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.
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.
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