Today was a very good day, biking in perfect biking weather. Rode up to my former and still favorite neighborhood, the disgustingly charming Clarksville, pretty much just for the joy of riding. Had a light lunch of amazing corn chowder at Cipollina and picked up a few ingredients for King Ranch Chicken at the Fresh Plus, which is too cool for a website. It was there I spotted and said hello to one of my Texas literary-liberal heroes, Gary Cartwright, a close friend of the legendary late Governor Ann Richards. On the way back, I paused to listen to some guy playing the saxophone on the Pfluger Bridge. All told, about fifteen miles of meandering, no bus or car. Austin may not be the best city in the country for biking (although it kicks the rest of the state's ass), but biking is the best way to experience it.
Clarksville, also known as Old West Austin and Castle Hill, is living Austin history, in its people and environs. Houses date from 1880's limestone through Victorians to craftsman bungalows and a few remaining shotgun houses (now priced in the middle six figures). Oh, and a castle, from which the eastern portion gets the name Castle Hill. From the top of the hill you can see the Capitol or fireworks over Lady Bird Lake, or coast the eight blocks to the heart of downtown. In the heart of the neighborhood is a small-town Main Street (actually West Lynn) with a market (complete with butcher counter), drugstore with soda fountain, and several charming cafes and shops. The Shoal Creek Greenbelt borders this neighborhood and runs through Pease Park, site of Eeyore's Birthday Party. Sorry, I tend to lapse into docent mode from time to time.
Sadly, the rest of the week was car-bound. I keep meaning to bike the route to work on my day off, but - it's my day off, y'know? And nothing else of note is out that way (Creedmoor, anyone?). I did run one brief errand to the drug store a mile away Tuesday afternoon, a short trip that worked wonders on my mood. (The store remains anonymous due to its generic chainity, unlike Clarksville's longstanding and locally owned Nau's, pictured above.)
Whenever I bike into town, I feel like an exiled rebel sneaking across enemy lines. Like the love child of Col. Hogan and Capt. Mal Reynolds.
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