Rick Deighton, a colleague from Bowmanville Ontario, has a profound saying: ‘an expert is somebody who has never done it’. Unfortunately, there was an expert on the MOT side who didn’t like the camera that we were proposing. He didn’t seem to appreciate that in a 5000 km survey with such tight deadlines one has to accept that there are practical compromises involved and that the camera is but one element of an integrated system: how you store the camera images is in many respects even more critical.

While the call was successful in some respects, their expert was not convinced so they have decided to discuss with the number 2 company. Colin, my JV partner, found out that it all revolved around the camera we proposed, but such is life. I’ll be surprised if the number 2 company can meet their expectations but we will see…

After this exercise I tried to contact Hewlett-Packard service. My camera had stopped taking photos last evening which was a potential disaster. It was an exercise in frustration. The number in the phone book didn’t work; the web site was byzantine in its complexity and eventually froze my browser; and I couldn’t access directory assistance from my room. I called the operator who couldn’t help. She said "I’m from Idaho" as if that explains not knowing how to find directory assistance. Eventually I sleuthed it out and then got hold of them. The second technician insisted that I had to register my camera but the registration wouldn’t work since they couldn’t take in NZ as a country – I had warned him of this possibility when we started. I finally prevailed on him that I was past the checkout time in my hotel and he gave me three solutions to try, one of which worked.

When I went to check out I found that I was an hour and 10 minutes instead of 10 minutes late. This is because this part of Nevada was on Mountain time instead of Pacific time. Very confusing … but they didn’t make a deal of it. There was a young boy of about 8 who was most interested in my bike. He had a shaven head so I suspect he had been undergoing leukaemia treatments. Poor guy. He watched me through the window as I loaded my gear and smiled when I waved him goodbye.

It was across the street for lunch, but there were no baked potatoes so I bought a premade sandwich and sat on the sidewalk eating it with some Loma Linda vegetable protein that I had bought earlier. Then it was off to Salt Lake City – much later that I had expected, being 12:30 p.m.

The route to Salt Lake City entails driving along the shoulder of the interstate – there is no other route. However, when I got to the interstate on ramp it said no bicycles! I cycled back to Wendover and found a policeman who kindly called the Utah highway patrol and confirmed it was OK for me to cycle on the highway. It seems that I had to go along through Wendover and then join the highway where the town ends.

Near the policeman was this monument to the Enola Gay. That was the plan which dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. The crew had trained in the area due to its isolation. I recalled the debate in 1995 over whether it was really necessary to drop the bomb. I had read quite extensively on the subject and couldn’t believe that many people viewed it as an unnecessary act of barbarism, claiming that the Japanese were about to surrender. They didn’t seem to appreciate that it was only after a second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki that they surrendered. The Americans expected to have to invade with a sea assault and were planning on huge casualties. That this assault was rendered unnecessary justified to them the use of the atom bomb. This was made all the more personal about two years ago when I visited Corregador Island in Manila and spoke with an American. His father had been slated to be in the first assault troops to invade Japan and still had the special patch they were given with a lightening bolt headed for Japan. He said his dad was under no delusions that he probably wouldn’t have survived an invasion. But I digress yet again …

As I cycled out of town I passed several casinos. They all had flashing signs attracting gamblers and bragged about how much was returned to gamblers. Yes, but how much profit do they themselves make. Looking at the size of the buildings and the obvious affluence I’m sure it is several fold what is returned to the gamblers. The photos below are some of the casinos.

Once again, there was the other side of gambling present, as evidenced by the pawn shops who would take anything, even cars …

Leaving town the plains were ahead of me. It was going to be a long ride. These are miles, not km.

I started off cycling through the Bonneville Salt Flats. It is impossible to adequately describe what they are like and the photo below doesn’t do them justice. You have this white surface which is much like snow shimmering off in the distance. There is a silver reflection of heat on the surface and occasionally you have the contrast of dark hills in the background. You can see for miles and miles. The following gives you some idea.

After about an hour I stopped my bike and decided to investigate the flats closer. It was like walking on a crusty surface of snow; my feet sunk in and left a depression. Boy was it ever desolate!

On my map there were several towns but when I got to the first, Knolls, there were no services. I became concerned that this would be the case of the other towns as well so I began rationing my water. I allowed myself about ¼ bottle every 5 km. At this rate I would have enough to see me the 160 km to what was across the flats. Fortunately, after about 80 km there was a rest stop which had fountains so I stopped and replenished. The water was brackish so I bought a ‘Powerade’ drink and used that to make it a bit more palatable. The place was very windy, but it was a tailwind so I didn’t mind. I wasn’t making as good time as I had hoped but the sign below confirmed that I would be best not camping by the side of the road that evening.

I pressed on and sometime later a vehicle pulled over and the driver got out to chat. Her name was Wanda and some years ago she had cycled Oregon to New Jersey – when she was 55. Not bad at all. She said it took her 3 months and she just loved it. I could relate. A keen cyclist she was on her way to Colorado for the summer from Nevada where she lived. Her bike was in the back of her utility so she was still at it. We discussed cycling and had a nice chat. She recommended a book to me which I must read, about a couple who cycled around the world. Hmmmmm. It is one of the best aspects to cycle touring the way that you meet so many people.

The next town I got to was abandoned so I stopped by the side of the road and had dinner. I had bought a submarine before leaving Wendover and although soggy from the heat – it was about 28 degrees – I still enjoyed it. I went over to the salt flat and wrote in it (see below). I sent the image to Lis and asked if she could guess where I was. She said she was confused as she thought it was written in snow but I was in theory through the mountains. That is a good comparison since the salt looks like grainy, but dirty, snow. When processed, and there were factories processing it along the way, it is nice and white.

I was making OK time when suddenly after about 150 km I was hit from the side by this cold blast of wind. It almost threw me off the bike and down the embankment. I had never had anything like it. I leaned the bike over by about 10 degrees towards the wind but it shifted to a slight headwind and it was down to my lowest gear as I struggled to make progress. I entered a construction site and there was no way I was going to share the single lane with the traffic as I was wobbling over about a 1 m wide area as I cycled along. It was OK when there was the 1.5 m shoulder, but that had vanished since they were doing overlays of the road. In one sense it was providential since I cycled along the deserted sections where the overlay was complete, and only went onto the shared lane for a few hundred metres when I passed the road construction team. It was getting late and the sun was going down over the hills in the distance.