Editor's Letter with Joel Patenaude
When bicyclists and rural residents collide As a kid growing up in the small town of Mount Horeb, Wisconsin, I recall many summer weekends enviously watching large groups of colorfully clad bicycle
riders zipping around our family's corner lot. Not until my avid bike-riding father deemed me old enough to pedal out of his sight did I discover the nearby hills that drew those serious riders. But in 1980, when an Olympic qualifying road race was held near my home, I was only 10 and still oblivious to why my greater backyard was so attractive to the sport.
I was slow to realize just what a biking paradise western Dane County is. I took for granted the character-building climb to Blue
Mounds State Park, the sweeping descents into the pastoral valleys and the tight corners on the roads snaking over and around the wooded bluffs. Yet 25 years ago, the bicycling bounty that surrounded me was already widely known and attracting folks from far and wide.
Realizing this now, I'm not surprised to hear of other residents near my boyhood home humbled by the influx of bicycle riders. And I can see how droves of bicyclists might annoy, inconvenience or scare people as they fly by.
It is probably inevitable that bicyclists and rural residents will collide, if not literally, over their love for the same landscape.
The collision causing no injuries outside a few bruised egos occurred at a crowded Vermont Town Board meeting on July 12. The predictable yet heated exchange rightfully took place at the town hall, a nondescript building that sits at the midpoint of County Trunk JJ a narrow, winding and hilly country road typical of what bicyclists find so thrilling about
the area. Much less thrilling was the discussion of possibly curtailing bikers' rights to ride the roads, especially en masse, because of a few close calls. During a recent bike race, one man said he rounded a corner in his truck just as a race participant lost control of her bike, crossed into his lane and slipped under his stopped vehicle. Fortunately, the woman was not seriously injured. On another occasion, a group of 60 or more riders blocked the passage of an ambulance responding to an
emergency. Deputies concluded that attempting to stop the riders might have caused many to crash, so the ambulance was directed to wait.
Amidst the exasperation expressed by residents and the defensiveness from the cyclists spilling out into the hall, many people at the meeting tried to bridge the gap. Bicyclist Steve Silverberg asked for the community's understanding. "We're just out here to share your sunshine, greenery and then we're gone," he told the residents in the room.
"The last thing any of us want is to get anyone hurt."
While hundreds of riders leave the area after a big event, Black Earth resident and avid bicyclist Gaila Olsen stays behind. She said her neighbors have described near misses and encounters with discourteous and reckless bike riders. She and her husband make a point of always riding single file so as not to impede traffic. And 15 years after moving to Black Earth, Olsen said, "this is still Valhala for biking."
But the town hall discussion was prompted by frightened and fed-up residents who have found themselves on the flight path of several increasingly popular races and rides. This year the western end of the county has already seen the National Collegiate Championship Criterium (May 21-23) and the Horribly Hilly Hundreds Challenge Ride (June 12). Still to come is the Wright Stuff Century Ride (September 5) and Ironman Wisconsin (September 12). Training and group rides, such as those organized by
the Madison-based Bombay Bicycle Club, frequently take to the hills of the towns of Vermont, Black Earth, Berry, Mazomanie, Cross Plains and Mount Horeb throughout the spring, summer and fall.
The second annual Horribly Hilly ride, which attracted 750 riders, seemed to be the tipping point. The event prompted a few area residents to write letters to their weekly newspapers saying the large rides inconvenienced them and raised liability concerns. Event organizer Karl Heil said he's willing
to broaden the waiver which participants sign so as to protect more bystanders from being sued because of an accident.
In a widely distributed e-mail to local and state officials, Black Earth village president Jeanne Poast suggested the state require bicycles to have license plates so that riders who break traffic laws can be reported to the sheriff's office. But Dane County Sheriff's Capt. M. Tanya Molony said her department gets far more complaints about reckless motorists, and there
aren't enough deputies to respond to those calls.
Speaking as "a local boy," I think there will always be a few two-wheeled interlopers acting discourteously and contributing to unsafe situations. On the other hand, I've been biking when motorists swerved at me and flipped me off for no reason. And although I would never so intentionally frighten or endanger another cyclist, I recall that as a teenager with a newly minted driver's license, I whipped around many blind corners on
township roads in Dane County at unsafe speeds.
Most of us are grown-ups now, and we ought to act like it. There will only be more people discovering the great bike riding this corner of the state has to offer. And only more people will choose to live along our favorite routes. So we must travel safely and look out for each other or this area will become know for conflict and tragedy rather than for its natural beauty and challenging terrain.
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