Aaaaand, he's off!

April 19, 2024

Getting there IS the fun

"WAY TO RIDE MAN, way to riiiiide!" said the man walking his dog, less than half a mile from where I had rolled out of my driveway moments earlier. It's about 0715 and I'm on my way, riding the 24 miles or so to Union Station in DC, where I'll board the train that will take me to Charlotte.

I was awake early; 04:30 is an hour earlier than I really planned to be up but the extra time is welcome, giving me an extra hour to attend to the zillion last minute details that always seem to crop up before a trip.

My target departure time window is 0700 to 0730. Leaving at 0715, I split the uprights. The day is overcast and cool, but not bad. It's not windy and there's no threat of rain.

The first twelve or thirteen miles of my route parallel a busy suburban through street but it's bordered by residential areas rather than commercial property so the traffic's not bad and the sidewalk is a manageable alternative in the places where there's no usable shoulder.

Mostly the alternative to the roadway is okay. This is a huge contrast to Wednesday, when I rode past a several miles long traffic backup, covering the distance much faster than cars could.

Not everywhere, though. These bumps are unpleasant and might possibly spill an unwary rider.

Reaching MacArthur Boulevard, which runs alongside the Potomac, things get even better. There's a wide dedicated pedestrian and cycle zone and traffic respects it. I pass the picturesque Cabin John City Hall and Post Office, and also the historic Glen Echo Amusement Park. A great example of Art Deco architecture, it fell on hard times and languished for decades but is now being restored and revitalized.

Cabin John City Hall seems like a transplant from some place in New England.

Glen Echo Park, a holdover from a century ago.

Somewhere along the way I pass Little Falls, my first crossing of the falls line from which this journal takes its name. The Potomac must be running high, because I can faintly hear the falls to my right, even over the swish of rush hour commuter traffic to my left.

Eventually my route switches to the Capital Crescent Trail, a rails to trails conversion that's very popular with locals. Not many folk are out and about today, though, so it's easy to make good time on the nicely-paved surface. Also, as with the majority of my route, it's on a slight downward grade.

The one and only tunnel on the Crescent. Short and straight.

Evidently cormorants like to sleep in. Who knew?

The Crescent terminates onto Water Street in Georgetown. Water Street is a curiosity, as it's a surface street with another busy road overhead. The sound of traffic on the Whitehurst Freeway above me is constant, and quite a change from the sheltered surroundings of the Crescent.

Water Street, below the Whitehurst Freeway.

They're doing major renovations along parts of it.

I make my way along the waterfront past the Thompson Boat House on Rock Creek Parkway, then past The Watergate and its neighbor the Kennedy Center. The path here used to be rough, broken concrete but has been recently redone in nice smooth asphalt.

While riding I strike up a brief conversation with another rider, focused on his early 80s vintage Miyata. "The only original part left is the seat post" he tells me, and that's easy to believe.

Continuing past the Lincoln Memorial, I pause momentarily to photograph the Vietnam Memorial. In all its existence there's never been a moment when there wasn't someone visiting or keeping vigil.

Abe's a shut-in and not receiving visitors again until 2026.

The Vietnam Memorial is one of the more sober memorials in town and more powerfully impressive through its simplicity.

Perhaps fittingly, this is the only MONUMENT in town. All others are Memorials.

From here I parallel Constitution Avenue and The Mall, using the pedestrian walkways rather than the roadway. Peak tourist season's still a couple months away so crowds are light, even as it gets on past 09:30. There are a few school groups, some joggers, and a few others but it's mostly quiet.

The Smithsonian Castle, a very recognizable edifice on The Mall.

Just before reaching Union Station I pass the National Japanese American Memorial to Patriotism During World War II. This small memorial has an outsized place in my life. My wife is deeply involved with it, especially recently as she puts the finishing touches on a graphic novel that includes it as a central point of reference in the story.

Cranes surrounded by and entwined in barbed wire represent the detainment, forced relocation, and incarceration of 125,000 U.S. citizens after Pearl Harbor. Their only transgression was being of Japanese ancestry.

The incarcerees were forced to abandon their homes and businesses, and allowed only what they could personally carry. The names of the ten "relocation centers" are etched into the walls, along with the numbers of incarcerees. Many were children under the age of five.

Helping the next generation be aware and understand.

At the NJAM. Never again will we make that mistake, I hope.

Union Station. Made it with time to spare.

My ride ends with my arrival at Union Station. I'm pleased: even with photo stops I'm here with time to spare before train time. Ducking into the men's room I exchange riding clothes for civilian garb, then enjoy breakfast at one of the eateries.

Boarding the train involves a bit of a kerfuffle when I'm directed to the baggage car at the end of the train. Oh? The Amtrak website could be clearer on this: I was expecting a European-style arrangement where the bike would hang in a vestibule. No matter though: a helpful conductor sees to getting the bike heaved up into the luggage van and secured. I find a seat and am on my way.

At the first stop my seat mate departs and is replaced with a new one. Charly is a friendly, outgoing, engaging young woman with a passion for music, on her way to see a concert in Raleigh over the weekend. She goes to lots of concerts, apparently, and has a taste for Irish music in particular. Being old and out of touch with current culture, I am unfamiliar with any of the bands she mentions but it's all good.

Charly. Good luck in your quest for renewed employment and enjoy the music.

Charly works for the Smithsonian, at least when she has a contract. At the moment however, there's been a snag and she's been in limbo for a couple months. Irrepressible, she projects a positive, vibrant, upbeat image. It's nice to meet someone so able to adapt and roll with the punches.

We talk for a couple hours before she pulls out her laptop, working on job applications and trying to make progress on the contract renewal front. Here's hoping you succeed, Charly.

After Charly leaves the train in Raleigh, things are quiet the rest of the way to Charlotte. The train is 30 minutes late, but my brother in law graciously offers to collect me at the station, which sounds like a great idea to me. After a beer and a snack it's now time to turn in.

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Today's ride: 24 miles (39 km)
Total: 24 miles (39 km)

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Kathleen JonesThanks for the view of the NJAM. I had forgotten we had that. One of my best friends was born in Utah because her parents had been sent to Topaz; they stayed there for a while after release until moving back to California. Her father was born in Japan, her mother in California, and yet …

Visited Manzanar a few years ago. What a place.

Good luck to your wife with her graphic novel. Let us know when it’s out.
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7 months ago

Keith AdamsTo Kathleen JonesThanks Kathleen. My wife's parents (and their families, of course) were also incarcerated- one at Tule Lake and the other at Manzanar (I think).

Both her father and his brother eventually volunteered and were assigned to the 442nd Regiment, the all-Japanese-American unit that went on to earn more unit and individual citations for valor than any other unit in the Army.

We were hoping to get into a group that will visit some of the former camps this summer, but it doesn't look like we'll get chosen.
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7 months ago

Leo Woodland"WAY TO RIDE MAN, way to riiiiide!" said the man walking his dog, less than half a mile from where I had rolled out of my driveway moments earlier. "

You Americans really do shout the most extraordinary things! What on earth does it mean? I get the sentiment but not the sentence...
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6 months ago

Keith AdamsTo Leo WoodlandLike you I really have no idea, other than it was clearly meant as encouragement and appreciation. Since I was only at the start, both of the day and the trip as a whole, I *suppose* it's possible he was impressed with the obvious strength and power that I was applying to the pedals, in a silky-smooth and apparently effortless manner. But I doubt that, somehow.
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6 months ago