When I arrived at the CM/FNB gathering, not a huge mass, but definitely a substantial collection of cyclists had turned up for the ride. And in usual form, the PPD massed their own numbers, a few dozen officers in squad cars, on motorbikes and bicycles, mostly in the adjacent parking lot, but also interspersed throughout the park blocks.
I heard a hard count of 160 riders was made as we were first leaving the park blocks, a decent mass I thought, even with a chill in the air that I hadn’t expected and residual moisture on the roads, this looked to be a pleasant ride. The atmosphere had been mellow when we were waiting to depart— however, as soon as we took to the streets the police force descended as if we were a threat to national security itself. Showing its propensity for the excessive the PPD sent a fleet of bicycle cops, and double those numbers of moto-cops to “escort” the mass, wherever it might meander. We circled the park blocks, then took it to Broadway, our first mistake. The PPD motorbike officers stuck to us like glue, as the bicycle-cops peeled away due to the increasing traffic.
The intense enforcement of the bike lane laws hindered our ability to stay as one, meaningful mass. We were squeezed onto the side of the busy street, the group snaked slowly down a five foot wide path, amid a dense crowd of bikes with over-zealous cops on one side, and parked cars on the other. After we went south on Broadway for a protracted amount of time. The group went down more than a few different roads with bike lanes or train tracks. Understandably frustrated, some people started to call for the splitting up of the mass, to thin out police presence, I assume. And although we have done this at some of our smaller masses, split up and recollect somewhere new, people didn’t seem to care weather we met back up or not. So the mass split up into a couple different groups, and wondered through downtown for a relatively short time, harassed by police the whole way.
Unfortunately for one of the factions, the police presence wasn’t split proportionally to the different masses. My group got lucky, as we were the first to leave downtown and cross the Hawthorn, a considerable number of our police entourage faded back into downtown, presumably to meet up with the latter half of the mass, as we were making our way east. I heard that the second mass that was 15 min or so behind us caught the brunt of the ticketing, as we had had none, and our police escort was actually quite courteous. I included a picture of this the lead officer, we’ve seen him before, he’s usually at the front of the mass. I’ve never asked his name, but I know his face, a few of us CM regulars know and like this particular moto-cop. He jokes with us and often chuckles at our antics, and those of our pedestrian and vehicular supporters and/or hecklers. I made a point to tell him on this particular ride that I appreciated his demeanor towards our group and that if the powers that be insist on police following our ride (which is bullshit), at least with officers like him it wasn’t so bad. All he said in response was “hey, as long as you guys follow the rules…”, typical indifferent cop response.
We reached the east side of the Hawthorn Bridge, the PPD was down to just a handful of Moto-cops, including our kindly officer. Another bike lane temporarily stretched us out, but a dearth of stoplights kept our small group together and we made our way up the Hawthorn hill. We eventually topped the incline and passed the Clydesdales on thirtieth, but we happened by before they were en-route, so we were not held up as the second mass was.
The modest mass cruised down the main drag with lots of pro-CM gestures along the way. Inevitably to thirty-ninth, where more well-wishers stood in front of Smokin’ Glass, cheering us on as we waited to turn north onto thirty-ninth, one young woman approached us with a large bag of bagels, the gesture was greatly appreciated (see pictures). A random bag of leftover, possibly dumstered, bagels and a pack semi-tired bikers is a match to perfect for words. Short of getting other bikers we encounter on the road to join us on our ride, her gift to us was the biggest good-natured gesture I’ve seen thus far from the general public towards CM. Not to say we don’t love all the thumbs up and cheers we get from pedestrian and car driver alike, you supporters more than make up for the jeers we get. Actually jeers only strengthen our resolve, when a person on the street makes a negative comment to us, it’s almost never based on any kind of intelligent thought. It’s usually “get a job!” or the more common “get the fuck off the road”. Always spiced up with a variety of additional expletives mind you, our street side critics make inane comments usually after we’ve passed them by, rarely before. And it’s how we stay in good spirits throughout a ride, the dolts that yell at us are our entertainment, they are the fodder for our jokes.
We peddled up thirty-ninth, and learning from past experience we were aware of the no-left-turn sign which hangs at the intersection of 39th and Belmont, we took a left and cut onto a street two blocks south Belmont, and followed it until 37th or 36th, where we took a right. We didn’t have an exact plan, only that we wanted to end the mass at the Filmed By Bike- short film showing, which was in north-east Portland, that’s all we had, just go north and east. When we came up to Belmont, those at the head of the mass and I had a brief strategic meeting. Lauralhurst Park was within view, and we still had our tag alongs, would they traverse the pedestrian and NON-MOTERIZED VEHICLE pathways of one of Portland’s lovely parks? The answer, not surprisingly, was yes, and the pictures are here to prove it. Our jovial, lead Moto-cop laughed at the sight of it, as we zigzagged our way down the smooth paths of Lauralhurst with police on motorcycles en tail startling dogs and bewildering park patrons.
Exiting at the east side of the park we turned north and traversed a while the pleasant neighborhoods of the southeast, eventually leading ending up on Burnside. We followed the road east-bound until we encountered the dreaded intersection of Burnside, Sandy and 12th and wanting to avoid the fiasco, we took a right-hand turn, onto a street I personally had never been on. In front of us appeared to a dead end, but as we got closer to this perceived end, we saw that it was a small grass embankment, on top of which, almost totally obscured from view on approach, was the Benson High School was track and sports field. We instantly saw a golden opportunity, we reached the three of four foot embankment and some rode, some walked up it. The track wasn’t in use, probably because of budget cuts, but a baseball game was underway on one end of the field. The adults present looked at us mostly with puzzlement, those who did scowl, including a man who appeared to be the principal, showed maturity in front the kids, and held their tongues. The game came to a standstill, the players looked on curiously as we rounded the track. The mass was re-energized as we saw the cops’, unable and unwilling to ascend the dirt and grass embankment, scramble to the other side of the school in an attempt to head us off. We saw which exit they had chosen, and we took an alley on the opposite side of the campus, which lead, rather covertly, to 12th st. But without fail the police were again with us as we continued north to the bike film-fest. We cut through the buildings where 12th st. comes to an end, and crossed the max tracks and into the park across the street from Lloyd Center. The officers with us on this day were persistent bastards, I’ll give them that, they drove threw this park as well.
The mass of just fewer than twenty, headed down Multnomah with little event. We were almost to Grand Ave when the mass was temporarily thinned out the presence of a bike lane, so those of us in the lead pulled over to wait for those in the rear, and into a mostly empty pay-parking lot. We took a pit stop here, one of our fellow riders had broken his chain, we had decided to wait for him, the police vigilantly waited on the periphery of the parking area. And when our friend had mended his bike we set off, northbound on Grand. This is when we lose our ¼ ton counterparts altogether. As we pulled out of the parking lot, to our surprise and delight the police who had been lying in wait near the exit, didn’t immediately follow us, then we saw then simply pack up and go home. We were cop-less from here on out, which lead to us taking both lanes up MLK until we had reached Alberta. Some drivers didn’t appreciate our rebellious sentiment, one forced his obscenely colored SUV through the crowd. And after he had bore his way through our mass he slammed on his brakes and got out of his vehicle, some choice words were exchanged on both sides, but as quickly as it began, our street debate was abruptly ended when the mans SUV began to roll away. (Also pictured)
The mass entered the neighborhoods, and we wondered through them until we had sifted through all the conflicting directions being given, as to the location of our given destination, and we found the Bike Film fest.
Bike powered smoothies, good brownies and cookies, and hilarious bike-centric film shorts were our dessert after a good day of befuddling the PPD. A big thanks to shift for putting that on, a good time was had by all. But just when we thought the night was over, twenty or so we re-massed after the films and did an all to uncommon late-night-ride, with our final destination a kick ass little shindig. We partied it up with fellow bikers until the wee hours of the morning. It was one of the best days of riding with cycling comrades I’ve ever had. The initial had police presence only inspired creativity in our stratagems. I do feel bad that the second mass was less fortunate in their overall experience. I can only suggest that if you don’t like what’s happening to your ride, do something to redirect it, take the initiative. CM is a leaderless happening, but it does need riders to be assertive and intelligently direct it. And that’s not to say that they weren’t, the police are harsh sometimes. But you can annoy the cops into submission, evade them enough times and they will tire. We’ve successfully done so on two recent occasions, prior to this one. Do what you have to do to escape their clutches and just think of it as a game of city-wide hide and seek, because lets not forget the main reasons any of us rides, beside the protest of cars, we ride because CM is just so damn fun! Don’t ever let the police ticket, harass or overtly intimidate you out of coming to Critical Mass. Don’t let them win. All the threats that police dole out to the riders are mostly hot air. And if they do actually give you a ticket, just take it and grin, contest it in court and you’ll most likely get it dropped, do to the fact that police often don’t even turn in the citations given out during a mass.

Great ride all, I had a blast, here are the pictures from the ride, start to finish.