The Roads Less Traveled
Morning rush hour in Michigan's capital city is a relatively low-stress commute. But how different would the experience be with various modes of transportation? Five people from the Knight Center for Environmental Journalism found out in a race that put car, bus, bike, kayak and feet to the test.
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Race participants, from left to right: Jim Detjen, Knight Center director, on bike; Kristen Tuinstra, EJ editor, on foot; Corbin Sullivan by kayak; Alex Nixon by car; and Susana Guzman by bus. Photo by Barb Miller |
First place
Alex Nixon, car
Time: 14 minutes
Driving the four and a half miles from MSU to the Capitol, I knew I had the race in the bag; it wasn’t even competitive. But I figured on at least running into some traffic as I tried getting out of East Lansing on Grand River Avenue. I’m not awake for the morning rush hour too often, but in the afternoons and evenings, Grand River is packed with commuters and college students.
I had all three lanes to myself as I made the left onto Michigan Avenue and headed west, a straight shot to the Capitol. Six minutes after pulling away from the Administration Building, I was in Lansing, and the dome of the Capitol, lit by the brilliant morning sun, was coming into view.
Fourteen minutes after starting, I made the left off Michigan and onto Capital Avenue. Two minutes after that I had a parking space, fed the meter, and was standing in front of the statue of Austin Blair, the Michigan governor who guided the state through the Civil War.
I took up my waiting position looking east down Michigan Avenue and, in the shadow of several tall banks that obscured the sun, I paced to stay warm as arctic gusts threatened to deep-freeze me before the rest of the racers arrived. Behind me, workers in a pair of cherry pickers were stringing lights on a 50-foot tall Christmas tree.
Besides them and the occasional office worker hurrying by, the street was empty. It would be another 15 minutes before the next competitor showed, and at least an hour before I was drinking coffee and thawing my extremities.
Second place
Susana Guzman, bus
Time: 28 minutes
It would take me about half an hour to get to the Capitol and get, maybe, third place, I thought to myself. In the Lansing area, the buses are notorious for being late and inconvenient. I left the Administration Building at 9 a.m.
Standing at the intersection of Collingwood Street and Grand River Avenue I waited five minutes for the bus. Moments before I was to get on the bus, I realized that I did not bring a dollar bill for my fare. The driver might have change, I thought. With a five-dollar bill in my hand, I asked him for change and he told me that he did not have any. “What am I going to do?” I asked him. “I do not know,” he replied. Suddenly I recalled that I had some coins in my pocket. I barely had a dollar in quarters for the machine. The driver chatted with a man standing behind me while I dug for my bus fare.
I sat down at the front of the bus. When I looked up I discovered an electronic clock; it was 9:15 a.m. Sitting around me, there were about 10 people on the CATA route #1 bus, a clean ?and warm vehicle. Three of them were senior citizens. The one in front of me seemed to be alone and sleeping.
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Planning their routs the morning of the race are, from left, Alex Nixon, Corbin Sullivan, Susana Guzman and Jim Detjen, while Barb Miller looks on. Photo by Kristen Tuinstra |
Outside, the street was cleared of traffic and people. The route was simple. The bus runs Grand Avenue, then Michigan Avenue straight up to the downtown Lansing. At 9:14 a.m. the bus stopped by the Frandor shopping center, where a couple of people got on. The next stop, an old woman, while getting off the bus gently said, “Thanks,” to the driver. At 9:22 a.m. the bus stopped at Lansing Community College.
A few moments later, the bus turned right on Grand Avenue, leaving behind the Radisson Hotel; then turned left on Shiawassee. At 9:25 a.m. the bus turned left. I stood, looking through the window at the Capitol. I got off at the intersection of Ottawa and Grand River.
Alex was already at the Capitol. He had driven his Cherokee and made first place. With walking to the bus stop and waiting for the bus, it took me 28 minutes to reach the Capitol. With only two stops, no traffic and low occupancy it was a nice and relaxing experience to travel by bus from MSU’s campus to the Capitol.
Third place
Jim Detjen, bicycle
Time: 54 minutes
My trip on bicycle from the Administration Building to the State Capitol took 54 minutes. It would have been faster, if I hadn’t taken a wrong turn along the River Trail and hadn’t been almost run down twice by motorists who were oblivious to cyclists. The trip illustrated to me the need for additional directional signs for bicyclists and additional warning signs for motorists along the way.
When I started pedaling at 8:45 a.m. on Nov. 15, it was a beautiful, cool autumn morning. I rode slowly across the Red Cedar River and passed by the Breslin Center on my way towards the Lansing River Trail. My intent was to ride along the river trail, one of Mid-Michigan area’s best recreation paths, to downtown Lansing.
As I pedaled across campus, I watched squirrels scurrying along the river and students carrying books on their way to classes. The Red Cedar River flowed gently by with brown leaves floating on its surface.
My first surprise came at 8:49 a.m. as I started to cross Harrison Road. The green light indicated that I could cross the street but a motorist raced southward through the intersection, oblivious to either me or the red light. He sped through the red light, nearly colliding with me. Perhaps he was on his way to an early-morning class and was not quite awake. I slammed on my brakes and thankfully wasn’t hit.
I proceeded west along the river trail along Kalamazoo Street. A light snow had fallen the night before, making the trail slippery as I passed over bridges. At 9 a.m. I rode by the Best Steak House No. 16 and Sparty’s Night Club. I enjoyed watching mallard ducks swim in the river as I pedaled along, passing beneath a railroad bridge.
At 9:06 a.m. I came to a decision point along the bike trail. Which way should I turn? I searched for markers indicating the way towards downtown Lansing. I couldn’t find any and wound up going in the wrong direction. When the river trail ended at Aurelius Road, I knew I had taken the wrong turn.
But rather than turning around, I decided to proceed south on Aurelius and then turned west on Mt. Hope Avenue. I knew that the views wouldn’t be as scenic, but at least I was confident that I could find my way to the state Capitol.
At 9:16 a.m. I reached Pennsylvania Avenue and turned north at the Korner Kitchen Restaurant. I pedaled past the entrance to Potter Park Zoo and looked at the signs advertising the Wonderland of Lights holiday festival, beginning on Nov. 23.
At 9:22 a.m. I caught my first glimpse of the Capitol dome. But while riding along Pennsylvania I had my second encounter with an oblivious motorist. As I crossed under Route 496, a car sped through the intersection. I stomped on my brakes and avoided being struck. It was obvious that the driver had made no effort to look for bicyclists or pedestrians and was driving well above the speed limit.
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Jim Detjen's bicycled trip covered about six miles and took 54 minutes. Despite taking a wrong turn along the River Trail, Detjen still finished ahead of the walker and kayaker. Photo by Barb Miller |
I counted myself lucky and reached Michigan Avenue at 9:31 a.m. I headed west on Michigan and crossed the Grand River at 9:36 a.m. I could see steam rising from manhole covers along the chilly street.
At 9:39 a.m. I crossed Capitol Avenue and met my colleagues, Susana Guzman and Alex ?Nixon, who had already arrived. They clapped their approval and took photos. All in all, it was an enjoyable bike ride and a nice opportunity to get some exercise early in the day. Fortunately, I arrived safely and hadn’t been hit by a motorist.
Fourth place
Kristen Tuinstra, walking
time: 1 hour, 15 minutes
Usually when I drive down Michigan Avenue towards the Capitol, I’m singing along with songs on my radio and watching the cars stopping and speeding up in front of me. That morning, while walking, I noticed shops, businesses, and empty buildings I had never seen before. It was the coldest day in the fall so far, and I was ready to get moving to warm up my blood.
The first to leave from the administration building on campus at 8:45 a.m., I hiked across the grass and onto the sidewalk. Frost clung like super glue to the grass and tree branches, casting an almost surreal but magical outlined landscape. Passing the river about a half-mile from the starting point, I searched the Red Cedar for Corbin the kayaker, hoping he hadn’t capsized. I didn’t see him.
Taking my time, I took notes of my observations. I counted five car dealerships, five empty buildings and 14 buses along the roughly four miles of asphalt and pavement of Michigan Avenue. I was stopped by nine lights and passed 18 other pedestrians. A new flea market was about to open—I decided to visit the store soon. Times almost run over by a vehicle: twice. The first time was my fault; I crossed the street when it wasn’t my turn.
The second time, around 9:30, wasn’t my fault. Before I had reached halfway across a parking lot driveway in front of Sparrow Hospital, a lunatic driving an SUV turned left and into the driveway, missing my toes by three inches. I waved my fist at the driver as she zoomed by; to which she shrugged her shoulders as if that were an apology. A man, who had parked in the lot before the near-impact accident, said as he was getting out of his car, “Don’t you just love it when you’re a pedestrian and you’re almost run over by a crazy driver?”
To which I replied, dryly, “Yeah, but if she had hit me, I would’ve had you as a witness. I could’ve paid off my student loans because of her careless driving.”
It’s more dangerous than people think to be a pedestrian in populated areas and on busy streets. Arriving at the Capitol at 10 a.m., I was glad to be unwounded, and waited to see if Corbin would arrive dripping wet and smell like the Grand River.
Fifth place
Corbin Sullivan, kayak
Time: 1 hour, 55 minutes
I tried not to think of the inherent risks of the 28-degree morning temperature as I slid the kayak into the Red Cedar River. To be fair, I was armed with 50 cents for a phone call in the event that I would get stranded, so I set off with as much peace of mind as those 50 cents could afford me.
The notion of winning the race never really crossed my mind. I figured to be about four to five miles from the Capitol as the crow flies, and with the winding of the river, I would have been lucky to beat Kristen. Instead I paddled cautiously, watching the shoreline and humming an indiscernible tune.
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With such disparate travel times, some race participants spent a lot of time waiting at the Capitol. Expecting the arrival of kayaker Corbin Sullivan are, from left, Jim Detjen, Alex Nixon, Susana Guzman and Kristen Tuinstra. Photo by Barb Miller |
Plenty of students walked alongside the river and over footbridges as I passed, but not once did I catch a curious eye glancing my way. It was as if they chose to ignore that fact that the river actually existed. The wildlife along the banks of the Red Cedar more than made up for the lack of attention from passers by.
Muskrats, mallards, and the occasional goose noted my presence by fleeing, sometimes directly into my path. I would stop paddling as a pack of muskrats jumped from the shore and swam under the kayak, mostly because I was afraid I might incur the wrath of the little, brown, sharp-toothed beasties.
Aside from my irrational fears, the beginning of the trip was uneventful until I came upon the first and only rapids I was to encounter. I circled behind the rapids, trying to assess which angle to take, but looking back on it I was probably doomed in any circumstance. The time came to make an attempt, and as soon as the kayak’s nose tipped forward it had stopped, balancing precariously on a rock. I was caught in the middle of the river with only two options. Either climb out and give up with wet feet, or find a way off the rock. After about 15 minutes of consideration, I lunged with my body, tipping the kayak further forward and sliding down the remainder of the shallow rapids.
There were no more snares left along the river, just about an hour of constant paddling. The sun was shining brilliantly through the trees, warming me enough to allow my thoughts and eyes to wander.
While there was an abundance of wildlife in the remaining hour, it was the influence of the surrounding city that I noticed most. Four bikes, within feet of each other, lay barely visible in the river. Over 30 bridges spanned the Red Cedar from MSU to the Capitol. As I passed under a bridge under construction I saw the blinking yellow light of a construction barrier, and circled to find that the entire orange barrel was submerged.
Impatience set in as I moved further through Lansing, but eventually I found the Michigan Avenue intersection with the Grand River. I was on the home stretch, paddling upstream, so I dug in and sped through the waves, only slowing to talk to a fisherman who lamented the day’s catch.
I landed below a bridge, and ran up the wooden steps to street level. I was warm, safe, and more than accepting of a last place finish at 10:45 a.m.
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