Green Way

Any city dweller expects something special when they hear the word green way or green belt. There's the small promise that the city hasn't swallowed our animal selves whole. Maybe we'll have the chance to pause for rustle, smell the trees or see a glint in the creek.

Medford has the Bear Creek Green Way which has been a work in progress since the early 70's. It runs more or less along Bear Creek from Ashland through Medford. Oh, and along I-5 as well. The run isn't pristine by any measure. It's been called one long campground for the homeless, among other things. I've found that to be accurate enough not to quibble.

When a friend recently visited, I suggest that she not wander alone in this stretch. I hate that. I hate saying stay away, not safe, when the path should be a community jewel instead of a halfway house. Still the right call, I think. For me as well as her.

My experience along the green way so far is what I expected. I feel safe enough on my bike and whenever I stop, the others stopped are usually those folks seen as the problem, the folks that are just hanging on. Today, I talked with a couple of guys as we watched the ducks dipping for, uh, duck food in a big rough pond.

Gary's bike was acting up again and Phil was happy that he was able to find an pint of an elusive very cheap kind of beer. Each had stories of getting knocked off their bikes and ending up in trouble. Gary was cited after he was hit and hospitalized for going 5mph in a 3mph zone. No kidding. Phil said that the hardest thing about relying on the bicycle for transportation was that there were stretches where only I-5 was a good way to go. He extended the opinion that truckers really didn't like bikes on the highway.

Both of these guys fit under the general heading of the underclass that's robbing Medford of its greenway. I had a hard time thinking that way. Both worked when they could find a way to the site. Otherwise, they collected cans which usually were transformed into food and beer. The green way was convenient for them, central and safer than the streets. Today was a good day in the valley- you could almost spot Spring in the mountains.

As much as I'd like to launch an impassioned defense of or attack on something here, I find myself thinking about something simple instead. What would I do if I were these guys? I'm lucky in spades compared to these two. Gary's eyes just glazed over when he found out that I sit in front of a computer to make a living. Way beyond him, he said. Phil, an Indian, talked a bit about meeting an Indian brother once who lived like an Indian, on a reservation. That was just as foreign and impossible to him as the computer was to Gary.

No answers here. I thanked them for the company and took off back down the Green Way. The little hut overlooking the pond was soaked by the golden hour. They fired up their beers and enjoyed watching the ducks swim in lazy circles.