New York

Orient Point, Cutchogue, Wading River, Port Jefferson, Oyster Bay, Farmingdale, New York

Another cyclist exited the ferry with me. He was the well-built Raul, he said he was a diplomat from Ecuador. He cycled easily on his road bike. He was happy when I insulted him with the few Spanish sentences that I still remembered from my wanderings around South America and Mexico. We took a photo of ourselves and then cycled together for several kilometers. I was in front and he, breathing heavily, was behind me. I knew that he was trying his best to keep up the pace behind me and that our mutual travels would not last very long. All in all, there were no hills, so my disadvantage of a fully laden bike was not as apparent. However, the difference between his tubeless tires and my proper two-inch tires was apparent. After about 5 km, I saw him nodding goodbye to me in my rear-view mirror and that's how it ended.

[Orient Point] This ferry took us over Long Island Sound

[Orient] Raul, allegedly Ecuadorian diplomat in USA

A fine, yet insidious, rain started falling, which one usually ignores, before suddenly realizing that you are soaking wet. I am too old a wanderer to fall for this trap. For the second time that day, I put on the Gore-Tex, which I wore until the evening. It was a Sunday, every large farm or vineyard had a children's event on. Farms attracted with their corn mazes: they cut out mazes in the corn fields and then let children go into them to get lost. The vineyards were amusing for adults, who, thanks to their consumption, did not need any mazes in which to get lost. Masses of people everywhere, nobody minded the bad weather.

The GPS could not locate any campsite, so I considered asking if I could camp out on one of the farms. I am sure they would have allowed me, maybe even the first one. However, it was not necessary, a sign to Wildwood State Park appeared, in which, according to the Ranger charging me the entry fee, was the Long Island campground. The campground was really large, located in a dense forest and with only a few campers. Clean and with hot water showers, clean bathrooms, neat and tidy. The only downside was the strong wind causing the acorns to drop from the tall oaks, making loud banging sounds. I even considered putting on my helmet when cooking breakfast, to avoid getting hit on the head. The next day, I cycled through an avenue of chestnut trees several kilometers long. Chestnuts were dropping to the ground with great force, but then I already had the helmet on. A chestnut hitting a car would certainly leave a proper dent.

On the following day, it became quite apparent that I was approaching New York. A cute little hilly road loomed out of the forest and connected to a virtual expressway – but cycling was permitted on it. In some sections, the road even had a demarcated cycle lane. I did not enjoy it, too many cars, too much noise, I spent more time looking into my rear-view mirror than ahead of me. Frequent stopping at traffic lights, the need to check exits and incoming lanes, surrounded by one Plaza after another, sometimes interspersed with a gas station. Really spectacular scenery! I decided to go into New York by train. At Port Jefferson, I stopped at a station to learn the rules. Bikes could be loaded on to the train only out of rush hour which ended at about 8.30 a.m. A bike loaded with saddle-bags was no problem and the fee for a 'Cycle'Pass' was $5.

My accommodation in New York was reserved from the following day, and I did not want to go there to try my luck. I called my hostel, but there was only an answering machine announcing that they would resolve all queries online. I needed to get connected to the Internet. I cycled to the closest Plaza with stores, took out the Kindle and searched for WiFi. In front of an open carpet store, I took out my laptop and was connected. I could not find any reasonable accommodation for that night, so I applied Plan B. The GPS located a campground 50 km away towards the West, and thus also in NY State, and I got going.

It got dark 5 km before my destination. It was like night, and the tropical rain started. I had nowhere to hide. Before putting on the Gore-Tex, I was already soaked. After one kilometer, I hid myself under a tree and waited for it to ease off. It did not. I was wet anyway, so I continued. Only when I was on a road covered in 25 cm of water did I stop cycling. Instead I started cycling on the footpath, which was not a great improvement. A long truck drove by, splashing water all around up to a height of three meters. So I received an additional shower from above. There was nothing to be done about it. I could just as well have cycled through a river, it would have been no different. I was still unsure whether the campground was operating at all. The surroundings were built-up office buildings, the Hilton Hotel, and another huge hotel. But suddenly it all changed, the buildings were gone in a flash and I entered dirty industrial outskirts, then a forest, and there it was.

Nobody in the office. I pitched my tent in the area dedicated for tents – there was no other tent, no water, no electricity. I picked a spot under the trees, opposite the showers and bathrooms, where there was a small shelter under which I could prepare food. I took the wet clothes to the laundry room and left them there all night. They all dried nicely, as it was quite warm in there. The janitor arrived to take my cash. First, he tried to find out if I needed a receipt for the payment. "I won't need it, and you don't need to push the price up," I answered. He thought for a while what price he should ask and then gave his verdict: $23. He was a fan of motorbikes, he knew and praised the Czechoslovakian makes: ČZ and JAWA (which he said was a genuine item) and he also praised their results in Motocross and Enduro (6-day).

I had plenty of time the next morning. The Vanderbilt YMCA hostel allows check-in from 3 p.m. I washed the chain, converter and pedals with WD40. I borrowed a hosepipe and washed the bike and saddle-bags from top to bottom, oiled everything thoroughly. I changed the brake pads on the back wheel and discovered why the bike had been making a cracking sound when changing gears. The cranks were totally worn out, there was a 2 mm gap, I might have to change the whole crankset later. I would wait and see.

New York, New York
This classic Sinatra song persistently played in my mind all the way. I arrived at the Farmingdale railway station after 6 km. The cash desk was closed, with only two ticket machines outside. One was unusable, because the sun was shining on its display and I could not see a thing. I used the second one and bought a single ticket to Penn Station. I considered using the Senior's discount. I was the required age, but knew from earlier experience that it usually applied only to US citizens and not to foreigners. So I bought the ordinary ticket for $9. I inserted my credit card and the machine displayed a control question, asking for my zip code. This was a stumbling block, 15500 was not recognized and it rejected me and my card. I tried again, this time using the green paper money, I succeeded, ticket in my pocket. I only could not buy the 'Cycle Pass', which was not on the menu. 10 minutes later the train arrived, it was on the same level as the platform, so I had no problems loading the bike. The conductor sold me a voucher for a 'Cycle Pass', which I exchanged at Penn Station for a plastic card. The main reason for this procedure is to sign the regulations under which the bike is transported. The Pass was also valid for the return journey – but I would not be using it.

It took me some time to find the barrier-free exit. The train was on one level, cash desks on another and the street on yet another. I resolved it by following mothers with baby carriages. Suddenly I found myself outside on the dangerous streets of New York City. The GPS was notably delayed in this canyon of skyscrapers. It took me some time to get used to it. But more importantly, I had to forget my polite defensive cycling style in the emergency lane, and rather give priority to everyone, to avoid them taking me down. That would not have got me anywhere. I understood that if I was to get anywhere in NY, I would have to cycle aggressively (within my physical capabilities). I had to push myself into the various gaps between cars, like a mouse, use bus lanes to overtake traffic jams. Most importantly, however, I always, I repeat, always, had to respect traffic lights and Police instructions. The Police are all over the city and specially at crossings with traffic lights, where they instruct the cars to drive through red traffic lights in certain situations, to increase the traffic flow in Manhattan streets.

[New York] Regular city traffic

[New York] A bike gets one through the city fastest

Really entertaining ride. At no time did I have the feeling of being threatened, as in other cities where drivers say by their looks: "You idiot, you don't belong here!" There it rather concerned the attitude: "Show what you can do, lad, and if you're good, we won't honk at you!" And they did not honk. By the way, cycling is a much, much faster mode of transport in Manhattan than driving. This is why many distribution services of light goods use bikes.

No Hostel
I reached my destination at East 74th Street, but there was no hostel. I had the address with the number written down on a piece of paper, but number 224 simply was not there. The locals sent me in various directions, claiming that it had to be here or there. But the instructions from the reservation had clearly stated the location as "between 2nd and 3rd Avenue". I was so over-confident when I had made the booking, that I had not even downloaded the booking confirmation to my Kindle. So, not having the Internet caused me to be totally confused. I took out my Kindle and searched for WiFi but without any luck. I had to use the 3G connection, which is free of charge on this version of Kindle (this is no longer available, fellows). One goes crazy trying to use it, but eventually I was connected and viewed the archived hostel reservation. It was clearly a mix-up on my side. I had written down the street number 47 as 74, Nevertheless, ladies and gentlemen, I am not a dyslectic. Man confuses stuff both in youth and old age. So I returned through the almost 30 blocks in the direction of the center and arrived there. The hostel is an accommodation factory – it has only single and double bedrooms. A kitchen to look at, lacking all cookware. But, luckily, I had my own, so I was one of the few to use the kitchen. Because of its rates ($95 single and $115 double) and location, it is very popular and always full. Central location – a 10-minute walk to Times Square and the Broadway theaters.

Times Square
The afternoon was nearing its end, so I logically went to see the closest attraction – Times Square. It was getting dark, so the shock was even more accentuated. A flood of neon adverts attacks one from all directions, throngs of people everywhere, dense traffic on Broadway, which also has a cycle lane. Many eccentrics, big and small, representing famous characters in movies and history, offering to let you take a photo of yourself with them for a small bakshish. Salesmen on every corner offering NY city tours – by bus, limousine, on foot, by boat, helicopter. The only thing missing from their menu were tank and submarine. The mime artists are entertaining, I lingered there for over two hours, only taking a break for refreshments every now and then in one of the local watering holes.

[New York] Times Square art – people expressing whether capitalism suits them

[New York] Times Square

[New York] Times Square – array of adverts are blinding

[New York] Times Square – Cowboy inspired by Midnight Cowboy movie

[New York] Times Square – cowgirl

[New York] Times Square – guys chatting

[New York] Times Square – photos with living Statues of Liberty

[New York] Times Square chaos observed by mounted police

[New York] City awake late at night

On the second day, I wanted to see the famous Guggenheim Museum, next to Central Park. I could reach it in about 40 minutes on foot. Instead, I bought a card for the public transport, which is not free of charge, as in Boston, but costs a breathtaking $1. The card looks as if it is made of heavy paper, but it can be charged freely in ticket machines with a credit card, notes or coins. I charged it for two rides (2x2, $5), which turned out to be sufficient. One has to watch out that you enter the subway in the right direction, not against the stream. I received a map when buying the card. One peculiarity are the express subway lines, the trains of which stop only at stations denoted by a thick dot on the map. Other trains stop everywhere. One can see that the subway is quite old, but everything seems to function. I have to bow down before those who keep such a colossal system going.

Central Park
Remarkable wide, green area with several small lakes, interwoven with a network of footpaths. Not accessible to cyclists, who can only ride on the road around the park. The area of the biggest lake – The Reservoir – even orders pedestrians as to the direction of walking. Most of them follow the instructions.

[New York] Guided cycle tour in Central Park

[New York] Central Park

[New York] Turtle Pond and view of buildings lining Fifth Avenue

[New York] Belvedere Castle in Central Park

[New York] Fifth Avenue is quite pleasant around Central Park actually, shopping madness only starts at CP

Bad Luck in the Guggenheim Museum
Bad Luck in the Guggenheim Museum The Museum is renowned for its collection of paintings and its architecture. The main hall has a circular ground plan, and one can follow the spiral walkway all the way to the 6th floor (level 7). Well, this was not actually possible at the time, as painting was ongoing – not of the framed paintings, but of the Museum walls. Access to the masterpieces was restricted. Luckily, Impressionist works by artists such as Picasso were on view, as well as the wonderful abstract paintings and drawing of Kadinskij. The building is beautiful, architecturally clean, Wright was highly praised for its design. There is only one imperfection – the acoustics are a bit strange and quite loud, considering it is a Museum.

[New York] Guggenheim Museum

[New York] Guggenheim Museum – famous dome

[New York] Guggenheim Museum – view several floors down

[New York] Guggenheim Museum – from a car's reflection

I took the subway to the southernmost point of Manhattan. From Battery Park, I looked over the bay to Staten Island and the Statue of Liberty. The Federal government had still not resolved their budget, so the statue, a Federal historical sight, was closed to the public. In the past, lawyers decided that if the State had no money, their employees could not go to work. In the past, however, the difference in salary was paid back to them later, so they did not lose any money even though they had in fact not gone to work. From Battery Park, I walked the 47 blocks back to the hostel, through Broadway, with stops in Wall Street, Chinatown, the Bowery and Little Italy.

[New York] In the subway

[New York] Wall Street and Stock Exchange building

[New York] Entry only for the knowledgeable

[New York] Broadway - southern part of Manhattan

Bike is Best
After my first experience of the city, I knew I would have to cycle throughout NYC without the load, so that I could enjoy the exciting switching of lanes and threading between cars. The morning rain did not discourage me. I stormed into the densest traffic of Times Square, and cycled to Penn Station to find out how to take myself out of New York City the next day. When it is wet, one has to watch out for the metal plates covering underground networks, they get very slippery. But otherwise it was easy. I cycled around Manhattan on a cycle track, along the Hudson River, to Battery Park and then on the East Side along the East River. Over the touristy Brooklyn Bridge to Brooklyn and back over Manhattan Bridge. In Little Italy, I ordered a pizza from native Italians and reeled around Greenwich Village. I concluded my ride by cycling around Central Park and I was happy.

[New York] Fisherman in Hudson River Park

[New York] West Side Highway – glass building

[New York] Beach volleyball courts in Hudson River Park

[New York] Excursion boat arriving in the Hudson

[New York] One of many ferries, Staten Island and Statue of Liberty in background

[New York] View of Staten Island and Statue of Liberty from southern tip of Manhattan – Battery Park

Citi Bikes
New York has a system of Citi Bikes – many people rent the bikes and their stands are all over the place. I find the price of $10 per day quite high. But the annual rate was only $99, so that made more sense. You take the bike from your nearest bike station to work, where you park at another nearby bike station. No bother of searching for bike parking, no need to check the tires, oil, charge batteries for lights. You simply ride.

[New York] Marine Museum at Brooklyn Bridge

[New York] Brooklyn Bridge (right), Manhattan Bridge (left)

[New York] Manhattan from Brooklyn Bridge

[New York] Cycle path (left) and pedestrian path over Brooklyn Bridge

Broadway Musical
Broadway has daily performances of 20 musicals. Naturally, I tried to see if I could attend a famous performance. First, I tried The Lion King, but that was very popular at the time and sold out long into the future. Times Square has a store where last-minute tickets can be purchased at considerably lower prices. At first, I naively asked if could enter a theater in my traveling clothes. They said it was no problem. I joined a long, yet quick, line (7 cashiers) and got myself a ticket to Mamma Mia, the successful show performed non-stop for 12 years. The price was $90 after the 40% discount. Still rather expensive, but what would I not do for cultural and mental refreshment. I got a ticket for seat A12, with no idea where it was.

When I entered the theater, I was sent downstairs and ended up in the first row, just a little off-center. In the center, three seats from me, sat a temperamental red-haired chick, who was directing everything and playing the keyboards. Seeing this was already worth the ticket price. Through an aperture, I saw the orchestra beneath the stage. All minimalistic – no capitalist glitter – and it was all very impressive. Great singing performance, no microphones, they had to sing to the entire vast theater. Animal-like dancing performance, racially diverse dancers. And I sat there like a pascha in the front row, watching every gesture, every drop of sweat and puffy vein, all served up on my silver plate. After the applause, they sang four more songs and people were dancing in the aisles. Fantastic!

I conclude my discussion of the Big Apple with some photographs.

[New York] Always something to repair

[New York] Streets are beautified by flowers

[New York] Decoration in front of administrative building

[New York] Consultancy company interior, photographed from outside

[New York] Defacing the building did not much improve it

[New York] View from Manhattan Bridge to Brooklyn streets