Into the Mystic: A Venture From East to West: 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.