I made my way up and down the hills until the sun began to drop and I could see again. I made my way to my intended destination, some remnants of the military base that was decommissioned in 1974.
I found a nice spot to hide out for the evening and unpacked my bivy. The moon was bright so although it was nearly 10pm I could still see clearly.
I fell asleep to the sound of the bell on the channel marker clanging in the distance and the occasional howl of a coyote while the stars passed slowly overhead. I woke a few hours later overheated, the first time I have had that problem while sleeping outside in Northern California. I peeled my bivy back to let some cool air flow in and returned to a sound sleep.
I woke to find the world had disappeared and I was enshrouded in fog.
I quickly packed up and set off down the hill with roughly fifty feet of visibility.
I rode for awhile until I encountered a steep twisty staircase that I chose to walk down.
At the bottom of the stairs I finally saw the Pacific under the fog and felt a twinge of envy of the surfers in the water.
I rode down to the valley, under the fog, then pointed the bike uphill for the last time to climb back to the road.
I eventually made it back to the road and the sun, looked over the bridge and, for the first time in 14 hours, heard the telltale drone of traffic.
I continued straight to work, a ride I’ve done at least a 100 times. It was a little unsettling how easily I adapted from my solo night on the hilltop to riding next to the freeway and through rush hour traffic.
I finally arrived at work, still in my clothes from the night before. I rushed to the bathroom to quickly wash off and into my work clothes. By 10am I was just like everyone else, but well rested and smiling thanks to my secret solstice adventure.
Jeff Dinkin
23 Jun 2018This is so awesome!!! Glad you were accompanied by a photographer to snap the shots of you. 😉
Maggie
24 Jun 2018The wonders of technology 🙂