The Vanishing Pedal
There is an image that remains vivid in my memory from the height of the pandemic: hundreds of bicycles moving along Iloilo’s Diversion Road, each rider a fragment of a collective dream. Cycling then was not merely transportation; it was a rediscovery of freedom, freedom from traffic, from dependence on

By Noel Galon de Leon
By Noel Galon de Leon
There is an image that remains vivid in my memory from the height of the pandemic: hundreds of bicycles moving along Iloilo’s Diversion Road, each rider a fragment of a collective dream. Cycling then was not merely transportation; it was a rediscovery of freedom, freedom from traffic, from dependence on jeeps and taxis, and most of all, from the confinement of a city shuttered by fear. The bicycle became both remedy and symbol of resilience, of endurance, of an Iloilo that refused to be paralyzed. Five years later, the picture is less romantic. Yes, Iloilo continues to celebrate its annual Bike Festival, and indeed, the city has been repeatedly recognized as a “Gold Awardee” of the Mobility Awards (BusinessWorld, 2024; Inquirer, 2025). The Esplanade and its protected bike lanes are still proudly showcased to visiting delegations. Yet on ordinary days, the vibrancy has dulled, fewer commuters choose the bicycle, more return to jeeps and e-bikes, and the once-joyful chorus of morning pedals has been muted by the blare of traffic and the oppressive heat.
What changed? First, the weather. In April 2025, PAGASA recorded a “danger” heat index of 46°C in Western Visayas (PhilStar, 2025). Who, under such punishing conditions, would risk a midday ride? The lack of shade, water stations, and heat-mitigation infrastructure has become an invisible but powerful deterrent, one that cannot be captured by festival photos or award citations.
Second, the return of old habits. As the World Economic Forum (2022) has observed, commuting patterns worldwide show a “partial reversion” to public transport once restrictions lifted. Iloilo is no exception, with offices and schools resuming, many find the air-conditioned jeepney more convenient than the sweat and sun of a bicycle commute.
Third, safety concerns. Reports of road crashes persist (Panay News, 2023; Daily Guardian, 2024). Car encroachment into bike lanes remains common. Yes, Iloilo boasts an enviable cycling network, but does this infrastructure serve the everyday worker or student with a backpack and slippers, or is it largely an “Instagrammable showcase” of urban modernity?
Here lies the controversy. Every time we proclaim Iloilo the “bike capital of the Philippines,” do we risk complacency? Instead of addressing heat, discipline on the road, and the lack of connections to barangay streets and markets, we celebrate medals and festivals. The danger is that we mistake recognition for achievement.
If Iloilo truly wishes to sustain its bike culture, cycling must be lived daily, not just celebrated annually. This means investing in tree cover and shaded corridors (Manila Bulletin, 2024), enforcing laws against lane obstruction, and providing secure bicycle parking in markets, schools, and government offices. More fundamentally, it requires integrating cycling into urban transport planning as a serious mode of mobility, not as decorative infrastructure.
At this point, a skeptic might ask: is cycling mere romanticism, or a genuine alternative? I would argue it is both. The bicycle is practical, cheap, efficient, environmentally sound. But it is also cultural. To cycle in a city like Iloilo is to make a political claim: “I am here. I belong on this road. I have a right to move safely and with dignity.”
It is not too late to rekindle the strength of Iloilo’s bike culture. But this will demand courage from both the local government and the community, to treat cycling not as spectacle but as everyday life. If done, the city will not only revive the pulse of its weekday pedal commuters but also model a more humane, ecological, and just vision of transport for the nation.
And on that day, the soundscape of our roads will change, not dominated by horns and engines, but by the steady, hopeful rhythm of thousands of bicycles in motion.
***
Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and educator at University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in both the Division of Professional Education and U.P. High School in Iloilo. He serves as an Executive Council Member of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.
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Appreciate this. Accurate points.
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