On a bike, you are in touch with your surroundings. The wind, the temperature, the rain, daylight or its absence, you can’t help but be affected by these factors. When you ride every day, you become part of the cycles of the earth and its turning. The suns orbit transforms from the wide sweep of summer, where it seems to circle the entire horizon in a single day, to its slanted and shortened southerly path in winter. The plants and animals respond and in a long timelapse, trees bud, spew pollen, sprout flowers and leaves, toss their seeds on the wind, and in a seemingly final gasp infuse their leaves with gorgeous colors and spread them like a blanket upon their roots while they stand with empty arms.
My commuting route changes a little throughout the year. There are a few roads I’m not crazy about riding in the dark or the damp so I retreat to a slightly longer route with more bike lanes and paths and fewer country roads. The winter route takes me along the south-eastern shores of Lake Washington. After I exit the crowded cement grid of central Renton, I pass Coulon Park through a neighborhood with views of the lake and Mercer Island. Across the lake are views of the Renton hillside, downtown Seattle, and when the weather is clear, the Olympic Mountains. The mountains seem to get nearer or recede depending on the weather and the clarity of the air. The lake changes color and texture based on the sky it is reflecting or on the wind which can make the surface flat like polished glass or tossed rough and choppy.
After the left turn near the Dennys, past the monstrous Seahawks training facility, the rooty and undulating bike path drops you out on a dead end road where the views of the lake are screened by leafy trees. The lights come on in mansions on the hillside on Mercer Island across the dark water. Here I ride through a tunnel of big-leafed maples. The freeway is only a few hundred feet away yet here is this ribbon of road and except for the roar of traffic nearby, there are all of the sensations of a serene country backroad. Did the march of modern progress forget this place?
After a long day spent in the world which never seems content to slow down or contemplate, I am there, halfway between my office and home.
Wow, when folks ask me what route you take all I think about is the danger of cars and crazy drivers. I really appreciate being able to see the beauty that you experience. Thank you so much for sharing a taste of your commute, and doing with a poetic flair that amazes me.
Gorgeous start and end of the work day! And all I do is go over the Johnson Street bridge of cement so high you cannot see the railroad tracks below! Thank you once again for sharing a glimpse of your enjoyment of life! Love, me