Why do more people not cycle in Belfast? I suspect it’s their desire to not do something insane. I don’t just mean to avoid danger. There’s a deeper and very natural aversion, that nearly all of us have, to acting out of kilter with the world around us.
This really struck me a few days ago, when cycling a regular route from East Belfast to the city centre.
To make this twenty minute trip, all I had to do was go into a ‘bus lane’ until I met parked cars, then choose whether to go into the traffic or on to a busy footpath, find a crossing to take me into CS Lewis Square, enjoy a momentary stretch of easy cycling until another pedestrian crossing, join the Ballymacarratt walkway, sail smoothly but alone until another pedestrian crossing and a tricky turn from Dee Street onto Island Street which is usually deserted apart from sudden fast cars, go right off the road through the pedestrian underpass into Titanic Quarter station gingerly turning two blind corners, power up a path, then down a hill which splits suddenly into a brief cycle path and footpath which didn’t have but often has broken glass, leaves, and overgrown hedges, then end up at another crossing at which I had to push the button and stop four thick lanes of angry, one-way traffic and endure the gaze of these four lanes of drivers, then join a marked cycle path, watch out for several intersecting roads and confusing traffic lights, until another crossing on to Queen’s Bridge. And there I was.
Higgledy-piggledy
The route did its work but made it very clear that it begrudged my presence, like a snooty waiter. And this is the main route for bikes from the East. The only other option is the ‘bus lane’ on the Albertbridge Road which is smooth, straight, and direct and where last week I was almost mowed down by a speeding motorcycle.
So higgledy-piggledy are the city’s cycle routes that they demand endless improvisation, adaption, and decision-making from the cyclist – the opposite, surely, of how moving people around a city should work. Nor what many people jump out of bed for in the morning.
Alone in Wonderland
But the cycling environment isn’t just hostile. It has a thick streak of Wonderland absurdity.
Cycle lanes become footpaths become roads become car parking become cycle lanes again. I might return home via Titanic Quarter, where the cycle route goes from the broad plaza in front of the Odyssey, to the footpath, to a crazy green path that crosses a junction and spits you back onto the footpath, then another bit of green, then a stretch of two-way, protected cycle lane which stops and then restarts slightly to the right. Surreal. How law and the rules of the road can be applied to this kind of infrastructure, I can’t imagine.
None of this would be so bad if you weren’t alone.
Very, very seldom, do I find myself cycling alongside anyone else, so few are the cyclists – even on cyclable routes like those along the river. The times this has happened have brought me pure joy, and somehow, made the pedalling easier. When I’m waiting at traffic lights and another cyclist is there, I feel an urge to say hello. I might even consider high fiving, or sharing tales and gripes, or exclaiming ‘what a thing to be a cyclist!’, and generally befriending them like a lunatic.
Cycling solves everything
It seems you need to be both adventurous and optimistic to be a cyclist in Belfast. I am neither. So why do I do it? Of course, because Cycling Solves Everything. And, paradoxically, because I arrive feeling better. That’s what cycling does. If I drive, I’ll turn up at work, not with endorphins, but sixteen Nolan Show-induced anxieties and a stiff back.
Let’s not forget aesthetics. Streams of bicycles look good! No one has ever sat on a bench or at a pavement table and wished there were more motor vehicles passing. But a load of people on bikes is eminently and mesmerizingly watchable.
Cycling, no doubt, is growing in Belfast. Some people don’t mind making these edgy, solitary journeys. (Though who would wish them for their kids?) But I struggle to get excited about announcements of new public hire bike stations, or cycle parking, when the thing that’s desperately needed are proper protected cycle lanes.
For now, cycling still feels depressingly radical, a little insane. If you come across me on a bike, do say hello.
David Mitchell 