The Cyclist and the Roundabout

Though not nearly as widespread as in the UK, roundabouts - also known as rotaries and traffic circles - are fairly common back in New England, particularly in the sort of areas that brevets and similar rides tend to take us through. Personally, I don't know anyone in the US - be they cyclist or driver - who actually likes roundabouts, and I am no exception. Over the years my attitude toward them has transitioned from one of pure terror to one of a more manageable, subdued loathing. There are right of way rules to navigating them, but somehow the traffic flow ends up being chaotic despite those rules. Drivers don't always yield to other vehicles correctly, and bikes they sometimes outright ignore. As a cyclist, you can end up waiting your turn forever despite having the right of way. Or worse yet, a driver's failure to yield once you're already moving through the circle can result in a close call or collision. 

Now cycling in Northern Ireland, my relationship with roundabouts has moved to an entirely new, downright intimate level. On the North Coast they are everywhere, often used in leu of traffic lights, and I go through at least one - but more typically anywhere between three and six - every day. There are large roundabouts the size of parks. There are smaller ones that might display a modern sculpture or two. And there are tiny ones that are just painted circles on tarmac, easy to miss. There are urban roundabouts through which cars move at a crawl. And there are rural ones, through which lorries fly at top speed. 

Most impressive of all are the roundabouts situated along steep hills. One such stunner is just outside of Limavady town, approaching the village of Aghanloo. When I first saw this thing appear in front of me, my jaw dropped. When approached from one direction, this roundabout requires being ready to yield or stop while climbing a 10% grade, from another direction while descending the same. And to be clear, the hill does not start or end with the roundabout; the intersection is half way through the climb. For a cyclist this can be rather ...interesting, requiring precise control of one's bike and brakes.

But one thing I realised about the roundabouts in Northern Ireland over time, is that they are predictable: There is no chaos or confusion, as everyone actually follows the right of way rules. Traveling on the left side of the road, you yield to traffic approaching from the right, and in the same manner other traffic yields to you. Unlike in New England, drivers do actually yield when it is another vehicle's turn - even if that other vehicle is a bike! It took me some time to trust in this, but once I started to all the stress from navigating the roundabouts was removed. When it's my turn, I go and when it's not, I stop: easy, and, admittedly, more efficient than a traffic light. I like it!

What has been your experience with roundabouts as a cyclist in the area where you live?

Sharing the Road: Notes from Rural Northern Ireland

Traffic is different here. I have shared the country roads with everyone and everything - from cars to oversized trucks, to tractors, horses, cows, other cyclists, runners and pedestrians. Some go very fast, some go very slow, some go somewhere in between. Many of the roads are narrow, winding, with no shoulders - oftentimes with barely room for a full sized lane in each direction. Situations frequently arise when travelers are in each other's way. An old truck putters along below the speed limit. A herd of cows is moved from one pasture to another. A jogger runs wearing earphones. A cyclist takes the lane on a winding descent. A pony and trap race is in progress on a Sunday afternoon. At the same time, the roads are teeming with fast sports cars, long distance lorries, and sedans full of people rushing to and from work in one of the industrial parks or factories nearby. With the limited space, this mix sounds like a recipe for disaster - or at least regular incidents of road rage. But I have seen no signs of that yet. On the contrary, road users across the spectrum are eerily patient and courteous. 

I noticed it at first as a cyclist. Out on my bike every day, and sometimes at peak commuting times, I am never made to feel as if my presence on the roads is inconveniencing anyone - even though technically, sometimes it is. But if I am in the way, drivers will simply pass me, or wait until they can. They genuinely don't seem bothered. Sometimes a driver will wave as they pass - not in a hyper-friendly sort of way, but more like in casual acknowledgement of my presence. 

Riding as a passenger in a car with locals offered a glimpse of the driver's perspective. Whenever we had to slow down for another road user, that was exactly what the driver did - without altering his emotional state or breaking stride in the conversation we were all having inside the car. There was no impatience, no eye-rolling, no "Jeez, what's this guy doing stopped in the middle of the road?" on the driver's or other passengers' part. Put simply, they did not seem to process slower road users as inconveniences or obstacles. 

It would be tempting to explain this attitude as country manners or something specific to "Irishness" - except being here in the midst of it, that doesn't feel like it. The attitude is more matter of fact than friendly or polite. There seems to be a system in place that road users implicitly acknowledge being a part of. Cooperation is necessary for the system to work, and everyone understands that. 

Is this system really so different from what goes on in congested cities and chaotic suburbs? In some ways yes, but in other ways not so much. I am not sure whether planners interested in road sharing dynamics ever look at areas like this one for ideas. But I propose they should; it might yield some unexpected insights.