The Bristol Cycle Expressway Network Initiative

Could this currently overgrown, neglected bridge become a key sustainable transport facility between Easton and Redland, connecting neighbourhoods that the M32 has long divided?

Every day, thousands of Bristolians fail to consider the bicycle for their everyday transport because of fear of traffic and trepidation at the thought of pedalling up Bristol’s hills. Yet there exists a series of level, direct, and traffic-free routes that connect many of Bristol’s neighbourhoods. These are the currently neglected strips of land that run along our urban rail network- that with proper planning and funding that have the potential of being transformed into a 21st century walking and cycling expressway network.

Imagine being able to ride from Whiteladies Rd. in Clifton through Redland, across the famous Gloucester Rd. arches, through Montpelier, St. Werburgh’s, gliding safely across the M32, through Easton and it’s incredible new Eastside Roots Community Garden Centre, and finally arriving at Temple Meads station, without leaving a flat paved pathway, safely separated from the passenger rail line by a fence. Imagine that the Bristol-Bath pathway wasn’t just the solitary jewel that it is now, but a section of a complete traffic-free cycle path network for Bristol. Such a network would enable safe, enjoyable, and direct bicycling and walking journeys to popular destinations such as UWE’s Frenchay campus, Gloucester Rd., and Clifton, without ever having to mix with motor vehicles or Bristol’s notorious diesel buses.

Eastside Roots Celebrates Reclamation of Derelict Railroad Land Last Sunday

The concept of bicycles, pedestrians and trains safely sharing the same corridor is well established, with examples as near as the Bitton section of the Bristol-Bath path and the section of pathway through the St. Werburgh’s allotments. Opening up the rail line for non-motorised traffic would not only maximise use of a valuable transport resource already in public ownership, it could also improve accessibility to and boost ridership on our urban rail network, all while relieving stress on our overcrowded roadway network.

If you think that current proposals for Bristol as a cycling city don’t go nearly far enough- that it would be a serious oversight to ignore these valuable rights-of-way while carbon neutral travellers continue to suffer dangerous, polluted, and gridlocked conditions on our roadways (or even worse suffer poor health from inactivity)- if you think that Bristol’s citizens deserve their own dedicated and well-designed pathways through our city, instead of just the crumbs off the table of the fossil fuelled feast- then lend your support to the Bristol Cycle Expressway Network Initiative. Now, with £22 million available to make Bristol a Cycle City we can be proud of, let’s not waste this opportunity with more badly designed cycle projects. The time for a Cycle Expressway Network in Bristol is now!

Though there is no doubt that there are significant engineering issues to overcome, we are asking the council to seriously consider the proposal, undertaking a feasibility study as soon as possible, and identifying a first phase for implementation with Cycle City money, potentially from Stapleton Rd. to Redland stations.

If you are interested in being involved with this campaign, please send an e-mail to Joshua Hart at velorution@yahoo.com

A Tasty Recipe for Climate Action

Normally it’s easy to carry on screwing the climate if you are a profit driven corporation or a corrupt western government. Simply take one soulless public relations firm, stir in words like “sustainable,” “efficient,” and “clean,” pour about 1000 times the amount of money into advertising your “green” initiatives as actually doing them. Then combine with a mainstream media pre-marinated in obedience and regularly tasted by a less-than-attentive public and PRESTO- you have made a nice tidy profit-er-ole, baked to perfection in the oven of a warming planet.

E.On, the German energy giant who wants to build a new coal-fired power station at Kingsnorth in Kent has tried really hard to follow this recipe, to ensure that its’ shareholders have a nice big tasty income sandwich to feast on at the end of every quarter.

However, this year, with momentum building for taking action on climate change, and stronger scientific evidence coming in every week that we must arrest our carbon emissions, E.On was worried. The Camp for Climate Action, a growing movement that started three years ago with a camp outside Drax coal burning power plant, and last year had a high profile presence outside of Heathrow, decided to turn its attention to Kingsnorth, which is the first of seven proposed new coal fired power stations in the UK.

I mean, the government does have a point- how else are we supposed to power all those old, inefficient lightbulbs, standby buttons, and mind-numbing electronic toys shipped from China? Who cares about the flooding of cities in the future when there are tasty profits to be had today?

E.on was so worried about the camp, that they spent £12 million on new security to protect their little moneymaker. Their defences included a field of bulls, 12-foot high barbed steel fence, a moat, a second heavy duty mesh steel fence, and behind that, a rather evil looking fence with 10,000 volts of electricity (I guess they have a good supply of that particular commodity).

Low flying police helicopters were used for intimidation, possible intelligence gathering, but mainly to interrupt our sleep

Operation “Oasis” was also over the top, with at least £3 million spent on policing the camp. The operation was military in nature, and used at least 4 helicopters, 1500 police from 26 agencies all over England and Wales, and a modular aircraft hangar used to search every single person entering and leaving the camp. Quite an apt name, as the camp often felt like an oasis of humanity and community in the desert of police intimidation.

The Met sent reinforcements from London

Whatever you want to say about that, the rising tide of resistance (of which climate camp is the most visible part) is clearly perceived as a growing threat to a system that continues to place profit above human and ecological well-being.

Your blogger has just come back from spending a week at the frontlines at Climate Camp, and I have returned inspired at our collective power and also daunted by the forces arrayed against those wanting true climate justice.

Operation "Oasis" in full swing

I cycled from London to the hillside site in Kent last Sunday with about 30 others. Led by Bicycology’s mobile sound system, we took the lane where necessary along the 40 mile journey. We filled a couple of trash bags with litter at our lunch stop in a local cemetery, which won the locals onto our side and even seemed to impress our police escort.

Upon our arrival, after being searched by the bobbies (the first of dozens), and our D-locks having been confiscated, we entered the camp. The large field was abuzz with activity. It was surrounded by woods and orchards, and overlooked the reason we were there- E.On’s large smokestack, two miles away. We quickly got to work helping to set up the camp- together with others from Westside (the camp was organised into geographically based neighbourhoods) we built a table for the kitchen, brought supplies in via wheelie-bin, and helped to set up gatewatch and cooking rotas.

We waited an hour for our empty wheelie bins to be searched...

Because most everyone pitched in to do what needed to be done, there was a feeling of common responsibility in the running of the camp. All decisions were reached through an inclusive, consensus based process. It was this- more than the day of action, more than the heavy police presence, which defined the camp for me- gave it its power. If a group of 2000 concerned citizens can come together for ten days in a field, demonstrate sustainable living carried out without the burden of authoritarian structure, all while under siege from an increasingly militaristic police force, you know this is a movement that will continue to grow and thrive. Once people get a taste of what is possible, it’s hard to turn back.

Life on the Westside....

So, after a couple of days at the camp, I decided I needed to take a closer look at the power plant- this coalfire belching dragon that released the same annual emissions as Ghana.

Together with a friend, I rode down to the River Medway, then followed the sea wall, where we were stopped and searched by Kent Police, and told we were okay to stick to the path. We arrived at the power station, and took a few photos, in order to document the plant for this blog, and to peacefully and legally express our protest.

Minutes after this photo was taken your blogger was arrested outside Kingsnorth Coal Fired Plant

About ten minutes later, we were stopped by about 10 Manchester Police in an aggressive mood, who searched us thoroughly, found a cash card that a friend had given me to withdraw cash for her, and gleefully declared that I was under arrest for suspicion of a stolen credit card. We were also both arrested under suspicion of conspiracy to cause criminal damage, apparently simply for taking photos.

Our keepers kept us waiting in the hot afternoon sun for over two hours while “waiting for transport,” repeatedly refused to allow us to drink the water we had with us because they “didn’t know what it was” and denied us access to a toilet, both for 3 hours.

The transport finally arrived, and we were driven to the police’s own “climate camp” across the main road. While waiting in the back of a police van in handcuffs within their compound, I heard repeated spine-chilling screams and yelling. I tried to position myself to see who was being tortured- that’s unfortunately the conclusion the mind jumps to these days of Abu Gharib and Guantanamo…..but I couldn’t see anything, and the screams just kept coming. As we pulled out of the compound I saw about 6 or 7 off duty policemen playing a game of baseball, when one of them hit a home run their team screamed- that explained the “torture.” Bloody hell….

We were sent to Medway Police Station, interviewed, fingerprinted, photographed, and our DNA taken (yes that’s right our DNA) and held until 4am, when, after work from our solicitors, we were released without charge. They told us they “couldn’t find our bikes” and when I came to collect mine 4 days later, both tires had been flattened, a pool of water collected in the bottom of my panniers, with rust all over the bike- it was clear it had been left out all night. So much for facilitating peaceful protest….

<enough about the cops>

On Friday, there was sunshine, and the camp was humming along- hundreds of new arrivals pitching their tents and getting acquainted with camp life. A cricket game was being played by the Wales neighbourhood, and (happy) exclamations could be heard from participants and spectators. Workshops were being held discussing the pros and cons of carbon capture and storage, DJ’s were spinning pedal powered beats in the bicycology tent, pizzas were being baked in an earthen oven in the Wales neighbourhood, and everything seemed remarkably calm and normal, despite the siege all around us. The camp had found its groove, the calm before the storm, and everyone was relishing the moment.

The day of action on Saturday saw dozens of rebel pirates on rafts float down the river, disrupting the water intake of the plant, and hanging banners on the jetty, a mass march and occupation of the front gates. A couple of dozen protesters managed to gain access to the plant, using police barriers to “pole vault” over the high security fencing.

E.On F. Off: Using their defenses against them…

For every rebel raft that was caught by the police boats, another made it close to the station- police were criticised by the coast guard for confiscating life jackets from the camp...

The weary protesters returned to camp for a celebratory night with hundreds dancing to a wicked DJ under the main marquee, with photos of the week projected onto the ceiling. Meanwhile, hundreds of others were getting their turn to eat bad microwaved jail food in their cells across the river….

There are climate camps sprouting up all over the world, so get involved with your local one- if we wait for governments and corporations to act on climate change, it will be too late. They are saying we only have 100 months to avoid runaway climate change, a blink of an eye really…

No need to wait until next August to take direct action though. Rising Tide is one of the many groups who will carry forward the momentum generated at Kingsnorth. Together we can take the corporate profit-er-ole out of the oven of climate destruction (it’s not very healthy for us anyway) and cook up a tasty dish of strengthened community, resistance, and a just (and fun) transition to a low carbon world.

Won’t you join us for supper? There’s plenty to go around…

some pics courtesy climate camp

Flightless: Incredible Journeys Without Leaving the Ground

As of today, August 1st, I’m excited to announce that your blogger has officially been published in Lonely Planet’s new anthology, Flightless: Incredible Journeys Without Leaving the Ground. I tried to convince them to call it FlightFREE, but they insisted on FlightLESS which I think makes the book sound a bit like a dodo, rather than an inspirational collection of stories of people who have been liberated from commercial aviation, but I digress.

I haven’t read the book yet (other than my own entry) but I’ve read a couple of the stories and they’re worth a read. You can buy the book at better book shops in the US, UK, and Australia, or online here.

Funnily enough, the Flight Centre is carrying the book. How’s that for irony? Anyway, you can read the full, unedited, collection of blog entries from my transatlantic, FlightFREE voyage here, and I will soon get around to posting the edited version.  Check it out and let me know what you think.

Bicycle History, Bicycle Future

There were a few silver linings around the dark cloud of disappointment that had gathered after it became clear that my right knee didn’t share my ambitious tramping plans. One was my discovery of the Museum of Bicycle History in Camelford, an eccentric and wonderful collection of bicycles and memorabilia, housed in a former railway station, a fascinating example of rail infrastructure recycled into contemporary bicycle use.

I was on the Western Greyhound bus to Tintagel, where locals claim that the nearby castle ruins are those of Arthurian legend (though which now are used to lure tourists and sell cheap plastic swords in stones). After making a turn at the crossroads, I noticed several signs along the road: “Bicycle History Museum,” “Museum of Bicycle History,” and “ BICYCLE MUSEUM.”

Ding ding ding DING DING DING!!!! I rang the stop request bell and begged the driver to stop and let me out, and he obliged. The existence of this museum was a complete surprise to me, and I was thrilled that I had stumbled upon it. The museum is run by a older couple, John and Sue Middleton, who opened their collection of over 400 bicycles to the public in 1992 in the old railway depot at Camelford, a station left rail-less by the Beeching cuts in the 1960’s when the UK’s rail network was slashed mercilessly by shortsighted bureaucrats and the auto lobby.

Like a kid in a candy store, I spent the whole morning looking around the museum, and chatting with Sue about their amazing collection, and going through their library of cycling manuals, bicycles, and cycle clothing catalogs.

There are some remarkable bikes in the museum, including a von Drais velocipede hobby-horse from 1816- the precursor to the modern bicycle. A vast collection of accessories, oil lamps, clothing, books, signs and posters gives a real flavour of the history of the bicycle in Britain. In the background, historic bicycle songs played on a loop, like “a bicycle built for two” and Queen’s anthem “Bicycle race.”

There was something sad about the museum too. I was one of only three visitors the whole morning, even though hundreds of cars drove by the entrance. The whole place smelled of mildew, and it was obvious that a good part of the collection was threatened by leaks in the roof. Many of the items are irreplaceable- a critical cultural link to a past where quality was valued over quantity- where enjoyment of the journey was a superior aspiration than arriving in the shortest time possible.

Though Sue and John have kept the museum alive with a love of bicycle culture and history, as well as a good amount of their own money and time, this is a resource that ultimately needs to be supported by the government or foundations, or it will wither as surely as the railway network that has provided its home.

Compared with the gleaming brand new glitzy Transport Museum in London, the Bicycle Museum was run down, neglected, and almost forgotten, despite the best efforts of its owners. A reflection of current transport policy and how cycling has been rejected by successive governments influenced by the road lobby, the museum now requires an influx of cash to preserve the collection and ensure its future. This is a jewel in the rough whose time has come to be polished and promoted. If you know anyone with a large trust fund who is enamoured of bicycle culture, there is a great opportunity here. They could also use a volunteer web designer and webmaster, and a marketing specialist (at the very least to sort out a consistent name and logo).

A beautiful and lush garden has been planted where the platforms and the rails once stood- where, prior to the vicious Beeching cuts, travellers said their tearful goodbyes and young Cornish men departed for two world wars, some of them for the last time. The right of way has been largely lost, which is unfortunate for all of us- but particularly a loss for the local community who could now be benefiting from the visitors that the nearby Camel Trail (built on the same abandoned branch line) attracts.

Continuous and integral rights-of-way are so crucial to transport systems- they are like humpty dumpty- once one building has been erected the whole line loses value. Thanks to the railbanking law in the states, there is a framework to preserve abandoned rail lines for non-motorised or future rail use. In sixties Britain, there was no such law and often valuable and irreplaceable level, direct rights-of-way became part of adjacent gardens, new housing developments or- god forbid- car parks.

Like the train, the bicycle has been neglected by the dominance of the automobile. However, while the main rail lines in the UK have been recording increasing ridership as frustrated drivers flee the congested roads, the increase in cars has intimidated all but the bravest souls from cycling for transport, a habit that has been decreasing in most places outside of London.

The museum was like a phantom, an eerie reminder of the historic partnership between rail and pedal. While I ate lunch, a future vision hovered over the sunny garden: tourists coming from all over the UK by train and by bike using a revitalised national cycle/rail network- as complete and maintained as the roads, a rebirth of community and good health, and a departure from corporate dominance of transport policy and addiction to vehicles that make you fat, weak, and unhappy.

Like faithful friends who watch over you knowingly as you throw your life away on cheap excesses, the bicycle and the train wait patiently in the wings for humanity to re-discover what we have forsaken in the rush to mufflers, asphalt, broken glass and petrol. In the crisis to come, there will be a second bicycle renaissance, and then we’ll be glad for the Middletons and their glorious obsession with all things bicycle.

Next Post: in which Josh discovers the Bicycle History Museum’s Gift Shop, cruises to the Camelford ATM on a borrowed Schwinn girl’s bike with ape bars, and rapes his bank account to fund his own obsession with bicycle history….

Photos courtesy http://kimbofo.typepad.com/ and http://www.bbc.co.uk/cornwall/uncovered/bikegallery.shtml

Tramping Cornwall

“Hey Tom, you wanna go tramping along the Cornish Coast in May?”
“Yeah that sounds great. I should really be working, but hey I’ve been wanting to do that for ages. Count me in!”

Thus began our ten-day adventure in Cornwall. Our goal was to hike 110 miles or so, from Penzance, around the Southwest tip of Cornwall (Land’s End) up to Devon, and take the train back from Barnstaple in Devon.

Tramping of course has a double meaning:

1. Verb: to walk through or over a place wearily or reluctantly and for long distances : we have tramped miles over mountain and moorland

2. Noun: a person who travels from place to place on foot in search of work or as a vagrant or beggar

We fancied ourselves tramps in the romantic hobo-ish train-hopping independent traveller damn-the-itinerary kind of way. We were definitely weary- even reluctant at times, especially when my right knee began to give me problems after the third day. I was afraid I was going to have to give up and go home (and I would have if we were in the states) but thank the lord there was a frequent and convenient rural bus that ran along the coast, and I was able to meet Tom at a designated camping spot every night. It was actually a mixed blessing, allowing me more leisure time to meet the locals, and discover hidden jewels like the Bicycle History Museum in Camelford (stay tuned).

Were we really tramps, or just yuppies seeking a return to the land? Jury’s still out on that one. We weren’t looking for work. I didn’t beg until I was caught in Boscastle on a stormy Saturday night all alone with the hostel full up, and my dilemma prompted a kind café manager to put me up in her house. There was an air of vagrancy about our trip, though.

Neither of us brought a tent or a sleeping pad, preferring to rough it with just a couple of tarps. I somehow managed with only a daypack. We slept out on the cliffs or in caves, and bathed in the cold Atlantic waters.

We tried to live off the land, using “Food for Free” to supplement our meals with ramson’s (wild garlic), nettles (rich in protein and iron), and sea beet (a lot like spinach). We talked about bagging a bunny, but neither of us had the heart.

We laughed about how few differences there actually are between “backpacking” and “vagrancy”- perhaps more than most outdoor enthusiasts would care to admit. A few name-brand gore-tex items and a credit card- that’s about it.

As they say, the best things in life are free, and we relished the freedom and the immediacy of gathering our food, choosing a protected place to camp, and falling asleep with the sound of the waves each night, and feeling the sand in between our toes the next morning when we went for a swim. No one was charging us hefty fees, we didn’t have to sell our souls to the man to afford the trip. We weren’t in luxurious comfort every moment, but we were rewarded by a rare intimacy with the natural world. The spectacular North Cornish coast in late spring- wildflowers, ferns, and wild fuschias bursting forth, and very few tourists.

Just a couple of tramps eating rice and wild sea beet, watching the sun set over the Atlantic, and contented living the simple life.

pics courtesy T. Beale

ROADKILL

What is it about cars that dehumanizes us? How is it possible that someone can carelessly careen a ton of steel into an innocent man and then drive away as if nothing had happened? How can NINE drivers, one after the other, swerve around the victim– somebody’s grandfather– lying in the street bleeding to death as if he were a sack of potatos and do absolutely fucking nothing? Is this some horrible vision of the future where 4-wheeled robots have enslaved humanity and where our bodies are cheap fodder for the mechanized master race? What the fuck, people?

The disturbing scene above is repeated tens of millions of times on the Earth every year, an increasing massacre that we mostly accept without hesitation- not just a policy decision to trade the destruction of millions of lives for mass car use, but the audacity to resist measures that will begin to reduce the body count- like traffic calming, cycle, pedestrian, and public transport priority measures- because……they will add a minute or two to a driver’s journey and well, we simply cannot accept that.

We are so self-absorbed with the urgent need to get to our destinations, the groupthink that we are cool and hip while driving our death monsters so all-encompassing, the social norms propping up the motorized status quo so effective, our bloodlust so mediated by the cold scientific pursuit of traffic management and congestion reduction, that the truth of what we are actually doing remains hidden from us.

I normally decry CCTV, but in this case it has opened a window on our car culture- revealed to us in all its glaring, ugly and nightmarish detail the daily trade in traffic for heartbeats- the utter selfishness of driving, the total subjugation of the pedestrian in a world of Chryslers, Fords, and Toyotas- in short exactly what Hannah Arendt, while reporting on the Nuremberg Trials, referred to as the banality of evil.

What is is this strange drug, this intoxication of petrol and power, that makes even your virulently anti-car blogger (on the very rare occasions that he gets behind the wheel) feel frustrated at the pedestrians blocking his way and the old lady cyclist trundling down the slip road. “Get on with it you old bag!” I try to swallow and control that insatiable urge to press the accelerator- that unfulfilled potential to just go faster- to take just one more hit of that beautiful lusty gasoline g-force high.

Put down the syringe, stub out the cigarette, pour out the booze, park that car, take a deep breath, and remember what’s important in this life on this beautiful blue marble floating in space, this green oasis threatened by greed and fear. Break the chains. Refuse to participate. Sit in the front of the bus. Another world is possible.

“Designated Parking Zone (historically this was called a pavement)”

Sometimes a blog comes along that hits the nail on the head, taps into the zeitgeist, and crystallizes what people have been murmuring for years, and which has recently reached epidemic proportions. The sheer volume of cars has not only made most streets in Bristol unlivable, they are now encroaching on the last refuge of the pedestrian- the pavement (sidewalk). The time has come for a backlash!

The brand new darkly hilarious Bristol Cars Blog is a spot on, timely and incisive criticism of the attitudes and behaviour that threaten quality of life in Bristol. Truly the front line against anti-social driving in Bristol. Read it and pass it on.

Bike Culture Through the Lens of Ted White

Many of you who read this blog will already have come across these films, but for those who haven’t- I’ve posted them here. It continues to surprise me the number of people I come across- especially in the UK- who think that Critical Mass is sort of this bike nazi movement- a group of radical cyclists with molotov cocktails in their bike bottle cages. The truth is that Critical Mass is a peaceful, participatory celebration that effectively questions the role of public space in cities. Most simply, it is a bunch of people getting together for a safe bicycle ride through the city. If that’s “radical” in the context of the norm that is the violent, toxic, and carbon-heavy transport system of today, I am proud to be called a radical.

Ted White has captured, perhaps better than any other filmmaker, the zeitgeist of the velorution that started in San Francisco in 1992, when Critical Mass was born to the world. In fact, the term (as it applies to bicycles) was coined by George Bliss in the film Return of the Scorcher (the first one below). Referring to cyclists waiting at a junction in China:

“the cyclists would….wait….until they had enough numbers to force their way through the cars and make them stop.”

Return of the Scorcher 1992 Ted White

Unfortunately, since this footage was taken in China, the country has of course gone in the opposite direction, following the west into ill-fated car dependence, forsaking the simple liberation that the bicycle offered so many Chinese for so long in favour of an obsession with automobility and a self-destructive petrol habit.

We are Traffic, the second film, takes a critical look at the Critical Mass phenomenon that started in San Francisco in 1992, and has spread to hundreds of cities worldwide. Great interviews with luminaries of the SF bicycle movement: Beth Verdekal, Chris Carlsson, Joel Pomerantz, Dave Snyder, and others. There is a great analysis of the 1997 “bicycle riot” in San Francisco, and the dreams, philosophy, and excitement that characterize the  rides.

Thanks to Jon Winston and his excellent Bikescape blog and podcast for pointing out that these classics from the San Francisco bicycle movement are now online.

We are Traffic 1999 Ted White

Critical Mass rides typically happen the last Friday of the month starting at 6pm.   In London, meet at the south end of Waterloo Bridge by the Film Institute.   In San Francisco, it starts from Justin Hermann Plaza at the foot of Market St.   In Bristol, it starts at the Fountains in the Centre.   If you don’t live in one of these cities, check here for your local ride.

Spring: High Time for Bikepacking

For a Californian who isn’t used to experiencing real seasons, spring in the UK is a wonderful time. Six long months of dull, overcast skies and seemingly lifeless trees and bare muddy ground- in the space of two weeks- yield to a sudden explosion of green lush fecundity- this year fueled by the warm and wet weather. Perhaps a result of climate change, it is nevertheless quite welcome after the bone chill of winter. Summer is right around the corner and the time is right for planning adventures and holidays. What’s that you say? Short of cash and concerned about the impact of your getaways on the environment? Don’t just sit home and mope- the time is ripe for bikepacking.

Bikepacking is a term coined by one of my heroes, Ken Kifer, a prolific writer and bikepacker based in Alabama. It’s a kind of a hybrid between backpacking and cycling, a particular breed of cycle touring where the rider is self sufficient, and independent of RV (caravan) parks, motels, and campgrounds. Find a field, or a spot in a forest, pitch your tent, prepare your evening meal, and enjoy. Of course, bikepacking requires a basic set of equipment, but once you have it, you are ready to go! There’s something so rewarding about cycling along the open road with everything you need, able to stop when you get tired, go to sleep when the sun sets, and rise when it does- as Sustrans says- bypass the bypass!

Last Friday, having finally submitted my dissertation, I needed to get out of the city, get some exercise and fresh air, and get back on my bike. I also wanted to see friends back in Bristol, so I decided to ride along the Kennet and Avon canal between Reading and Bristol, about 110 miles pedaled over three days, following this beautiful waterway through town centres, rural farming communities, tree lined banks with swans swimming gracefully, and the colorful narrowboats that are so quintessentially English. I camped in fields and forests, picnicked on benches along the way, drank pints of local ale in sunny pub gardens fronting the water, and followed the entire length of the canal, even when the official cycle route 4 diverted onto roads. I wasn’t going to be put off by directional signs based more on deals made with British Waterways, than on the actual suitability of the route. From my years working at Rails-to-Trails Conservancy, I can smell political compromise a mile away. The anglers and walkers didn’t seem to mind me cycling, though, as long as I was polite and used my bell.

The canal is a rare find, a state of mind far from the motorway grind and laughing in the face of the speed imperative of industrial society. Ironic then, that the canal network was the first transport system of the industrial revolution, built in the 1810’s to transport coal and other goods. On the canal, you can go as fast or as slow as you want- you can stop when you like, and if you have a houseboat or an equipped bikepack, your house is always with you. The towpaths make this kind of travel accessible to practically everyone- the ultimate way out of the city into the countryside. On the level, the bicycle- pure of heart and healthy for the lungs- reigns supreme.

The ultimate populist travel mode, independent of petrol prices and road congestion- no wonder Sustrans has had notable successes in their project of building a national cycle network- it’s the dream and the growing desire for continuous, safe, and enjoyable routes for human beings- what could be a more basic need, and yet one that has been sadly neglected by our growing addiction to cars.

The Kennet and Avon, though well surfaced in many sections, in parts is muddy, rocky, and difficult (though not impossible) to pedal. For the cost of a few metres of motorway, the whole 120 miles of canal between London and Bristol could be surfaced with all weather crushed stone, easy and pleasant for even your grandmother to pedal. Put in a campground every twenty miles with basic facilities of water and pit toilets, and suddenly you have a carbon neutral, healthy, and equitable means for urbanites to holiday away from the pollution and danger, and experience a bit of nature, a connection that has been denied to so many these days.

Though Ken Kifer was tragically killed by a drunk driver in a pickup in Alabama several years back, his website is still active and is, though cheesy at times, is a great resource for bikepackers. His murder by petrol and cheap beer should not depress us but inspire the spread of bikepacking to the masses, and make it one element of our transport related carbon reduction policies. It’s great that Sustrans is focusing on urban cycling routes, but they should not neglect the potential of a true national cycle network, following canals, and active and abandoned railways, to connect cities and towns throughout the UK, a quality network that is safe for young children and old people, a role that on-road routes will never fill, as long as there is the threat of Jeremy Clarkson rounding the bend at 80mph. We need to finish what we started and remember the original vision of CYCLEBAG- a continuous off road pathway network. Cycling is worth it!

At a time when most of the alternative methods of holidaying involve further damage to our climate, the time is ripe for packing up the saddlebags, calling in sick to your desk job, and pedaling into a better future where transport adds to community and quality of life, not detracts from it.

Protest Flashmob and Bad Karma hit new British Airways Terminal

Heathrow’s new terminal 5 opened on thursday, an event that British Airways and BAA hoped would provide a pr boost for further airport expansion. Instead, what has transpired is a “dreadful national embarrassment” of cancelled flights, baggage delays, and a gleaming new terminal that doesn’t seem to work. And all this aside from a mass flash mob protest against a third runway with several hundred people occupying the arrivals hall. Plane Stupid says that the airport was “so busy worrying about (the flash mob) that they forgot to hire any baggage handlers…” The Guardian says that “flights to Manchester, Paris, Brussels, Newcastle and Edinburgh were among those cancelled at Heathrow….it would be no bad thing if they never resumed.” Hear hear.

As for myself, I donned a red t-shirt, went along to add my voice to hundreds of others at the protest, and hung around for a couple of hours, having loud conversations about climate change and aviation in the coffee lounge (where the baristas were so supportive I even got an employee discount!!). I confronted some BAA directors after they were interviewed about the baggage delays asking them how they could live with themselves for promoting continued expansion in the face of climate change. They told me “the economic case has been made for ’sustainable’ growth in the aviation industry.” I asked them how many pounds the life of a Bangladeshi family was worth. They didn’t seem to have a soundbite to respond to that one.

I gave my own soundbite to a couple of MSN reporters, who used my interview as part of their feature on the t5 opening. You must also check out the old ladies up in arms about the third runway, from CNN. Click on the “mob protests airport expansion link.”

With any luck, this debacle will make the government question the wisdom of allowing corporations like BA and BAA to dictate national transport policy. Gear up for the next protest on May 31st against Heathrow expansion, and the climate camp, which will consist of a huge caravan from Heathrow to Kings North to protest plans for the first new British coal fired power station in 23 years.