After 17 years of battling ingrained New Hampshire prejudices, mores, intransigence, Scott Bogle, the director of Transportation Planning for Rockingham County, New Hampshire managed to open a rails to trails bike path from Hampton to Portsmouth and it has been a great joy, an anomaly and a threat to life and limb.
Of course, a public work like a rails to trails bike path met with the usual immovable object resistance and objections that meet all projects to improve community life in New Hampshire:
1. It will cost money.
2. It will cost money which means it will raise my taxes.
3. It will violate my property rights.
4. It will cost towns money to maintain the surface, which means it will raise property taxes, which, of course, are the only taxes in New Hampshire.
5. It hasn't been done before, which means it probably isn't a good thing.
6. And, did I mention: It will cost money? And that can't be good.
This is New Hampshire. We don't spend money here.
Scott managed to find federal dollars to buy the land, owned by a company called, of all things, "PanAm," and the rich men who owned the moldering, unused, over grown strip of land saw the possibility of a a windfall of cash, and did not want to sell if anybody actually wanted to use that land, but somehow, Scott managed to get the powers that be at the state government, the federal government to lean on the owners and construction began. And it wasn't just a matter of clearing away undergrowth, trees, railroad ties, rusted railroad tracks--there were huge pipes and drainage stuff to lay under the path and swamps and salt marshes and, in the end, it was the Seacoast's version of building the Panama Canal, minus the mosquitoes and Yellow Fever.
But Scott soldiered on, a sort of local Teddy Roosevelt without the wars, and he got the thing done.
And, once opened, it had this amazing result that people from Portsmouth traveled all the way to North Hampton, where they stopped near Joe's Meats for breakfast, or they continued on to the Airfield Cafe, and even to Bogies, all of which are along the path. Bogies opened a new deck on the bike path and Santiago's restaurant and the Blue Harbor Coffee cafe and Island Vibes smoothie emporium, and Stillwell's Ice Cream are all seeing more business.
There is an architecture firm at North Hampton, in an old railroad station building, with signs that say, "Private Property," and "No Trespassing" but the firm has not erected watchtowers with searchlights or razor wire.
The path is wide enough that people can bicycle side by side and talk as they go.
It's much safer than the roads where a bicycle path in New Hampshire is a strip of yellow paint. On the path, there are no cars or trucks, except at well marked crossings, which are few enough to count on both hands.
Which is not to say, there is no danger. The danger just comes from unexpected sources, and people feel so safe, they let their guards down.
There are warning signs to bicyclists that hunting along the path is legal and bikers ought to consider wearing bright orange for safety, because this is New Hampshire and the rights of two hunters shooting at a deer across the path outweigh the rights and safety of mothers and children on bicycles, because, you know, the Second Amendment. This is, New Hampshire, after all, where there are only eight roads you cannot shoot your gun across: and these are mostly huge roads like Route 95, which a hunter would likely have trouble even spotting a deer on the other side.
But the hunters are likely not the main source of risk to bicyclists along the Scott Bogle Bike Trail and Recreation Thing.
The inner city may have its gang violence, and rural folk deal with the murderous culture of men with guns who like to kill mammals, but along the seacoast there is nothing more lethal than ten year old boys on bicycles, especially motorized (electric or otherwise) bicycles.
There are many entrances to the bike path, but the one Mad Dog prefers is the path which allows him to avoid riding along the killing zone of Route 27, where pick up trucks, 18 wheel rigs, none traveling less than 45 MPH along the two lane road, do not share the road with anyone on a bicycle. You can enter the path off a neighborhood street, which winds through the woods behind houses, and weaves its circuitous path along blind curves down to the bike path proper.
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| strolling along the bike path |
You have to keep your eyes on the path for roots and rocks and sudden jogs and turns, but if you do this you may miss the 10 year old boy pedaling hard, head down, coming in your direction. And unlike silver back gorillas coming along a trail in the forest, the 10 year old boy is not about to give way to the bigger, older person on bike.
When the boy is on a gasoline powered bicycle, you can hear him coming before he runs you off the trail, but if he is on an electric bike, going 25 MPH, you cannot hear him; you get no warning; you are dead meat.
It's really amazing how fast 25 MPH is. In your car, driving down High Street past the schools in the school zone, it feels as if you have re-entered the earth's atmosphere on your descent from outer space: it's agonizingly slow, but on a bicycle 25 MPH is lightning, if not warp speed.
When automobiles first hit the roads, a roadster going 25 MPH was considered a racing vehicle. When automobiles got roads and widespread use in the early 1900's speed limits were 15 MPH and 25 MPH was considered high speed transport.
In Hampton, there is nothing more lethal than a 10 year old boy on a bicycle.
Well, except for any adult behind the wheel of an automobile.
But on the path, you put a 50 year old woman on a bicycle, trying to use the same path as the 10 year old and call the funeral parlor.
Or, put that woman on her bicycle, trying to keep up with her 6 year old grand daughter on training wheels and her 24 year old son, carrying his 3 year old daughter between his handlebars on one of those rider seats, and you've got potential for a disaster drill at Exeter or Portsmouth Hospitals.
Mad Dog has spoken before the Hampton Select Board about this new Silk Road, but, of course, the members of the Select Board simply sat there, mouths agape, as if Mad Dog was talking about some UFO's which he claimed had landed on his front lawn, thus diminishing his property values. They stared at him and said not one word.
They may have been waiting for him to get to the "this will raise my property taxes," or the "this violates my property rights."
But that's local government in Hampton. Elected officials do not do "Back and Forth" in Hampton. Citizens speak to the Select Board with much the same expectations they pray to their God or gods, with no expectation of an answer.
There have been two deaths in Hampton of children on electric bicycles.
None on the bike path.
Yet.
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