the volunteer fire department, with its requisite "Please Volunteer Because All Our Current Volunteers Are One Step Away from Leisure Village or Permanent Retirement" sign.
The funny thing? If I lived there, I would volunteer. It's that nice.
Eatons Neck
Occasionally I would announce a town. "Glen Cove" or "Caumsett", or some such vaguely familiar name. Someone in the family would offer feedback, and I would nod and plot
Eatons Neck looked good on the map, it's an island that sticks out into the Sound, attached by the slimmest of threads. Getting there promised to be an interesting ride.
I got to go through Nissy-Queequeg again (bonus!) and ride Nissequogue River Road (a fun, completely traffic-less route with the river on one side, gated homes on the other, and wise old trees providing shade along its entire length). The rest of the ride was much more of the same (and that was good)—hilly, tree-y, and pleasant—until I got to Asharoken Ave on the neck itself. (By the way, who the hell names these places, anyway?)
The ride along the neck is a perfect time-trial route. It's flat as a frying pan, and most of the wind is blocked by houses or dunes on either side. The air is salty-sweet, what with Northport Bay less than a stone's throw to the south and the Sound just a breath to the north. Surprisingly, near the turn for the lighthouse the road kicks up a 100-foot climb. It seems to come out of nowhere, and suddenly you are enveloped by trees.
Riding back to Port Jefferson forced re-entry into the reality of the day. Something about the ride out to Eatons Neck was surreal. In memory, it keeps getting better—yep, Long Island doesn't suck, after all.
Wading River
BCB is the youngest of five sisters. There is a legend/shared memory/coming-of-age idyll about a peach farm. Most of the sisters worked there at some point, to the extent that the eldest (hereto after called "Shaman Shar-Shar") cannot abide peaches. Among the lessons learned are that "size and color" are very important. (For what, I don't know exactly...)
The farm no longer exists, but the owner appears to have bought-out his competition, who had a farm to the east of Mt Sinai. Davis Farm was one of the highlights of the Wading River ride. Yep, I could smell the peaches in the early-morning air as I rode past. Nice.
The next milestone was the well-stocked (if that is the term) duck pond in Wading River. It was exactly as you would have it: mirrored water, ducks, paths, benches, and a pizzeria across the street. Lovely.
It was a bad color for 1960s-era bathrooms. Who thought it a good color for a nuclear plant? →
Through the trees stands the Shoreham nuclear power plant , a long-decommissioned boondoggle that had been conceived by the Long Island Lighting Company (LILCO). It was built between 1973 and 1984. After predictable resistance and political grandstanding (Do I have an opinion? Naw, not me!) LILCO agreed not to operate the plant. The punchline? LILCO's deal with the state transferred most of the $6 billion cost of the unused plant to Long Island residents. Whoo hoo!
It's not often that you can roll through slowly-rolling farmland AND pass a nuclear plant all in the same ride. This is the exception. And the ride is exceptional.
Long Island Doesn't Suck!
It's shocking, but it's true: there are some lovely rides on The Island. What's great is that there's a lot more to explore.
Next trip, I plan to head further east on the North Fork. I would love to head out to Orient Point (the very tip of the North Fork), out past Shelter Island. Adventure awaits!
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