Recap of my first Critical Mass
On Saturday, 26th of July, I participated in the Edinburgh Critical Mass. Ironically, on my way to the starting point, the Meadows, I was shouted at by a car driver, get out of the road,
while I was literally getting out of the road.
Two seconds later, I found myself in a big group of people who are standing by on their bicycles. It felt solar punk or Dutch, maybe, though I’ve never been to Netherlands. This was my first Critical Mass and my first time being in such a large and diverse group of cyclists.
Some years ago, I lived on the 6th floor by a nice leisurely bike path. Every weekend of good weather, I used to look out to count the cyclists in cycling packs. Sometimes they were a few dozens strong but each cyclist looked practically the same from distance with the same kind of one-inch-thin bicycles and serious gears.
On the other hand, during the Critical Mass, I was too entertained to count the numbers. I got to admire a chill recumbent cyclist and an impressive fixie rider who were able to cruise safely with others while on one wheel. One person was sitting comfortably in a spacious passenger truck hauled by their company’s cargo bike. Some bikes were equipped with pannier bags and heavy-duty touring racks and some were foldable. Most cyclists were in casual attire while some wore form-fitting gears.
One person was particularly memorable: a competent cyclist who seemed eight-ish of age. While filtering nimbly through other cyclists, they asked their adult if they could stop at Fountain Park cinema. Right then, something hit my brain: An image of a parallel Edinburgh where energetic 8-year-olds cycle around as nimbly as they’d like anywhere without risking a car crash.
In our real world, children are often confined in small parking spaces in their neighbourhood. Even in that tiny space, they need to watch out for incoming cars. If residents owned more bicycles and less cars, there might be enough room for children to cycle beyond circling the same spot. Maybe I, too, will have more reasons to play outside because my back yard would face a green space instead of parked cars.
Maybe that was a bit too radical of an imagination. What about this: with a lot more cyclists, I’d rarely be the only cyclist on any major road. If there are cars, so will be bicycles. It’ll be more difficult for angry folks to yell at me because there would be just too many cyclists to yell at.
After the ride, I checked my fitness app to find out the ride was at 8 km/h pace. I had considered myself to be a chill, unhurried, slow cyclist—the kind always takes a moment to enjoy the breeze and clouds. I also rode defensively and stuff and often stopped to snap a pic of the scenery. Then, my average speed was somewhere from 15 to 23 km/h.
I realised I’d mistaken the idea of myself for the reality. I wasn’t that fast, sure, but I was always rushing. Not because I chose to, but because my survival instinct kicked in. Finally, surrounded by other cyclists, I truly slow-cycled at the pace I preferred. I thoroughly enjoyed that.
Many Critical Mass riders chat with friends and acquaintances. The conversation rarely extended to strangers (this is a good thing for introverts) but with a lane full of chatting cyclists, the road felt more convivial and lively than ever. What a nice vibe that matches this beautiful city of Edinburgh! I’m not an cycle activist or even someone who identifies as a cyclist. I think Critical Mass would be an amazing experience for anyone who’s ever enjoyed riding a bicycle.