Mt. Hamilton by Moonlight

Bill Bushnell — Sunday, August 29, 2004

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 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 3:10, 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 three 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 (e.g. 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 an 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 the sign 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 were to start at Crothers Rd. and Mt. Hamilton Rd. at 2:30 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 one 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 6:19, 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. 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 9:30, 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.

Ride 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 Kilojoules (~= dietary Calories burned)

All averages exclude stopped time.

©2004, Bill Bushnell

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