So, after a couple of days settling into my new flat in London, it rapidly became time to work out my journey to work. It was time to address the fear that had occupied the back of my mind ever since accepting a job in London: the morning commute on the tube.

Of course I’d used the tube before. I was familiar with all the classic unwritten rules: stand on the right, don’t clog up entrances/exits, let old people have a seat, invade people’s person space, etc. What I wasn’t quite ready for was rising to the challenge that the picture (below) aptly illustrates.

On my first day of work I started at 12pm so boarded a relatively empty Northern Line tube, breezing along and thinking “this is easy!”. All that was to change the following day.

Tuesday I was in at a more normal time, and found myself waiting on the platform at 9am with a bunch of other grey-faced commuters. One thing that’s not exclusive to London commuting is the unfailing way that every passenger glumly stares at their shoes, or keep their eyes fixed on the nearest wall or surface, willing themselves not to make eye contact with strangers and definitely not to smile. There’s exceptions to every rule, of course, but there were none today.

A rumble, and the train arrived. I was greeted with the sight I had wanted to avoid: a packed, sardine-like tube pulling into the station, squeezed with commuters.

“What’s the protocol here?” I wondered. Was there some kind of unspoken queue in place, like at the Post Office or supermarket? Would I be risking cutting in on someone who’d been there for ages and earning the silent wrath of my fellow passengers?

While I stood there pondering this and other issues, my dilemma was swiftly solved as the more mercenary commuters quickly filled the flimsy gaps in the bunch of bodies, and the doors squeezed shut as the train departed. That was that. I stood around with other the failed boarders, feeling slightly deflated like I’d just came last in a Mario Kart tournament, or was picked last for the football team.

Minutes later another train pulled up and this time I was ready, stepping quickly onboard and squeezing myself into the armpit of a particularly fragrant traveller. This was going to be a long week.

After 5 days of tube commuting I knew that I couldn’t keep it up. While it wasn’t too expensive (only £1 more per week than my bus ticket in Leeds used to cost) and the journey was fairly fast (30 minutes door to door), I was finding it stifling and stuffy, arriving at work or at home ready to go back to bed again.

It was time to pull out my bike, my trusty steed in times of need, and upon which I used to commute 10 miles a day on in Leeds. This time though I needed to exercise security. London traffic has a reputation all of its own and I was a little nervous of stepping right into it.

I decided to take a practice ride to work on Sunday, just to figure out the route and see how it felt to ride. I needn’t have worried. The roads were fairly quiet and all had dedicated bike lanes, and seeing the city on a bike felt so much more right. Several times I had to force myself to concentrate as I realised “so that’s where that is” or “I can’t believe this is only 5 minutes’ ride from the flat”, compared to my blind ignorance when squeezed into the tube.

Besides managing to get a puncture on my test ride and having to phone my girlfriend for money (I forgot my wallet) in a thankfully-nearby bike shop, the journey was fine and took me about 18 minutes to cover the 4 miles, much quicker than the tube, not to mention cheaper.

Riding on a Monday morning was slightly different, though. For one, I felt like a rider in the Tour de France. So many cyclists! At one point there were over 8 of us occupying almost the width of an entire lane together. I’ve never felt so empowered on two wheels before. Traffic was busy but manageable and the exhilaration of riding over the Thames with the wind in my hair was awesome, as cheesy as it sounds.

It wasn’t all fun and games though – I arrived at work to find that my bike wouldn’t stay upright when stood in the strange vertical bike racks. It seemed that it was too heavy at the back due to my panniers. I locked it up stood horizontally and gave it no further thought. Later that day when I came to get my lunchbox from my saddlebags I spotted a piece of paper stuck to my bike.

Some friendly fellow employee had written:

FIRST PRIZE FOR MOST THOUGHTLESS BIT OF PARKING!!

I felt a bit upset but found a pen and added a little note clarifying that a) my bike wouldn’t stand up in the stands and b) it was my first day riding to work and thanks for the friendly welcome.

So what’s the lesson from all of this? Let’s have a list:

• The tube’s not bad, but it quickly sucks the life out of your mornings/evenings
• Cycling in London isn’t as intimidating as it might seem, but still needs to be approached with confidence and carefulness
• Passive-aggressive notes aside, locking your bike up at work is serious business

So endeth the sermon.

Tags: bikes, commuting, tube

This entry was posted on Monday, August 9th, 2010 at 9:08 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.