Sunrise on Mt. Hamilton

Bill Bushnell — Saturday, December 5, 1993

I awoke at 1:45 to prepare for the moonlight ride up Mt. Hamilton and to enjoy the sunrise from the summit. Several people had expressed an interest in doing this ride with me, but I did not know how many would actually drag themselves out of bed and arrive at the Alum Rock Ave. and CA-130 at 4:00 on a cold December morning.

I had arranged to get a ride from Paul Liu who would pick me up at home and drive me to the starting point at Alum Rock Ave. and Mt. Hamilton Rd. in San Jose, so I would have the option of returning home through Livermore and completing my December century. At precisely 3:20, he arrived. We loaded both our bikes in the back of his car and were on the road at 3:30.

When we arrived at the starting point, Jude Katsch’s truck was parked in the turnout, and with Jude was Jennifer Zheng. I expected neither of them to be here, but I was glad they could make it. While we put our bikes back together, a few more cyclists arrived: Gardner Cohen, Rich Feldman, and Thomas Maslen. Thomas had ridden up Mt. Hamilton about 18 hours earlier.

At 4:20 we got underway. The air was cold and clear, but not too cold. As we climbed the first grade we enjoyed the view of the city lights to our right and of having the road to ourselves. Only a few cars passed us the entire way to the top. Gardner reported a close encounter with a wild pig at the “S” curve near the bottom of the hill.

After about 30 minutes it was clear that Jude and Jennifer had fallen behind. Since our goal was to arrive at the summit before sunrise around 7:00 and since no one was being left alone, we decided not to wait up. As we looked back down the road, we saw two slowly-moving lights.

As we started up the second climb, we turned off our lights and rode in the moonlight. The moon was barely a waning gibbous, but it cast enough light to illuminate the roadway and the surrounding hills in an eerily beautiful white light.

At the top of the second climb, the temperature was 37F, but the brief descent to Smith Creek was considerably colder, cold enough to give an instant headache right between the eyes.

The final climb to the top of the mountain began in darkness, but halfway up, the sky began to lighten. A thin layer of high cirrus clouds illuminated by the rising sun had drifted overhead marking the dark blue sky with crimson accents. As we climbed higher the sky to the east began to take on a bright orange glow. After rounding the old observatory near the summit, we had a clear view east and could see the fiery brightness of the imminent sunrise. Not wanting to miss anything, Paul and I, who were riding together at the time, stopped and snapped a few pictures. This kind of scenery requires slide film, but my camera was loaded with print film. Oh well.

We continued quickly to the summit, arriving at 6:39, and stationed ourselves at the railing on the southeast side of the observatory. It appeared that the sun would rise to the left of Mt. Isabel.

To the east we could see some of the high peaks of the Sierra including the peaks of the Ritter Range west of Mammoth Lakes. Most of the peaks were bare of snow.

Thomas arrived at 6:45, and Gardner and Rich both arrived at 6:55. Rich was hoping to see the peaks in the southern Sierra over which the sun would rise, but the Central Valley fog layer was too high, blocking our view. We positioned our cameras, and at 7:02:10 an orange sliver popped over the horizon. We snapped a group photo. Within a minute the sun was too bright to view directly.

When we arrived the temperature was 37F, but after sunrise, things warmed to 40F. Unfortunately, the observatory building doesn’t open until 8:00, so we had no refuge from the cold. The next time we do a ride like this we’ll have to bring a camp stove and some hot cocoa.

Gardner decided he had had enough riding in the cold and would not continue around the big loop to Livermore. I was cold but was not as wet with sweat as he, and after I had eaten I felt much better. I was still wanting to ride the loop, but I was not keen on riding alone. I also had an urgent matter of “the second kind” to attend to before riding off into the wilderness. As we began to ride down we ran into Jude and Jennifer. I also noticed that the groundskeeper was officially opening the road to the parking lot at the top. “Perhaps he was about to open the observatory building,” I thought.

I tried one last time to persuade someone to accompany me on a further adventure, but I was unsuccessful. However, everyone seemed to encourage me to continue.

“Well, I’m not sure I should abandon my own ride before it’s over.”, I hesitated.

“We can end the official ride here.”, Paul offered.

“I think that’s about the lamest excuse I’ve heard for not continuing.”, Thomas said. “We want you to suffer.”

Pointing east on San Antonio Valley Rd. Gardner advised, “There should be a sign right there saying, ‘Abandon all hope ye who pass this way...’”

I decided to return up to the observatory and talk with Jude and Jennifer for a while before deciding which way to return home. Neither of them seemed to want to make a century out of the ride, and after finding the facilities open, I resolved to ride the big loop alone.

As I passed Copernicus Peak at 8:35 I hesitated momentarily and then began the long, steep descent, riding carefully lest I encounter an icy patch of roadway. When I reached the bottom at the crossing of Isabel Creek my thermometer read 33F but it was probably colder. As I approached the bottom I noticed all the meadows were white. I thought someone had plowed them until I realized everything was covered with a thick layer of frost. The bridge over the creek was frosty, but I did not slip. It was so cold that I got another instant headache right between the eyes as I neared the bottom, and my legs felt like molasses as I started pedaling up the short hill on the other side. I remembered what Gardner had said earlier.

Further out toward San Antonio Valley the temperature warmed slightly. Shortly after I started heading north I stopped to peel a couple layers. I had up to this point been wearing all of my clothing except the green ski cap which wouldn’t fit under my helmet. The temperature was a toasty 37F. I’m glad I brought plastic bags for my feet, but even these were not enough to keep my feet from becoming numb with cold.

Just before the Junction, I paused to stare back at a small herd of cattle who were staring rudely at me; ears, eyes, horns, and snouts all pointed forward were studying me suspiciously.

I continued past The Junction which was open by now (10:00) and stopped again to eat a snack at the top of Eylar Ridge. After I ate, I held my breath for a few seconds and remained motionless, enjoying the deafening silence and deep blue sky of the wilderness. I did not enjoy the occasional report of gunfire I could hear in the distance.

The trip down Arroyo Mocho was long and tedious. I started getting tired of the twisty road. I passed a couple cycle tourists, a very large steer with two forward-pointing sharp horns, like a Warner Brothers’ Looney Toons bull, loose on the road who, when I approached, trotted nervously down the road like a very large woman in high heels, and lower down, a couple fast cyclists out for a day ride. Altogether there was very little traffic.

I continued into Livermore and ate a 45-minute lunch at Togo’s shortly after noon. After lunch I was in the mood to ride without interruption in a straight line, so I rode Stanley Blvd. to Pleasanton and then Foothill Blvd. to Sunol. From Sunol I continued down into Niles Canyon, through Fremont and Newark, and stopped again briefly outside of the Nature Center.

Then I continued over the glass-covered Dumbarton Bridge and home via Willow and Middlefield Rds. Miraculously, I did not get any flats. I arrived home at 15:02. Except for the 1:25 I was on the mountain and the 45-minute lunch, I stopped very little and kept a fairly constant pace.

When I got home, I ate a snack, cleaned up, took a 1.5-hour nap, and then went to the Western Wheelers Club potluck, where I did not see anyone else from the ride.

Was it worth getting up at 2:00 to ride in near-freezing temperatures to view a clear and fiery sunrise from the top of one of the highest peaks in the Bay Area? Yes. The next ride I plan with a similar goal will have a diabolical twist.

Ride stats:

distance: 103.2 miles

climbing: 7070 feet

total time: 10:42

riding time: 7:25

average speed: 13.9 mph

maximum speed: 37.5 mph

index: 130.5

irp: 12.2

mirp: 17.6

cd: 69

An article on indexing can be found here.

©2004, Bill Bushnell

Please do not publish or distribute for profit without permission.