Weird, trippy existential ‘moments’ while cycling.

These moments are what I look for when I go for long rides. I was fortunate enough to have a few of them :)

For example, approaching the Ventoux during the late afternoon, seeing it looming in the distance on the other side of the plain; stopping for a sandwich at the bottom and then starting the climb at 9pm. Barely anybody else around. At the top at 11pm. Then onward with long descent in pitch black. I wasn't done either and still had 3.5 hours to ride in the dead of the night, on deserted roads and under an incredibly starry night. Good times.

When I rode to an outdoor party near winchester before the days of google maps or common sense not realising how far it was and ended up riding in the moonless dark down tree covered roads. Was so dark I could only tell i was moving by the air passing by. Intense focus, like from a kind of sensory deprivation. Incredible experience, but I take lights now.

Have usually a couple of these a year and since the topic's here, I'm wishing I could report on some specifically.
Often find them at first slightly unsettling and then impossible not to settle in to. Like true ecstasy or indeed life itself, there's always that whiff at the edges of it all which makes you think 'when will it be over, and why can't it always be this way?'
I like how, as people have already mentioned, they can come to you on a quiet ride home from work, or more predictably, as the sun rises across some beautiful countryside. Whenever it poses itself, your brain seems so utterly contented either way.
Very hard to be deeply unhappy on a bicycle, much as I often seem to try.

only just reading this now @M_V but the way you've written is lovely. You should try writing some more!

Absolutely wonderfully written first post, and full marks to everyone for their considered replies. My favourite was cycling through the south downs in late August Hampshire, bats swooping overhead and a velvety mist descending as i ploughed a lone furrow down a b-road. Then final climb of the day, by then the climbs were the best part, and a last descent into a village. Total zen moment, only to be reawakened when i zoomed past a pub with my powerful lezyne front light on the beam. The look of other-worldliness from the trev’s in their 3/4 shorts as i descended out of the mist, they looked like they were about to spill their lager. Magic

Thanks, I always thought my writing was rather terrible!

Not at all.

Out of interest: when you look out of the window, how many moons do you see?

Haha, one if I'm lucky.

Nice reference.

I can identify with this.

In the middle of winter I would ride around the suburbs of my city at night after a few beers listening to Steve Reich. The constant repetitive lines in pieces like Music For 18 Musicians and Music For Mallet Instruments seemed to coincide perfectly with the repetitive movements of cycling. The hypnotic effect this had, coupled with the weird wintery landscape of dilapidated industrial estates that I was exploring in the dark, filled me with a strange euphoria. Sometimes I would get a disconnected nostalgic feeling too.

It's kind of like that feeling of being on a train in summer listening to music and the sun is going down and you're watching a cross section of the country fly past the window and you start to have strange thought patterns as you fall asleep. It's kind of like that but more real.