Aside from wheels staying in one piece and the frame holding together, the thing we take most for granted when riding a bike is how our bodies instinctively respond to and absorb bumps. The human body is, in fact, an incredible shock-absorber; our arms and legs are capable of flexing and shifting in ways that no mechanical suspension is capable of and reacts at near-instantaneous speed to the intelligence streaming in from the ocular system. Remove the power of sight from the equation and the effect is staggering.
My first encounter with night riding was during a 24-hour mountainbike race in Minnesota. Until that race, I had taken care to always ride during the day, partly because I couldn’t afford a reasonable headlight and partly because I could always arrange my training to take place during daylight. A 24-hour race, however, held distinct implications for nighttime riding.
I never bothered practicing riding at night, and I didn’t bother with buying a proper headlamp. Instead, I recommissioned my semi-reliable headlight which I used for nordic ski training in the dark winter months. The week before had also seen the decommissioning of my first-generation Rock Shox which had always graced the front-end of my beloved Schwinn mountainbike, made of what I assume were sand-filled tubes. I didn’t maintain the shock the way a shock should be maintained, and with its death came the rebirth of the fixed fork that had originally steered the machine.
I don’t need to go into detail on the race, but suffice to say that my headlamp stopped functioning within minutes on the first nighttime lap and that I rode the remainder of the race by the light of the moon and my insufficient instincts. Climbing was unpleasant, flats were uncomfortable, and descents were a blend of suicide and anarchy. Each bump the front wheel found blew through my unprepared arms and cascaded through my body, usually focussed on the saddle which ungracefully found its way to my crotch whether I was sitting on it at the time or not.
With this induction into the dark art of night riding, it has been something I’ve typically done with some reluctance. In other words, I’ve avoided it like the plague. Living in Seattle and having the privilege of a fulltime job does have certain ramifications on riding in daylight hours in Winter; namely that it isn’t possible. With the introduction of a good headlight comes the surreal solidarity of riding cocooned in a cone of light. The shorted line of sight together with the elimination of one’s peripheral vision has an inexplicable calming effect despite the sense that you can’t properly judge the bumps in the road as your headlight briefly illuminates them, and that every puddle looks like a small lake whose depth cannot be judged until you’re on top of it.
I’ve ridden with a Mammut Zoom headlamp and a Lezyne Super Drive, both of which served the purpose of making nighttime riding slightly less terrifying. But with my new 45km commute, I moved to the Lezyne Mega Drive, which is basically a car headlight refactored to fit on a handlebar. I heard that the lights in small villages dim when I turn it to full power and I’ve noticed that deer come running towards it when I ride by with the mistaken belief that it signals the arrival of a deity.
Never one for half-measures, I still mount the Super Drive on the helmet and the Mega Drive on the bars; its like riding with the Eye of Sauron on your bike. Oh, and I have three different red flashers on the back of the bike and another white flasher on the front. You know, just in case.
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@the Engine I had one of those for riding to school, "It was like cycling with a candle in a horn lamp. The battery (unrechargeable) theoretically lasted for 24 hours (well it only had to light a lamp with the intensity of those they used to use on telephone switchboards) but it would start to brown out after half an hour or so" -just the PERFECT description of their performance. On the back I had an oval Ever Ready thing that worked until you hit the first bump at which point it exploded into it's composite bits, usually resulting in the need for vast amounts of parcel tape to hold it together from that point on.
I am still scarred by the hideous bolt mounting system I had on bikes in my youth, ugly, unsightly and you needed hands of Herculaes to undo the f--ker. I knew I'd made it when with profound relief the forks on my first half decent road bike were smooth and unblemished and unencumbered.
Riding at night story? Worst experience was riding over the top of a corona bottle some bogan twat had lobbed onto the cycle path the night before - shredded two brand new tyres instantly, resulting in me sliding and wobbling to rather inelegant and painful stop.
Pet hates? Current exercise clothing fascination with black - runners and walkers and dogs should be forced to carry lights when using shared use paths (much of my commute is on selfsame paths). Idiot cyclists with helmet lights, upward facing search lights on the handlebars - I mean come on, you can't even see the path when it's shining in my eyes.
Overall, though, I like cycling in the dark, it's like therapy for the soul. The colder the better.
Ironman training makes the pre-dawn start compulsory. The satisfaction of getting 60k of 180+ done before the sun comes up makes these long rides seem easy on the guns of Navarone. The risk of potholes, niteclub refugees on the streets calling you 'fucking Cadel yeah!' and trucks/taxis can give it an edge though.
@frank by telling me to go back to New Zealand (a country I have never visited) are you trying to underhandedly call me Minion? If so, that really hurts.
@Marcus
Front flashers at night are pointless. For daytime commuting on narrow roads riding between traffic and parked cars I think they are life-savers. Instead of cheating right and making believe they haven't seen you the cars stopped in traffic cheat left to give you a little room. Even the most obtuse parked driver looks up before he pulls out or opens the door and the flasher gets his attention. Why, I have even seen a teenage girl stop texting to look up and see what the flashing is all about.
@Marcus
Try not to get too turned on:
@Oli Well, I have always loved turning off the main road in winter on the dimly lit last leg home, and having the flasher on the front run in time with the pulse surging through my ears...
And there's nothing like seing your forearms come up blue, and the moon shadow of you and the bike on a clear summers night either. I'm being followed by a moon shadow, mooon shadow moon shadow..
But then my night rides have never been as eventful as yours!
Frank you bring back favorite memories of night rides with 2 friends on the rural roads in the Hudson Valley. Usually early spring or late fall when there are no leaves on the trees and full moon means that lights are not only not nessesary but would limit and kill the utter beauty. No cars for 2-3 hours, light of the moon you can read a book by on great roads - it does not get much better!
Then there are the memories that @Engine lumbered me with... 4 years of a commute across Central London back in the day with lights that I remember were used just so I wouldn't be stopped by the old Bill, thank heaven there were street lights, those things were just for show.
A last thought was this recent autumns Tuesday night group rides where the red flashy things were sprouting from seat posts like herpes sores the minute the sun was low. Man they are so bright that a few times in the pace line I thought I was going to grand mal seize.
@frank they look like they are Strong Wool Merinos. Kind of reluctant at first but they eventually really get going and really get into it.
Nothing like the Fonthill Merinos - they run for you as soon as they see the velcro gloves
Rolling on a downhill during the 24 Hours of Adrenalin in Canmore in '04 and pop, all the light go out on my rented unit. I tried drafting a dude for some light, it was too...salvador dalish...
Never rent lights.
@frank
Scottish/NZealander porn? shudder....
@frank
Aah, New Zealand. Where men are men, and sheep are nervous...