Days 46 - 49: More Nevada, Only Hotter and Drier
Maybe this post will be short since there isn't much to report in terms of riding. Why did i think Nevada was flat? It's not, but as in the previous Nevada days, with its clearly marked summits that never exceed 7,800 feet and aren't too steep, i'm dealing fine.
Except now it's just hot. Really, really hot. Scorching, they say. No rain in sight. (Likely, dare i say it, no more for the rest of the trip).
Day 46 from Ely to Eureka was a medium-sized trek at just under 80 miles. I spent the day riding on Route 50, which possesses many signs that brag: Route 50, The Loneliest Road in America. I've been on lonelier roads to be sure, as there is some traffic (it's not like i couldn't hold out an empty water bottle as a thirsty plea, should dehydration ever become a truly urgent issue). But Route 50 is still impressively lonely with no towns, water, or wildlife to speak of (dead or alive). Just some creatures scurrying on the road here and there - lizards and big bugs and stuff. Probably poisonous scorpions but let's not think about it. (I am thinking about scorpions, however, while i'm peeing on the side of the road. There's no cover for sun relief so there isn't for urination relief either. And i'm always hoping i'm not peeing standing on a scorpion colony.
Yes, i had assumed Nevada would be flat (NO) and dry (YES) and desolate (DISPROPORTIONATELY). But i had also assumed that the desert would sport folks who, thanks to secret government nuclear testing, would have suffered multiple generations of unspeakable birth defects and who would be lurking behind the desert sage scrub ready to pounce on unsuspecting east-to-west cyclists fantasizing about winning the Hawaii Ironman. Funny that i imagined that the hills would have eyes when i didn't even think there'd be hills in the first place. But i didn't run into any radioactively murderous freaks in Nevada. Nor did i encounter the 21st century version: The Desert Meth Lab. Now this fear had truly crossed my mind at some point: I'd be riding along bopping around in my saddle to Felix Da Housecat when i'd reach for a bottle of water to find it EMPTY. And all my others would be DRY AS DUST. Lips cracking and bleeding and barely able to utter "wa-ter" i'd knock upon the door of a rundown house. Car carcasses decomposing in the yard. A caving shingle-less roof with a homemade "No Trespassing" sign tacked with a tetanus-soaked rusty nail. Spelled with backwards s's. A dirty-diapered babydoll with a cracked plastic skull discarded on the front stair. Grimy chimes jangling ominously in the 104-degree breeze. I'd weakly lift my hand to scratch at the splintered door. But before contact was made, a balding brown-gummed lass in a shreddy teddy would be RIGHT BEHIND ME. I'd turn my head to the click of a loaded gun, the kind that shoots bullets that explode inside you once they pierce your skin. And i'd immediately know: I AM AT THE THRESHOLD OF A METH LAB FULL TO BURSTING WITH PARANOID TWEAKERS WHO ARE 1,000,000% SURE I AM A COP. I'd try to reason with them: "Hey, easy now. I've done needle exchange for 15 years." Or "I don't judge. I coordinate the LA County Westside Crystal Meth Coalition." These are true statements but would provide no pull with my wild-eyed prosecutors. I'd be dead. Unless of course a chemical explosion occurred in the lab's nucleus melting everyone except me and the distracted gun-toting greeter on the porch. I'd disarm her immediately and take off.
I confess. I have, perhaps self-indulgently, described a moment that never happened - at great length. This is what the desert does to ya.
-------------------------
I had four summits to pass over on Day 46 so it was somewhat more difficult than the previous two days. Eureka (not California but Nevada) is located on the downhill from Pinto Summit. The sign upon entry lets you know that Eureka is the Friendliest Town on the Loneliest Road in America. The lady at the Best Western Eureka Inn hadn't read that sign as she barely deigned to give me the biker discount reserved for motorcycles, instead of the Triple A discount since i was unable to produce my AAA card. This was the first time that anyone had asked me to show the card in order to give me the rate - read the friggin' sign, lady! It's your town. Trying to make conversation during the 5-minute transaction, i mentioned that, due to the traffic, Route 50 didn't seem all that lonely. She replied: "It was plenty lonely until they started puttin' up all them signs." This is the hospitality industry in Eureka!
Despite the Best Western's front desk charmlessness, Eureka is quite pleasant and has a really nice food/sundries store where i bought supplies (didn't have to worry about breakfast since the continental version was being served at the Eureka Inn), including neosporin to nurse my lacerated ankle and a sandwich to eat during the next day's ride to Austin, NV. The women at that store were extremely friendly (they obviously read the sign - hell, they probably put it up) and offered to pack the "vegetables" (lettuce and tomato) for the sandwich separately so it wouldn't soak the bread. Right on! Since it was a Best Western, the hotel was better (but not best). I was in a stinky pet-room since it was the only one left on the first floor (and i can't carry my loaded bike up any stairs. The Unfriendly Lady told me that usually cyclists carry their loaded bikes up the stairs, no problem. What has the Unfriendly Lady been smoking?)
Dinner was a big load of Chinese food which in the morning ended up being a mistake. However, the continental breakfast was good and there was a computer in the hotel where i posted a blog entry - and searched warmshowers.org (a website where people can list as hosts for cyclists) for a bed in Santa Cruz, a feat which has proved rather elusive.
The ride to Austin (not Texas but Nevada) on Day 47 wasn't bad at all in terms of distance - 70 miles. But was oven-hot. I've been able (without service to anything else with my stupid iphone) to listen to music for the bulk of the rides these days, and it has helped me not to go insane from boredom. Nevada is just not that interesting. And did i mention it was hot? The Beta Band's "Dry the Rain" is an obviously-titled hit for me at the moment. I love this song. Remember it from the movie "High Fidelity"? John Cusack plays it in his record store, and for a moment everyone in there, including the overly erudite music Nazis, comes together for a moment:
Austin is another nice little Western town on the Loneliest Road in America, even smaller than Eureka - and hidden by the mountain until you get right up to it. I checked into a cheap motel - god, i left there yesterday, and i've already forgotten what it was called! - checked in by the very sweet and helpful Linda. The room was like the other recent unattractive dumps i'm getting super-used to and had an added feature of having to tug the door open with all my might to open or close it. I chose this establishment without enough thought, not realizing that the bar across the street would be hopping until late. (I found this out quite by accident after turning off the loud-ass air conditioning above the bed since it was interfering with sleep, not realizing that the AC's volume was actually masking the noise of Nevada partiers drinking up a storm across the street. Not much else to do in a former mining town built into a mountain on the Loneliest Road in America.
I went to sleep extra early on the evening of Day 47, combatting noise, because Day 48 was a long one - my first 100-miler (113 to be exact) in a while. I left as early as possible (rose: 5:15, outta there: 6:30) to avoid at least some of the heat. The grab-the-worm departure time only partially worked, and i flirted again with dehydration a little. I brought tons of water, but this part of Nevada is way hotter. There's a section of the route, not too far outside of Fallon (about 80 miles into the 113-mile trip) that is pure white sand and brittle nothingness. Nothing grows in the Salt Wells Basin. It's what i imagine the Sahara to be (except it's flatter).
A convenience store 5 miles from Fallon quenched my thirst. I pretended i was in a powerade commercial. Not really - but i did pwer it down. That and a big bottle of water.
Fallon is the biggest place i've been to since Cedar City (though it's much smaller than Cedar City). The thirst-quenching bought me some time to look around for the best hotel option. I phoned one on the Adventure Cycling map: Fallon Lodge. Dan, the friendly voice of Fallon Lodge, offered me a 10% discount on the already-inexpensive rate. Yes! But first i stopped in a the Holiday Inn Express, the Four Seasons of roadside motels. At the front desk, Lindsy informed me that the rate, with Triple A, would be $95. Yikes! She saw my eyes bulge and said, without pride, that they were the most expensive game in town. I fretted. I had stopped by the library just before and saw a sign saying that you need a library card to use the internet. The whole point of resting in Fallon was to catch up on the blog - i was still over a week behind and quite stressed about it. I had seen a "business center" cubicle with two computers at the Holiday Inn Express and was considering paying the exorbitant amount, just so i could blog my heart out and catch the fuck up. However, Lindsy must have an anti-authoritarian streak and told me: "You can use the computer here." And i was like "HUH? You mean i can check into a cheap motel, take a shower, and walk back here to use the computer??" She said, yeah no problem she's there til 11. Wow. I like Fallon. So i did just that.
Dan, the manager at the Fallon Lodge, is extremely hospitable - and is also a south paw who shares my name. These are great qualities. The room is, well, not unlike the others in Nevada, but is commensurate with the price. I showered and slunk into the Holiday Inn Express hiding from Lindsy in case she had changed her mind.
After finishing on the computer - not finishing but making some headway - I patronized the local Safeway and immediately felt at home. We don't have Safeway in Southern California - but we have Von's which is the exact same thing. Walking in there it was like a space warp. The design an layout of the store was precisely the same as the Von's on Lincoln in Santa Monica. I even knew where the items were i was looking for.
Today is Day 49, and i'm caught up (except for my Mormon entry which i don't have to energy to finish at the moment). Dan has been so extremely unprecedentedly accommodating to let me use the computer in the office here at the Fallon Lodge where i've been sitting for 5 hours. And he's gonna let me do my laundry! I'm on my way out now to buy him a six-pack of Corona for just being awesome.
Done for now, dear readers. I know i've left a lot out so hopefully it will trickle in and i'll edit in the days to come.
Except now it's just hot. Really, really hot. Scorching, they say. No rain in sight. (Likely, dare i say it, no more for the rest of the trip).
Day 46 from Ely to Eureka was a medium-sized trek at just under 80 miles. I spent the day riding on Route 50, which possesses many signs that brag: Route 50, The Loneliest Road in America. I've been on lonelier roads to be sure, as there is some traffic (it's not like i couldn't hold out an empty water bottle as a thirsty plea, should dehydration ever become a truly urgent issue). But Route 50 is still impressively lonely with no towns, water, or wildlife to speak of (dead or alive). Just some creatures scurrying on the road here and there - lizards and big bugs and stuff. Probably poisonous scorpions but let's not think about it. (I am thinking about scorpions, however, while i'm peeing on the side of the road. There's no cover for sun relief so there isn't for urination relief either. And i'm always hoping i'm not peeing standing on a scorpion colony.
Yes, i had assumed Nevada would be flat (NO) and dry (YES) and desolate (DISPROPORTIONATELY). But i had also assumed that the desert would sport folks who, thanks to secret government nuclear testing, would have suffered multiple generations of unspeakable birth defects and who would be lurking behind the desert sage scrub ready to pounce on unsuspecting east-to-west cyclists fantasizing about winning the Hawaii Ironman. Funny that i imagined that the hills would have eyes when i didn't even think there'd be hills in the first place. But i didn't run into any radioactively murderous freaks in Nevada. Nor did i encounter the 21st century version: The Desert Meth Lab. Now this fear had truly crossed my mind at some point: I'd be riding along bopping around in my saddle to Felix Da Housecat when i'd reach for a bottle of water to find it EMPTY. And all my others would be DRY AS DUST. Lips cracking and bleeding and barely able to utter "wa-ter" i'd knock upon the door of a rundown house. Car carcasses decomposing in the yard. A caving shingle-less roof with a homemade "No Trespassing" sign tacked with a tetanus-soaked rusty nail. Spelled with backwards s's. A dirty-diapered babydoll with a cracked plastic skull discarded on the front stair. Grimy chimes jangling ominously in the 104-degree breeze. I'd weakly lift my hand to scratch at the splintered door. But before contact was made, a balding brown-gummed lass in a shreddy teddy would be RIGHT BEHIND ME. I'd turn my head to the click of a loaded gun, the kind that shoots bullets that explode inside you once they pierce your skin. And i'd immediately know: I AM AT THE THRESHOLD OF A METH LAB FULL TO BURSTING WITH PARANOID TWEAKERS WHO ARE 1,000,000% SURE I AM A COP. I'd try to reason with them: "Hey, easy now. I've done needle exchange for 15 years." Or "I don't judge. I coordinate the LA County Westside Crystal Meth Coalition." These are true statements but would provide no pull with my wild-eyed prosecutors. I'd be dead. Unless of course a chemical explosion occurred in the lab's nucleus melting everyone except me and the distracted gun-toting greeter on the porch. I'd disarm her immediately and take off.
I confess. I have, perhaps self-indulgently, described a moment that never happened - at great length. This is what the desert does to ya.
-------------------------
I had four summits to pass over on Day 46 so it was somewhat more difficult than the previous two days. Eureka (not California but Nevada) is located on the downhill from Pinto Summit. The sign upon entry lets you know that Eureka is the Friendliest Town on the Loneliest Road in America. The lady at the Best Western Eureka Inn hadn't read that sign as she barely deigned to give me the biker discount reserved for motorcycles, instead of the Triple A discount since i was unable to produce my AAA card. This was the first time that anyone had asked me to show the card in order to give me the rate - read the friggin' sign, lady! It's your town. Trying to make conversation during the 5-minute transaction, i mentioned that, due to the traffic, Route 50 didn't seem all that lonely. She replied: "It was plenty lonely until they started puttin' up all them signs." This is the hospitality industry in Eureka!
Despite the Best Western's front desk charmlessness, Eureka is quite pleasant and has a really nice food/sundries store where i bought supplies (didn't have to worry about breakfast since the continental version was being served at the Eureka Inn), including neosporin to nurse my lacerated ankle and a sandwich to eat during the next day's ride to Austin, NV. The women at that store were extremely friendly (they obviously read the sign - hell, they probably put it up) and offered to pack the "vegetables" (lettuce and tomato) for the sandwich separately so it wouldn't soak the bread. Right on! Since it was a Best Western, the hotel was better (but not best). I was in a stinky pet-room since it was the only one left on the first floor (and i can't carry my loaded bike up any stairs. The Unfriendly Lady told me that usually cyclists carry their loaded bikes up the stairs, no problem. What has the Unfriendly Lady been smoking?)
Dinner was a big load of Chinese food which in the morning ended up being a mistake. However, the continental breakfast was good and there was a computer in the hotel where i posted a blog entry - and searched warmshowers.org (a website where people can list as hosts for cyclists) for a bed in Santa Cruz, a feat which has proved rather elusive.
The ride to Austin (not Texas but Nevada) on Day 47 wasn't bad at all in terms of distance - 70 miles. But was oven-hot. I've been able (without service to anything else with my stupid iphone) to listen to music for the bulk of the rides these days, and it has helped me not to go insane from boredom. Nevada is just not that interesting. And did i mention it was hot? The Beta Band's "Dry the Rain" is an obviously-titled hit for me at the moment. I love this song. Remember it from the movie "High Fidelity"? John Cusack plays it in his record store, and for a moment everyone in there, including the overly erudite music Nazis, comes together for a moment:
"If there's something inside that you wanna sayDownload it. And the ridiculously appropriate theme from "Bagdhad Cafe" which begins: "A desert from from Vega$ to nowhere..." You get the picture.
Say it out loud it'll be ok
I will be alright
I will be alright
I will be alright
I will be alright."
Austin is another nice little Western town on the Loneliest Road in America, even smaller than Eureka - and hidden by the mountain until you get right up to it. I checked into a cheap motel - god, i left there yesterday, and i've already forgotten what it was called! - checked in by the very sweet and helpful Linda. The room was like the other recent unattractive dumps i'm getting super-used to and had an added feature of having to tug the door open with all my might to open or close it. I chose this establishment without enough thought, not realizing that the bar across the street would be hopping until late. (I found this out quite by accident after turning off the loud-ass air conditioning above the bed since it was interfering with sleep, not realizing that the AC's volume was actually masking the noise of Nevada partiers drinking up a storm across the street. Not much else to do in a former mining town built into a mountain on the Loneliest Road in America.
I went to sleep extra early on the evening of Day 47, combatting noise, because Day 48 was a long one - my first 100-miler (113 to be exact) in a while. I left as early as possible (rose: 5:15, outta there: 6:30) to avoid at least some of the heat. The grab-the-worm departure time only partially worked, and i flirted again with dehydration a little. I brought tons of water, but this part of Nevada is way hotter. There's a section of the route, not too far outside of Fallon (about 80 miles into the 113-mile trip) that is pure white sand and brittle nothingness. Nothing grows in the Salt Wells Basin. It's what i imagine the Sahara to be (except it's flatter).
A convenience store 5 miles from Fallon quenched my thirst. I pretended i was in a powerade commercial. Not really - but i did pwer it down. That and a big bottle of water.
Fallon is the biggest place i've been to since Cedar City (though it's much smaller than Cedar City). The thirst-quenching bought me some time to look around for the best hotel option. I phoned one on the Adventure Cycling map: Fallon Lodge. Dan, the friendly voice of Fallon Lodge, offered me a 10% discount on the already-inexpensive rate. Yes! But first i stopped in a the Holiday Inn Express, the Four Seasons of roadside motels. At the front desk, Lindsy informed me that the rate, with Triple A, would be $95. Yikes! She saw my eyes bulge and said, without pride, that they were the most expensive game in town. I fretted. I had stopped by the library just before and saw a sign saying that you need a library card to use the internet. The whole point of resting in Fallon was to catch up on the blog - i was still over a week behind and quite stressed about it. I had seen a "business center" cubicle with two computers at the Holiday Inn Express and was considering paying the exorbitant amount, just so i could blog my heart out and catch the fuck up. However, Lindsy must have an anti-authoritarian streak and told me: "You can use the computer here." And i was like "HUH? You mean i can check into a cheap motel, take a shower, and walk back here to use the computer??" She said, yeah no problem she's there til 11. Wow. I like Fallon. So i did just that.
Dan, the manager at the Fallon Lodge, is extremely hospitable - and is also a south paw who shares my name. These are great qualities. The room is, well, not unlike the others in Nevada, but is commensurate with the price. I showered and slunk into the Holiday Inn Express hiding from Lindsy in case she had changed her mind.
After finishing on the computer - not finishing but making some headway - I patronized the local Safeway and immediately felt at home. We don't have Safeway in Southern California - but we have Von's which is the exact same thing. Walking in there it was like a space warp. The design an layout of the store was precisely the same as the Von's on Lincoln in Santa Monica. I even knew where the items were i was looking for.
Today is Day 49, and i'm caught up (except for my Mormon entry which i don't have to energy to finish at the moment). Dan has been so extremely unprecedentedly accommodating to let me use the computer in the office here at the Fallon Lodge where i've been sitting for 5 hours. And he's gonna let me do my laundry! I'm on my way out now to buy him a six-pack of Corona for just being awesome.
Done for now, dear readers. I know i've left a lot out so hopefully it will trickle in and i'll edit in the days to come.
congratulations on catching up! i must say it was fun to have so many to read at once, like a novel :)
ReplyDeletemiss you!
xonina