Adventure calls, again
Ah, me and my interesting routes to get places... (Some of you might remember this post on that topic.)
I think if I were a character in the RPG Changeling: the Dreaming, I would have to be an Eshu, because in addition to being big on storytelling, they have a gift for being able to find their way anywhere - but not by the most direct route, just the most interesting.
Today I had to go pick up a cheque from a client in Cabbagetown, and the last time I went there, I took Rosedale Valley Road, which may I say is the most kick-ass road in all of Toronto to ride a bike down. For non-locals, it's a long, winding road through a forested ravine, with no stop signs or other obstructions for a very long time -- and almost all downhill, so you pretty much just kick off at the top, and then brace yourself to go sailing downhill for a very, very long way, very fast, through all kinds of twists and turns, like a foresty roller-coaster ride.
Now, the last time I did that, I discovered that, contrary to what I'd expected based on the map I'd looked at, there did not seem any way to turn off into the park that runs along one side of the road before it dumps you out onto Bayview (a multi-lane highway which is about as high on my list of undesirable places to ride a bike as RVR is on my list of desirable places). This time, I tried to keep a more careful eye on the park side, and sure enough I did spot a trail!
So, happy to have been spared the Bayview experience, I turned off on the park trail -- only to see a very steep hill a little ways off, with several flights of wooden stairs going up it. I briefly reconsidered the merits of riding on Bayview, but reminded myself that in rush hour, that really probably wasn't a great idea. And then I spotted what looked like a narrow little path going up the hill alongside the stairs. And I thought, well, maybe I can wheel the bike up that.
It went OK for the first half of the way up, and I remember thinking that maybe today's LJ post would include the line "As a matter of fact, I am a mountain goat."
But then it started getting steeper. And there seemed to be more and more loose gravel underfoot, making the going increasingly treacherous. And it began to seem only a matter of time before my feet flew out from under me and I did a face-plant on the hill and slid all the way down with my bike on top of me.
Well, I am pleased to say that that, at least, did not happen. Instead, I decided to try and switch to the stairs. Did I mention that there was a very solid wooden railing all the way up the side, that was at least waist-high, and sometimes higher from the perspective of someone standing on the outside? Well, there was. And while I initially thought hey, I carry my bike up and down stairs in my building and occasionally subway stations all the time, surely I can lift it up over that railing, I was apparently mistaken. A mountain goat I may be, within limits. Mountain goat coupled with power lifter, not so much. Especially when my hands were really slippery from sweat and sunscreen. And the railing in the only area where I could brace myself against a corner of the railing so as not to slip while lifting the bike meant that I was effectively lifting it to almost shoulder-height rather than waist-height.
Bayview was starting to look better and better, but quickly became a non-option, as the bike got stuck about a third of the way over the railing, with part of the railing wedged in between the front wheel and the frame. Took forever to get it loose, and soon afterwards I realized that I was just not going to get it over the top of the railing, no way no how. So I tried sliding it through underneath, between the top rail and the lower rail. This also resulted in it getting stuck. Multiple times, since I was trying to squeeze it through a narrow space where there was so much more for it to get stuck on. But I eventually got it through far enough that I figured I could wrestle it through more effectively from the stair side than the path side, climbed over, and finally, finally, got it all the way through, after which I then had to carry it up a flight and a half more of stairs.
It was probably about then that I looked down and thought "Er... I don't think my chain used to look like that..." And then discovered that the pedals didn't seem to want to turn properly any more. Perhaps there is a limit to the amount of abuse mountain bikes are built to take... But I decided to delay panicking until I got all the way up the stairs and could check things out further.
As it turns out, I was able to get the chain more or less hooked back onto all the appropriate gears, and while it initially still felt a bit weird and rattly, once I rode for a little bit, everything seemed to click back into place and I decided that, while there may indeed be a limit to how much abuse mountain bikes can take, clearly I hadn't actually hit it yet. (Must try harder.)
So then all that remained was to figure out where the hell I was -- apparently, in a park I'd never been to, at the intersection of two streets I'd never heard of. My favourite! But in fact, it turned out to be only two blocks from my client's office, so all was good.
By the time I'd picked up and deposited the cheque, my bike was fine and so was I, and I was only slightly disappointed that I couldn't think of a handy ravine to ride through on the way back home. MOAR ADVENTURE PLZ.
I think if I were a character in the RPG Changeling: the Dreaming, I would have to be an Eshu, because in addition to being big on storytelling, they have a gift for being able to find their way anywhere - but not by the most direct route, just the most interesting.
Today I had to go pick up a cheque from a client in Cabbagetown, and the last time I went there, I took Rosedale Valley Road, which may I say is the most kick-ass road in all of Toronto to ride a bike down. For non-locals, it's a long, winding road through a forested ravine, with no stop signs or other obstructions for a very long time -- and almost all downhill, so you pretty much just kick off at the top, and then brace yourself to go sailing downhill for a very, very long way, very fast, through all kinds of twists and turns, like a foresty roller-coaster ride.
Now, the last time I did that, I discovered that, contrary to what I'd expected based on the map I'd looked at, there did not seem any way to turn off into the park that runs along one side of the road before it dumps you out onto Bayview (a multi-lane highway which is about as high on my list of undesirable places to ride a bike as RVR is on my list of desirable places). This time, I tried to keep a more careful eye on the park side, and sure enough I did spot a trail!
So, happy to have been spared the Bayview experience, I turned off on the park trail -- only to see a very steep hill a little ways off, with several flights of wooden stairs going up it. I briefly reconsidered the merits of riding on Bayview, but reminded myself that in rush hour, that really probably wasn't a great idea. And then I spotted what looked like a narrow little path going up the hill alongside the stairs. And I thought, well, maybe I can wheel the bike up that.
It went OK for the first half of the way up, and I remember thinking that maybe today's LJ post would include the line "As a matter of fact, I am a mountain goat."
But then it started getting steeper. And there seemed to be more and more loose gravel underfoot, making the going increasingly treacherous. And it began to seem only a matter of time before my feet flew out from under me and I did a face-plant on the hill and slid all the way down with my bike on top of me.
Well, I am pleased to say that that, at least, did not happen. Instead, I decided to try and switch to the stairs. Did I mention that there was a very solid wooden railing all the way up the side, that was at least waist-high, and sometimes higher from the perspective of someone standing on the outside? Well, there was. And while I initially thought hey, I carry my bike up and down stairs in my building and occasionally subway stations all the time, surely I can lift it up over that railing, I was apparently mistaken. A mountain goat I may be, within limits. Mountain goat coupled with power lifter, not so much. Especially when my hands were really slippery from sweat and sunscreen. And the railing in the only area where I could brace myself against a corner of the railing so as not to slip while lifting the bike meant that I was effectively lifting it to almost shoulder-height rather than waist-height.
Bayview was starting to look better and better, but quickly became a non-option, as the bike got stuck about a third of the way over the railing, with part of the railing wedged in between the front wheel and the frame. Took forever to get it loose, and soon afterwards I realized that I was just not going to get it over the top of the railing, no way no how. So I tried sliding it through underneath, between the top rail and the lower rail. This also resulted in it getting stuck. Multiple times, since I was trying to squeeze it through a narrow space where there was so much more for it to get stuck on. But I eventually got it through far enough that I figured I could wrestle it through more effectively from the stair side than the path side, climbed over, and finally, finally, got it all the way through, after which I then had to carry it up a flight and a half more of stairs.
It was probably about then that I looked down and thought "Er... I don't think my chain used to look like that..." And then discovered that the pedals didn't seem to want to turn properly any more. Perhaps there is a limit to the amount of abuse mountain bikes are built to take... But I decided to delay panicking until I got all the way up the stairs and could check things out further.
As it turns out, I was able to get the chain more or less hooked back onto all the appropriate gears, and while it initially still felt a bit weird and rattly, once I rode for a little bit, everything seemed to click back into place and I decided that, while there may indeed be a limit to how much abuse mountain bikes can take, clearly I hadn't actually hit it yet. (Must try harder.)
So then all that remained was to figure out where the hell I was -- apparently, in a park I'd never been to, at the intersection of two streets I'd never heard of. My favourite! But in fact, it turned out to be only two blocks from my client's office, so all was good.
By the time I'd picked up and deposited the cheque, my bike was fine and so was I, and I was only slightly disappointed that I couldn't think of a handy ravine to ride through on the way back home. MOAR ADVENTURE PLZ.