In early July, 2007 I rode my bicycle by (mostly) night, from Nepenthe to Gorda and return, in the Big Sur area of California. The round trip was somewhat over 60 miles. Since the route is hilly and I am conditioned to the climate, I did not make any provision or for sleeping or eating, other than a couple of energy bars and a bottle of water.
The previous year, without my bike along, I had observed some cyclists plodding their heavily-laden bikes in mid-day along the highway, past Nepenthe. They had to struggle with traffic, heat, and the excess weight of camping gear. I thought to myself, "Unless one is biking a very long route, the right way to do it is lightly packed, by moonlight." Once I had the thought in my mind, I had to do it.
The moon and the weather were both favorable. Typically, that section of coast is foggy and possibly windy. But there was a weather system that made the coast hot by day, cool by night, and free of fog. This was ideal. It was also 2 days past the full moon.
View southwards, from balcony at Nepenthe
With my bike, I took public transportation to Nepenthe, a restaurant located a couple of miles south of the town of Big Sur. I arrived in late afternoon, had dinner, and biked a short distance down the road for a cat-nap. At this time, the weather was still hot and the traffic was heavy, so I was not yet going far.
Sunset along Big Sur coast
As the sun declined and the air cooled, I started biking in earnest. There was still some traffic, but I had planned ahead and mounted a rear view mirror on the bike. If you ever do something like this, a good rear view mirror is essential, as there is no shoulder for bikes, and you will have to manage your flow with respect to vehicle traffic. Approaching cars cannot be heard, due to the nearby roar of surf.
After sundown along Big Sur coast
In addition to using bright LED bike lights front and rear, I wear a bike helmet with an LED mini-Maglite mounted on top. This is very bright, and focuses wherever I look. Unless the weather is warm, underneath the helmet I wear a balaklava, which is a form of ski mask that also covers the neck. I wear long pants rather than shorts, running shoes (with Velcro ties), and a high-visibility windbreaker. Under the windbreaker, depending on temperature, I wear one or two layers of polypropylene thermal underwear (but use them as sweaters). I brought along, but did not need to use, additional windbreakers top and bottom. When resting, I wrapped myself in a mylar reflective blanket. That was all I needed.
By the time the sun set, traffic had decreased considerably. The moon had not yet risen, but the light of Venus prominently reflected from the ocean in the abnormally clear weather. At 10:30PM I reached my planned resting point, the National Forest campground at Plaskett Creek. This campground has a bike-in area, for a few dollars. I wasn't camping, but did intend to rest awhile, until the night cold motivated me to bike again. During the wee hours I arose, then continued the remaining few miles to my turning point, Gorda.
The moon was bright in the sky, and traffic was nearly nonexistent. Even so, I kept full lights on in case some early-rising local decided to motor along without headlights. About halfway back, the sun rose; but it did not shine on the highway, which was sheltered from dawn by the mountains. The tourists had not yet arisen, and the little traffic seemed to consist of road crews or foresters going to work.
Early morning along Big Sur coast
The road goes up and down, but is not radical in any spot. On the uphill sections, I only dismounted and walked the bike once, and that was because it was a one-lane construction area. On the downhill sections, I rarely needed to brake much. Understand that I am a casual cyclist, not a Spandex speeder. Uphill, I downshift without rising from the seat. Downhill, I coast instead of pedaling. Overall, the road was in much better condition than local streets in many cities. Hard-core cyclists could complete the route in about half the time it took me. Occasional cyclists, who are out of condition, should not attempt the route.
There are numerous sections where mis-steering will result in bike and rider tumbling off the road, down a slope, not to be found for a long time. I am used to biking in such conditions, and made sure that I slowed down in sections where re-paving had obliterated the painted lines. I don't recall seeing any potholes, but the road occasionally has problems, as evidenced by repair zones.
Rising sun shines through a valley
My plan was to arrive at Nepenthe, grab coffee and a pastry (full breakfast not available there), then take the bus back. Alternatively, I could have biked a few miles further, to a restaurant in the town of Big Sur. But half a mile short of Nepenthe, Deetjen's Big Sur Inn was open for breakfast. Having had nothing to eat except one and a half energy bars along my entire route, I stopped in Deetjen's and had a big breakfast. It was good, but hard to remember, since I ate it so fast.
Even at my leisurely pace, I had plenty of time. I took the bus back to Monterey, where I had a hostel reservation for the night. Until I could check in, I wandered around (by foot) and caught up on food, not yet being able to catch up on sleep.
There was only one slightly sour note. Back in Monterey, I ate at an "Italian" pizza parlor that had been there for many years and was, in fact, owned by persons of Italian descent. But nowadays, all the employees but one seem to be Mexican. No problem there, but the background music was Mexican, not Italian or English. I hate to say it, but even though I like mariachi music, I do not expect to hear it in an Italian-named and owned pizza parlor. Something like that would never have happened, a generation ago. Times have changed. Of course, things could have been worse: They could have played contemporary pop music, or rap.
Update: A couple of months afterwards, I had lunch at a small Vietnamese restaurant in San Francisco. As I sat down, the background music seemed to be in French. That's not remarkable, particularly among the older Vietnamese who lived in the French colonial era. But I realized that I knew the tune: it was from a European opera. It was soon followed by other opera arias, including some in Italian. It happened to be the case that the Vietnamese owners, in late middle age, liked opera. Yet it wouldn't surprise me if their kids preferred rap, or maybe mariachi.