But there is a problem. At some point, as shown, you have to cross from the south-bound cycle lane on the west side of the street (the cycle lane itself only appears a few hundred meters north of the problem spot), to the off-street multi-use lane in the park on the east side of the street. I've circled it on the map, here:
Here is a view on the street, with the red mark indicating what I'm trying to do:
In rush-hour traffic, with high volumes of over-speed cars, it's a lot harder than it looks.
There's another issue. This is the profile of the route I've been taking:
It's a great, scenic ride, but I'm no longer the 32-year-old who last commuted that way. I can already sense the cumulative strain building in my knees and hips. I'd prefer something that stretches out all that climbing.
If I choose the following candidate route, three things happen. I remove the dangerous spot; I shorten my route by 2km; and I make that slope much more gentle. Here's the route:
Here's the profile (ignoring the two false down-up chevrons where my route crosses a bridge rather than descending into the ravines and then climbing out again):
It looks promising. Certainly more so than this alternate route, which places me on the high-speed and high-volume Mount Pleasant avenue for a spell, then has me climb directly out of the ravine up the steep side of the thing, right at the end.
Immature poets imitate mature poets steal bad poets deface what they take and good poets make it into something better or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique utterly different than that from which it is torn the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion. A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time or alien in language or diverse in interest.
—T.S. Eliot