It’s a Big Wheel in Cycling Circles

PORTLAND, Ore. — Hunched over his racing bike, David Russell flies down a paved path paralleling the majestic Columbia River, past houseboats and yachts and through a little Portland neighborhood that resembles a Cape Cod village.

Russell hangs a right onto a bike path that spills him onto a steel bridge spanning the Columbia, and then he zips into Vancouver, Wash.

No time today for coffee at the Vancouver cafe where local cyclists hang out. The real estate broker has a house to show and needs to get home. So he heads back to Portland, following the Washington side of the Columbia and recrossing the river on another bridge that takes him back into Oregon’s largest city.

If there is any city that can be called heaven for cyclists, it’s this metropolis sitting at the confluence of the Columbia and Willamette rivers and in the shadow of the Cascade Range.

“There’s nothing like being on a bike and covering ground with pretty scenery all around you,” said Russell, 59.

Portland’s 220 miles of bike boulevards, bike paths and bike lanes take commuters and casual cyclists through leafy neighborhoods, along the Columbia and across bridges spanning the Willamette.

Those same routes are used by more serious cyclists, like Russell, to access country roads that twist through some of the most stunning scenery at the doorstep of any American city--such as the Columbia River Gorge and the rugged Cascades.

Portland has been declared one of America’s best cities over the past few years by a number of publications, including Money magazine, which last year ranked it No. 1.

And now it’s been heralded as the best city for cycling by Bicycling magazine, a bible for two-wheeling enthusiasts.

The magazine cheered the city’s push to encourage cycling among Portland residents by investing money in a growing network of bike paths, resulting in easier cycling in the heart of the city. The city has had a master plan for building bikeways for the last five years.

Also lauded was Portland’s “urban-growth boundary,” an invisible line that protects rural land on Portland’s outskirts by making development off-limits outside of it. Areas outside the boundary are a favored cycling destination.

“You can point yourself in any direction and, within half an hour, be in the countryside,” said Dave Kelley, a 55-year-old member of the Portland Wheelmen Touring Club.

Portland is so pro-bicycle that city buses are equipped with bike carriers attached to their bumpers. And free maps of the city’s network of bike paths and lanes are mailed to anyone who asks.

Portland is also the birthplace of the founder of the Congressional Bicycle Caucus--Rep. Earl Blumenauer, a Democrat who rides a bike to his office in the nation’s capital each day. He doesn’t even have a car there.

Bicycling in Portland has grown substantially in the last 10 years, said Roger Geller, the city’s bicycle coordinator.

There are several riding clubs in the Portland area--for hard-core racers, mountain bike riders and recreational cyclists.

Cycling is also a big business in Portland. Bicycle shops have sprung up all around the city, selling everything from basic puddle-jumpers to $5,000 road racers made of space-age materials.

Quite possibly the most scenic bike path within Portland city limits is a long stretch following the Columbia River, along Marine Drive. Fishing boats bob in the water. Looming in the distance is 11,245-foot Mt. Hood.

If the city’s bike lanes are a symbol of Portland’s cycling spirit, so are the Portland Wheelmen.

Numbering about 800 members, the recreational club appeals to cyclists with fast road bikes who won’t be competing in the Tour de France any time soon, but view cycling as more than a casual hobby.

If you are driving along Marine Drive in a downpour and spot a cluster of cyclists, they are probably Wheelmen. Club members ride year-round, even during Oregon’s notoriously rainy winters.

Your typical Wheelman is a middle-age man who disappears from home for several hours during the day, owns at least three road bikes, salivates over new gear, has a fine eye for minuscule pieces of glass lying in the road and, if he fails to spot those pieces of glass, fixes the resulting flat with speed and a quiet forbearance.

Wheelmen are perpetual-motion machines. Once they get on a bike, it’s hard to get them off.

Russell has ridden 15,000 miles so far this year and is shooting for 20,000--more than many people put on their cars each year. He rode 92 miles in the rain on a recent Saturday, logged 90 more miles on Sunday and 90 more on Monday.

At 78, Paul Roscoe is one of the oldest members of the Wheelmen. He’s pedaled 96,000 miles during the 20 years he’s been with the club.

“I usually ride 150 miles during the week. I rode 50 today,” said Roscoe, a retired school principal who keeps four bikes at home.

Roscoe rode across the United States in 1986, has ridden in 10 foreign countries and last year biked from Brussels to Budapest--a distance of 1,240 miles.

But putting in monster mileage is not what the Wheelmen are really about. The true significance of the club is their tireless promoting of cycling in the Portland area.

They organize between 25 and 30 different rides each week, varying from 30 to 90 miles. There are at least two rides each day of the week.

Some of the rides are casual jaunts around town, usually including a coffee stop where novices and veterans can get to know each other. But the cyclists seem fondest of longer trips that get them out of the city and onto country roads.

Before each ride, men and women belonging to the club meet at one of their traditional gathering spots, such as a city park or the parking lot of a bus terminal.

They unload their sleek, lightweight bikes from their cars and trucks. If it’s raining, many will show up with their “rain bikes”--equipped with fenders to keep water from splashing onto their legs and backs.

Wearing cleated shoes that make them walk a little like ladies in high heels, the Wheelmen pump up their tires and cinch their aerodynamic helmets.

They take a few minutes to discuss their destination. It might be the towering waterfalls of the Columbia River Gorge. Or wine-growing country in the Willamette Valley. Or rural roads winding through backwoods over in Washington state.

Then they take off en masse--a long column of Day-Glo-colored jerseys and black Lycra pants coursing through Portland neighborhoods before heading into the countryside.