Today Is My Day Off

Meeting up with my couchsurfing friends from Cedar City, UT. They're in Southern Lake Tahoe and we're going up to the eastern part of the lake for the day. They're picking me up in Carson City.

Yesterday's ride was one of my least favorite rides of the adventure. Nausea, heat, wind and a gurgling stomach made for abysmal conditions. I'm couchsurfing here with my lovely host Jenny :) 

I found a house filled with pigeons in the barren Nevada desert. Very out of place, I ate one of the two cookies Deb gave me as a farewell present.

A shitty picture of the downhill into Carson. That sun battered my brain all day. 

Coming into Carson City. I barely looked up at all on the 65 mile trek. I encountered the worst drivers on US 50 from Fallon to Silver Springs. I even flipped one (two) guy(s) off, which I've rarely done. I was brushed by 5-6 cars.

Coming out of the road from Jenny's apartment. Carson City is beautifully nestled within the mountains.

Also! Shout out to Kyle! On my way out of Fallon, maybe 10 miles out, there was a car parked off the road with a man sitting, his legs dangling out of the front seat. He waved me down as I came toward him. Kyle gave me a gatorade and some cash upon learning of my endeavor! We talked for about half an hour and he spoke of his lifelong trip to run across the country. I vehemently encouraged him to do so but, like most of America, he's fighting off students loans and debts. Fuck all dat, Kyle, just do it, my brother. I wish I got his picture. He was one of the lone bright specks of the anxiety-ridden ride.  

Interwoven Within the Human DNA; Love

I wrote yesterday's blog within the confines of a small study room in Fallon's local library. As I typed, I could feel the lack of sleep beginning to take hold. Shortly after I noticed my drowsiness, it was too late. My head drooped down onto my left arm and before I knew it, I was waking up in a pool of my own saliva with my arm half-asleep, and two hours of lost time. Thank you to the Churchill County Library for allowing me to drool on your tables.

I stayed at the library another hour, reading, and enjoying being a bum. Then, I went to "Highway 50's Best Little Museum". It was an awesome museum and it was free. I stayed there an hour, made some calls, and enjoyed the slowness of the day.

I decided that I was going to stay in Fallon with Andy and his wife Deb if they would have me. I left a message on Andy's voicemail and went to get dunch (lunch and dinner?). Halfway through my exquisite meal of KFC, Andy called me and told me to come on through. The day was shaping up to be a mighty fine one. 

Riding up to Andy and Deb's house, I saw a beautiful ranch equipped with two horses, two chocolate labs, and a chicken coop. Deb was consoling her horses when I rolled through; she was waiting for the veterinarian. Moonie and  Handee were both experiencing eye problems. The veterinarian that came upon the scene was a youthful, thin, attractive blonde-haired woman with an immaculately friendly personality.

Over the course of the next two hours, I played doctor's assistant to Emily the Vet. A botfly had laid eggs on the inside of Moonie's eyelid and Emily had to squeeze the eggs out. It made my skin crawl. Handee's eyes were just irritated and there was no big problem. Just when it appeared like all was solved, Moonie laid down on his side for the second time that day. Like an anxious mother, Deb wanted to ensure that this wasn't the sign of something bigger. The next operation commenced.

Emily injected the horse in the neck with a sedative and after a few minutes, its head drooped in what can only be peculiarly described as a "waking daydream". It was still standing but obviously out of it. Emily got a bucket of water, and a small tube of 2 feet in length. She started to insert the tube through the horse's nose and began siphoning the stomach's contents to see what came out; just a lot of bile, a good sign. After that, Deb pumped a bunch of "mineral oil" into Moonie's stomach through the tube. Then, it was finished. I was absolutely astounded by the professionalism shown by Emily. In general, I was just astounded. I'd never seen anything like that.  

I almost forgot about Andy! Andy came home shortly before the vet began her procedures but he had to go to work. He casially said, "Yeah, I've got to do some bombing runs tonight". 

"I'm sorry?" I asked. "Did you say bombing? Like the explosives?"

Andy is in the military and the vast Nevada desert is apparently "perfect" for target practice. This is also why its been called the atomic capital of the world for all the thermonuclear fun we dropped out here in the 40's, 50's, and 60's. Andy went to work and noted he would be returning around 1 o'clock in the morning. I gave the gracious man a firm handshake before he drove away.

Deb let me get a shower and wash my clothes. She also cooked for me! I couldn't help but feel burdensome and slightly guilty but those feelings vanished when I bit into her BBQ chicken and grilled quesadilla. Deb is an incredibly social person and we talked endlessly for the next few hours. She has two daughters; one married and living in Japan (Navy husband) and the other finishing up school not too far from Fallon. Deb was like a second mother. I'm fairly certain I talked far too much but with Deb, I didn't feel the usual guilt I do. She patiently listened and would comment/give advice on what I said. The woman's a saint.

After we watched a show on tv called Love it or List It(?), it was time for bed. I took my clothes out of the dryer and went eagerly outside to my sleeping quarters. With a broken tent, I was sleeping on Deb's trampoline. If you haven't slept on one of these badboys before, you're severely missing out. I was on Cloud 9. The thing knocked me out within moments.

This morning, I'm having breakfast at her restaurant again. However, I've insisted on paying for the delicious eats because they're too good to be free. I'm sitting here, peering out of the window, watching the day take shape. I'm off to Carson City today where I'll be staying with Jenny; a member of the CouchSurfing community. Let's get this show on the road.

        The Churchill County Museum

The assistant sleeping on the job and snapping a quick picture of poor Moonie.

                           Deb!

Monsoon Caliber Winds Dissuade My Dreams

When Michael and I were eating our breakfast in Austin, he spoke of a renowned "mondo" burger challenge in Middlegate. He was dead-set on attempting it and I'd heard about it from the MS group way back around Ely. Michael was going to get to Middlegate dead or alive to give it a shot. Later that evening when I was getting ready for bed on the Mt. Airie's Summit, I received a text message from Mike reading, "Promise me you won't do the burger challenge Ralph, promise me!! No man was meant to consume that."

Well, I listened... until one customer left with half of the burger and all of the fries still left.

"So uh... What's going to happen to those leftovers?" I fiendishly asked the bartender. 

"It'll go to the chickens", she replied.

I looked toward Greg and the bartender, the only two in the bar, and said, "Would you guys judge me if I... uh... finished the challenge?"

"I'll turn a blind eye", replied Greg.

Holy shit... even half of that thing rudely disrupted my bowels. Within half an hour of eating it, I hated myself. Even today, the monster is still living in the pit of my stomach wreaking havoc. I texted Michael... he had warned me.

Yesterday evening, the winds continued sweeping the arid landscape until dusk. Greg was kind enough to let me camp behind the bar but, yet again, my tent pole was broken. So, I elected to sleep on the picnic table. Bad move. Around midnight, I was awoken to howling gales of wind that didn't even let me think let alone sleep. I kept imagining the old, creaking tree above me calling it quits and collapsing on my makeshift bed. I listened to music to try and drown out the melancholy moaning. Sleep would evade me the entire night.

I walked around a bit, started a new book, watched half of a documentary called Gasland (wi-fi) and finally decided to stay up until close to dawn. Around 4am, I started to pack my things together. I left Middlegate in the darkness just before 5. The sun would slowly light more and more of the path in front of me as I pedaled. 

As has happened multiple times before, I stopped at one point just to listen to my surroundings. The constant pounding of the wind upon my eardrum made me feel like I was missing something. However, each time I stop, I crane my neck to ensure I get the whole earful. And every time, the lone sound I hear is that of the steady humming of a car engine in the distance. Dissapointed and depressed, I go into music mode... where Nevada is illuminated with a kickass soundtrack.

I reached civilization this morning at 8:30 in the town of Fallon. I went 50 miles in 3 and a half hours! I was happy :). 

So rememer that guy Andy I met in Cold Springs? Well, I accidentally located the restaurant he owns, and his wife, Deb, gave me a free breakfast! It was the greatest breakfast ever! The Courtyard Cafe & Bakery provided the friendliest service and the atmosphere was wonderful. Deb is an absolute sweetheart and I constantly heard her joyful laughing in the kitchen. She said the invitation to sleep at their house is also still open. I'm going to have to make a decision.

The tent poles I need are in Ely. I called the post office and they're getting forwarded to Carson City (50 miles). The only "problem" is that she could only gurantee they would be there by Thursday. So, I'm in no rush to get there. Ahhh, it is pretty awesome to be able to relax finally, knowing I have plenty of time to reach San Francisco. It's almost over. Fallon, NV... you're my shit.

             Sunset at Middlegate

          Sunrise not at Middlegate

Approaching this sandy terrain from a distance, I almost mistook it for a lake. The lack of plant life surrounding it hinted at something else.

   Oh Nevada; You and your emptiness.

    Huge sand dunes off in the distance.

10-15 miles out of Fallon, I started getting trigger happy with my camera.

Real green fields! Fallon, what are you?!

I received and e-mail from Leonard the Mennonite with a picture that I had forgotten he snapped. His e-mail was awfully kind inquiring that he meant to ask more about my parents and their health. He showed his youthful savvy side again by including a small, smiley-face decal.

Over the Spring And Through the Desert

While in Austin, I got my daily dosage of ice cream, bought a loaf of bread, batteries, and a can of Mannwich's sloppy joe stuff. The clerk who I had gotten friendly with at this point gave me an old can-opener for it. I sat out front of Jan's shop and had lunch. I was severely surprised, pouring the goop onto my sandwich, to learn that the beef wasn't included... so I just had a tomato sandwich. It was disturbing. Even more disturbing was the fact I drank half the can to get my nutritional worth. Halfway through, I felt sorry for myself and threw it away.

I left Austin just as Jan was closing up her shop. I still planned on just kind of relaxing but there was a storm approaching and I wanted to hightail it out of there before it got ugly.

A few miles out of town, I swerved to the side of the road to let a van pass by. It didn't. It approached right alongside of me at my slow speed. An older woman in the passenger seat called out to me.

"How would you like a cold V-8?!" she hollered over the howling winds. All I heard was the word cold.

"Sure! You think we can do this Mission Impossible style?!" 

Keeping with my speed, the woman's husband kept perfect pace with me. I pulled a bit closer to the vehicle, snagged the beverage, and pumped my fist. Off they drove while I kept grinning well until they drifted out of sight. I pulled over a few miles later to consume the drink; it was like drinking cough medicine. 

I called my buddy Kevin on the side of the road, while I still had coverage, and began my ascent upward. Prevailing headwinds kept my pace to a crawl and when I reached the summit, I started downhill. I realized the downhill for the summit would be much better in the morning without the wind. I looked all around for a place to hide my tent.

I found a place partially hidden from the road but not well enough that I felt comfortable about it. As opposed to being sneaky, I called the county sheriff for permission to call it a night there.

Officer Derek Zacharias answered the phone and after a little bit of confusion as to what summit I was on, he told me to sit tight and he'd be there soon. The sheriff came up the summit no more than five minutes later. He was no older than 30 with a healthy amount of weight on him, and had grown up in the area. At the sound of the first curse word, I knew I was meeting a genuine fellow. It's kind of like a religious thing such as when two people realize they're both Christian or Jewish. Suddenly, they're good friends and talking like they've always known each other... and so it is with swearing.

The sheriff and I chatted for about an hour about everything. He told me there was a small dirt road off the Highway just a few feet back that led to a spring where the wild horses of the area liked to go. Before leaving, Derek gave me 2(!) military meal kits.

Upon arriving at the camping area, after a mile hike with my bike, I opened upthe military meal. Inside was a chocolate oatmeal cookie (to die for), beef ravioli, a pop tart, gum, crackers, strawberry jam, applesauce, and hot sauce. It was a feast. I passed out almost immediately after I ate.

I slept in passed my 5:30 alarm and stayed within the comfort of my tent. I drifted away back to my dreams. 

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a small army of feet scuffling at a quick pace toward my direction. I shot straight up from my sleeping bag and peered through the tent. A gang of wild horses was no more than 40 feet away. When they came within 30, the lead horse suddenly stopped, spotting my encampment. He slowly turned and galloped away with his party of 10-15 following closely behind. As I got out of my tent, a pack of coyotes across the road began howling. The horses turned their heads alertly. I had a second of fright course through me wondering if one us would be breakfast. 

For the next hour in which I got my stuff together, the horses would continuously move around the spring I was camped in, keeping a solid distance. It was an absolutely beautiful sight.

When I finally left, the horses just watched, never moving toward the spring. I set off into the desert.

30 miles of open Nevada terrain later, I encountered the Cold Springs Station. At 10 o'clock, I had my first beer I've had since Ely; mighty delicious. I met a wonderful woman by the name of Tammy who was heading home to South  Dakota. We talked while the boys watched the Nascar event.

Outside, I met Andy and his wife who had traveled out of Fallon just for kicks. We got to talking and Andy extended an invitation to camp at his house 5 miles out of Fallon. His wife told me that if I stopped at their restaurant, food was on them. Given the distance to Fallon, it's unlikely I'll stop there but I graciously accepted the invitation anyhow.

13 miles later, I entered the rest area of Middlegate. There's a small bar with a crowd of people right now. I just had lunch and I'll see how far I get toward Fallon. Its been a really pleasant day so far. So far, so good.

Update: Sooo, the winds were a little too strong for my taste so I made the poor decision of waiting it out. It's turned into a duststorm here. The mountains I took a picture of before have dissapeared, masked behind the curtain of dust swirling across the desert. Now what?

A positive out of the grim scenario: I met a mighty friendly band of Swiss adventurers. The one miss (rather attractive miss) gave me a pack of Swiss cigarettes. Yeah... just what I need...

                 My horse friends!

A few miles out of the Mt. Aires summit, I encountered a glorious downhill that split through a handful of mountains. The paved road took away from the beautiful surroundings... so I shifted my camera to the right.

                  Entering Middlegate

                 The Middlegate bar

                My current situation.

Stranger to a Town, Citizen to a Country, Local of a Planet

A stunning array of colors greeted my waking eyes with almost hallucinogenic proportions. It took me a solid fifteen seconds to process what the hell was going on and where I was. Laying upon my ledge 1500 feet up (at least) from the road, I was in my element. It took me half the time hiking back down but I was exhausted when I began the trek of "15" miles to Eureka.

After an hour coasting my way toward the town, shrouded in a mist beyond the Pinto Summit, I saw the common and dastardly green sign reading: "Eureka 15". Damnit, I was much further than I thought.

When I finally did enter Eureka after a painstaking climb, I immediatelly stopped at a gas station to get the chocolate milk that had infected my mind the evening before. I finished it waiting in line at the cash register.

Afterward, I splurged on a large breakfast burrito at The Pony Express Deli. It was there I met the mayor, Tony and my Eureka tour guide, Leonard.

Leonard was a short, thin, frail looking fellow with an overbite that would show itself when he gave his toothy, friendly grin. He was around 60-70 years old and sat down next to me at my table in the corner. He was wearing strange "traditional" garments that hinted at a strong religious following; he was a Mennonite. Leonard had moved to Eureka from Ohio and had a lot of family living here (his son in law owned the restaurant). As per usual, I asked a lot of questions to learn as much about him, the town, and his faith.

Mennonites believe that this material world is just a temporary moment before the real deal in the afterlife. Their whole lifestyle pertains to preparing for death or not getting consumed by earthly matters. We talked about the questionable decisions of tattoos, my religious upbringing, and life. Midway through our conversation, Leonard called to the man sitting behind me.

Enter Tony: wearing casual overalls and a hat with sweat marks. He was a large, chubby fellow with steel blue eyes. He didn't look like your standard mayor. Every person that came into that deli in the two hour span I was there said hello to him.

I don't exactly recall how our conversation went the route it did but once Tony realized I was "educated", we got into a talk about politics, Nevada, atomic bombs, the Tea Party, the future of America, my generation, and more or less the dismal future we have in store. I could see Tony carefully examining my responses to his factual accounts of information. I was careful to show shock and anxiety through my facial appearance but my verbal responses followed a type of "oh well, we'll see" reaction. Leonard was quiet the entire time aside from a few intervals of nervous laughter.

When I finally left the deli, Leonard was outside with his bike. The old man showed some youthful energy biking up a very steep embankment up to the local school's new gym; a mammoth structure for such a small town. I was curious.

The town of Eureka once had over 8,000 people living there around the turn of the 20th century. Now, only 600 people live there. Much (if not all) of their revenue comes from the local mine where gold is still being dug out. In a town where ranching seemed to be prevalent, I wondered where all the manpower was to get the minerals out. Leonard had no idea.

From the school, Leonard joined me to the local museum and then to the post office. We were a humorous site to see on our bicycles I'm sure. One man in his Mennonite suit and one kid with a mohawk wearing a wifebeater. I was sad to see the kind man go. Hours of rain and time spent in the library finally had me leaving the town around 3.

Still raining, I set out toward Austin, NV; a solemn distance of 70 miles. The first 35 yielded nothing but flat, open terrain (aside from the curious barbwire fencing that lines Highway 50). For the first 20 miles, I was able to intercept the Pirates vs. Marlins radio feed on my phone (Iphones... Increiblè). Eventually I lost that and went into my musical hibernation. As the rain started coming down harder, I set up camp on the side of the road in a ditch that was hidden from the passing cars.

I fell asleep around 8 o'clock and woke to the beautiful sunrise once again. I've really gotten into the habit of biking in the morning. A slew of passing vehicles improved my day with fist pumps, waves, thumbs up(s), and peace signs. I attempted to come up with as many creative greetings as possible, ranging from salutes to pointing to bows. It's funny how much you can see inside a car in that split-second it passes by; the faces and motions  of the inhabitants photographed into my memory.

After a few arduous climbs and 30-40 miles later, I reached Austin. I started searching for a place to eat. Then, off in the distance, in his trademark neon green shirt, I saw Michael. What a wonderful, coincidental discovery. 

We got coffee and breakfast together, traded stories for hours, and eventually said our "sorrowful" goodbyes. We'll run into each other again, I'm sure. 

I am now sitting out front of a local antique store owned by an older woman named Jan. The scent of her homemade soap drifts out of the open door and intertwines with my cigarette smoke. The rain is slowly pattering the roof of the awning above me. The town is quiet. Nevada is quiet. I don't plan on moving anytime within the near future.

Eureka Museum; it used to be the local town's newspaper office until 1960.

                   Sounds festive

The last bulging piece of earth before the next 40 miles of flat.

Looking back at the flatness before beginning another summit.

One tree. I read an article the day before in Eureka about the landing on Mars. I couldn't shake that perception rolling through this area.

The last summit before Austin; one of the more beautiful ones.

The Narcotic Effects of Freedom

I had a dream last night.

There was a giant environmental catastrophe; another oil spill in a large body of water. I recall that a very young man of Indian ethnicity, in his mid 20's, was head honcho for the clean-up squad. He was in charge of how the mess was going to be fixed. All of the men who had to do the physical work were old, wearing business suits and leather shoes. I remember everyone running together down toward the spill with me leading the way. I went crashing into the water of the spill first and started trying to uselessly get the oil out. Turning toward the men in the suits, I saw one sitting down attempting to get his pristine, leather shoes off. I walked over to him, said something nasty, and woke up.

I left Ely around 7:30 after picking up a package from the post office that had arrived late. The ride today was absolutely grand. 

US-50 gets the name of "The Loneliest Road in America" yet I got brushed by 3 or 4 cars today and I still saw waaay more vehicles than I would've liked. Only one time did I hear absolute silence without the faint buzzing of a car coming down the road. The trash alongside the road also negates from the humanoid impact: the Subway plastic bag, McDonalds cup, QT cup, 711 plastic cup, water bottle, rubber car tire, rubber bike tire, baby's diaper, Natural Light can, Budweiser can, car mirror, car bumper, bungee cord, pizza box, Popeyes container, Coors Light 30 box, lighter, empty pack of cigarettes, cigarettes, ect.

At one point in the middle of the basin, I stopped to meditate. Afterwards, I felt really positive and ready to continue riding. Before doing so, I picked up as many cans and bottles as I could with both hands and lined them up across both lanes. Most blew away before I took off.

Up the next mountain and into the next basin, I grew tired and slept under a small Juniper tree. An hour and a half later, I went down the basin and up another summit. 

At the top of Little Antelope Summit is where I have decided to camp for tonight. The town of Eureka is 15 miles from here and I'll leave early tomorrow morning to get breakfast in town. 

The place that I've decided to camp is about a 2-3 mile hike from the road, beyond barbwire fencing, and about another 1,000-2,000 feet higher up from the road. I had to make several trips to lug all my shit up here but... it actually feels worth it. This is one of the most peaceful, quiet, and serene moments of the trip with an incredible view to boot. I'm not setting up a tent tonight. I'm crossing my fingers it doesn't rain but I want to be totally out in the elements. I should have a nice sunset and sunrise. 

:)

I've found it's best many times to look at what you've already traversed as opposed to what's ahead.

The first summit of the four on the way to Eureka. I have one more tomorrow.

Another fenced off area, I stopped here for a small lunch. A cop passed and just gave a friendly wave.

   Taking a nap in some sort of shade.

Camping atop my home for the evening.

                    Good mornin

America's Loneliest Road... Has Extravagant Company

The days seem to seep descretely into one another, time no longer factoring into the journey. The daily revolutions of the sun and the moon, their location in the sky, is the only inference on how much darkness or light is left. What a wonderful world.

The last time I was writing out my experiences and thoughts, I was back in Milford, Utah. Since then I have crossed into Nevada and am currently enjoying the lovely town of Ely. Nestled between two large mountain ranges, the hub of 4,000 inhabitants sits at the bottom of the basin, collecting the water that trickles down from the walls of earth surrounding it.

I have entered The Great Basin. 

Nevada's geography is fairly cut and dry: every 20-30 miles there is a climb up a mountain and a descent into a basin, then a climb up another mountain and another descent into another basin. The Great Basin can be simply viewed as a giant bowl. None of the water here leads to any sea or ocean, it stays here forever, accumulating in lakes, rivers, and ponds. Glaciers and shifting plates have shaped this intriguing region over millions of years. The towns and populaces are few and far between. The route taken through the area is known simply as "The Loneliest Road in America"; Highway 50. There is more than enough time to ponder, think, and appreciate. Nevada is nothing like I'd expected. The dry, dreary, lonesome travels that I thought would have attacked my senses have not done so. Instead, I am thoroughly enjoying the solace and peace that the Earth has seemed to create here (or that humans have allowed to be). 

Bike the US for MS: my knights in shining armor. I couldn't imagine doing some of the desolate ride without them. Every 20 miles at every summit, I can see the sun gleaming off of the white painted van. The water, company, and refreshment beckoning me up the last 60 feet.

20 miles into the first day from Milford, I encountered Duncan on the side of the road. He had stumbled upon the lost mining town of Frisco, a once sprawling community of 4,000 inhabitants. We had to check it out. A 5 mile hike and mountainous climb took us into 500 ft. mines, deep caverns, and old dilapidated houses from over a century ago. Over $60,000,000 worth of minerals were extracted from here... What?! The sign blatantly read, "After the mine collapsed, the residents slowly moved out". How the fuck does a town making that much money with that many people, simply dissipate? Frisco was one of the highlights of the trip. 

Duncan and I fell far behind after this detour. The MS drivers were understandably slightly flustered by our adventurous spirits but we bustled our way back up to pace. Michael would join us at the next stop. Together, we would bike the final 70 miles to Baker, encounter a hail storm, swim in a lake, and enter Nevada in the process.

At Baker, we were shuttled by the MS vans to to the crescent of The Great Basin National Park; an astounding place. We were up 11,000 feet from the 6,000 at Baker. The view looked like something you would see glancing out of a plane window. Again, I spent the evening bonding with my biking family. These guys have really welcomed Michael and I with open arms.

I rapidly descended down back into Baker the next day (20 miles) in about 40 minutes stopping every now and again to look at the unbelievable views. It was 60 something more miles to Ely. I joined up with Michael at the first summit and we collectively encouraged each other toward Ely. I'm really taking a liking to the guy, we're very much alike.

I spent my "last evening" with the Bike the US team at the campground. It never ceases to warm my soul at how accomodating and kind these guys have been. As with all families though, we need to leave the nest. This morning, I said goodbye to the group. Michael and I were the last ones left. We had a really nice breakfast at McDonalds filled with smiles and laughs. 

Michael will be leaving town late in the afternoon and stealth camping for the first time between here and Eureka (80 miles). Tomorrow I will get the full effect of "America's Loneliest Road" and I'll need to really stock up on water again. For now, I'm enjoying my rest day in Ely, NV.

                         Ominous.

                          Frisco, UT

A real tree! The only one on the desolate ride toward Baker. Also, wildfires are breaking out frequently around here. I've seen 7 or 8 since entering Nevada, granted some are controlled.

                    Sensual Nevada.

On top of Great Basin National Park. Watched an awesome blu-ray movie later at the Visitor's Center, which got me hyped up before embarking into the long ride.

Descending a mountain on the way toward another; on the way to Ely.

Tag-team effort toward Ely; the two self-supporters (with help from the MS crew).

P.s. This should actually be the main body of this post but to everyone who sent me a letter; you hold a special place in my heart. Thank you soooo much. 

Love.

Back on the Grid... Unfortunately.

I just got 3G connection back after being benevolently bereft of it for the past few days. I'll have a lot of time to update and write down exactly what's transpired tomorrow. I'm taking the day off tomorrow in Ely, NV. 

What a Blissful Bike Ride.

I gripped my temple and drowsily blinked my eyes as my dehydrated contacts moved in and out of focus. I walked the 14 blocks home the evening before and collapsed into a huge beanbag chair. Glancing around, Brazil and Monika looked like the hardest hit from the night before while Anika and the DD, Adam, were preparing for their trip into Bryce Canyon for the day. 

I stirred. 

Before I left, I gave a solid goodbye to the four foreigners and watched them drive off from whence I came. Andy was at work but his roommate Kim was up. He had caught a cold the day before and was spending his time playing video games sitting on the couch. I got a powerful sense of nostalgia seeing that. I came to the realization I haven't played a video game in more than 2 months, which is crazy for me. 

Kim provided me with an old, wool sweater after learning that mine had shrunk three sizes too small a few days ago when I put it in the washer. I was ecstatic. I gave Kim a big hug and made my way out of town; all downhill. 

20 miles were covered quickly and the wide open fields of desert started presenting themselves. I thought I was already in Nevada but there's still another days ride for that. I passed an old abandoned farm and miles of desert shrubs. At one point, the downhill ended and for a brief period of time, I was exerting a fair amount of force on each individual pedal. Then, a sign came into view reading: "Summit 6750". Huh.

I rolled into the small town of Minersville (est. 1859) with speed still on my side. Withered faces and gnarled hands peppered the town's older men. There were kids wandering about on bicycles and hanging out at the local gas station I was in. I smoked a cigarette with the cashier, Ashley, and we talked about the weather.

Off toward Milford with winds of 20 mph pushing me those last 14 miles. I zoomed in at the speed of light, only realizing the boosting effects of the wind when I turned around and battled it to gather some flowers I had passed. I put the bouquet onto my bike, and entered Milford in my Sunday's best. 

Milford was a big story in 2007 when the largest wildfire in Utah history burned over 320,000 acres-worth of foilage. The fire's history was still visible on the scenery of those 56 miles from Cedar City. This is a funny little town; parts look desolate and abandoned while other parts are brimming with excitement. 

I've met up with the old MS team again and Michael's here as well. Tomorrow is 84 miles without water or food. Half of the MS crew is sleeping under the town park picnic structure with me, another half have taken shelter within the town hotel. 

I'm looking forward to the sunrise tomorrow morning.

Blazing a trail out of Cedar City, all downhill.

I guess that was a small mountain...10 or so miles out of Minersville

                Entering Minersville 

Home base at the Milford County Park. Sleeping on picnic tables. Last time I did this, I slept like a prince. 

Exploration of the Uninhabited Dreamland: The Strange

My alarm playing Fleet Foxes (the greatest thing on earth to wake up to) went off at 5:45. Unfortunately, not even the angelic music of this band could separate me from dreamland. I tried 4 different alarm times before I begrudgingly began moving at 6:30. 

I started pedaling the first of 30 miles toward Henrieville and noticed immediately that I was tired. It wasn't so much that I was tired as it was that my mind was in the gutter. Depressing subject matters blanketed my brain. After 15 miles of this and an inability to shake it, I pulled off to go meditate down by the stream I'd been following.

Ahhh, much better.

Climbing the steep wall back up to the road, my face brushed a sweet smelling green plant. I took some in my hand, brought it back up to my bike, and stuffed it inside my pannier bag along with my clothes.

On the road I felt noticably better. Within 10 minutes back on the road, I came upon a sign reading: "Scenic Overlook". Just beyond this was a post reading: "Summit 7600 ft." The entire way had been 2000 ft. of climbing and I was somehow unaware... that's probably why I was pissed. I road that sucker down at a blistering pace through sharp curves and canyon walls. All the way down to Henrieville. And then Canyonville, where I bought an orange. And then Tropic. 

I stopped at a joint called "The Pizza Place" and got some pizza. There was a cyclist's bike out front. Inside, I met Trond (Tru-nd) from Norway. Age: 63, bald scalp, short, grey 5'o clock shadow, and a plump stomach. He was deaf in one ear, which may have explained how he talked to me for nearly 2 hours straight with no interruptions. He was a teacher back in Norway, and I felt like I was getting a lecture. However, the 2 hour lecture was on biking from Norway to Western Europe to the Middle East to India and eventually to Australia. At the end of his speech, I felt inspired and like I needed a nap. One thing I did say was, "Oh my heritage is Norwegian, I would love to check it out one day".

Boom. Trond was immediately writing his email and facebook down for contact if I ever wanted to cycle Norway... like the whole country... perhaps one day.

After Trond set off toward the East Coast (he was a month out of San Francisco), I went to go pay my waittress Ashley. To my horror, I couldn't find my CamelBack, which usually holds my wallet. It was nowhere to be found.

Retracing my steps, I called a shop in Canyonville (6 miles) to see if I left it there. I had. I told the young, blonde Ashley that I had to trek back a few miles to get my wallet.

"I'll leave my phone here so you know I'm coming back."

"You're going to bike back to Canyonville? Would you rather like a ride?"

"Well... Uh-yeah, that'd be fantastic".

So Ashley, who couldn't have been any older than the legal age to drive in Utah, terrorized the road for the 5 miles to Canyonville. I grabbed my backpack from the store and off we went back to the pizza place.

I had already broken the ice with Ashley so I started hitting her with the cultural/societal questions.

"Henrieville looks like a cool place to live. You guys don't have any stores or nuisances and it seems like most of the inhabitants are ancestors of the original founders."

"Yep", she replied. "My father's father is a descendant of one of the original members, so we are too."

"It's weird, I haven't seen a single black person or minority in Utah for like 600 miles. Is everyone here Morman?"

"I mean, pretty much. It's a nice religion, the people are all good to each other and have high moral values. What's your religion?"

The question totally caught me off-guard. I had no idea what to say. It pinned me.

"I-uh. I mean, I'm not a religious person. Like... I guess if I'm categorized under an established belief system... I'm agnostic? Like, I'm a spiritual person but I don't believe in organized religion." 

I stumbled through my answer. It's funny, even hours later on the ride, I was pondering her question. It wasn't: "What do you believe?" It was: "What is your religion?"; my sector or community, the rules and morals by which I abide by. I thought about it for a long while after.

In the car, I delved deeper into the reasons why Ashley was a Morman. It was your typical, candy coated answer for religious peoples following the lines of, "I know God is out there, it feels right, I wanna help people, and when you're dead, it's sweet". I could understand.

Eventually, we made it back to the pizza spot where Ashley got really serious about why Mormanism is the right path of life and gave me a little story about a man in a bar of dead souls. God bless the kid for tryin to save mine but I'm more than content with my beliefs. 

I paid my bill and upward I went. Up and up; past Bryce Canyon, past Panguitch and onto an old, dirt trail somewhere in Nowhere. Off the trail I went, deep into the woods until I came across a place that looked adequate for my encampment. I read for awhile before I lost consciousness. 

In the morning, I got up at 6am to witness another colorfully arrayed Utah sky. I had a long ride all the way up to the peak of Cedar Canyon, about 10,500 ft. I was coming from around 6,500. Once again, it felt like that much. I did the first half of the climb before 930. About 3/4 of the way from the peak, I ran into an older sir by the name of Mick.

Mick was 62 and had ridden with my Norwegian friend through Nevada and much of California. We talked for half an hour about the beauty of the West, sleeping in the wild, the business side of Mormanism, and the oncoming places. Mick was a joy to speak with and he was loving his trip.

Shortly after talking with Mick, I met Travis. Travis was on his way up the mountain on a small speed bike, training for a 200 mile cycling day in September. He informed me that I was 7 miles from the top, and I threw him from the canyon. Well, I thought of doing it. I counted the next 7 miles to the top in painfully slow fashion until I was met with scenic views like you wouldn't believe.

I rolled right on through Cedar Breaks Park, passing vivid rock formations, colors and towering walls of chiseled history. It was 18 miles to Cedar City and almost straight into the depths of the canyon. Cars that passed me because I was a bike were barely able to stay on the road afterward because of their speed. It was ridiculous. I thundered into Cedar City in less than 30 minutes. 

In the town, I finally got phone service for the first time in a while and found that one of my CouchSurfing requests worked. Andy had left me an email saying, "Oh dude you can come on over anytime you want. My door is open..." 

Awesome!

Andy lives on a dead end street with three other roommates but the only one I met was Kim. Andy is 23, has long blonde hair, free spirited, and is reserved but when he sits down to have a conversation with you; it's a deep one. His roommate Kim is a larger than life 21 year old who talks a lot but always with optimism. He has a similar fashioned Mohawk like mine and is a little shorter and wider than the toned Andy.

When I got to Andy's house, I learned of 4 other CouchSurfers staying there: Adam from Israel, Monika from Italy, "Brazil" from Brazil, and Anika from Germany. An incredibly wonderful, curious, adventurous group. After less than 25 minutes of being at the house, we all went to a large lake miles away. A deep, endless mine shaft that had been accidentally flooded years ago. The water filled up the gigantic area and now there's a pool brimming with algae and fish. It was incredible.

I need to shorten these posts...

I hung out with the MS cyclists again, went to the bar with my CouchSurfing buddies, and had a splendid sunset hot dog dinner with Andy. It also needs to be mentioned in a crazy twist of chance, I met people who knew a mutual friend of mine from Cape May Court House. This friend had gone to school here for a year and I met some of her best friends from that time. They invited me back to their house and treated me like an honored guest. Cam and Adam; they were mah bais. Both also donated toward my charities without me even asking. Swell friends.

I got back to Andys... eventually.

     Shortly after Escalante somewhere.

Some twisted rock formations outside of Bryce Canyon on my descent into Panguich.

I climbed a tree in my woody haven to get a better view of the sunset.

                    Lake Panguich

           Overlooking Cedar Breaks Park: picture by a couple named Jim and Stacy from Las Vegas. Jim was probably the most enthusiastic person about my trip that I'd ever met. The guy made me feel pretty special.

Another overlook around Cedar Breaks.

       Swimming in the mine shaft.

      Andy taking a selfie on my phone.

                    Cam and Adam!