Bill Bushnell
September 9th 04, 10:01 PM
http://www.pobox.com/~bushnell/ride_stories/mt_ham_moonlight_2004_08_29
Mt. Hamilton by Moonlight 2004/08/29
I had done a moonlight ride up the mountain twice before, both times
about 10 years ago, so it was nice to reacquaint myself with the
experience. I had also ridden up Mt. Diablo once, having to climb over
the gate and sneak past the ranger station. Sunrise on Diablo is
arguably a more spectacular affair since unobstructed views can be had
all around, and there is the top turret of the museum in which one can
take refuge if it's windy and/or cold. All of my previous moonlight
rides were in December and January when sunrises are late and the air is
very clear, but COLD. This being a summer ride, I expected pleasant but
hazy conditions. I was not surprised.
I left home at about 3:10a, about a half-hour later than I had planned.
Of course the neighborhood was dark and quiet; about the only cars on
the streets were police cars. I saw no drunks. Temperature was a very
comfortable 64F, so I started in shorts and short sleeves, but I brought
my long top and long pants in case it was cooler while standing around
on the mountain. There were 3 distinct temperature zones on this ride,
warm in town, cool in the valleys I rode through on the way up, and warm
again at the summit.
The trip through Santa Clara and San Jose was relatively quick and
uneventful. I managed to cruise through most intersections on green
lights, but there were a few obstinate signals that sat "all red" until
a vehicle arrived (Capitol and Hostetter in San Jose) and a couple that
didn't register my bike. With all the police cars about, I opted not to
blow any lights.
I managed to get myself to Alum Rock Ave. and Mt. Hamilton Rd., the base
of the climb, in about 1 hour. A sign at the bottom warned that the
road was closed at Grant Ranch Park 8 miles ahead. I pressed on anyway,
figuring that I'd turn around only if someone was awake and guarding the
road at this hour, an unlikely proposition. I saw no evidence of
closure anywhere on the climb. Perhaps the sign had been erected in
connection with the recent fires near San Antonio Valley, and the
responsible party had neglected to remove it after the road re-opened.
For the trip across town and up the first climb into Halls Valley I ran
my Niterider 15w headlight, adding a helmet-mounted 5w Nightsun Sunsport
on the downgrade into Halls Valley. I used one of the late-model
Vistalights in full blink mode in the rear. I was passed by two or
three SUVs going up, and by several going down, including an ambulance,
fire truck, and paramedic truck. Cars passing in both directions slowed
down and obviously took time to look me over while passing.
The plan was to meet up with a Western Wheelers ride somewhere along the
way to the top or at the top. They had started at Crothers and Mt.
Hamilton Rd. at 2:30a and would be climbing slowly. As I passed the
intersection I looked left, but saw only one truck. I did not see the
ride leader's car as I went by the intersection. Maybe he decided not
to do the ride. I had already ridden halfway, so I pressed on even if I
was to ride alone the whole time.
After crossing Masters Ridge I could hear owls hooting nearby to the
right and the lonely plaintive howl of a coyote further off to the left
down in the valley. Several times my passage seemed to startle one or
more unseen beasts (most likely deer or pigs) in the underbrush. At one
point a dog began barking furiously, alert to any unfamiliar noise or
odor passing his master's territory. Further up the mountain I did see
a few deer near the road, their unblinking eyes glowing at me from the
dark.
About 1 mile uphill from the entrance to Grant Ranch Park I stopped to
shut off my Niterider which had been running for about 2 hours. For the
remainder of the middle climb I ran without a headlight, seeing only by
moonlight. There's something elemental about riding off into the dark
and quiet of night on a deserted road. Everything was a shade of gray,
the moonlight shining brightly enough to ride slowly uphill but too
dimly to lend color to my surroundings.
Rocks can often be found on the road next to cuts in the hillside, but
the moon was dropping too low in the sky to shine directly upon them.
Even though I knew most of the rocks were in the downhill lane, closest
to the uphill side of the road, I tried to ride about 2-3 feet from the
white line or from the center line, where I knew auto tires passed,
where the lane was most likely to be clean. I encountered no rocks.
At the second downgrade I turned on the Sunsport and descended into the
darkness of Smith Creek canyon, about 150 feet of descending. As I
started the third, final, and longest climb (~2100 feet) I was starting
to feel the effort in my legs. I had hiked about 7.5 miles the day
before, and my muscles were still a bit sore from that. The moon was
getting old and was starting to pass under a distant smoky haze as it
sank over the Santa Cruz Mountains to the west, so I continued to run
the Sunsport on the final climb.
As I passed Kincaid Rd. I figured that I would be getting to the top
with not much time to spare before sunrise. About halfway up the last
climb the sky began to lighten in the direction of the mountain. I
tried to keep the pace high, but my legs were getting tired, "pedaling
in squares" as Phil and Paul would say. I had only stopped once since
home and only very briefly.
Somehow I managed to haul myself up the last hill to the observatory
building at 6:19a, 3:09 minutes after leaving home. No one was there
and the building was locked. The great shutter on the dome over the
refracting telescope was closed tight. I rode around the building,
then realized that unlike the winter sunrise that enjoyed an
unimpeded view from the railing at the east side of the building, the
summer sunrise would be further north, partially obstructed by
Copernicus Peak, the highest peak on the ridge. So I descended back
to the main road (San Antonio Valley Rd. at this point) and headed
east to where I knew the road had an unobstructed view eastward past
Copernicus Peak, near where the "1" is painted in the middle of the
road. This meant riding about a hundred feet down the east side.
As I approached the turnout where I planned to stop I ran into the ride
leader, Piaw Na, his tandeming partner, and one other cyclist I had
never met before in person but whom I remember from more than 10 years
ago, Radek Aster. They had initially ridden up to the observatory about
an hour earlier but were chased off the peak by an overzealous
Sherriff's deputy since the road to the observatory was officially
closed at night--"Didn't you see the sign?!" He apparently chased them
(none too politely) east down San Antonio Valley Rd. to the turnout
where they were stopped to watch the sunrise. I saw the Sherriff's SUV
parked at one of the houses along the road, but I did not see Mr. Deputy
as I rode by.
We had barely 10 minutes to exchange pleasantries before the sun rose on
cue at the predicted time of 6:36a. Just before popping above the
distant Sierra Peaks over Yosemite, the sun cast a remarkable shadow of
several characteristic dome-like shapes westward into the Central Valley
haze. Unfortunately, none of us had brought a camera to capture this
fleeting image.
After the disk of the sun was fully revealed we turned around, climbed
back up the road and then descended back to Crothers Rd. (I thought of
pressing on through Livermore but thought better of it when I remembered
the uncomfortably hot weather forecast for the coming day and that the
temperature was already a balmy 68F.)
On the way down I stopped briefly at the small parking area at the
top of the middle climb. Color had returned to the land that was
waking from its slumber. A number of small unseen birds in a nearby
oak had found their voices, and smaller animals seemed to be waking,
all twittering and squeaking in the morning light. Further down the
road I startled several large coveys of quail, and at one point I saw
what looked very much like a roadrunner dart across in front of me.
I half expected to see a coyote in pursuit. (I didn't think
roadrunners could be found in this area.) This first hour after dawn
seemed to belong to the wildlife. At the main entrance to Grant
Ranch Park I passed the first bicyclists climbing the road, and
further down a couple more groups of cyclists were getting an early
start.
I stopped at Crothers and Mt. Hamilton Rd. to say goodbye to Piaw and
his partner. While we were talking a couple of other Western Wheelers
arrived from the direction of the mountain. We learned that they had
started late, about 15 minutes after I rode by on my way up. They
watched the sunrise from the summit, but I didn't see them there, having
just missed them before I continued to a less obstructed viewing area
down the east side. They said they saw us descending while they sat at
the railing on the west side.
After saying goodbye I continued down to Alum Rock Park, but the park
was closed, presumably due to fire danger. A large orange sign had been
placed in the middle of the road that is normally closed to autos
specifying a number of conveyances that were to obey this closure. e.g.
No autos; no joggers; no pedestrains, no bicycles, no roller skates,
etc. (They missed pogo sticks.) I can understand closing the park to
autos, but joggers, pedestrians, and cyclists? I suppose people who
visit the park that way could be smokers or worse.
To enforce this ban one of the rangers had been assigned to guard the
entrance and to turn people away. "Park's closed," he said unsmilingly
through his open window. Based on my occasional visits to the park, I
have begun to think that nothing would make Alum Rock Park management
happier (and make their jobs easier) than to close off the park
altogether to the public. So, I returned home mostly by the way I came,
arriving home at about 9:30a, hungry, and just in time for a generous
second breakfast before taking a shower and a 2-hour nap and then
enjoying the rest of the day.
Stats:
distance: 70.9 miles
climbing: 5260 feet
total time: 6:20:47
riding time: 4:59:55
average speed: 12.7 mph
maximum speed: 39.7 mph
average HR: 101 bpm
max power: 412 watts
average power: 155 watts
total energy: 2808 Joules
All averages exclude stopped time.
--
Bill Bushnell
Mt. Hamilton by Moonlight 2004/08/29
I had done a moonlight ride up the mountain twice before, both times
about 10 years ago, so it was nice to reacquaint myself with the
experience. I had also ridden up Mt. Diablo once, having to climb over
the gate and sneak past the ranger station. Sunrise on Diablo is
arguably a more spectacular affair since unobstructed views can be had
all around, and there is the top turret of the museum in which one can
take refuge if it's windy and/or cold. All of my previous moonlight
rides were in December and January when sunrises are late and the air is
very clear, but COLD. This being a summer ride, I expected pleasant but
hazy conditions. I was not surprised.
I left home at about 3:10a, about a half-hour later than I had planned.
Of course the neighborhood was dark and quiet; about the only cars on
the streets were police cars. I saw no drunks. Temperature was a very
comfortable 64F, so I started in shorts and short sleeves, but I brought
my long top and long pants in case it was cooler while standing around
on the mountain. There were 3 distinct temperature zones on this ride,
warm in town, cool in the valleys I rode through on the way up, and warm
again at the summit.
The trip through Santa Clara and San Jose was relatively quick and
uneventful. I managed to cruise through most intersections on green
lights, but there were a few obstinate signals that sat "all red" until
a vehicle arrived (Capitol and Hostetter in San Jose) and a couple that
didn't register my bike. With all the police cars about, I opted not to
blow any lights.
I managed to get myself to Alum Rock Ave. and Mt. Hamilton Rd., the base
of the climb, in about 1 hour. A sign at the bottom warned that the
road was closed at Grant Ranch Park 8 miles ahead. I pressed on anyway,
figuring that I'd turn around only if someone was awake and guarding the
road at this hour, an unlikely proposition. I saw no evidence of
closure anywhere on the climb. Perhaps the sign had been erected in
connection with the recent fires near San Antonio Valley, and the
responsible party had neglected to remove it after the road re-opened.
For the trip across town and up the first climb into Halls Valley I ran
my Niterider 15w headlight, adding a helmet-mounted 5w Nightsun Sunsport
on the downgrade into Halls Valley. I used one of the late-model
Vistalights in full blink mode in the rear. I was passed by two or
three SUVs going up, and by several going down, including an ambulance,
fire truck, and paramedic truck. Cars passing in both directions slowed
down and obviously took time to look me over while passing.
The plan was to meet up with a Western Wheelers ride somewhere along the
way to the top or at the top. They had started at Crothers and Mt.
Hamilton Rd. at 2:30a and would be climbing slowly. As I passed the
intersection I looked left, but saw only one truck. I did not see the
ride leader's car as I went by the intersection. Maybe he decided not
to do the ride. I had already ridden halfway, so I pressed on even if I
was to ride alone the whole time.
After crossing Masters Ridge I could hear owls hooting nearby to the
right and the lonely plaintive howl of a coyote further off to the left
down in the valley. Several times my passage seemed to startle one or
more unseen beasts (most likely deer or pigs) in the underbrush. At one
point a dog began barking furiously, alert to any unfamiliar noise or
odor passing his master's territory. Further up the mountain I did see
a few deer near the road, their unblinking eyes glowing at me from the
dark.
About 1 mile uphill from the entrance to Grant Ranch Park I stopped to
shut off my Niterider which had been running for about 2 hours. For the
remainder of the middle climb I ran without a headlight, seeing only by
moonlight. There's something elemental about riding off into the dark
and quiet of night on a deserted road. Everything was a shade of gray,
the moonlight shining brightly enough to ride slowly uphill but too
dimly to lend color to my surroundings.
Rocks can often be found on the road next to cuts in the hillside, but
the moon was dropping too low in the sky to shine directly upon them.
Even though I knew most of the rocks were in the downhill lane, closest
to the uphill side of the road, I tried to ride about 2-3 feet from the
white line or from the center line, where I knew auto tires passed,
where the lane was most likely to be clean. I encountered no rocks.
At the second downgrade I turned on the Sunsport and descended into the
darkness of Smith Creek canyon, about 150 feet of descending. As I
started the third, final, and longest climb (~2100 feet) I was starting
to feel the effort in my legs. I had hiked about 7.5 miles the day
before, and my muscles were still a bit sore from that. The moon was
getting old and was starting to pass under a distant smoky haze as it
sank over the Santa Cruz Mountains to the west, so I continued to run
the Sunsport on the final climb.
As I passed Kincaid Rd. I figured that I would be getting to the top
with not much time to spare before sunrise. About halfway up the last
climb the sky began to lighten in the direction of the mountain. I
tried to keep the pace high, but my legs were getting tired, "pedaling
in squares" as Phil and Paul would say. I had only stopped once since
home and only very briefly.
Somehow I managed to haul myself up the last hill to the observatory
building at 6:19a, 3:09 minutes after leaving home. No one was there
and the building was locked. The great shutter on the dome over the
refracting telescope was closed tight. I rode around the building,
then realized that unlike the winter sunrise that enjoyed an
unimpeded view from the railing at the east side of the building, the
summer sunrise would be further north, partially obstructed by
Copernicus Peak, the highest peak on the ridge. So I descended back
to the main road (San Antonio Valley Rd. at this point) and headed
east to where I knew the road had an unobstructed view eastward past
Copernicus Peak, near where the "1" is painted in the middle of the
road. This meant riding about a hundred feet down the east side.
As I approached the turnout where I planned to stop I ran into the ride
leader, Piaw Na, his tandeming partner, and one other cyclist I had
never met before in person but whom I remember from more than 10 years
ago, Radek Aster. They had initially ridden up to the observatory about
an hour earlier but were chased off the peak by an overzealous
Sherriff's deputy since the road to the observatory was officially
closed at night--"Didn't you see the sign?!" He apparently chased them
(none too politely) east down San Antonio Valley Rd. to the turnout
where they were stopped to watch the sunrise. I saw the Sherriff's SUV
parked at one of the houses along the road, but I did not see Mr. Deputy
as I rode by.
We had barely 10 minutes to exchange pleasantries before the sun rose on
cue at the predicted time of 6:36a. Just before popping above the
distant Sierra Peaks over Yosemite, the sun cast a remarkable shadow of
several characteristic dome-like shapes westward into the Central Valley
haze. Unfortunately, none of us had brought a camera to capture this
fleeting image.
After the disk of the sun was fully revealed we turned around, climbed
back up the road and then descended back to Crothers Rd. (I thought of
pressing on through Livermore but thought better of it when I remembered
the uncomfortably hot weather forecast for the coming day and that the
temperature was already a balmy 68F.)
On the way down I stopped briefly at the small parking area at the
top of the middle climb. Color had returned to the land that was
waking from its slumber. A number of small unseen birds in a nearby
oak had found their voices, and smaller animals seemed to be waking,
all twittering and squeaking in the morning light. Further down the
road I startled several large coveys of quail, and at one point I saw
what looked very much like a roadrunner dart across in front of me.
I half expected to see a coyote in pursuit. (I didn't think
roadrunners could be found in this area.) This first hour after dawn
seemed to belong to the wildlife. At the main entrance to Grant
Ranch Park I passed the first bicyclists climbing the road, and
further down a couple more groups of cyclists were getting an early
start.
I stopped at Crothers and Mt. Hamilton Rd. to say goodbye to Piaw and
his partner. While we were talking a couple of other Western Wheelers
arrived from the direction of the mountain. We learned that they had
started late, about 15 minutes after I rode by on my way up. They
watched the sunrise from the summit, but I didn't see them there, having
just missed them before I continued to a less obstructed viewing area
down the east side. They said they saw us descending while they sat at
the railing on the west side.
After saying goodbye I continued down to Alum Rock Park, but the park
was closed, presumably due to fire danger. A large orange sign had been
placed in the middle of the road that is normally closed to autos
specifying a number of conveyances that were to obey this closure. e.g.
No autos; no joggers; no pedestrains, no bicycles, no roller skates,
etc. (They missed pogo sticks.) I can understand closing the park to
autos, but joggers, pedestrians, and cyclists? I suppose people who
visit the park that way could be smokers or worse.
To enforce this ban one of the rangers had been assigned to guard the
entrance and to turn people away. "Park's closed," he said unsmilingly
through his open window. Based on my occasional visits to the park, I
have begun to think that nothing would make Alum Rock Park management
happier (and make their jobs easier) than to close off the park
altogether to the public. So, I returned home mostly by the way I came,
arriving home at about 9:30a, hungry, and just in time for a generous
second breakfast before taking a shower and a 2-hour nap and then
enjoying the rest of the day.
Stats:
distance: 70.9 miles
climbing: 5260 feet
total time: 6:20:47
riding time: 4:59:55
average speed: 12.7 mph
maximum speed: 39.7 mph
average HR: 101 bpm
max power: 412 watts
average power: 155 watts
total energy: 2808 Joules
All averages exclude stopped time.
--
Bill Bushnell