Travel the Monon at midnight, if you dare

By day, the Monon Trail is a happy place, the perfect marriage between a machine-carved rail corridor and the flora that continues to blossom around it.

By night, the Monon is a menace, a tenebrous tunnel of enigmatic noises, invisible obstructions and airborne detritus.

Most bicyclists, in-line skaters and pedestrians know the former, traipsing happily across bridges and under Oak canopies as cardinals flutter above and rabbits dine on the shrubs below.

But riding the trail at night can be a shock to the system, an unrecognizable gloomy cousin of the path you knew and loved. Like Ron Artest/Metta World Peace before and after "The Brawl."

I discovered this one day last week when I rode the Monon after midnight. I did so because it will be legal beginning July 21, when the city's greenways open all night.

Bicycle groups like IndyCog and the Central Indiana Bicycling Association have pushed for the change, arguing that late-shift workers who ride bikes to their jobs need to use the Monon.

They contend that city streets that late are too dangerous and several bicyclers have been struck by cars. Vehicles aren't allowed on the Monon, so it's much safer.

But I was curious how convenient the Monon really is after dark. My experience, the few times I've ridden it at night, ranged from challenging to unpleasant. The trail isn't lit and much of it is shrouded under trees and vegetation, which make it pitch black in places.

Critters and twigs

My 18-speed, 10-year-old Giant has a rear red light that flashes and a front headlamp I bought at Wal-Mart for $10. I got to the Monon at 52nd Street at 12:20 a.m. Because it's still illegal to ride after midnight, I got permission from the Indianapolis police beforehand.

I pedaled north and the trail soon faded to brown under trees at 54th Street, forcing me to slow considerably or risk outracing the range of my headlight. I kept my eyes peeled on the pavement for twigs or branches that could have fallen during a storm earlier that day.

I soon discovered another hazard — critters. Three rabbits crossed the trail in front of me and I had to slow even more to avoid hitting them.

This is a sensitive spot for me; I once struck a chipmunk on the Monon — a hit-and-run, I'm ashamed to admit. I glanced back and saw the little feller thrashing about but continued, anyway. The guilt from that crime has made me especially acute to wildlife crossings.

I took pains to avoid the bunnies and continued to 63rd Street through the Broad Ripple commercial stretch, where the lighting was much better.

The late night bartenders and waiters in this area who bicycle to work would presumably benefit the most from the 24-7 hours. It's also where many of the Monon's robberies and assaults happen late at night.

But I didn't see any other cyclists, walkers, joggers, drunks or muggers and the pass-through was pleasant and quiet.

Fireflies and flying tomatoes

North of the Broad Ripple glow, the Monon is at its bleakest, soupiest and most narrow. It runs over two bridges that span the White River and its 2-feet-wide gravel shoulders can drop off sharply.

Especially after 75th Street, where the sounds of crickets or tree frogs combine with the blindness to play tricks on the senses. The only illumination besides my faint headlight are fireflies flashing on and off like falling stars. Though the turns are gradual and I have ridden the path hundreds of times, it's so dark, it's difficult, at times, to stay on course. My pace slows to a crawl.

And then I realized I got lucky.

I remembered that I had biked the trail just a few days before and barely avoided a small but deep pothole — a cavity, really — on the northbound side between 75th and 86th streets. It was circled with colorful spray paint to warn trail users but probably deserved a traffic cone. It was deep enough that if a cyclist hit it, he or she could lose control.

I slowed even more until I spotted the hole and neatly swerved around it. Not me. Not tonight. I would not be hurled forward like Olympic snowboarder Shaun White, the Flying Tomato.

I turned around at 86th Street. On the way back, I passed two bicyclists. Both had powerful headlamps — one was so big I thought it might be a motorcycle — but those were the only two-legged creatures I encountered the whole trip.

The Indianapolis Department of Parks and Recreation said 12,536 people have used the trail near Broad Ripple after dark this year. Bike advocates said the numbers will increase when riding after midnight is legal.

That might be true. But I don't know why they'd want to. It took much more concentration than it should have just to see the path. And it was a lot slower. I went 10 miles in about 75 minutes — 15 minutes longer than it usually takes.

I'd rather take my chances on the street, where the lighting is better, traffic is sparse and you have ample time to steer clear of any crazy or drunk drivers on the road. If you want to avoid the thoroughfares, side streets are still probably still faster then the Monon.

A logical solution would be to light the Monon but that costs money and isn't in the city's immediate plans. So if you insist on being a midnight greenway rider, remember that you don't look at nature after dark; it looks at you.

Boo!

Call Star reporter John Tuohy at (317) 444-6418 and follow on Twitter @john_tuohy.