Windy ride to Miamisburg

Sunday, 10 March 2013

I started out an hour later than I planned, but that was no problem. The late departure meant that I met Martie Moseman on the trail—and met her friend (Mark?) and saw the runner Mike Nedeff long enough say hello. I had stopped at the rise to East River Road to remove my undershirt; the temperature was so warm today.

Martie stopped, said hello and mentioned her need to suggest a hike or bike activity for the Five Rivers Metroparks volunteers. I suggested a hike in Taylorsville Reserve, perhaps to include a guided history lesson on Tadmor and the aquaduct over the Miami River. It turned out that her ride partner Mark knows the area and its history well, and we had a good Q&A session on the area to clarify my understanding of what I had seen yesterday.

I continued south, into a windy and slow ride to Miamisburg. Tired of the wind, I decided to turn back instead of going to the trail's end in Franklin. I took a breather with a short tour of downtown Miamisburg, photographing many buildings along South Main Street. I wondered if Miamisburg is among the best examples in Ohio of an original, commercial area from before 1900? Just in the commercial area is a 3-block length of buildings that were built roughly from 1875 to 1895. A few are derelict, but most have an active storefront and occupants in the upper floors.

1875 map of Miami township

On my wind-sail return, I had energy to spare and could observe the course of the Miami and Erie Canal on the east side of South Dixie Drive, just to the west of the active railway. As the bikeway heads more northerly at the edge of West Carrollton, I noticed rough-hewn stones underneath a bridge, apparently where a canal lock had allowed the Hydraulic Canal to wind around the towns known in 1875 as Alexanderville and Carrollton. I lost track of the canal as the modern-day sewage treatment plant overtook its former routing before it joined with the Great Miami River.

Meanwhile, the Miami and Erie Canal was also overtaken by the growing city. Where it had neared the Miami River and turned north toward Dayton, now Alex Road, East Dixie Drive, and Interstate 75 have overtaken its path. And in what had been Van Buren township, the canal may have been disguised by a series of lakes that are bounded by the bikeway and East River Road. As I passed the lakes going north, 

1875 map of Van Buren township

I wondered if they had been built to supply canal water. But the 1875 township map reveals that the lakes did not exist back then and that the canal had flowed unimpeded through the area between the river and the hills to the east. Then finally the river and canal near each other where there is now a low dam and the Interstate 75 overpass. From there, the canal enters what is now Carillon Historical Park, where you can see a fully restored lock and a good segment of restored canal. 

Back some four miles, I had passed a cyclist going the opposite direction who was wearing a 1994 jersey from the old Dayton Cycling Club. I had yelled a hello as we met, though I didn't recognize the rider. But as I descended from East River Road to the flood plain, that rider caught me and introduced himself as Scott Weber. Sometime before the crash that had stopped my bike racing, I had sold him some special rims, and he had recognized me from that transaction. We rode together to Veterans' Park, where he dropped down to the river and I bypassed the closed bikeway to head home along clearer paths.

Ride conditions
Temperature: 60 to 67°F from 15:15 to 17:55 
Precipitation: none
Winds: 18 to 22 mph, gusts to 28 from the south-southeast
Clothing: Skinsuit, longsleeve undershirt, ankle socks, open-finger gloves
Bike: Lotus Legend fixed 48x16 
Time: 02:10 for 30.19 miles
Heart rate: no data
Bikeway users: 20+ cyclists, 12+ pedestrians

Sunday ride, no commute

Sunday was a super day. First, it was the last day of Winter, hurray! Second, my neighbors Frank and Kay were hosting a game day in the afternoon, meaning fun and good times with several regulars. And third, the weather was good for a spin around the bikeways.

So I pumped up the tires on my Lotus fixed-gear, because I believed—or rather, hoped—that the bikeways were sufficiently cleared of debris to offer no problems to its smaller and thinner tires. I left the house at about 11:45 and headed through the neighborhood, across Salem, down Grafton, across the Monument Avenue Bridge, and down the ramp to the Great Miami Bikeway. So far, nothing differing from my commute route.

During this warm-up, I had wondered, Hmm. Should I go to the gym? No, there's not enough time for even a two set workout. So I guess I'll head south, though the way may be messy, as high as the river has been. So my direction was set as I cleared the ramp.

Well below street level, inside the shelter of the high retaining wall between street level and the river bank, I could feel ripples and eddies of wind. The pylons and plinths supporting the freeway overpasses prevented any immediate perception of wind speed and direction. Down on this level, areas of dust-mud and debris indicated that my choice of the Lotus was questionable—I would have to keep a close watch to avoid occasional trash on the way. Further south along the bikeway, some new construction access had been cleared recently, leaving a long 50 feet of navigation through stones.

As the bikeway lifted just north of Stewart Street, the crosswinds were light but noticeable, and became more evident as the path opened out at the approach to Carillon Park. The bikeway curves toward the west, and the wind gradully addressed my face. Good thing I'm taking this on the way out. My return should be just a bit easier, if the winds don't shift.

Beyond Carillon Park, the bikeway drops again near river level and turns south along a large silt meadow. A copse of river birches standing between the meadow and the river still held nests of debris from the floods, as high as seven feet above the bikeway. But the way was clear, and freshly sawn flotsam wood was evidence of hard work by the Five Rivers Metroparks crews over the past week.

At the turn from River Road, two dozen cars were parked along the road, and they indicated that the University of Dayton crews were doing their river work today—indeed, Spring has come. The bikeway passes close by their sheds, and two teams carried their sculls across the way, down to their dock. Others were already rowing, and still another team or two had yet to ready their craft for portage to the dock.

A half mile further south, I turned to check traffic near the public boat dock and I noticed another cyclist about a hundred feet behind me. I crossed the intersection and picked up speed for the cruise along the levee toward West Carrollton, expecting a hello and a bit of conversation. But the cyclist never cleared my shoulder, and instead took advantage of my slipstream. I kept my pace until, close to my turnaround, I needed to clear my sinuses. I motioned to him to pass me, emptied out twice—like a farmer on his tractor, and then pulled off into the shelter area. 9.28 miles was my halfway point, and a chance to ride easily and speedily back home.