Medellín: Mas allá del turismo del transporte

(Read in English here.)

Acabo de pasar una semana en Medellín, Colombia, una ciudad que cuenta con una de las redes de transporte público más reconocidas de América Latina. En este artículo, quiero ir más allá de los elogios que se le hacen a la ciudad —en su mayoría bien merecidos— y explorar algunos de los desafíos que surgen precisamente de sus éxitos. Algunos de estos desafíos son propios de países de ingreso medio como Colombia, mientras que otros se presentan en ciudades de todo el mundo.

Espero que este artículo sea útil tanto para quienes conocen América Latina como para quienes no, pero permítanme comenzar con un párrafo dirigido a estos últimos. Si solo tienen tiempo o dinero para visitar una ciudad latinoamericana en su vida, y especialmente si les interesa el transporte, les recomendaría Medellín. Su emplazamiento en un estrecho valle de paredes empinadas es espectacular, la gente es amable y el clima es templado durante todo el año. Es menos abrumadora que megalópolis como Bogotá, Santiago o Ciudad de México (aunque también las recomiendo). Tiene una fascinante historia reciente de recuperación tras haber sido una de las ciudades más violentas del mundo. Por otro lado, no está diseñada para los turistas ni hace grandes esfuerzos por entretenerlos. En resumen, Medellín los expondrá a todas las delicias y crisis del urbanismo latinoamericano en una ciudad de tamaño manejable. Si van, espero que este artículo los ayude a ser algo más que simples turistas del transporte, ayudándoles a entender cómo funciona —o no funciona— la red para quienes viven allí.

Empecemos por el mapa

Una gran ciudad está estructurada por un gran sistema de transporte público, así que comencemos por el mapa oficial del metro de Medellín, que encontrarán publicado en cada estación. A este mapa volveremos a lo largo del artículo.

Mapa oficial de 2021 del «Metro» de Medellín. (La versión de 2026 tiene una complejidad adicional que veremos más adelante.) La línea azul claro en sentido norte-sur es el río, que suele verse de forma agradable desde el tren de la Línea A.

 

Aunque el mapa del Metro de Medellín utiliza un formato estándar similar al de los mapas de transporte rápido de todo el mundo, una mirada rápida revela la geografía inusual y los desafíos que plantea. La línea azul claro es el río. Las líneas largas corren de norte a sur. Las líneas de oriente a occidente son más cortas, ya que llegan hasta las empinadas paredes del valle.

Mientras que muchas ciudades maduras como París cuentan con redes aproximadamente en cuadrícula que ofrecen múltiples formas de hacer un recorrido, la red de Medellín es claramente de tipo troncal-alimentador, lo que significa que tiende a concentrar grandes cantidades de demanda en un único segmento o estación. Una enorme cantidad de viajes pasa por la estación central de San Antonio porque allí confluyen muchos corredores principales. Más adelante veremos por qué esto representa un problema y qué podría tener que hacer Medellín a medida que alcanza los límites de este tipo de estructura.

Tecnologías diversas: un solo «Metro»

Si uno dice la palabra «metro» en Colombia, la gente pensará en trenes pesados y largos que circulan con mucha frecuencia sobre rieles, atendiendo estaciones de gran tamaño. Medellín tiene dos de estos, las líneas A y B. Pero la marca «Metro de Medellín» quiere que se vea toda la red de transporte rápido —más o menos— como el «metro», sin importar demasiado qué tecnologías la componen. Este cambio, de «metro» como sinónimo de «tren rápido sobre rieles» a «metro» como «red integrada de transporte rápido», ha ocurrido en muchas ciudades del mundo. Sin embargo, en la cercana Bogotá, si uno dice «metro», todos piensan en un tren (el primero está en construcción actualmente).

Las líneas A y B cumplen con las definiciones mundiales habituales de un «metro». Son trenes pesados de larga distancia, con alimentación eléctrica aérea, totalmente separados del tráfico. Tienen conductores humanos.

Pero aunque la Línea A norte-sur es el eje central de la red, la B es bastante corta, quizás demasiado. Ambas operan muy por debajo de la frecuencia máxima teórica que la infraestructura puede soportar, y la A en particular está muy, muy congestionada. (Por supuesto, gran parte del transporte público latinoamericano está congestionado, pero la congestión de esta línea es un problema particular porque es el eje central por el que pasa una gran parte de la demanda de la ciudad. Más adelante hablaremos de las consecuencias de esto.)

El principal eje hacia el oriente desde el centro es la Línea T, un tranvía que utiliza la tecnología de carril único con neumáticos de caucho Translohr.

En el mapa parece una línea de transporte rápido más, pero es mucho más lenta y algo más propensa a interrupciones. Su derecho de vía en calzada es teóricamente exclusivo, pero en la práctica es utilizado intensamente por motocicletas y fácilmente bloqueado por automóviles que giran o estacionan.

Este tranvía genera cierta preocupación entre los expertos locales en transporte, porque su fabricante tiene el monopolio de los repuestos y el servicio. Al parecer fue elegido por su capacidad para subir pendientes, ya que la inclinación máxima de esta línea es un poco mayor de lo que el tranvía convencional suele manejar.

El tranvía sí cuenta con estaciones de pago. Estas son interesantes porque han sido instaladas en una calle peatonal estrecha, ocupando apenas el ancho de un automóvil. Es exactamente el tipo de situación en que las estaciones de pago suelen considerarse impracticables.

Luego están las dos líneas de Bus de Tránsito Rápido (BRT por sus siglas en inglés), las líneas 1 y 2. Son en su mayoría de alta calidad, con estaciones de pago en el separador central y carriles exclusivos. Hablaré más sobre ellas a continuación, porque conforman los primeros elementos de una estructura de red en cuadrícula, corriendo paralelas a la congestionada Línea A y aliviándola en cierta medida. Las estaciones, en su mayoría angostas y ubicadas en el separador de vías anchas, son zonas de pago al igual que las paradas del tranvía.

El Bus de Tránsito Rápido de la Línea 2 de Medellín. Obsérvense las estaciones completamente separadas con puertas de andén bajo, igual que en el tranvía.

Probablemente ya han oído hablar de los teleféricos de Medellín. Estos espectaculares servicios, con una frecuencia prácticamente infinita, suben por empinadas laderas hasta barrios remotos, muchas veces de bajos ingresos. Son seis en total y parten de una estación en la red de tren o tranvía, llegando a barrios que de otro modo estarían aislados en lo alto de las montañas.

Estos teleféricos se están convirtiendo en una característica habitual de las ciudades montañosas de América Latina. Tienen un claro valor turístico, ya que se elevan por encima de las laderas ofreciendo vistas impresionantes. Pero su verdadero propósito es llevar acceso vital a algunas de las zonas más marginadas de la ciudad: comunidades de bajos ingresos desarrolladas de manera informal, que a menudo carecen de vías adecuadas. Los teleféricos redujeron drásticamente los tiempos de desplazamiento desde estas áreas, ampliando el acceso a oportunidades y atrayendo también algo de turismo.

Pero esperen, hay algo más. ¿Qué es esa Ruta O en el mapa, el servicio orbital del costado occidental? ¿Un «bus eléctrico»? Aquí está:

«Medellín se mueve y respira naturalmente», proclama el letrero. Pero ¿por qué aparece esto en el mapa del «metro», con una designación de letra? Tiene paradas más bonitas que una parada de bus convencional, pero está atrapado en el tráfico como cualquier bus ordinario. Esta es, de hecho, la única línea del mapa que no representa un servicio diseñado, al menos en teoría, para estar protegido de los retrasos del tráfico.

Sí, hay una historia detrás de esto: algo relacionado con un subsidio que llegó desde Bogotá para comprar buses eléctricos, pero sin suficiente planeación sobre cómo utilizarlos ni las instalaciones adecuadas para ellos. Pero dejemos eso de lado. Para verlo con optimismo, la Línea O es una forma de generar expectativa en torno a la futura Línea E. El mapa que ahora se exhibe en las estaciones incluye una actualización de este corredor: la nueva Línea E, actualmente en construcción, formará un arco orbital alrededor del costado occidental de la ciudad, reemplazando eventualmente el bus de la «Línea O». Esta es la versión más reciente del mapa del Metro, con la Línea E incluida como proyecto en construcción.

La Línea E será un tren ligero que circulará principalmente por una vía en el separador con grama, con estaciones controladas en el separador no muy diferentes a las del tranvía o el BRT.

¿Es bueno tener tantas tecnologías de transporte?

Pronto, Medellín tendrá cinco tecnologías de transporte rápido: metro pesado, tranvía, teleférico, bus de tránsito rápido y ahora tren ligero. Cuando alguien quiere demostrar lo excelente que es el transporte de una ciudad, a menudo hace referencia a cuántas tecnologías de transporte diferentes hay. Pero en realidad, eso solo significa que es una gran ciudad para el turismo de transporte. La diversidad de tecnologías no dice nada sobre qué tan fácil es moverse por la ciudad, y puede ser un dolor de cabeza para la operación y el mantenimiento.

Solo el metro y el teleférico hacen cosas que ningún otro modo puede hacer. El metro pesado ofrece una capacidad que está fuera del alcance de cualquier otro modo. Los teleféricos se desplazan de una manera que atraviesa el territorio sin impactarlo demasiado; además, suben las pendientes más empinadas y ofrecen una frecuencia casi infinita al no necesitar un operador en cada cabina.

Pero los tranvías, el tren ligero y el bus de tránsito rápido se superponen en funciones similares. Si por arte de magia se pudieran convertir los buses de tránsito rápido de Medellín en tranvías o tren ligero, se reduciría la diversidad de tecnologías pero no cambiaría nada en cuanto a quién puede ir adónde y cuándo. Lo contrario también es cierto: con modificaciones menores, el tranvía podría ser reemplazado por buses que circularían a una velocidad similar, se detendrían en las mismas estaciones, subirían la misma pendiente y ofrecerían prácticamente el mismo nivel de velocidad y confiabilidad. Así que el hecho de que existan tanto tranvías como buses de tránsito rápido puede que no sea una virtud de Medellín, sino más bien un inconveniente —nuevamente, si uno se centra en la libertad de los habitantes y no en atraer turistas—. Si se tienen menos tecnologías, se tiene más de cada una, lo que permite todo tipo de eficiencias.

Para el turismo, sí, la diversidad tecnológica es atractiva. Pero no se vayan de Medellín creyendo que saben cómo es la experiencia de los locales. Porque si eso les importa, la forma de la red es más importante que las tecnologías.

La red: superando el modelo radial

Miren nuevamente el mapa. Hasta que se agregaron las líneas de bus de tránsito rápido 1 y 2, la red del metro de Medellín era completamente radial. Todas las líneas emanaban desde un único punto, la estación San Antonio en el centro de la ciudad, o desde estaciones sobre esas líneas. En cada dirección que se alejara de San Antonio, la red parecía un árbol: un tronco único con ramas formadas por los teleféricos. (Los buses alimentadores verdes locales, de los que hablaremos más adelante, serían las ramitas y hojas en esta metáfora.)

Las redes radiales son comunes en ciudades donde hay un «centro» de importancia abrumadora, ubicado de forma céntrica, de modo que muchos viajes entre otros puntos pueden pasar por él sin desviarse demasiado. Medellín es en cierta medida así, pero también tiene grandes destinos —hospitales, centros comerciales, etc.— dispersos por toda la ciudad, y algunos de ellos no están bien atendidos por esta estructura.

Las líneas de bus de tránsito rápido 1 y 2 rompen con ese patrón, y la nueva Línea E de tren ligero lo romperá aún más. Estas líneas son el comienzo de un patrón de cuadrícula, que busca atender más viajes de cualquier punto a cualquier punto sin canalizar a todos por un único lugar. Una cuadrícula consiste en múltiples líneas paralelas que se cruzan con otro conjunto de múltiples líneas paralelas. El resultado son muchos puntos de intersección, no solo un hub central, y una mayor probabilidad de que el viaje pueda hacerse por una ruta en forma de L razonablemente directa con una sola correspondencia.

Pero esta nueva estructura en cuadrícula que lucha por nacer estará limitada por las decisiones tomadas cuando se pensaba de manera radial. Miren el eje principal de oriente a occidente a través de la ciudad. Está dividido en dos: la Línea B (un metro pesado) hacia el occidente y la Línea T (el tranvía Translohr) hacia el oriente. Hay que hacer correspondencia en San Antonio para seguir en la misma dirección a través de la ciudad, lo cual no es lo deseable en una cuadrícula. Como las líneas están interrumpidas, la Línea B no toca la Línea 2 y la Línea T no toca la Línea 1, de modo que si el viaje involucra este par de líneas (como bien puede ocurrir, dado que hay grandes destinos en todas ellas), habrá que hacer dos correspondencias en lugar de una.

En una cuadrícula verdadera, se quiere que cada línea continúe hasta cruzar la última línea de la cuadrícula que intersecta, de modo que una amplia gama de viajes de cualquier origen a cualquier destino pueda realizarse con solo una correspondencia al cambiar de dirección. Pero el sistema de transporte rápido de Medellín siempre estará algo limitado por la desconexión entre las líneas B al occidente y T al oriente.

Ahora entienden por qué, mientras caminaba hacia el oriente desde la estación San Antonio con aspecto de turista, iba pensando distraídamente en una extensión de la Línea B en esa dirección, al menos hasta la estación San José, donde tocaría la Línea 2. Siempre estoy buscando cuadrículas, y cuando están rotas, busco qué haría falta para repararlas. En este caso es una tarea difícil, porque las tecnologías y los entornos urbanos son tan diferentes: la B es un metro pesado elevado, mientras que la T es un tranvía que circula íntimamente por una calle angosta. Pero una vez que se agregue la E, circulando de norte a sur en el occidente, este problema se volverá aún más molesto, y no me sorprendería ver en algún momento una propuesta para extender la B hacia el oriente.

¿Dos redes de buses? ¿Es mejor que una sola?

Hasta ahora he hablado de la red de transporte rápido, con la que me refiero a servicios que conectan estaciones ampliamente espaciadas y están protegidos de la mayor parte de los retrasos del tráfico. Pero una gran parte de los usuarios del transporte de Medellín no utiliza este sistema. Muchos usan buses locales que circulan principalmente en tráfico mixto. Como en la mayoría de las ciudades latinoamericanas, los buses son difíciles de descifrar, pero el problema es especialmente grave aquí porque Medellín tiene dos tipos completamente diferentes, presentados por separado.

Muchas de las estaciones del metro cuentan con amplias redes de alimentadores, llamados formalmente «rutas integradas». Los alimentadores son financiados como parte de una red integrada con el metro y aceptan la misma tarjeta regional. Estos pequeños buses verdes tienen terminales designadas en las estaciones y se desplazan hacia afuera para cubrir alguna parte del área local. Estos alimentadores extienden la metáfora del árbol: son las ramitas y las hojas, llevando la red a un área más amplia de la que pueden alcanzar los troncos y las ramas principales. Estas líneas son en su mayoría bastante cortas y, aunque se pueden usar entre cualquier par de paradas, su diseño —y su demanda— están orientados de manera abrumadora hacia las estaciones.

Buses verdes de las «rutas integradas» alimentando la estación Poblado del Metro.

En las estaciones hay mapas sencillos de líneas que publicitan estos servicios. El código QR en la esquina inferior derecha lleva a mapas individuales de cada ruta alimentadora, aunque como siempre añoré un mapa que mostrara todos los servicios juntos, para poder ver cómo interactúan.

Pero también existe una red más antigua de buses que irradian desde el centro de la ciudad, circulando principalmente en tráfico mixto por las calles. Se reconocen fácilmente porque el nombre del sector que atienden suele estar pintado directamente en el bus, lo que indica que existen muchas empresas, cada una con un territorio geográfico limitado. Por ejemplo, los buses para los municipios del sur como Envigado y Sabaneta salen desde el centro hacia el sur, duplicando en gran medida la Línea A del Metro, antes de ramificarse para atender distintas zonas de estos municipios.

 

La mayoría de estos servicios hacen algo que también se podría hacer tomando el metro y transbordando a un bus verde. Por ejemplo, si uno va desde el centro hacia un punto del municipio de Sabaneta, al oriente de la línea férrea, puede tomar la Línea A del Metro hasta el final en La Estrella y luego un bus alimentador, O puede tomar el bus amarillo de Sabaneta directamente. En este último caso, se evitará la molestia de cambiar de vehículo, pero también tendrá que soportar el tráfico durante casi todo el trayecto, mientras los trenes del metro pasan a toda velocidad a su lado. Por supuesto, los buses más antiguos también hacen cosas que la red metro+alimentador no hace tan bien. Los alimentadores del metro no llegan a todos lados, y sin duda hay viajes y horarios en los que los buses más antiguos son tan directos que resultan más rápidos aunque estén atrapados en el tráfico.

Mientras tanto, la red metro+alimentador es algo rígida y tendrá dificultades para adaptarse a medida que la red se vuelva más descentralizada, ya que el supuesto de que la red siempre sería radial orientó el diseño de la infraestructura. En la estación Poblado de la Línea A, por ejemplo, hay dos terminales de buses integrados en la estación, uno en el costado oriental y otro en el occidental. Se pueden ver buses alimentadores esperando en ambos extremos, aunque desde arriba parecen más azules que verdes.

La estación Poblado de la Línea A del Metro se ve aquí justo a la derecha del río. Un puente peatonal conduce al oriente y al occidente hacia las terminales de buses. Nótese cómo los buses solo pueden acceder a las terminales dando la vuelta. Un bus que cruzara la ciudad de oriente a occidente por la Calle 10, como requeriría una estructura en cuadrícula, no podría detenerse en la estación.

Los alimentadores del costado occidental de la estación sirven zonas más al occidente, y los del costado oriental sirven zonas más al oriente. Esto funciona bien cuando podemos imaginar que todos se dirigen a la estación de la Línea A. Pero ¿qué pasa cuando aparezca la Línea E, circulando de norte a sur más al occidente, y alguien al oriente de la Línea A quiera llegar a ella? No va a ser fácil, porque toda la infraestructura fue diseñada bajo el supuesto de que los buses que servían la estación siempre terminarían allí. Esta persona que viene del oriente de la estación tendría que tomar un bus verde desde el oriente de la línea férrea hasta la estación, luego cruzar la estación caminando hasta la terminal del costado occidental, y tomar otro bus verde para continuar. Tiene el mismo problema que existe con las Líneas B y T en San Antonio: necesita transbordar para seguir en la misma dirección, y eso implica varios transbordos para completar muchos viajes probables en un patrón de cuadrícula.

Es difícil imaginar la infraestructura que resolvería este problema. Todo en esta zona está diseñado bajo el principio de que los costados serán alimentados hacia la troncal, pero nunca necesitarán cruzarla. Y sin embargo, la Línea E pronto aparecerá, y este problema aparecerá con ella.

Conclusión

Si estuviera asesorando a Medellín, trataría de crear un espacio de trabajo donde pudiéramos al menos trazar y analizar cómo podría verse una red completamente integrada, y qué podría lograr, para que la gente pudiera ver cuánta mejora sería posible sin aumentar el subsidio operativo. Puedo imaginar las complejidades que encontraríamos. Por ejemplo, la Línea A del Metro está congestionada y probablemente no podría absorber a todos los que actualmente usan los buses que la duplican. Pero la línea en sí tiene capacidad de reserva: con más trenes, podría operar con mayor frecuencia, y por supuesto se podría considerar la automatización para aumentar aún más la frecuencia si fuera necesario. Así que no pretendo que sea fácil. Pero sé que descubriríamos posibilidades que nadie ha considerado, porque siempre ocurre así. Medellín va a superar su red histórica de transporte, y a pesar de todas sus llamativas tecnologías, la próxima gran mejora en el acceso a oportunidades solo puede surgir de hacer más efectivos los abundantes servicios de bus. Con el tiempo, eso significará una sola red de servicios que funcione de manera integrada.

Medellín: Beyond Transit Tourism

(Español aquí.)

I’ve just spent a week in Medellín, Colombia, which has one of Latin America’s more famous public transport networks.  In this post, I want to dig past much of the praise heaped on the city — most of it well deserved — and explore some of the challenges that follow from its successes.  Some of these challenges are specific to middle-wealth countries comparable to Colombia, while others arise in cities all over the world.

I hope this post will be useful both to people who know Latin America and those who don’t, but let me start with just one paragraph for those who don’t.  If you only have time or money to visit one Latin American city in your life, and especially if you’re curious about transport, I’d recommend Medellín.  Its site in a narrow steep-walled valley is spectacular, the people are friendly, and the climate is moderate year round.  It’s less overwhelming than megacities like Bogotá, Santiago or Mexico City (much as I recommend those too).  It has a fascinating recent history of recovery from being one of the most violent cities in the world.  On the other hand, it is not optimized for tourists or trying too hard to entertain you.  In short, Medellín will expose you to all the delights and crises of Latin American urbanism in a city of manageable size.  If you do go, I hope this post will help you be a little less just another transit tourist, by helping you notice how the network works, or doesn’t work, for the people who live there.

Start with the Map

A great city is structured by great public transit, so let’s start by looking at the official map of the Medellín metro, which you’ll find posted in every staton.  We’ll refer back to this map throughout the post.

Official 2021 map of the Medellín “Metro”. (The 2026 version has one added complexity which we’ll get to below.)  The pale blue north-south line is the river, which is often pleasantly visible from the Line A train.

 

Although the Medellin Metro map above uses a standard format similar to rapid transit maps worldwide, a quick look reveals the unusual geography and challenges.  The pale blue line is the river.  Long lines run north-south. East-west lines are shorter, since they run to the steep valley walls.

While many mature cities like Paris have roughly gridded networks that provide multiple ways to make a trip, Medellín’s network is very much trunk-and-feeder, which means it is prone to channeling huge amounts of demand into a single segment or station.  Enormous numbers of trips are channeled through the central San Antonio station because so many major corridors meet only there.  We’ll return to why this is a problem and what Medellín may have to do as it reaches the limits of this kind of structure.

Diverse Technologies: One “Metro”

If you say the word “metro” in Colombia, people will think of large heavy trains running very frequently along rails, serving large stations.  Medellín has two of these, lines A and B. But the brand “Metro de Medellín” wants you to see the whole more-or-less rapid transit network as the “metro” and to care less about what technologies provide each part.  This shift from “metro” meaning “rail rapid transit” to “metro” meaning “integrated rapid transit network” has happened in many cities around the world.  Still, in nearby Bogotá, if you say “metro” everybody thinks of a train (they are building their first one now.)

Lines A and B meet typical worldwide definitions of a “metro”.  These are long heavy rail trains, with overhead electric, fully separated from traffic.  They do have human drivers.

But while the north-south Line A is the central axis of the network, the B is quite short, maybe too short.  Both are running well below the theoretical maximum frequency that the infrastructure can support, and the A in particular is very, very crowded.  (Of course, a great deal of Latin American public transit is crowded, but this line’s crowding is a particular problem because it’s a central axis through which a lot of the city’s demand passes.  More on the consequences of this below.)

The main eastward axis out of the center is line T, a tram using the single-rail, rubber-tire Translohr technology.

It looks like just another rapid transit line on the map, but it’s much slower and somewhat more prone to disruption. Its street-running right-of-way is theoretically exclusive it’s heavily used by motorbikes and easily blocked by cars that are turning or parking.

This tram causes some anxiety among local transport experts because its inventor has a monopoly on parts and service.  It appears to have been chosen for its ability to climb hills, since the maximum grade on this line is a little steeper than what conventional light rail usually handles.

The tram does have paid stations.  These are interesting because they have been fitted into a narrow pedestrianized street, taking just one car-width of space.  This is a situation where paid stations are often considered impractical.

Then there are two Bus Rapid Transit lines, 1 and 2.  These are mostly high-quality, with median paid stations and exclusive lanes.  I’ll talk more about them below, because they form the first elements of a grid network structure, running parallel to the overcrowded Line A and helping to relieve it to a degree.  The narrow stations, mostly in the medians of wide streets, are paid areas just like the tram stops.

Medellín’s Line 2 Bus Rapid Transit. Note the fully separated stations with low platform doors, just like on the tram.

You have probably heard about Medellín’s gondolas.  These spectacular services of nearly infinite frequency climb steep hillsides to remote, often low-income neighborhoods.  There are six, departing from a station on the rail or tram network and ending in otherwise isolated neighborhoods high in the hills.

These gondolas are becoming a standard feature of hilly Latin American cities.  They have clear tourism value as they soar high above the hillsides with dramatic views.  But their real purpose is to bring lifeline access to some of the most neglected parts of the city, informally developed low-income communities that often lack adequate roads.  The gondolas dramatically reduced travel times from these areas, expanding access to opportunity and also bringing some tourism.

But wait, there’s one more thing.  What’s that Route O on the map, the orbital service on the west side?  An “electric bus”?  Here it is:

“Medellín moves and breathes naturally”, the text proclaims.  But why is this on the “metro” map, with a letter designation?  It has nicer shelters than a typical bus stop, but it’s stuck in traffic just like most ordinary buses.  This, in fact, is the only line on the map that does not represent service that’s at least designed to be protected from traffic delay.

Yes, there’s a story behind this, something about a grant that came down from Bogotá to buy electric buses, but without enough planning for how to use them or even the proper facilities for them, but let’s brush past that.  To put it optimistically, Line O a way of building excitement about the future Line E.  The map now posted in the stations has an update on this corridor, in which new Line E, now under construction, will form an orbital arc around the west side of the city, eventually replacing the “Line O” bus.  Here’s the newest version of the Metro map, with Line E included as a project under construction.

Line E will be light rail, running largely in median grass track with controlled median stations not much different from those of the tram or BRT.

Is It Good to Have So Many Transit Technologies?

So soon, Medellín will have five rapid transit technologies: heavy rail, tram, gondola, bus rapid transit, and now light rail.  When someone wants to tell you how great the transit in a city is, they’ll often refer to how many different transit technologies there are.  But really, that just means it’s a great city for transit tourism.  The diversity of technologies says nothing about how easy it is to get around the city, and it can be a headache for operations and maintenance.

Only the metro and the gondola are doing things that no other mode can do.  The heavy rail metro delivers a capacity that is beyond the reach of any other mode.  Gondolas uniquely travel in a way that traverses land without impacting it much; they also climb the steepest slopes and deliver near-infinite frequency by not needing an employee in each car.

But trams, light rail, and bus rapid transit overlap in similar roles.  If you could magically turn Medellín’s bus rapid transit into trams or light rail, you’d reduce the diversity of technologies but change nothing about who can go where, when.  The opposite is also true: with minor modification, the tram could be replaced by buses that would go a similar speed, stop at the same stations, climb the same slope, and deliver pretty much the same level of speed and reliability.  So the fact that there are both trams and bus rapid transit may not be a feature of Medellín so much as a nuisance — again, if you’re focused on the freedom of your residents rather than attracting tourists.  If you have fewer technologies, you have more of each one, which allows for all kinds of efficiencies.

For tourism, yes, technological diversity is cool.  Just don’t come away from Medellín thinking you know what it’s like for the locals.  Because if you care about that, the network form matters more than the technologies!

The Network: Outgrowing the Radial Form

Look again at the map above.  Until the bus rapid transit lines 1 and 2 were added, the Medellín metro network was entirely radial.  All lines emanated from one point, San Antonio station in the center of the city, or from stations on those lines. In each direction heading outward from San Antonio, the network looked like a tree: a single trunk with branches formed by the gondolas.  (The green local feeder buses, which we’ll get to later, would be the twigs and leaves in this metaphor.)

Radial networks are common in a city where there is one overwhelmingly important “downtown” which is centrally located, so that many trips between other points can pass through it without being taken out of the way.  Medellín is somewhat like this, but it also has big destinations — hospitals, shopping centers, and so on — scattered throughout the city, and some are not served very well by this structure.

Bus rapid transit lines 1 and 2 break out of that pattern, and new light rail Line E will break out of it still further.  These lines are the beginning of a grid pattern, which aims to serve more everywhere to everywhere trips without funneling everyone through a single point.  A grid consists of multiple parallel lines, intersecting another set of multiple parallel lines.  The result is many points where lines intersect, not just one central hub, and a greater likelihood that your trip will be routed on a reasonably direct L-shaped path with a single transfer.

But this new grid structure that is struggling to be born will be limited by the decisions made when people were thinking radially.  Look at the main east west axis across the city.  It’s broken in two: Line B (a heavy rail metro) going west and Line T (the Translohr tram) going east.  You have to transfer at San Antonio to keep going in the same direction across the city, which is not what you want in a grid.  Because the lines are broken, Line B doesn’t touch Line 2 and Line T doesn’t touch Line 1, so if your trip involves this pair of lines (as it well may, because there are big destinations on all of them) you will need to transfer twice instead of once.

In a true grid, you want each line to keep going until it crosses the last intersecting grid line, so that a vast range of anywhere-to-anywhere trips can be made with just a single transfer when you change directions.  But Medellín’s rapid transit system will always be a bit limited by the disconnection between Lines B in the west and T  in the east.

Now you know why, as I strolled eastward from San Antonio station looking like a tourist, I was idly wondering about a Line B extension in this direction, at least as far as San Jose station where it would touch Line 2.  I’m always looking for grids, and when they’re broken, I’m looking at what it would take to repair them.  It’s a tough task in this case, because the technologies and urban environments are so different:  The B is elevated heavy rail, while the T is a tram running intimately in a narrow street.  But once the E is added, running north-south in the west, this problem will become even more irritating, and I won’t be surprised if I see a proposal to extend the B eastward at some point.

Two Bus Networks?  Is that Better than One?

Up to now I’ve talked about the rapid transit network, by which I mean services linking widely spaced stations protected from most traffic delay.  But a big share of Medellín’s transit riders don’t use this system.  Many use local buses that run mostly in mixed traffic.  As in most Latin American cities, the buses are hard to figure out, but the problem is especially bad here because Medellín has two completely different kinds, which are presented separately.

Many of the metro stations have extensive networks of feeders, formally called “integrated routes”.  The feeders are funded as part of an integrated network with the metro, and accept the same regional farecard.  These small green buses have designated hubs at the stations, and they make a journey outward to cover some part of the local area.  These feeders extend the tree metaphor: they are twigs and leaves, bringing the network to a larger area than the trunks and major branches can reach.  These lines are mostly fairly short, and while you can use them between any two stops, their design, and their ridership, are overwhelmingly focused on the stations.

Green “integrated routes” (Rutas integradas) feeding the Poblado Metro station.

Simple line maps in the stations advertise these services.  The QR code in the lower right takes you to individual maps of each feeder route, though as always I longed for a map that showed all the services together, so I could see how they interact.

But there’s also an older network of buses that radiate from the city center, mostly running mixed with traffic in streets.  You can recognize these because the name of an area they serve is usually painted right on the bus, which indicates that there are many companies each with a narrow geographic territory. For example, buses for the southern suburbs of Envigado and Sabaneta run from the city center all the way south, largely duplicating the Metro Line A, before branching out to serve various parts of these suburban cities.



Most of these services do something that you could also do by taking metro and transferring to a green bus.  For example, if you’re going from the city center to a point in the southern suburb of Sabaneta, which lies east of the rail line, you can take Metro Line A to the end at La Estrella and then a feeder bus, OR you can take Sabaneta’s yellow bus all the way.  In the latter case, you will be spared the nuisance of changing vehicles, but you will also have to sit in traffic most of the way, as the metro trains zoom past you.  Of course, the older buses also do things that the metro+feeder network doesn’t do as well.  Metro feeders don’t go absolutely everywhere, and there are certainly trips and times of day when the older buses are so much more direct that they’re faster even if they’re stuck in traffic.

Meanwhile, the metro+feeder network is a bit rigid and will have trouble adapting as the network grows more decentralized, because the assumption that the network would always be radial guided the design of the infrastructure.  At Poblado station on the A line, for example, two bus hubs are built into the station, one on the east side and one on the west side.  You can see feeder buses waiting at both ends, though they look more blue than green from above.

Poblado station on Metro Line A is seen here just to the right of the river. A pedestrian bridge leads east and west to bus hubs. Note how buses can only access the bus hubs by looping. A bus crossing the city east-west on Calle 10, as a grid structure would require, would not be able to stop at the station.

The feeders to the west side of the station serve areas further west, and those on the east side serve areas further east.  This is fine when we can imagine everyone is going to the Line A station.  But what happens when Line E appears, running north-south further west, and someone to the east of Line A wants to get to it?  That’s not going to be easy, because the infrastructure was all designed on the assumption that buses serving the station would always end there.  This person coming from east of the station would have to take a green bus from east of the rail line to the station, then walk through the station to the west-side bus hub, and take another green bus to continue.  They have the same problem that exists with Lines B and T at San Antonio:  They need to transfer to keep going in the same direction, and that means several transfers to complete many likely trips in a grid pattern.

It’s hard to imagine the infrastructure that would solve this problem.  Everything about this area is designed on the principle that the sides will be fed to the spine but never need to cross it.  And yet, Line E will soon appear, and this problem will appear with it.

Conclusion

If I were advising Medellín, I’d try to create a workspace where we could at least draw and analyze what a fully integrated network might look like, and what it could achieve, so that people could see how much improvement would be possible without increasing operating subsidy.  I can imagine the complexities we’d encounter.  For example, Metro Line A is crowded, and probably couldn’t handle everyone who now rides the buses that duplicate it.  But the line itself has spare capacity: with more trains, it could run more frequently, and of course you could consider automation to get the frequency even higher if it came to that.  So I don’t pretend it would be easy.  But I know we would discover possibilities that nobody has considered, because we always do.  Medellín is going to outgrow its historic transit network, and despite all its cool technologies, the next big improvement in access to opportunity can only arise from making the abundant bus services more effective.   Eventually, that will mean one network of services that all work together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Toronto: What Eglinton Means

It’s been a long struggle, but Toronto’s Eglinton rail line is finally open.  Now, the rapid transit network consists of the wide lines on this map, numbered 1-6.

New rail map published by the Toronto Transit Commission, showing the new Eglinton line as Line 5. Please ignore the narrow lines numbered in the 500s. They are streetcars, and many of them are stuck in traffic and slower than buses.

The internet is full of reviews and recriminations about how long Eglinton took and the pros and cons of its design, but I want to make a different point:  Eglinton shows a city slowly awakening to its true nature as a grid.  This awakening is ultimately more important for the mobility and freedom of people in Toronto than details of what’s on rails and what’s on tires.

Toronto, like Chicago, is a grid city with a very uneven distribution of density.  The city has a large grid of arterials that are more or less c0ntinuous across the city, but density is historically concentrated downtown and to some degree along the oldest rail transit corridors, especially Yonge (the east leg of Line 1).

So for a long time it wasn’t crazy for Toronto, like Chicago, to have a radial rail network (designed mostly for trips downtown) fed by buses that followed the arterial grid.

But it’s crazy now.  Working from home has reduced the rush of commuters into the downtown towers.  Meanwhile, many more towers are being built in the suburbs, often just over the line outside Toronto.  And as in every city, the preponderance of travel demand is now much more all-day, all-week and all-direction than it used to be. Finally, lower-income people have always been less likely to be going downtown, and more likely to be accessing lower-wage jobs that are scattered all over the city.  So if we care about them, we have to stop building and planning as though downtown is all that really matters.

So Toronto needs a network that people can use to go anywhere at any time.

The downtown-oriented network is not good at this, because by feeding toward downtown in a hierarchical pattern, it makes it hard to travel in non-downtown directions.  In short, Toronto needs a grid transit network to match its grid geography, so that people can go from anywhere to anywhere in a simple L-shaped trip, usually with a single transfer.

Eglinton is the first major investment that shows a stirring of that consciousness.  It lies well north of downtown, and runs east-west most of the way across the city.  For the first time, it’s possible to travel a long distance east-west without transferring and without going downtown, which means that trips to many other places become possible with one transfer instead of two or three.

But the old consciousness is still on display further north on the map above, where the recent Finch West line (Line 6) has opened.  It’s very much the old model of a hierarchical feeder, running from the west edge of the city only to the first subway connection.  It’s now a mirror image of the equally problematic Line 4, which serves only a fragment of Sheppard on the east side.  Both of these lines are largely useless for the kinds of trips that will increasingly prevail in a multi-dimensional city, because they interrupt the logic of the grid instead of working with it.  My advice to Toronto years ago was not to build Finch West until they were ready to continue it all the way east at least to Yonge, the east leg of Line 1, so that it could also be used to travel to points on Yonge including northward into the dense suburbs.  It will be interesting to see how useful the newly opened fragment turns out to be.

The buses, too, still display the old consciousness.  Almost without exception, long east-west lines terminate at Yonge, requiring the passenger to transfer to continue in the same direction on the same street.  Again, this means they will often transfer twice to complete an L-shaped trip to an actual non-downtown destination:

A segment of the Toronto bus map along Yonge Avenue from the north edge of downtown to the north edge of the city. Note that every east-west line is interrupted here. Eglinton rail (orange) is the only exception.

The situation is even more remarkable along the Bloor-Danforth subway Line 2, where again many bus routes are interrupted. Toronto is about twice as big east-west as north-south, so these corridors are shorter, which means there’s even less reason to interrupt them:

The west end of Line 2. Note that every north-south bus line is interrupted as it crosses the rail line, adding many unnecessary transfers to L-shaped trips that do not use the rail.

These designs reflect an obsolete notion of hierarchy in which rail is king and buses are servants, existing only to “feed” the rail.  In an era when downtown commuters mattered more than anyone, that made a bit of sense, but only a bit.  There were always people trying to go everywhere and struggling against these patterns.  Now, buses need to be rethought to make sense on their own terms, as parts of complete grid networks.  (Our firm brought the same awareness to the upcoming redesign of Atlanta’s MARTA bus network, where for the first time, many bus routes will continue past rail stations instead of ending there)

So amid all the other debates about Toronto, let’s celebrate the most important thing about Eglinton:  For almost the first time, the city has made a major investment that recognizes that in a big, dense city, surrounded by dense suburbs, people need to go all directions, all the time.

Bogotá: A Day without Cars

Bogotá’s Carrera Séptima on the day without cars. It was hard to get a bus in the photo because they went by so fast.

(Español abajo)

Yesterday I got to witness the world’s largest “day without cars and motorcycles”.  On that day, only taxis, public transit, and emergency vehicles are allowed to circulate, at least in theory.

It is the one day a year when the buses flow freely, not just in the TransMilenio busways but all over the city.  On other days, I’ve sometimes found buses so hopelessly stuck in traffic that it’s faster to get out and walk.

In an elevator the day before, a man dressed for business overheard us planning the day and grumbled that it’s “a day for working from home.”  It probably is for many who can do that.  But the crowding on the public transport was as intense as ever, and since the buses were moving so much faster, they must have been taking more people than usual to their destinations.

This policy of allowing a day without cars is meant, as I understand, mostly to expand awareness.  The city wants people to see that a city without cars is possible.  But of course, since it’s just one day a year, confirmed motorists can choose to perceive it as the opposite: an obstruction to be planned around.  What’s more, the things that are possible on one day without cars are not the same as what could be done if cars were managed in a more rigorous way all the time.

My photo above is on one of the most critical arteries, Carrera Séptima, which links dense activity centers, including the city centre and multiple universities, all along its length.  It is far from the nearest parallel busway.  It moves fine on the one day without cars, but the rest of the time it’s often strangled, and an endless debate about whether to develop bus lanes or trams (light rail) leads, as it often does, to doing nothing.

Is it good to see the Septima so empty one day a year?  Or is it mostly just irritating, both for the motorists who work from home that day and for everyone else who wonders whether one day a year really makes a difference?  Does this day make it easier or harder to envision permanent changes to create a more just and liberated city?  I don’t know the answer, but that’s the question.

Ayer presencié el “día sin coches ni motos” más grande del mundo. Ese día, solo se permite la circulación de taxis, transporte público y vehículos de emergencia, al menos en teoría.

Es el único día del año en que los autobuses circulan libremente, no solo en las vías de TransMilenio, sino en toda la ciudad. Otros días, a veces me he encontrado con autobuses tan atascados que es más rápido bajarse y caminar.

El día anterior, en un ascensor, un hombre vestido de negocios nos escuchó planear el día y se quejó de que era “un día para teletrabajar”. Probablemente lo sea para muchos que pueden hacerlo. Pero el hacinamiento en el transporte público era tan intenso como siempre, y como los autobuses iban mucho más rápido, debían de llevar a más gente de lo habitual a sus destinos.

Esta política de permitir un día sin coches tiene como objetivo, según tengo entendido, principalmente crear conciencia. La ciudad quiere que la gente vea que una ciudad sin coches es posible. Pero claro, como solo es un día al año, los conductores empedernidos pueden optar por percibirlo como lo contrario: un obstáculo que hay que planificar. Es más, lo que se puede hacer un día sin coches no es lo mismo que se podría hacer si se gestionaran los coches de forma más rigurosa todo el tiempo.

Mi foto de arriba es de una de las arterias más importantes, la Carrera Séptima, que conecta centros de alta actividad, como el centro de la ciudad y varias universidades, a lo largo de toda su longitud. Está lejos de la vía de autobuses paralela más cercana. Se mueve bien el Día sin Carros, pero el resto del año suele estar congestionada, y un debate interminable sobre si desarrollar carriles bus o tranvías (tren ligero) lleva, como suele ocurrir, a no hacer nada.

¿Es bueno ver la Séptima tan vacía un día al año? ¿O es simplemente irritante, tanto para los automovilistas que trabajan desde casa ese día como para todos los demás que se preguntan si un día al año realmente hace una diferencia? ¿Este día hace más o menos fácil imaginar cambios permanentes para crear una ciudad más justa y liberada? No sé la respuesta, pero esa es la pregunta.

 

 

¡Holá, Colombia!

(Español abajo.)

It’s ridiculous that I’ve had a 34 year career encouraging good bus service in many parts of the world and yet had never been to Colombia. Finally, I have my chance.  I’ll be in Bogotá all this week and Medellín for a few days next week, to witness Colombia’s famous public transit for myself.  While Bogotá wasn’t the first Bus Rapid Transit system in Latin America, it quickly grew one of the largest, one that has all the functions of the metro that the city lacks.  (A first metro line is finally under construction now.)  Bogotá is also known for founding Ciclovia, a program that opens many streets to cyclists on Sundays and holidays, and for the world’s largest Day Without Cars, which is coming up this Thursday, February 5.

First impressions of Bogotá:  The dramatic misty mountains right against the densest parts of the city.  The uneven pavements that require pedestrians to watch their feet.  But above all: the joy of a clear grid!  Colombian cities mostly have numbered streets in both directions, so that every address is a set of co-ordinates that tell you where you are in the city and how far any other address is from you.  It’s not perfect, the grid is irregular and has some twists to follow the geography.  But for a visitor especially the legibility is magnificent.

I am staying near Parque 93 (yes, even parks can be named for numbered streets, because all this legibility deserves to be celebrated!).  Yesterday, I took my first long walk, 3.5 km north to Usaquén, a popular spot for public markets.  All this impressive density is not about that cute little rail station, which is served only by a single daily tourist train.  It’s about the masses of buses flowing past in all directions.

Today I’ll be touring the transit system properly with the help of Dario Hidalgo, a Professor of Transport and Logistics at Universidad Javierana and a frequent commentator in the Colombian newspaper La Silla Vacía.  So no comments about that yet, but certainly more to come.

Español:

Es ridículo que haya tenido una carrera de 34 años promocionando un buen servicio de autobuses en muchas partes del mundo y, sin embargo, nunca haya estado en Colombia. Por fin, tengo mi oportunidad. Estaré en Bogotá toda esta semana y en Medellín unos días la próxima semana para presenciar por mí mismo el famoso transporte público de Colombia. Si bien Bogotá no fue el primer sistema de Tránsito Rápido de Autobuses de Latinoamérica, rápidamente se convirtió en uno de los más grandes, con todas las funciones del metro de las que carece la ciudad. (La primera línea de metro finalmente está en construcción). Bogotá es también conocida por fundar Ciclovía, un programa que abre muchas calles principales para los ciclistas los domingos y días de ferias, y por el Día sin Carro más grande del mundo, que celebrará este jueves el 5 de febrero.

Primeras impresiones de Bogotá: Las espectaculares montañas brumosas justo al lado de las zonas más densas de la ciudad. Las aceras irregulares que obligan a los peatones a tener cuidado con sus pies. Pero sobre todo: ¡la alegría de una cuadrícula despejada! Las ciudades colombianas suelen tener calles numeradas en ambas direcciones, de modo que cada dirección es un conjunto de coordenadas que te indican dónde te encuentras en la ciudad y a qué distancia está cualquier otra dirección. No es perfecto; la cuadrícula es irregular y tiene algunas curvas para seguir la geografía. Pero, especialmente para un visitante, la legibilidad es magnífica.

Me hospedo cerca del Parque de la 93 (sí, incluso los parques pueden tener nombres de calles numeradas, ¡porque toda esta legibilidad merece ser celebrada!). Ayer di mi primera caminata larga, 3,5 km al norte hasta Usaquén, un lugar popular por sus mercados públicos. Toda esta impresionante densidad no se debe a esa pequeña y encantadora estación de tren, a la que solo llega un tren turístico diario. Se debe a la multitud de autobuses que pasan en todas direcciones.

Hoy recorreré el sistema de transporte público en detalle con la ayuda de Darío Hidalgo, un Profesor de Transporte y Logístico en la Universidad Javierana y comentarista frecuente del periódico colombiano La Silla Vacía. Así que todavía no hay comentarios sobre eso, pero seguramente habrá más.

Portland: Dire Transit Service Cuts Planned

Very bad transit service cuts are coming to Portland.

Just a couple of years ago, we worked with Portland’s TriMet to develop an ambitious service expansion plan called Forward Together.  Now, the agency is saying instead that they are facing a dire financial shortfall and need to make service cuts.  I’m not sure why this message has changed so suddenly, apart from the failure of the state legislature to provide a new funding source for operations.  In any case, the agency’s current position is that they have to cut service now to avoid worse cuts later, although worse cuts may be coming later anyway.

You can peruse the cuts here.  If you live in the region, you should comment before Saturday, January 31.

I have several thoughts, which are further below, but it’s best to start by looking closely at the single most shocking cut they propose.

Abandoning a Major Hospital?

This may well be the first time that a US transit agency has proposed to abandon all service to a major medical center: Providence in inner northeast Portland.  It happens to be a landscape I know well.  I live nearby, grew up even closer, and go to the Providence complex for most of my healthcare.  Also, I first moved to Portland in 1969 (I was 7, but already a transit geek) so I know some useful history.

This part of northeast Portland is a fairly dense area with a good street grid where a lot of housing is being added along frequent transit corridors (red in my sketch, which is based on a Remix plot):

In this inner-city context, most of the blue lines, which currently run every 20-30 minutes, should be every 15 minutes, because they can perform well as part of a frequent grid.  But in fact only the red lines are frequent.  There’s also the sinuous light rail line, following I-84, but it only has two stations in this area, at 42nd and 60th.  Do not ask me why there is no station at Providence, whose campus lies between 47th and 52nd right next to the rail line.

Now, TriMet proposes to entirely delete Line 19 on Glisan.  This would remove all service within 1/4 mile walk of the Providence complex.

I was an intern at TriMet around the time of the 1982 redesign that created the current grid.  At the time, all the lines on this map were made frequent (every 15 minutes or better) except for Glisan.  The network is designed mostly around the principle of 1/2 mile spacing between lines, because many people will walk up to 1/4 mile to useful service.  Glisan is only 1/4 mi from Burnside, too close for both to be frequent (at least in the context of the scarcity of service that is typical in the US).

Glisan is a mixed bag as a transit street.  West of Providence, the neighborhood of curving streets is Laurelhurst, an area of low density and hence low demand.  But Providence itself is a massive complex, a major hospital and a large building of medical clinics where many people come for appointments.  Further east, beyond 60th, Glisan is a better transit street than Burnside for a while: it has a grocery store and apartments in this segment, while Burnside is climbing over the north shoulder of Mount Tabor, which limits development potential there.  But long ago the decision was made that Burnside, not Glisan, would be the Frequent Service street, where TriMet would protect 15 minute frequencies at most times of day.

Now, if TriMet has to remove the 19, all the options are truly hideous.  Abandon Providence entirely, along with the moderate income area and moderately dense area along Glisan east of 60th?  Deviate the Halsey line (77) down to Glisan, just between 47th and 60th, to touch Providence, making it longer and thus less useful for through travel?  Deviate the Burnside line up to Glisan, violating the principle that Frequent Service lines should aim for permanence since they’ve been used as the basis of dense housing development (including some on the segment that we would miss if we deviated in this area)?

I don’t know what TriMet will do.  I don’t know what I’d recommend, except to say that a city with Portland’s pretensions to sustainability should not be in this position.

The Overall Design of the Proposed Cuts

The fact that service is being cut is a financial decision out of the control of TriMet’s service planners.  Given the direction to make harmful cuts, I think they’ve done a good job in minimizing the harm.  Some things I especially respect are:

  • Sharing the pain with the light rail network.  Until 10-20 years ago, many agencies would have started this process from the assumption that the rail service is special and must be protected, leading to even more destructive cuts to bus service.  Instead, TriMet proposes to cut back the Green Line to just its unique segment south of Gateway, where it would operate as a feeder to the Red and Blue lines.  This is a frequency gut cut all along the east-west segment now served by Red, Blue and Green (from 5 min to 7.5 min) but it’s also a cut to north-south frequency along the transit mall in the heart of downtown, from 7.5 to 15 min.  A 15 minute frequency is really not relevant to internal circulation in a downtown, serving trips of under 2 miles, and the whole design of the transit mall (as redone in 2008) presumes that rail, not buses, serves this circulator function.  Now that won’t work at all. So yes, a terrible cut at the heart of the system.  But light rail operating costs are high, and if they didn’t cut light rail they’d have to utterly devastate the bus network.

  • Some service designs that are improvements.  Our Forward Together project included many ideas that have been carried forward here, though without enough frequency.  (Continuous service the whole length of Woodstock Blvd, for example.)
  • Balanced removals of coverage.  The principle of the Forward Together project, as endorsed by the agency’s Board, was that service needed to be justified by either ridership or equity.  That means that low-ridership service can be offered only where it responds to a demonstrated social or economic need.  As part of the Forward Together plan, TriMet has already deleted low-ridership “coverage” services in relatively affluent parts of the region, and they continue to do so in this proposal.

But overall, the plan’s impacts are dire.

What’s more, there’s a serious risk that in the public outreach process happening now, more people will defend the deleted routes than defend the Frequent Service network.  This could pressure TriMet to cut frequencies on this backbone of the region.  We have already done this experiment:  In the 2009 financial crisis TriMet cut Frequent Network frequencies from 15 minutes to 16-17 and triggered a dramatic loss of ridership.  Frequency is never visible enough on the map, which makes it hard to defend when people are complaining about losing all of their service, yet frequency is the key to ridership.  This is the eternal ridership-coverage tradeoff.)

Do We Really Want to Do This?

Oregon’s legislature recently went through a spectacular failed effort to pass a statewide transportation funding measure, where rural legislators demanded maintenance for their roads but were eager to strip out transit operating funds for cities.  A measure passed that funds transit only through 2028, but that has been referred to the voters, with an election scheduled for May.

It seems likely that the best we can hope for from the state is a short-term rescue.  Leaders in the region — probably working through Metro or the City of Portland — are going to have to step up if they want to save what was once one of America’s most admirable transit agencies.

 

Come Work with Us!

I’m happy to announce that we’re hiring a transit analyst and planner at our firm, to be based in either Portland, Oregon or Arlington, Virginia.  These are relatively junior positions, requiring two years of professional experience or equivalent training.  Applications are due February 20, 2026 but we will be reviewing them as we receive them.  Please share this with anyone who might be interested.  

To find out more and apply, click  or go to jarrettwalker.com/hiring.

Many Americans Are Open to Car-Free Living

Are Americans a “car culture” or are they “car dependent”?  Do they drive because they love driving, or are they in an unhealthy relationship with a substance they would be happy to do without?  Obviously there are plenty of Americans who do love their cars, but here’s more evidence that there are fewer of them than you might think, and that the common “car culture” frame is misleading us.

A new study by Nicole Corcoran and others did a nationwide survey with a striking finding:

We find that nearly one fifth of urban and suburban US car owners express a definite interest in living car-free (18 %), and an additional 40 % are open to the idea. This is in addition to the small share (10 %) of urban and suburban US residents currently living without a car.
Even if just the 18% who are highly interested could stop driving, it would transform our cities and suburbs overnight. But who are these people?
Five key factors are associated with interest in car-free living: having prior experience living without a car, using alternative modes of transportation for at least five percent of trips, lower car dependence, riding transit regularly, and having less enjoyment of travel by private car. Further, we find that car owners interested in car-free living are a diverse group, with few significant associations between interest in car-free living and key socioeconomic or demographic variables.
That last item is the most important:  We should not be making demographic or political assumptions about who potential non-drivers are.  They are everyone, rich and poor, old and young, and of various races and political opinions.
Given the sizable unmet demand for car-free living, we conclude that planners should allow and facilitate car-free and car-lite developments. In practice, this can be done by embracing zoning reform, investing in alternative transportation infrastructure, lowering parking requirements for development, and encouraging mixed land uses, including in residential neighborhoods.

I wish they had dropped the word “infrastructure,” because the fastest things we can do to make car-free live possible for more people is to expand the provision of public transit service.  That means actually running more buses and trains, not just building facilities for them.

I expect to refer to this study frequently, because it pierces the illusion that public transit faces a “cultural” challenge in the US.  Public transit’s problem in the US is that it isn’t very useful.  That’s something we can measure, and change.

Don’t worry about trying to change a culture.  Change the facts and the culture will follow.

More Transit Network Design Courses Coming in 2026, including Washington DC Jan 15-16.

Our firm’s two-day intensive course in transit network design is an “inexcusably fun” way to go deep into how transit networks work and learn the craft of designing them.  It’s great not just for working transit planners but for those in adjacent fields who need to understand transit better.  You can read all about it here.

We just finished up a successful session in Portland, and now we’re planning the 2026 schedule.

The first one up is likely to be in central Washington DC on January 15 and 16, right after the TRB Conference.  If you’re planning to attend TRB, or you’re already in the region, hold these dates!  We’ll have a proper announcement and registration link by the end of this week.

 

How do Network Redesigns Increase Ridership?

The last few posts, starting here, reviewed some recent US network redesigns at our firm, all of which increased ridership above the rate at which they increased service.  In other words, they increased productivity, the ratio of ridership divided by the quantity of service provided.  They also increased productivity faster than it was rising overall in peer systems.

What can these examples tell us? The same thing that we know from our many other ridership-increasing redesigns:

  • Think about the ridership-coverage tradeoff.  Virtually any transit agency could increase ridership by abandoning areas whose development pattern is unfavorable to transit and focusing more service where the pattern is more favorable.  But as government agencies accountable to elected officials, they usually aren’t being told to do this.  Coverage service — which means service run in low demand areas knowing that ridership will be low — is very popular and fiercely defended.   That’s why an effective plan involves clear decisions about the unavoidable tradeoff between ridership goals and coverage goals.  (No, microtransit does not get you around this problem.)  This requires a public conversation and a clear decision by the Board, and to get to that, you must …
  • Include everyone in a reality-based conversation.  What is critical to the success of these networks and projects is that in each case we worked closely and carefully with the agency, stakeholders, and the community to have a clear conversation about why and how to change the system.  Everyone affected could understand why each agency was changing and what the goal of the major change was.  But these conversations were reality-based.  We created tools to help people see what was mathematically possible, so that they spent less time advocating fantasies and more time thinking about the actual problem facing the agency.
  • Get the fare rules out of the way.  Monterey-Salinas and Santa Cruz both made changing buses free at the same time they implemented the redesign.  Charging people to use two buses instead of one is insane.  It would be more convenient for our analysis if the fare change and service change had happened at different times, because it makes it hard to sort out the causes of the ridership jump.  But in fact, they had to eliminate transfer charges for the redesign to work, because efficient networks tend to require a bit more transfering.  Many authorities still have fare rules that penalize transferring, and that therefore require the operation of less efficient and liberating services.
  • Talk about freedom.  We never talk about network redesigns in terms of ridership predictions or modeling, because many people sensibly don’t trust these models, and they’re not really necessary.  What matters is that we’re expanding freedom, and that’s what we measure.  We’re making it possible for more people to get to more places sooner, so they can do more things in their lives.  This turns out to be a great way to increase ridership, but it’s also something that everyone cares about.

At our firm we’ve lost count of the number of network redesigns we’ve led, both in the US and elsewhere.  But they have almost all increased ridership, to the extent that was a goal.  We’re proud of our work in agencies of all sizes, from small cities with a few buses to giant cities like Houston and Dublin.  We have  a lot of well-honed instincts and methodologies that make us good to hire for your community, but the real source of what we do is simple and we’re happy to explain it to the world:  We have clear conversations about mathematical reality, and help people see all the possibilities that are before them.