When a Cycleway Makes Your Builder Think Twice
"When we get an enquiry, we Google Earth the address. If it's on a cycleway and the property owner doesn't have off-street parking, we pretty much flag the job. It's too much hassle to get tools and materials on site."Experienced Wellington builder, name withheld
That comment came directly to me from an experienced Wellington builder. I know who he is and have verified the source, but I have chosen not to identify him here. What interested me was not simply his frustration with cycleways. It was the practical consequence he described, something I suspect received rather less consideration when Wellington's cycleway network was being planned. What happens when a builder, plumber, electrician or other tradesman can no longer get his vehicle, tools and materials reasonably close to the house where he is supposed to work?
The builder had recently been talking with several other builders and subcontractors, including a plumber, electrician and painter. Several had received enquiries about work at properties in areas affected by cycleways, including Aro Valley, Karori and Lyall Bay. Their response was remarkably pragmatic. Before taking on the work, they would look up the address on Google Earth. If there was a cycleway outside, no suitable off-street parking and nowhere practical to unload, some would simply decide that the job was not worth the trouble.
That should make us think. A homeowner may find it more difficult, or considerably more expensive, to get a builder, plumber or electrician, not because the work itself is particularly complicated, but because getting a vehicle, tools and materials to the property has become too difficult. It is a small example of a much larger question about Wellington's transport planning: when we change the way a street functions in pursuit of one objective, are we adequately measuring what happens to everything else that street has to do?
Some builders are now looking at an address on Google Earth before deciding whether the job is worth taking
A tradesman's van is part of his workshop
Anyone who has spent time around tradespeople knows that a builder's van is not merely a means of getting from home to work. It is part workshop, part storeroom and part security system. It may contain saws, drills, batteries, hand tools, ladders, fixings and materials accumulated over many years. A plumber carries pipes, fittings and specialised equipment. An electrician carries cable, test equipment, components and tools. A painter may have ladders, drop sheets, paint and bulky equipment.
You cannot reasonably expect these people to park half a kilometre away and carry everything to the job as though they were walking to the office with a laptop bag. Apart from the wasted time, there is the security problem. A van full of tools parked out of sight in another street is an attractive target. As the builder explained to me, "It's too much hassle to get tools and materials on site, and there is also the issue of having to park up some side street somewhere near the job and risk having your vehicle broken into and tools stolen, as has happened."
Then there are jobs requiring heavy vehicles. He gave me the example of a concrete pour, where a concrete truck and pump may need to be positioned close to the property. If the available road space has been reduced and the truck can no longer pull in safely, traffic management may be required, with council approvals, temporary controls and stop-go personnel. "The cost would be huge," he told me. "This cost is on the homeowner. The inconvenience is huge."
And, this being Wellington, out come the orange road cones, apparently capable of multiplying faster than rabbits whenever somebody wants to get some actual work done. It is amusing until you remember who eventually receives the bill.
A builder's van is not merely transport. It is part workshop, part storeroom and part security system.
Someone always pays for inconvenience
This is where the discussion becomes more interesting than the familiar argument between motorists and cyclists. Every inefficiency introduced into the system eventually becomes somebody's cost. If the builder spends another half-hour unloading his tools, the customer pays for that time. If he must repeatedly walk between the house and a van parked several streets away, that time has to be recovered somewhere. If formal traffic management is required so that a truck can deliver materials, the homeowner pays. If a delivery takes twice as long because the driver cannot pull over, the additional cost eventually finds its way into the price of something.
Or, as the builder who contacted me described, the tradesman looks at the address and simply decides the job is not worth taking. The same principle extends well beyond builders. Imagine the plumber responding to a burst pipe, an electrician attending an urgent fault, a roofer unloading materials, a caregiver visiting an elderly client, an appliance technician replacing a washing machine, or a family moving house. Then there are couriers, furniture deliveries, rubbish collection, commercial suppliers and emergency services. A functioning city depends upon thousands of these small movements every day. They are so ordinary that we barely notice them until the ability to make them is compromised.
This is one of the problems I have with the way parking is sometimes discussed. A carpark can be portrayed as though it were merely somewhere for a private motorist to abandon a lump of metal for several hours. In reality, particularly in an old, geographically constrained city such as Wellington, on-street parking can be part of the infrastructure that allows a neighbourhood to function.
Every inefficiency introduced into the system eventually becomes somebody's cost.
A carpark also connects people
Parking enables customers to visit businesses and tradespeople to service houses. It enables deliveries. It helps elderly people remain independent and allows parents to move children, groceries, pushchairs and all the other paraphernalia of family life. Wellington has many houses built on steep sections and many streets laid out long before anybody contemplated today's transport demands. Some properties have excellent off-street parking. Many do not.
Even having one off-street carpark does not solve everything. Suppose an elderly couple has a driveway and garage for their own car. Their children and grandchildren come over on Sunday for lunch, or perhaps the family gathers for a birthday. Where do everybody else's cars go? What about a friend dropping in for a cup of tea, a caregiver making a visit, or somebody coming around in the evening when the rain is horizontal and the southerly is roaring up the street?
For a fit 25-year-old, parking several hundred metres away and walking uphill may be little more than an inconvenience. For an 80-year-old with painful knees, a person with limited mobility, or a mother managing a baby, a toddler and a bag full of supplies, it can determine whether the visit happens at all. Do that often enough and there may be a social cost that is much harder to see than the physical loss of a parking space.
We talk increasingly about loneliness and social isolation among older people, yet accessibility is part of social connection. If visiting Mum and Dad becomes progressively more difficult because there is nowhere within a reasonable distance to leave the car, visits may become less frequent. Nobody planned that outcome, and it would be difficult to measure, but unintended consequences are still consequences.
I am not suggesting that every carpark must remain untouched forever. Cities change, and road space has competing uses. What I am saying is that a carpark can have economic, practical and social value. If it is to be removed, that value should be included honestly on the other side of the ledger.
A carpark can have economic, practical and social value. Remove it, and the consequences may reach much further than the kerb.
What happens to the small businesses?
The same argument applies to commerce, and here I think we risk creating another unintended consequence. Supermarkets, shopping malls and big-box retailers usually have something the small Wellington retailer does not: their own parking. A large supermarket may have hundreds of dedicated spaces. A shopping centre has a carpark designed specifically to bring customers through its doors. Remove another row of parking spaces from an established Wellington shopping street and the large operator carries on much as before.
The small operator may not. The café, specialist retailer, physiotherapist, hairdresser, repair shop or family business occupying an older building often has little or no private parking. If customers cannot conveniently stop, some will go elsewhere. They may drive to a shopping centre where parking is plentiful, or buy online and have their purchases delivered.
There is an irony here. A transport policy intended partly to create more sustainable neighbourhoods could, if poorly designed, weaken the small local businesses that give those neighbourhoods their character, while strengthening large retailers with extensive private parking and multinational online businesses whose goods arrive at our doors in delivery vans. Whether that is actually occurring in Wellington is something that should be measured rather than assumed either way.
A policy intended to create more sustainable neighbourhoods could, if poorly designed, weaken the small local businesses that give those neighbourhoods their character.
I have spent nearly 50 years riding these streets
I should make my own position clear because it would be easy to characterise an article such as this as another motorist complaining about cyclists. I have ridden Wellington's streets almost daily for the best part of 50 years. Cycling has been a major part of my life, both recreationally and competitively, and I remain an enthusiastic cyclist and mountain biker. I know these roads from a bicycle saddle as well as most people ever will.
I am not against cycleways. Where a dedicated cycleway genuinely separates bicycles from fast-moving traffic without severely compromising everything else a road must do, I welcome it. The dedicated connection between Wellington City and the Hutt Valley, although expensive, is the sort of cycling infrastructure I look forward to using. Dedicated routes around the bays can also make sense because they provide continuity, separation and a genuine alternative to mixing cyclists with fast-moving vehicles.
What I question is the wisdom of squeezing cycleways into already constrained residential and commercial streets where the price may be traffic capacity, parking, loading space and access to homes and businesses. Wellington will never be Amsterdam, and there is no insult in saying so. Amsterdam is Amsterdam and Wellington is Wellington. Our transport systems have to respond to the cities we actually inhabit rather than the cities we might wish them to resemble.
I am not against cycleways. I question squeezing them into streets where the price may be parking, loading space and essential access.
Wellington demands respect from a cyclist
Wellington's weather gets most of the attention, but geography is equally important. Once outside the relatively flat parts of the central city, the roads quickly become narrow and steep. Many have awkward corners, limited sightlines and surfaces that may be broken, patched or slippery. Some are challenging enough on a calm, dry day. Add driving rain, reduced visibility and sudden wind gusts funnelled between buildings or sweeping across exposed ridgelines, and cycling can require considerable skill and constant concentration.
Even braking properly is a skill. On a steep wet road, grabbing too much front brake can put the rider on the ground, while relying too heavily on the rear can cause the wheel to skid. Cornering, descending, reading the road surface and anticipating wind gusts are skills that develop through experience. Those of us who have ridden for decades can sometimes forget how much of this we do automatically.
This is important when transport planning assumes that large numbers of people who currently drive can simply be persuaded onto bicycles. Some undoubtedly can, particularly for shorter journeys and where safe, convenient routes exist. Others cannot, or will not, because their age, physical ability, family responsibilities, occupation, destination or the weather make cycling impractical. A sensible transport system has to accommodate that diversity rather than pretending everybody has the same needs.
Those of us who have ridden for decades can sometimes forget how much skill we use automatically.
There is a health equation as well
Cycling has enormous health benefits. I would be the last person to argue otherwise. It gets people exercising, develops aerobic fitness, and can be a wonderfully efficient and enjoyable form of transport. But the benefits do not make the risks disappear, and those risks change considerably with age, experience and physical condition.
A cyclist has very little physical protection when something goes wrong. A good helmet is sensible and can reduce the risk and severity of some head injuries, but it cannot eliminate concussion, traumatic brain injury or injuries to the neck and spine. Nor does it protect the hip, shoulder, wrist or ribs. For a young and robust person, a relatively minor fall may mean some lost skin and an embarrassing story. For a frail elderly person, the consequences can be quite different. A fractured hip can be a major medical event, followed by hospitalisation, loss of mobility and sometimes a permanent decline in independence.
This does not mean elderly people should never ride bicycles, nor does it diminish the benefits of remaining active as we age. It means we should be careful about assuming that cycling can become a practical universal substitute for protected transport across all ages, abilities and circumstances.
On one of those Wellington days when the southerly is howling, the rain is coming sideways and the temperature has plummeted, most people are going to choose shelter if they have that choice. For an elderly person, someone with a disability, a family transporting children, or somebody carrying substantial loads, a car, bus or taxi may simply be the sensible option. A modern fuel-efficient car is not merely an emitter of carbon. It is also a sophisticated piece of safety equipment, providing a protective shell, seatbelts, airbags, stability systems, heating, windscreen wipers and shelter from the elements while carrying several people and their belongings. Good public transport provides another practical alternative. Transport planning needs to acknowledge both sides of that equation.
Cycling has enormous health benefits, but those benefits do not make the risks disappear.
Are we actually reducing carbon emissions?
This brings me to the question I find most interesting: do Wellington's urban cycleways actually reduce total carbon emissions? I suspect many people would regard the answer as self-evident. Bicycles produce virtually no direct emissions whereas motor vehicles do, so replacing road space with cycleways should result in lower emissions. It is an appealing and apparently straightforward equation, but I think it skips an important step.
A cycleway produces a substantial transport-related emissions benefit only if enough motor-vehicle journeys are replaced by bicycle journeys to outweigh any additional energy consumption created elsewhere in the system. That is the part I would like to see properly measured. It is not enough to count bicycles using a new lane and assume that each represents a car removed from the road. We need to know where those cyclists came from, what journey they would otherwise have made, and what has happened to the traffic and other activity around them.
Suppose, for example, that removing a traffic lane increases congestion and vehicles spend longer crawling through traffic, braking, idling and accelerating. Suppose removing parking causes motorists to circulate through surrounding streets looking for somewhere to stop. A tradesman who once pulled up outside a house may now spend additional time finding parking, while a delivery vehicle may have to circle the block or stop further away. A customer who previously called into a local retailer on the way home may instead drive several kilometres to a supermarket or shopping centre with its own carpark. Another may order online, adding another delivery to a courier's round. Each effect may be relatively small on its own, but multiplied across thousands of journeys over months and years, they become part of the environmental equation.
None of this proves that Wellington's cycleways increase carbon emissions, and I am not claiming that they do. Equally, we should not simply assume that they reduce them because bicycles themselves have low emissions. The relevant unit of measurement is not the bicycle or the car in isolation, but the whole transport system surrounding a particular intervention. Once we frame the question that way, it becomes much more interesting and, importantly, something we can actually investigate.
The relevant unit of measurement is not the bicycle or the car in isolation, but the whole transport system surrounding it.
Let's measure what actually happens
Before committing further millions of ratepayer dollars to reshaping Wellington's streets, I would like to see serious before-and-after studies of individual projects. Establish a proper baseline before construction begins, then measure what happens after the cycleway is operating. Count cyclists throughout the year and in different weather conditions, but also measure motor-vehicle volumes, journey times and congestion. Estimate fuel use and carbon emissions. Look at surrounding streets to determine whether traffic has genuinely disappeared or has merely been displaced. Record accidents involving cyclists, pedestrians and vehicles, and monitor changes in parking occupancy, loading activity, courier movements and access for tradespeople.
The human and commercial effects should be measured just as carefully. Talk to the businesses whose livelihoods depend upon the street and ask whether customer behaviour has changed. Talk to residents about visitor parking and accessibility. Ask builders, plumbers, electricians, caregivers and delivery drivers whether servicing properties has become easier or harder. Follow business openings, closures and relocations, and look at whether economic activity has shifted towards shopping centres and larger retailers with their own parking. These are not peripheral considerations. They are part of determining whether a transport intervention has improved the city as a whole.
Most importantly, keep measuring. A few weeks of observations immediately after construction tell us very little about how people eventually adapt. Return after one year, two years and five years. If the evidence shows that a particular cycleway attracts substantial use, gets significant numbers of people out of cars, improves safety and reduces overall emissions while preserving reasonable access for residents and businesses, then excellent. That is a successful cycleway and we should learn from it when designing the next one. If another removes substantial parking, increases congestion, makes properties difficult to service, harms local businesses and attracts relatively few riders for much of the year, we should have the maturity to modify it or, if necessary, remove it. That is not being anti-cycling. It is what we should expect from competent engineering, honest evaluation and responsible use of public money.
Good intentions are not enough. We should measure what actually happens to the street, the businesses and the people who use it.
Wellington's other cycling network
There is another side of Wellington cycling that I think deserves far more celebration. Across the Greater Wellington Region we have an extraordinary network of mountain biking and walking trails. I call Wellington Mountain Bike Heaven, and I mean it. From our hills and ridgelines to purpose-built trails winding through reserves and regional parks, we have an environment that encourages people to get outdoors, exercise and explore some remarkably beautiful country, often only minutes from where they live. I'm talking not just about cycling, but walking, hiking, and also horse riding. I'm not talking just about cycling. I'm also including hiking, walking, and riding horses.
These trails play to Wellington's strengths because they make use of our rugged terrain rather than pretending it does not exist. They get cyclists away from narrow roads and motor traffic, provide recreation for everyone from families to highly skilled riders, and connect people with the natural environment that makes this region such a special place to live. As somebody who has spent much of his life on a bicycle, this is the cycling culture I would love to see Wellington continue developing and promoting.
Let's build a Grand Walking and Biking Track to circumnavigate Wellington region's breath-taking Terawhiti Peninsula. Please support us by joining our Facebook Group, then tell all of your friends on social media to do the same. Give us the numbers and we will make this happen!
The same principle applies to commuter cycling. Where geography allows us to build genuinely separated routes, such as the developing connection between Wellington City and the Hutt Valley and the dedicated routes around the bays, let's build them properly. Make them safe, continuous and attractive enough that people genuinely want to use them. I have no objection whatsoever to good cycling infrastructure. My objection is to treating kilometres of cycleway as though they are, in themselves, a measure of progress, regardless of where they are placed or what else has been sacrificed to accommodate them.
I call Wellington Mountain Bike Heaven, and I mean it.
Design for the Wellington we actually have
A Wellington street is a surprisingly complicated ecosystem. It must accommodate residents and their visitors, businesses and their customers, builders and other tradespeople, couriers and commercial deliveries, buses, taxis, emergency services, pedestrians, cyclists and motor vehicles, often within a strip of land laid out more than a century ago when nobody could have imagined the demands we now place upon it. The street is also part of our social infrastructure, enabling friends, families and neighbours to remain connected. Altering one element inevitably affects others, which is precisely why apparently simple solutions can produce consequences that were never intended.
The Wellington builder who contacted me provides a small but revealing example. He and some of his colleagues have reached the point where they look at addresses on Google Earth before deciding whether a job is worth taking. That tells us something important about the complexity of the system we are altering. Decisions made with perfectly good intentions in a council planning office can look rather different on a wet Wellington Tuesday morning when a builder needs to unload his tools, a concrete truck needs access to a house, a courier needs somewhere to stop, or a grandmother simply wants to park close enough to visit her grandchildren.
Perhaps that is the principle we have lost sight of. Wellington does not need to become Amsterdam, Copenhagen or anywhere else. It needs to become a better Wellington. We should build on what suits our geography and climate: efficient public transport, smooth traffic flow, sensible access and parking, increasingly energy-efficient vehicles, genuinely useful dedicated cycleways and the magnificent off-road cycling and walking network we already possess.
In Finishing
Before another traffic lane disappears or another row of parking spaces is removed, therefore, I would like us to ask something more meaningful than how many kilometres of cycleway Wellington can build. We should ask whether that particular change will make the street, the neighbourhood and ultimately Wellington itself work better as a whole. If careful measurement shows that it will, then there is a sound case for doing it. But if we are going to spend substantial sums of public money and permanently alter the way people live, work, shop, visit one another and move around their city, we should have the evidence to demonstrate that the promised benefits are actually being delivered.
Wellington does not need to become Amsterdam or Copenhagen. It needs to become a better Wellington.
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