When we build cycle paths, the cyclists will come

A Netherlands ex-pat writes:
When I first moved to the UK from Holland almost eighteen years ago, someone told me I had to use the bus lane as a cyclist - I laughed. Then I realised they were serious.

I know I'm spoilt. I grew up in a country where there are more bikes than people. Where cycling is part of the national psyche and where the cycling infrastructure is the envy of the world. But it wasn't always that way. In the 1960s and 1970s, increasing numbers of road fatalities led to civil activist campaigns with titles like 'Stop Child Murder'. Coupled with the 1973 oil crisis and car-free Sundays, these campaigns gradually fed the political will that led to far-reaching improvements in cycling infrastructure over several decades.

Although in Holland bikes were never truly marginalised, the improved infrastructure had a massive impact on cycling uptake. It is now an every-day mode of transportation for people of all ages, carried out in normal clothing on bikes that are functional and often laden with shopping and children. Virtually every motorist is also a cyclist, and knows how to look out for them. And thanks to well-designed, segregated lanes that are still integrated as part of the wider transportation infrastructure, it is safe.

[a] combination of segregation and integration is key. Where I live in Edinburgh, a network of old railway lines was converted to shared cycling and pedestrian paths some years ago. Although in theory that sounds lovely (and certainly has its advantages) there are several issues. First of all, and especially in times of social distancing, there is simply not enough space for both pedestrians and cyclists to maintain their distance. This is not helped by the inherent speed differential between people on foot and people on wheels, and causes a lot of frustration. Secondly, the network is limited and doesn't go near the centre of town where most people work, nor does it really link up with other cycle paths. This means its functional use is limited.

But finally, and often overlooked, is the fact that most women simply don't feel safe at night on cycle paths that are secluded and separated from other roads and houses. Essentially, this type of provision excludes half of the population for significant parts of the day. To me it is absolutely key that cycling infrastructure is accessible and safe for all to use. We should therefore be aiming for a true network of segregated cycling lanes that exist alongside other forms of transport, linking up places where people actually want to go.

In Holland, it took two crises (oil and road deaths) for the political will to emerge to deliver systemic improvements. Perhaps today's equivalent, the perfect storm of global pandemic and climate emergency, will finally wake up those in charge of transport infrastructure across our local and national governments and help deliver the change we need. When we build cycle paths, the cyclists will come.

To repeat the message from an earlier post:

The boom in cycling shows that folk are taking matters in their own hands (or feet). Those continental nations which incorporated cycle lanes into the reconstruction of their cities after the world war have been shown to be more far-sighted than they knew. Those of us who are less mobile than we used to be bemoan the fact that our local authorities (with honourable exceptions, like the New Towns) went the other way, as we dodge squads of young people on bikes on already too-narrow footways. It is ironic that the cycle-lane-to-nowhere outside Port Talbot Parkway station was not extended, but removed as part of the piazza project just before the Covid-19 lock-down hit.