11 June - Day 13: Ely NV to Wendover NV - 197.7 km @ 25.8 km/h

What a great day! In all my years of cycling I’ve never had such a great day as this. It was one of those unique times when everything came together: my fitness is up, I was rested, the road was good, the temperature right, and there was no headwind. Ahhhhh. Were it always like this.

The day started off inauspiciously for me. I had trouble sleeping the night before and was woken up at 6 a.m. by some noisy neighbours. I managed to doze for a bit but gave up around 7. Checked my e-mail and responded to a few calamities and then packed. I had done some laundry the night before so it was nice to replace my grotty clothes with something clean for a change. As I did the laundry I recalled the comments made by a friend of ours, Kathy Smeele, when she moved to the USA. She was astounded by the size of all the appliances; everything seemed to be at least 1/3 larger than in NZ. As I surveyed how empty the washing machine was after putting in my measly offering of clothes, it did seem to be excessively large, at least for my needs.

I packed up my gear and took my bike down to the bike shop. I noticed that the rear tyre was slightly flat which means that there was another hole I had missed in my roadside repairs. Thank goodness it didn’t pack up when I was trying to get into town on Friday.

The local bike mechanic was named Ernie and he was most helpful. He had some tyre liners in stock so we removed the tyres (I helped) to install them. I commented that the bike vibrated after my fixing the tyres so he checked the new inner tube and found it was too large. He kindly swapped it for one of the correct size. It might seem strange but after 1000 km on a bike you know its every sound and how it feels under you. I got two spare tubes as well as replacing the rear one I patched. At $2.50 per tube seemed like a good investment.

Earnie made a few minor adjustments to the bike. We were both surprised that after travelling so far with so much load that the spokes didn’t need retensioning and that the wheels were still true. A testament to the quality of the bike. After lubing the chain and gears to remove a frustrating squeek I got some spare parts and was ready to go. The total cost was $20 which was much less than I anticipated. Money well spent.

I cycled back to the hotel to collect my gear and once I had loaded the bike found that the front tyre was flat! I pumped it up but it wouldn’t hold the air – at least with my gear on the bike – for more than 20 m. Ho hum. I wheeled the bike back to the bike shop (about 1 km), while taking as much of the load as I could on my arms. Very tiresome work. I parked it inside the doors for safety and took of the front wheel which is the one Ernie had done. He was most surprised when I handed it to him and told him I was off for breakfast while he fixed it. There was a queue of parents with kids bikes to be fixed so I knew it would take a while.

I wandered up the road to a restaurant where I sat in a commodious booth. Not having eaten since lunch yesterday I was hungry so I ordered blueberry pancakes with strawberries on top, scrambled eggs and orange juice. I didn’t appreciate that this restaurant gave HUGE servings even by American standards so I was overwhelmed when presented with a large dinner plate containing about 50 mm thick of pancakes which covered the entire size of the plate. The eggs were also quite large. I ate the eggs and slowly worked my way through the pancakes while reading the newspaper. Even though I was hungry I only managed about half of them. I wonder if others leave as much food on their plates? Probably not …

The bill came to $6 which was a great deal. As I waited to pay I looked at a bulletin board that they had next to the till. It was covered with photos of hunters who had shot Elk of various sizes. It was sad to see these beautiful animals dead for the pleasure of the hunter. What amazed me was the number of women who were in the photos. I always associated such a barbaric ‘sport’ with men.

Ernie had finished the tyre when I returned and sheepishly admitted that he had pinched the tube in two places when he put the wheel back together. It’s easy to do but I was glad it was his wheel and not mine! So it was not until 12:00 that I was on the road. I stopped off at the local grocery store to buy some fruit, again nothing fresh so bought a tin, and then it was on my way north.

One of the great aspects to cycle touring is that you can go wherever the fancy takes you. To that end I changed my plans from going east to the Great Basin park to heading north to Wendover. From Wendover I would head east to Salt Lake City. I did this since there was a chance of having to go up to Vancouver for a couple of days to discuss a project that we have won to videolog 5000 km of highways in B.C.

An advantage of this route was that it took me between two sets of hills instead of my normal pattern of cycling across the hills going west to east. You can see this on the photos below. To further make things easier, there was a very slight downgrade as I travelled north along the Steptoe Valley and there was a tail wind. With light traffic (it was a Sunday) and a wide shoulder what more could one ask for?

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I went north to McGill which was the first town north of Ely. Once a prosperous mining town, it was now in decline with abandoned houses, wrecked cars and a general air of neglect. That seems to be the story of a number of places in Nevada; boom and bust. I stopped at a museum which was once the local drug store [chemist to the rest of the world!].

It was opened at the beginning of the century and run by a few people until the 1980s when the elderly woman owner decided to close it. What she did was basically lock the door and walk away from it, leaving all the stock inside. The family bequeathed it as a museum to the county and it is now run as such. When you walk in it is right back to the early 1980s with all the products still on the shelves. It was fascinating to see my old shaving cream, vitamins and other products that I once used – and to check the old prices! Also interesting to see products which once were common but no longer exist alongside timeless staples.

The manager was very friendly and explained the history. He said that they have medicine bottles unopened dating back to the 1920s along with prescriptions, banking records, etc. There was even a soda fountain – the sort of thing that was popular during the first half of the century. The fellow indicated that he had got it working and can make Coke and Root Beer sodas. He said that a number of visitors were once ‘Soda Jerks’ but that they have not been willing to give it a go or advise him. Apparently it is quite difficult to do properly.

As a company town McGill was essentially owned by the now defunct copper mining company. To that end they owned all the housing and the staffed paid a few dollars per month. They provided all the materials for the school and they had some amazing band uniforms on display in the drug store. They even owned the local shop which supplied the town. There was a level of control which people would find unacceptable today. For example, if a kid got in trouble with the police the first question the police asked was for the father’s company number. The father was called in to the company managers and told to sort their kid out or they would lose their job – and thus their house and everything else. Needless to say the kids were usually sorted out quite quickly. Harmony was also maintained by ethnically separating the workers in the town into different areas.

From McGill it was on the road again north. I was able to travel along at a good rate of speed, often up to 40 km/h. I stopped for a rest by the side of the road and took the photo below. You can see how desolate it is.

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The map I had indicated that there was nothing for another 80 km from Ely so I was pleased when I came upon a shop which marked the location of the Pony Express trail. There was also a rest stop across the road which I visited. It had the plaque below to commemorate the Pony Express. There was also a plaque giving a bit of the history which was fascinating.

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The Pony Express is one of those things which is quite famous, and yet it lasted for only 14 months. It was founded to take mail from St. Joseph Missouri to Sacramento California and was operated using horses which were placed at set distances along the route. Mail was carried at a cost of $5 per ounce and the riders went flat out and travelled very lightly – with only a revolver for protection. It was dangerous as the country was still occupied by Indians who attacked the riders and the staging posts where the horses were held. They covered the distance in 10 days which is incredible. The riders were often young boys, with several aged 15. One of the riders was named William Cody who later became famous as Buffalo Bill. At 15 he set a record by riding 320 miles in 23 hours exhausting 10 horses. And that was when he was 15! Today’s video game kids would be hard pressed to match that. And don’t forget about the possibility of Indian attacks.

Across the road was a bar and gas [petrol] station which I went in to get my water bottles charged and to have a break. Even though it was the middle of nowhere, the place was packed with people filling out forms. I sat at the bar and asked for a fruit juice. No. Mineral water. No. In the end they offered me a Mountain Dew which I used to enjoy as a kid so I tried that. It was a mistake. I have no idea how people can drink these sorts of things regularly. Too sweet for me.

Jane and here husband Dave were at the bar and I asked them what was going on. They said that there was a ‘Pony Express Ride’ on. Every year there is a get together where riding enthusiasts ride along the original trails. I asked them what it was like and Bob pulled out a photo of Jane on a horse going up a steep, rocky grade. Wow. And she said that the trails are worse in some places. I’ll stay on my bike.

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We chatted about my travels and I commented about the problem I had with distances in that everything seemed to be several times further than I thought. They said that it was a common problem in the desert as did several others there. Bob said that he was in the artillery and when training in the desert they could load an 8" howitzer with a maximum charge, fire it, and see where it hit in the distance. Probably 20 miles. I’d believe it …

When I left I went and looked at the horses. As you can see below, they were almost all white. I asked a woman who only had one hand why and she explained with great enthusiasm that for rides like these they are almost exclusively arab horses as opposed to other breeds. Arabs have great stamina due to a preponderance of slow-twitch muscles as opposed to thoroughbred race horses which have fast twitch muscles. This gives them great endurance for riding days on end. This ride was going to be 10-20 miles per day for 5 days through the mountains so endurance was critical.

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It was all very interesting and the proprietor bade me farewell and good riding. They had only bought the place 10 days ago and I wished them well in their new venture. It was then down the road for another 50 km to the next, and last, stop on the road – Legas station.

It was a contrast to the Pony Express station insofar as the proprietors were the least friendly people I’ve encountered so far. I had a sandwich and an orange juice sitting in the shop. It was fascinating to look at the breadth of items on display. This was the only shop for 80-100 km in any direction so they sold everything from tools to wiper blades to medications. As well as food, gas and alcohol. I wondered how you would decide what to carry. I bought a good map of Utah, although it was somewhat dated.

As I was getting ready to leave a car drove up with the wreck in the following photo on a trailer.

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Driven by two fireman from Arizona, with a friend from Ely, they were returning from Idaho where they had bought the wreck from a farmer who had it parked in his field. A 1936 three window Ford, they asked me what I thought the value of the wreck was. I fell over when they said that once complete it would be valued at $50-100,000! What surprised me was that they were not going to restore it to its original state but instead make it into a hot rod. In fact, cars that were in their original state are now being transformed to hot rods. This is not only to fulfil the fantasies of the baby boomer generation, but because it results in vehicles which start every time, can turn corners, and can stop. Each hot rod is unique and reflects the ideas of the owners dream machine.

They told me of a good place to camp up the road. There was a waterhole which was visited by wild Mustangs. Sounded great to me so I headed up the road. As I entered the hills I saw several Mustangs near the road. There was no traffic and no people. So tranquil. I found the water hole and took stock of the situation. I felt really good and having only travelled 100 km felt like riding on. This would mean crossing a 6020’ pass around dark and then having the final run to Wendover in the dark but given the almost total absence of traffic I wasn’t concerned – that is usually the biggest problem with cycling after dark. There was also a 3/4 moon so I knew there would be adequate light. I decided to press on and it was the right decision.

As dusk settled over the desert there was a tranquillity that is hard to describe. The cicadas were noisy and there were bird calls. In the distance I saw more Mustangs. It was wonderful. With about 5 vehicles per hour there was very little to detract from the moment. As I ascended to the mountains I passed through a valley where the grass was golden in the setting sun and swaying in the breeze. Wonderful.

I crossed the White Horse pass just after dark and the scene changed again. As it got darker the shadows on the roadside assumed different shapes which were quite neat. Finally it was dark and the light of the moon guided my way. If you’ve never been out away in the country you can’t appreciate just how much light the moon gives. I turned off my headlight (leaving on my rear light) and followed my moon shadow down the road. The song "I’m being followed by my moon shadow" ran through my mind. There was no danger without my light as the road was relatively straight and I could see any vehicles coming a long way ahead. I timed one of them and it was over 5 minutes from when I saw the lights until they reached me.

Eventually I winded my way out of the mountains and down to the plain. I could see the lights of Wendover before me and eventually I made it there. The town has a number of casinos and the neon lights were quite impressive. I was very hungry but since it was 11 p.m. on Sunday much was closed. I found an Arby’s restaurant and had a salad with baked potato. Although I had requested light on the cheese I removed about half a tablespoon and oodles of butter from it. I hope they forgot to make it light.

I went to a hotel across the road but when I walked in it was resplendent with slot machines and gamblers! They were full so I went next door to one without a casino which had rooms. The gambling reminded of the last time I was in a casino which was 1985 in Adelaide. Then, as now, the lasting impression was that nobody was smiling. And they call this entertainment?

I got into my room after parking my bike in a storage room, called NZ to sort out some things and after midnight crashed. It was a long, but good day.

On to the next day

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