Lake Minnewaska: The Great Escape

I grew up, at least from 8th grade on, living next to Minnewaska State Nature Preserve. Our land was right next to it. My friends and I would hike from my house to Lake Minnewaska the back way, meaning up over the mountain and down to the lake. That was the good part about living near there. Then, though, it was not owned by New York state, but the Phillips family. This is a tale of intrigue, mystery and bankruptcy. Eventually, the Phillips had to bail. (See article about history)

Generally, though, as an 8th grader and high schooler, living next to Minnewaska was like living next to Siberia. I’d pay friends money to drive me home since it was 10 miles out of New Paltz (13 from the high school) and I didn’t have a driver’s license until after I graduated. (How would you have felt if when you were learning to drive your mother grabbed the rearview mirror and made noises like, “Oh! Oh! Oh! At least that’s my version of the story.) The last four miles on SR 55 involved an extremely windy road and a hairpin turn (scroll down for picture.) Perhaps this turn had something to do with my mom’s reactions. I went through adolescence pining for a life in town.

Now, though, when I go home to visit, I rarely go to New Paltz and always head to Lake Minnewaska, usually walking along the trail that leads from my father’s road, past the waterfalls and on up to the lake. The trails once served for horse drawn tourist carriages that went from Mohonk Mountain House to Lake Minnewaka back in the 1920s. They are a mountain biker’s dream.

These memories of Minnewaska just came about because my best friend from high school just sent me a travel article on Lake Minnewaska published in The New York Times. “Spring in Your Steps” is a current Escapes feature. Ironically, the place that I always wanted to escape from is written up as a place to escape to. Who knew? Here’s more on Minnewaska, including other people’s memories.

Mini Cam for Capturing Extreme Sports

I don’t engage in many outdoor sports that require a helmet. But if I actually did more mountain biking, rock climbing, or extreme kayaking, I’d be sure to grab myself an Elmo SUV-cam and strap it tightly to my helmet.

This tiny camera and its slightly larger recorder weighs just under seven ounces and can easily be strapped onto your helmet, the front of your bike, the hood of your car, or just about anywhere else you’d like to record your favorite activity to later share with the world on YouTube.

The SUV-cam is also waterproof, has a built-in microphone and can store up to 2GB of video on a removable memory card.

Considering the $1,200 price tag, however, I think I’d be too paranoid to strap this pricey equipment on to anything which may involve crashing, drowning, falling, or the chance of my accident being recorded and played online to joyous glees of schadenfreude.

via National Geographic Adventure

The Restless Traveller: China to Italy by Motorcycle

It’s interesting to take note of which life events motivate travelers to embark on epic journeys. It’s different for everyone, of course, depending on life circumstances, financial situations, health status, career ambitions and goals of the journey. For Stefano Mangini, a native of Genoa, who now lives in Hong Kong, the trip he decided to take was an ambitious pre-MBA adventure and homecoming of sorts. After leaving his job in Shanghai, Mangini spent four months traveling by motorcycle on a “passage to Italy” where he enrolled in an MBA program at Bocconi School of Management in Milan.

It took Mangini 40 days to cross China, followed by travels through Pakistan, Iran, Turkey and Greece, before he arrived at the heel of Italy, where he made his way north to finish his trip at the top. Along the way he dealt with a difficult bike breakdown in the Gobi desert and a split frame in Pakistan, where a kind blacksmith helped him with a crucial welding job.

Five years later, Mangini has now earned his MBA degree and is currently displaying photos like this one (selected from over 2,000 he took on his trip) at an exhibit on display at the Hong Kong Visual Art Center (from April 18 – May 2). He’s also working on a book (in English) about his trip and is developing a website that communicates his philosophy of life as a restless traveler.

One for the Road (04/12/07)

The Handsomest Man in Cuba was originally published in the US in 2003. This month it has been re-released by Globe-Pequot USA. Chinese-Australian author Lynette Chiang (a.k.a. The Gal from Down Under) wrote a memoir about her adventures as a solo biking nomad. Heralded as a Rugged Individualist by Forbes in 2005, Chiang continues to make her way through the world via two wheels, speaking to bike clubs and serving as Customer Evangelist for Bike Friday, the folks who make the folding bike that she used while traveling. (Get the latest goss on where she’s cycling these days at her blog.) Just glancing at her website and photos, it’s apparent that Lynette is one ACTIVE woman and full of creative ideas too — check out her handlebar movie ventures and YouTube videos, which include biking the world’s highest paved road, as well as activities that don’t require wheels, like pole dancing and guitar lessons. Hmmmm…I’m sure the book is full of similarly unique and varied undertakings. You can read a few chapters for free on her website.

A Canadian in Beijing: Righteous Bikes

The thing about bicycles in Beijing is that they’re fearless, they’re everywhere, they’re irreverent and they’re their own characters. I know that it’s people who ride these bikes, but there seems to be a network of bikes themselves, like a secret society of Beijing bikes that meet at “koumen” (intersections) at all hours of the day to discuss how to better rule the roads. You can almost see them greeting each other in passing.

They’re as alive as this city.

I could write about cycling in Beijing for days. I’m sure this will be one of many posts on the subject. I’ve been observing the clambering chaos between pedestrians, bicycles and cars and after one week I have come to the following conclusion: bikes are in still in front.

They win the power struggle every time because they have the right to both abide by traffic laws and reject them. They seem to have no regulation whatsoever. All in all, the bikes of Beijing are anarchists.

Righteous.A Beijing bike can be seen in the bike lane (and there are a few, though cars and pedestrians often use these lanes too) or in the thick of the streets with the cars and trucks — even turning left in front of oncoming traffic. They hop up on sidewalks when it suits them and ride backwards against traffic when they don’t feel like crossing at the light. All in all, the bicycles are ever-present pedaling powerhouses.

And some are rickety and some are slick. Some are small and can be folded up (I love those!) and some are huge with giant trailers attached for large loads. In fact, these are the ones that I keep photographing because they’re so different from the bikes I know at home. I love how they can be loaded up with giant piles of unrecognizable stuff and still be upright and rolling confidently. Most of these big ones have three wheels, which helps with said confidence.

Now, the only ones I’ve ever seen that look like these are the ones that are quietly used by seniors at my Grandmother’s retirement village in Florida! Obviously they’re related to these bikes, but they haven’t really experienced the urban thrill of takeover. We need to free those Florida counterparts into the cityscape of the future!!

Yesterday I went downtown to search out some music equipment and to explore yet another downtown Beijing area. I was walking along East Gulouda when a bike passed me that was carrying two (yes two!) large leather easy chairs on its wide back. They were piled high and together like two L-shaped pieces of a Tetris game expertly placed. They were strapped together and to the bike itself. Nothing was teetering.

It was breathtaking.

I would even venture to say that it was beautiful; a beautiful example of invention, maneuvering and physics. Not for the faint at heart and truly for the cycling faithful. I grabbed my camera and tried to snap a shot but it was moving too fast. I missed it, but here is an image of another similarly laden bicycle. Differently stacked but equally awesome.

Bicycles are the main work vehicles here. Street cleaning happens from a bicycle and so, too, does street vending and small-scale commercial shipping.

Street cleaners have tools hanging from their bikes like brooms and shovels (pictured). They collect waste in the bike’s container as they move along. Most vendors selling food or other material do so from the back of a bike, and usually with a Aussie “Ute” style flat bed back to enable optimal viewing of merchandise.

Finally, bikes are also used as shipping vehicles. Here’s an image on one carrying several flats of “pijiu” or bottles of beer. This is one step up from the urban couriers of Toronto who mostly just carry small packages and written material.

I’m impressed.

All of these work bikes are the big ones too. These big-load bikes here seem like the ring leaders of the anarchist bike league. They’re the chiefs, the captains, the head honchos, the bigwigs, er. . . wheels. They lumber into intersections and are all the more fearless as a result of their size. The other bikes part and then fill in the wake of their passing like small fish do for whales.

Besides the hierarchy of might and manner, I have to mention the bikes at rest. They are everywhere, especially outside of the subway stops. Locks are also not very common. Those that are locked are only locked to themselves (and generally not to any permanent fixture) and they are mostly the newer bikes. The older ones are left to fend for themselves.

All in all, it’s a lonely pile of metal half standing, half lying on large sections of sidewalk in such a density that it’s difficult to distinguish one from the other. How do people locate their bikes after work? Your guess is as good as mine. In fact, I have an Australian friend here who said that she thought her bike was stolen until she found it three weeks later outside of the subway stop. I laughed out loud when I heard that because I can so imagine it.

This is an image of the bikes outside of my building. Just seeing this gathering of wheels makes me feel left out. I need a bike! I already looked into the prices and brand new ones are only about $80-$100 Canadian. Of course, there’s no reason for me to get a brand new bike, so I’ll be seeking an old one for a few kuai. Rust and squeaks are fine with me! I won’t be going quickly here – I’ll be too busy taking it all in as I join the pace of these living, breathing streets.

I can’t wait. I’m being beckoned by the bikes of Beijing. It’s a street-style revolution and I’m hopping on for the ride.

If you’re considering bringing your own bike to this city from afar, don’t bother. Bike theft, especially of foreign bikes, is apparently a huge problem here. Check out the link below for more information.