Lick Observatory is at the summit of Mt. Hamilton, a 4,200 foot peak in the Diablo Mountain range east of San Jose, California. The headquarters for this research facility is the University of California at Santa Cruz, my undergraduate alma mater. I've had the notion of visiting this observatory for close to thirty years and finally the time seemed right. My good friend Dennis, who had already done the ride on his own, agreed to bring his friend Erica on pillion, and escort me up the mountain.
Why would I want an escort? I've heard stories about Mt. Hamilton road; it's about 60 miles of twists and turns. Actually, that sounds good. But the road surface has a history of being either pockmarked with pot holes, or covered with sand and gravel, either left over from the winter road control efforts to provide traction on the ice, or from the hillside that the road is carved into. Running into gravel on a tight corner can result in losing control of your bike even if you are being good about managing your speed. This isn't a road I wanted to ride by myself.
Sunday turned out to be sunny but not too hot, not in the triple digits as I expected. We had a leisurely breakfast then hopped onto Highway 101 south towards San Jose. The Alum Rock exit passes through the town of Alum Rock and connects to Highway 130, or Mt. Hamilton Road. About an hour later, just as I was sure my clutch cable was going to burn out, we reached the summit.
Here's an excerpt about the history of the road itself. What, you want to read about the history of the Observatory, not the road? This is a motorcycle blog! The history of the road up the mountain begins in the late 1800's.
" ... not even a trail led up Mt. Hamilton, so a "first-class road to the summit" to be funded by Santa Clara County was made a condition of the choice of site. A prominent scientific facility located in what was then an agricultural district promised considerable prestige for the county, which promptly agreed to undertake the project at a cost of $70,000. The federal and state governments granted approximately 2500 acres around and including the top of Mt. Hamilton to the Board of Trust. Thus, with the building of a road, began the construction of what was to become the first technological marvel in the same county which, many years later, would be home to one of the great technological centers of the modern world, known as Silicon Valley.
The road, which came to be called "Lick Avenue" (now Mt. Hamilton Road), was completed in 1876. Many who drive it today find the road excessively winding--and by modern standards it is. But one must bear in mind that the road was designed for the transport of heavy equipment by horse and wagon. The slow moving horses didn't mind the many curves, and the grade, which nowhere exceeded seven percent, suited their labors."
"Excessively winding" is accurate. I'm willing to bet that over time, the turns of some of those 7% grade switchbacks have become more steep. There are a couple of right-handers that made me feel like a bird that has just realized that the open space is really a plate glass window. So many factors have to be just right to execute those uphill turns smoothly. Scenario 1: Too little speed up the hill means loss of momentum as you madly trying to downshift. If you're too late and the bike stalls, you'll fall over and slide down. If you're lucky the hot exhaust pipe will be on the "up" side of bike. Scenario 2: You've timed your downshift correctly but because of the irregularity of the switchbacks your shoulders are tense. The biomechanics of the human body make it hard to lean into a right turn when your right shoulder is up near your ear and and your right hand is rolling on the throttle. The failure to relax that shoulder limits your turn and your cross the yellow line, surprising the heck out of the driver of the car coming down the hill.
Neither scenario manifested on this run, but the potential is there."And you call that fun?" Ummm, yeah. Think about it as a double black diamond ski run, only uphill.
The observatory is partly James Lick's gift to science and partly a monument for himself. It is also his crypt. In accordance with his wishes, and at the right time in the construction project, his remains were moved from his original burial site in San Francisco to the foundation of the observatory in January of 1887. A year later, ...
On a bitterly cold January night in 1888, the telescope saw "first light." The lens had been carried from its place in the observatory safe and installed in the telescope on December 31, but stormy weather prevented observing until, on January 3, a break in the clouds provided the first chance to put nearly fifteen years of planning and hard work to the test. One can only imagine the shock and distress that the small party in the dome must have felt when they found they could not focus the telescope--and their relief when it was discovered that an error in the estimate of the focal length had caused the tube to be built too long. A hacksaw was sent for and the tube unceremoniously shortened. The image of a "blazing red sun"--the bright star Aldebaran--came into focus.
The Lick Observatory continues to be a world-class research institution, a leader in the development of new instruments and observing techniques, and an active center for teaching. They have public tours and events nearly year 'round. James Lick may not have looked through the telescope with a corporeal eye, but he achieved what he wanted - to be remembered.
Mt. Hamilton Road / Highway 130 crampons up the west side and flows down the east side. We went with the flow which turns into San Antonio Valley Road. There is a roadside eatery and a phone booth at the intersection with Mines Road, a pleasant reminder that there are still places where cell phones do not work. We took Mines road north towards Livermore, turning left (west) on Tesla Road. Tesla becomes South Livermore Avenue and passes by a beautiful library which has public access bathrooms and a drinking fountain. After a brief stop at the library to admire a triumph of literacy we resumed on our way to Highway 580 and headed west for home.
The entire loop
I am loving the GS. We had a good time on the twisties; they were challenging, humbling and exhilarating. Mercifully the road was repaired in the Fall of 2005. Still, just like roses have thorns and are susceptible to mildew, mountain roads will always have gravel and sooner or later potholes will form.
The only embarrassing moment on this ride was when I tried to back out of a parking space at a coffee shop that Dennis had led us to. I don't park in spaces that have a water run-off gully at their entry. I've circled parking lots once, twice, even three times looking for the right place to park the bike. Sure enough, when I started backing out I got marooned when my toes could no longer touch down enough to push myself beyond the little gully. Dennis had to pull the bike back, with me on it, another three feet before I could get traction again. But that's what friends are for, right?