Where We’re Going, We Don’t Need Maps

In our continuing series of guest blogs for the front page here is another good one from Doored from a couple days ago.

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My only preparation for this morning’s ride involved googling “How to bike in the rain.” No maps, no intense study of the route. I didn’t even have my GPS. True, I’d never ridden in from Brighton (I rode from the city outwards on my last commute).  I’d already decided not to bike in on Commonwealth Avenue. Although there is a bike lane, I still felt like I was taking my life into my hands last time on my ride home. I was plotting a new route as I went, exploring parts of the city I’d only ever ridden below, without any guidance above my sense of direction and the ever present Hancock building.

I coasted along comfortably in the warm humid weather, following the spacious bike path down tree-lined Beacon Street, following the C-line. My pleasant cruise ended, however, when the bike lane did. Now I was in traffic, dodging between the parked cars and the driving ones, at points in the travel lane. Luckily, the many bike commuters gave me some guidance about how to behave. I was following hard-core bike commuter, and as we came across several garbage trucks blocking the road, I planned to follow his lead. He swerved around the first truck, I swerved around the first truck (throwing a “please don’t kill me!” grin to the car behind me). To get around the second truck, though, he somehow slipped through a 6” gap between the truck and a car’s rear-view mirror. I stopped short, then walked my bike across the side-walk in defeat.

My map-less navigation served me well until I hit the Citgo sign. A few months ago on foot, I’d spent a freezing hour lost around Fenway at night and that familiar panic was setting in. However, I knew the bike afforded me the ability to get slightly lost and recover more quickly. I followed the majority of the cars and, as I crested the bridge over the Pike, the Kenmore canopy came into view and I felt at least mostly orientated.

Peddling hard in the direction of the Commons, I found myself at a strange intersection where the bike path, with no warning or signage, move from the right-hand side of the road to the left-hand side. I crossed carefully, and continued riding on the left-hand side until I came to the Public Gardens. My relief was followed by confusion: There is no good way to ride one’s bike around the Commons and Public Gardens. The one-way streets, lack of bike lanes, and temporary insanity that hits all drivers in the area again led me to walk the bike the last several blocks to school.

Were I walking, or even riding the T, I would be loathe to attempt a commute without knowing the route turn for turn. I’m the person who usually maps the route, checks for landmarks at every turn, and has a print-out of directions if there’s the slightest chance that I’ll get lost (and I still get lost). However, on the bike, that level of preparation seems less important. If I turn down a wrong street, it’s easy enough to turn around when I realize it and retrace my route. I’ve got a great general sense of direction (Am I heading North or South? Towards the water or away?) So far, that’s all that I’ve needed to get me where I’m going.

Although walking started the process, biking has gone a long way towards connecting the T-stops in my mind. Sure, I know what stuff is directly around Aquarium, but before I started biking and actively exploring the streets, I didn’t really know what was between the Government Center and the Aquarium stops. You don’t really get a sense of where Kendall is in relation to Davis until you actually go from Kendall to Davis above ground. Now, instead of isolated islands or land in my mind, the T stops are navigational points that I can use to orient myself in the city. I’m discovering a side of the city I’ve never seen before, and I look forward to seeing more of it as Spring progresses.

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