Raw Possibility representing the SFV Vegans
The first CicLAvia bike event of 2012 shut down sections of Beverly Blvd, Spring Street, and a few connectors for the LA biking community. CicLAvia is quite an experience for Angelenos who are desensitized to the profound architecture of downtown LA. There isn’t a better way to rinse off the ubiquitous blur of downtown LA than to peddle through its empty streets on a bicycle.
The CicLAvia route starts on Vermont and Beverly Boulevard; practically paralleling the Metro Red Line. If you are commuting from the San Fernando Valley, your best bet is the Metro Red Line. We parked at the NoHo Metro Red Line station and bought a one way ticket to LA for $1.50. Within ten minutes I was standing up , off my Technicolor nineties styled Metro seat, bike handle clutched in hand, ready to pour out to the car-less lanes of downtown LA.
We kicked and pushed through the stop lights between Beverly and Vermont to New Hampshire where we joined the stream of bicyclist headed towards downtown LA. The city looked so plentiful and spacious; usually it feels cramped and gritty. A car-less Los Angeles is a sight to behold and a strange silent atmosphere to experience. The bike ride felt much like protesting in public spaces on bikes. A plethora of bicycle enthusiast took the chance to strut off their quirky and innovative bikes. I heard different bicyclist stereos bumping everything from old school to smooth jazz. Different tones of bicyclist smeared right past us while we catapulted ourselves in to a new angle of the city.
The commonalities of the bicyclist were few except that every person on a bike unmistakably looked like they were from Los Angeles County; Latin women and their children, Caucasians, Asians, african americans, and the transplanted hipsters gliding past each other for about 10 city miles.
We biked through Little Tokyo, MacArthur Park, and parts of Downtown LA. MacArthur park was a treat; I would never otherwise bike through that park. It is sketchy and highly charged with criminal activity. I prefer to stay out of that public space unless there is a huge concert or event as big as CicLAvia to calm my nerves. During the day, the park is actually throbbing with soccer games, elote and ice cream vendors, adult men watching the homeless play a makeshift pool game with dried paper balls, and artifacts of artistic collectives doing weird activities like street theatre. The set-list of a theatrical street group was posted on the time rusted sculptures at the entrance of the park. Little Tokyo looked remarkable without car traffic. We sped through it but recognized all the bars, cafes, and restaurants that we frequent on the weekends.
Once we got past downtown LA’s kickass Spring Street, we started upward towards the steep hill that plateaus over the LA railroad station. Many people stopped here more than any other sight I biked through. The view of Los Angeles from the East LA angle is breath-taking. The skyline is a metallic blue juxtaposed by the hues of gray from the industrial underpinnings of our monolithic city. The cargo boxes were decorated with graffiti and some youngsters found their way into the concrete river.
After the bridge, we glided downhill towards 4th and Cummings where a little CicLAvia hub offered food trucks, first-aid attention, hydration (water fountains connected to fire-hydrants), and a rock climbing area. We pulled in and I almost immediately jumped off my bike to sit on the red painted curb. I hadn’t biked up a steep hill in months and it was hitting me like a bag of bricks to the head. I recharged with some falafels and a Gatorade.
After rebooting, it was back up the hill towards the metro redline station where a bunch of cyclists made a clattering noise with their bikes. Eventually, five or seven stops later, we arrived at NoHo and packed the bikes into the trunk of my hatchback.
For the entire bike ride, I felt like a tourist in my own city. I felt a burning curiousity to explore the different buildings that were unmarked and architecturally exquisite. The streets were vacant; the communities on main streets were welcoming with open shops and loud music.
During the entirety of the event, it was obvious that LA came alive with a vibrancy you can’t feel behind a windshield. CicLAvia started in Spain as a way to promote healthy lifestyles and opening public spaces to the people. Now it has migrated to the USA, opening up major megacities like Los Angeles to the public for reasons beyond commerce, capital, or profit. Only on its third event, CicLAvia is already adding adjacent routes like Olvera Street to the next event in October.
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