Cycling in the dark is a necessary evil for most people in winter. You can hardly escape it - unless you only occasionally get on the saddle at the weekend. But I only discovered over time that darkness also has its charms for cyclists. Three to four times a season, I head out into the night on my racing bike, usually as part of a brevet, less often on my own. And from ride to ride, this side of my sport fascinates me more and more. The biggest attraction is the unusual silence that sets in at an advanced hour. When all the daytime noises have died down, the absence of the permanent background noise from our everyday lives penetrates my consciousness to such an extent that I sometimes perceive the silence as loud. The fact that there are fewer visual stimuli hitting the receptors at night intensifies this effect.
Travelling by bike in the dark doesn't seem any more dangerous to me than during the day. Dangers lurk for cyclists everywhere and at any time of day. With good preparation and equipment, most of them can be reduced to a calculable level. A well-lit cyclist wearing a reflective jacket on a country road at night even stands out more clearly from his surroundings than during the day. This is all the more true when several riders are travelling as a group. What's more, there are now marvellous bicycle lights that illuminate the road so brightly that the risk of bumping into a pothole is hardly higher than during the day. However, good equipment is urgently needed, because as a night cyclist you are extremely dependent on technology. For longer night rides, I therefore carry two sets of vital items such as headlights and rear lights. I also always carry a headlamp in case of a puncture.
No traffic in the late evening
People occasionally ask me how it's actually possible to spend the whole night in the saddle. Whether you don't end up driving into a ditch because you're so tired. Fortunately, this has never happened to me. My dead point, when the need for sleep takes over, usually only comes at around seven in the morning when it's light again. Then I head for the nearest bakery or petrol station and have breakfast. Luckily, my mate Michi is someone who has a similar bird to me. Last summer, we set off on our bikes on a Friday afternoon in Munich with the aim of drinking espresso on Lake Garda the next day. When I think back to that tour, I feel like I remember every single metre. How we reached the Achen Pass in the last light of day. The steep descent to Jenbach. The Inntal federal road, which is surprisingly relaxing to cycle on in the late evening without traffic. The old Brenner road, on which we encountered exactly five cars between Innsbruck and Sterzing.
But the highlight was when we reached the top of the Penserjoch pass at an altitude of 2,200 metres at five o'clock in the morning. Above us were millions and millions of stars and around us a silence that you normally only experience in the most remote places on earth. Or when riding a racing bike at night.
