Lights and Darkness
Walking around Kalsu in the dark can be both exciting and painful. I’ve run into concrete barricades, stepped into deep mud puddles, and most recently bruised my leg on a protruding part of a generator. Having a light helps prevent mishaps such as these.
Of course, being on a military camp, there are rules about everything, even the color of a person’s light. In this case, white lights are forbidden. The official reason for this is “light discipline” – the idea that by not displaying white light at night, the “enemy” will be less likely to know where we are. This makes no sense to me in our circumstances – this FOB has been in the same place for almost a year, so it’s pretty obvious where we are. The only legitimate reason I can think of for not using white lights is to avoid blinding vehicle drivers, who are presumably wearing night vision goggles.
The prohibition on white lights results in a spectrum of colors, the most popular being red, green, and blue. There is also a wide variety of types of lights in use, whatever the color. There is the standard L-shaped military-issue flashlight, which comes with a red lens, but is heavy and goes through D batteries at an alarming rate. Many people use “mini-MAG” lights, small flashlights run off AA batteries. This is my backup light, and I used a marker to color the lens of mine orange, just to be different. My primary light is a blue “pinch light,” a small light that clips onto my belt loop. It has two switches: on one side, a pressure switch that is only on when squeezed (hence the name); and on the other, a sliding switch for continuous operation. I think this is the light of choice for most people, as it is small, lightweight, and its halogen bulb is relatively bright. Mine is getting rather dim because no battery lasts forever.
My favorite light here, however, is that of the moon. In the last few nights, the lunar cycle has come to the point where the ground (and all unfortunate obstacles) is bathed in silvery light, and walking around at night is a joy rather than a chore. I love being outside in the moonlight, and it’s one of my favorite things about being on the night shift.
Recently, due to a change in my work schedule, I’ve begun going to MIDRATS (midnight rations), which is lunch for us night owls. The last two nights I’ve particularly enjoyed the walk from the Airboss tent over to the chowhall, mainly because part of it is a narrow path that goes down into a little gully and across a small wooden bridge. This “singletrack” evokes strong memories of - and a longing for - riding my mountain bike on such a moonlit night.
Riding moonlit singletrack, without other lights, has been one of my favorite activities for years, and has become a sort of spiritual practice. I first discovered this joy in southern Arizona, riding out in the desert under a clear winter desert sky and the illumination of a brilliant full moon. I continued to enjoy it in California, where there was the added thrill and challenge of riding in and out of shadows cast by small oak trees and bushes. Unfortunately, so far in Virginia I have not done much moonlit riding, because the trees are so dense that it is too dark to see the trail, even under a full moon.
In those circumstances, I certainly appreciate having a light; it makes riding singletrack at night possible no matter the moon cycle or how thick the trees. Night riding makes even the most familiar trails new and exciting, and provides a very different view of nature. From the eerily glowing green and gold eyes of deer reflecting my headlamp, to the tiny flashes of spider’s eyes on the trail, there’s a whole different world out there at night. It’s a world that begs me to slow down and pay more attention, rather than trying to climb the next hill as fast as possible.
Another thought that crosses my mind as I walk that moonlit path to eat is that next month during the moon cycle, I won’t have to fantasize about riding my bike. Next month, I’ll be home, and I can ride at night whenever I want to, moon or no moon, and I can use whatever color light I want.
Of course, being on a military camp, there are rules about everything, even the color of a person’s light. In this case, white lights are forbidden. The official reason for this is “light discipline” – the idea that by not displaying white light at night, the “enemy” will be less likely to know where we are. This makes no sense to me in our circumstances – this FOB has been in the same place for almost a year, so it’s pretty obvious where we are. The only legitimate reason I can think of for not using white lights is to avoid blinding vehicle drivers, who are presumably wearing night vision goggles.
The prohibition on white lights results in a spectrum of colors, the most popular being red, green, and blue. There is also a wide variety of types of lights in use, whatever the color. There is the standard L-shaped military-issue flashlight, which comes with a red lens, but is heavy and goes through D batteries at an alarming rate. Many people use “mini-MAG” lights, small flashlights run off AA batteries. This is my backup light, and I used a marker to color the lens of mine orange, just to be different. My primary light is a blue “pinch light,” a small light that clips onto my belt loop. It has two switches: on one side, a pressure switch that is only on when squeezed (hence the name); and on the other, a sliding switch for continuous operation. I think this is the light of choice for most people, as it is small, lightweight, and its halogen bulb is relatively bright. Mine is getting rather dim because no battery lasts forever.
My favorite light here, however, is that of the moon. In the last few nights, the lunar cycle has come to the point where the ground (and all unfortunate obstacles) is bathed in silvery light, and walking around at night is a joy rather than a chore. I love being outside in the moonlight, and it’s one of my favorite things about being on the night shift.
Recently, due to a change in my work schedule, I’ve begun going to MIDRATS (midnight rations), which is lunch for us night owls. The last two nights I’ve particularly enjoyed the walk from the Airboss tent over to the chowhall, mainly because part of it is a narrow path that goes down into a little gully and across a small wooden bridge. This “singletrack” evokes strong memories of - and a longing for - riding my mountain bike on such a moonlit night.
Riding moonlit singletrack, without other lights, has been one of my favorite activities for years, and has become a sort of spiritual practice. I first discovered this joy in southern Arizona, riding out in the desert under a clear winter desert sky and the illumination of a brilliant full moon. I continued to enjoy it in California, where there was the added thrill and challenge of riding in and out of shadows cast by small oak trees and bushes. Unfortunately, so far in Virginia I have not done much moonlit riding, because the trees are so dense that it is too dark to see the trail, even under a full moon.
In those circumstances, I certainly appreciate having a light; it makes riding singletrack at night possible no matter the moon cycle or how thick the trees. Night riding makes even the most familiar trails new and exciting, and provides a very different view of nature. From the eerily glowing green and gold eyes of deer reflecting my headlamp, to the tiny flashes of spider’s eyes on the trail, there’s a whole different world out there at night. It’s a world that begs me to slow down and pay more attention, rather than trying to climb the next hill as fast as possible.
Another thought that crosses my mind as I walk that moonlit path to eat is that next month during the moon cycle, I won’t have to fantasize about riding my bike. Next month, I’ll be home, and I can ride at night whenever I want to, moon or no moon, and I can use whatever color light I want.
posted by Greg at 2/21/2005 11:33:00 AM
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