I broke camp and packed the bags. The challenge was to get them on the bike as there as nothing to lean the bike against so I needed to hold the bike while manoeuvring the panniers. Not an easy task but at least it wasn’t also windy and raining.

Had a great downhill run for about 6 km. Stopped and had breakfast of some dates, figs and an energy bar. The peace and solitude are beyond description. There were no cars, the sun was just above the mountains, and there were not even any birds. Good to be alive. This is a picture taken at about 06:15 looking back up into the hills which I had cycled through last night and down this morning.

The road stretched forever ahead of me across the flat expanse towards the distant hills. There were salt flats off to the side and the place was just so desolate. It was disconcerting to find a headwind, and that was a portent of what was to come. The photo below gives you some idea of just what it was like.

The first town marked on my map was Coaldale, and I had originally planned on heading there the previous night. Glad that I didn’t since it consisted of an abandoned, wind swept and decrepit petrol station. That was a portent of things to come since two other towns marked on my map also proved to no longer exist. More about that later. A fellow was there with an RV towing a heavily loaded car. Must have been moving house judging by the load he was carrying. He had a very friendly dog who chased after me. I didn’t mind since it wasn’t barking viscously.

Just up the hill was a stop/go sign operator named Julie. They were doing major rehabilitation and reconstruction of the road and the traffic was stopped waiting for the pilot vehicle to guide us through the work zone. I chatted with a couple from Oregon who were in the process of moving to Tucson AZ. Talk about contrasts: from the cold, wet northwest to the hot desert. I commented how when in Scottsdale AZ last year for a conference I found it disconcerting that the water was being used for golf courses etc. when it was obviously so scarce. They agreed and indicated that there is litigation under way over water rights all over the place. Los Angeles apparently takes a lot of the Colorado River water under an agreement from 50 years ago when Arizona was deserted. With population shifts Arizona is trying to take more water but LA is obviously fighting this. It seems to me that development should be limited by water availability, but I’m just a simple engineer …

The pilot vehicle came and I cycled off. There was about 1 km of earth which was difficult but then I was past the workers. The pilot vehicle passed me with a long string of traffic behind it – it would be about 30 minute plus wait – and then bliss. I had the road all to myself. No construction traffic, and no other vehicles either. It was bliss. This is what it looked like: the road stretching away forever.

Eventually I was passed by the pilot vehicle travelling in the opposite direction with a very long line of traffic behind it with lots of trucks. I was glad to have had so much time to myself. Eventually, I came to the end of the work zone which I estimate was about 15 km long. There was a historical plaque which I stopped to read. After all, someone has gone to great trouble and expense to put these plaques in place and I doubt if many can be bothered to stop their cars, get out and read them.

A few people were milling about waiting their turn with the pilot vehicle. One of them came up and spoke with me. His name was Chad and he was a retired musician from Alabama. Now, if you have never heard a deep south accent you wouldn’t appreciate his, but it was really something else. He was on his way for 2 months to see his daughter in Seattle and was just heading where the fancy took him. He said that he had always wanted to do what I’m doing but never got the courage to give it a try. Pity. I asked him if Clinton was from Alabama or Arkansas since I always got those two states confused. He emphatically said Arkansas (probably a Republican). I then asked if it was George Wallace who came from Alabama and he sheepishly acknowledged that. For those too young to remember the civil rights movement George was a great segregationist. Don’t know which is worse; and adulterer for governor or a racist.

I moved on and then the headwind started. In planning my trip I chose west to east since all the material assured me that the prevailing winds were from the west. Pity nobody told the winds that. It was very difficult going but all one does is head down and pedal. Eventually you get through it, although it sometimes seems to take forever. I cycled along a valley with hills to either side. The photo below is a sampling of them.

One benefit of the work zone was that the traffic was not continuous but instead passed me in bunches. This gave extended periods of time with the road all to myself. There was also a narrow shoulder which made it comfortable when traffic passed.

Eventually I saw my lunchtime destination Tonopah which was on top of a hill. The only disconcerting thing was that it was 12 km up the hill to get there. That was typical for Nevada. There were constant grades ascending and descending hills, but whereas in California they would be 8%+, in Nevada they were about 3-4%. Still difficult going, but not as hard on the body as the really steep ones. They just got a bit tedious after a while. Particularly with a head wind. It took me forever to get to the top, and once there was I disappointed.

If I had to think of a more desolate place than Tonopah it would difficult to come up with one. Situated at the top of a hill, it was windswept and dusty. There were virtually no trees, and what ones they had were scrawny and largely bare from having the winds blow away the leaves. It was a mining town and in places one could see the pit heads from the mines that were in town. There was an air of decrepedness and poverty about the place and many businesses were closed or abandoned. There were several motels which had boards covering the windows and doors.

The centrepiece of the town was the Mizpah hotel and casino. And for the lucky gamblers there was a pawn shop right across the street. Although it looked to have a nice restaurant I have this aversion to patronising anywhere that supports gambling so I passed it by and ended up at a Mexican restaurant. The owners were most friendly and let me park my bike inside the door. I asked if they could make me a vegetarian mixture which they did while I stocked up on corn chips. I was famished having come 88 km, much of it uphill with a headwind. I was able to plug my computer in and download my photos while also working a bit on my journal.

I unsuccessfully tried calling Lis and then it was out into the cold to continue. Yes, it was cold all right. The sign in town said 53 degrees F which is about 11 C. And this in summer. What a place to choose to live … although some don’t. As I passed out of town and onto the road again I saw a sign that Tonopah was home to the Stealth fighters. Pity the crews.

One nice aspect to having cycled 12 km up to Tonopah was that there was a 12 km downhill run out of town. Was I ever glad to put it behind me. It really was depressing and as I left I passed mobile homes and more gaming places. What a terrible place.

After my 12 km descent I had a 10 km ascent up some hills. It would have been OK except for the headwind which made the going really tough. In the cowboy movies they used to have these tumbleweeds which actually exist in real life! A number crossed my path as I travelled up the hill. At one stage I turned the corner so the wind became a side wind and that was worse. I had to lean my bike over to stay upright.

Towards the top of the hill I saw the sign below. Notice what is wrong with the photo? There are no trees in the forest! Call me pedantic but the term forest evokes images of trees and fertility (e.g. the Black Forest), not scrub which is barely holding onto the soil. Perhaps it is a bit of false advertising in an attempt to lure the unsuspecting tourist to that tourist mecca of Tonopah? Who knows, but in the next hour of cycling I didn’t see one self respecting tree.

I eventually came over the top of the mountain and there was a long downhill run to a valley and then, ultimately, another ascent. The photo below gives an idea of what it was like. The downhill runs are refreshing since you do 30+ km/h without any effort. Were there no wind 50+ is possible. Fortunately, once I hit the valley floor the wind abated somewhat, or at least was no longer head on.

As I cycled along the valley floor I came across a heard of 6 wild horses. There was a black horse that was obviously the male, three others (likely female) and a colt. They ran along next to the road and stopped to look at me quizically. The male then proceeded to herd the others, at least there is no other way of describing it. He would run them along and then put his head low to the ground and turn them as a group. He did this many times until they were no longer in sight.

On the map there was marked a rest area so I decided to try and go in to see if there was any water available. Water was my big concern on this trip as it is long distances between places. Talk about uninviting. It was in the valley and the wind was howling through. That it is windswept would be an understatement, and the designers had obviously taken this into consideration: it was the only place I saw where the tables were made from wire mesh instead of wood. They had recently regravelled the area with small stones that my bike sunk into so I had to push it to the table. There were a few scragelly trees and no water. After about 30 seconds (that long?) I decided that this was not worth staying at so I pushed on, up the next hill.

After another long climb (8 km) I was at the top when a couple from Fresno stopped and chatted. She was a keen cyclist and they kindly wanted to know if I needed any water. They had passed me in the other direction. They told me about the hot springs up ahead and recommended that I pay them a visit. They said that there was a hole in the fence to climb though and the ‘town’ was deserted to I shouldn’t worry about it. I thanked them for their advice and friendliness and started down the hill. I couldn’t go flat out as there was road construction which consisted of putting trenches across the pavement and these can cause you to lose control with a heavy laden bike.

The town was called ‘Warm Springs’ and was so named because of a stream of very warm water flowing down from the mountain. It consisted of an abandoned bar/café and several houses. The hot springs were a small pool about the size of 2 king size beds with a fence around it. The water was inviting but the wind was howling. I was tired, having cycled about 170 km and unsure of what to do. I took the panniers off my bike and locked it to the fence and sat inside the shed that had once been the change rooms and had dinner; a tin of vegetarian chilli and some pistachio nuts. It was great to be out of the wind and I was tempted to unroll my mat and crash on the floor, but I was also uncomfortable about staying in this deserted town.

I prayed that God would help me decide and a few minutes later a couple of cowboys (the kind that are called Billy-Bob or Jimmy-Joe) drove up in their pickup and snooped around the area. I took that as a sign to move on so put my kit back on the bike and headed down the road. I was quite tired and it was almost dark so I prayed again that I would soon find a suitable place to camp. About 1 km down the road I came to a road works borrow pit which was perfect! I went down into a secluded corner where nobody could see me from the road and pitched my tent. It was so windy I had problems putting it up but eventually I did and I crashed. It wasn’t straight, the corners were held down by rocks, but I didn’t care. I was out of the wind and warm. I listed to the BBC on my radio and fell asleep. I felt so far from all the problems of the world with the peace that only comes in the desert around me.

On to the Next Day