Never wish for adventure

Today's view on the Mormon Emigrant Trail

The 40 mile desert - which actually has a lot of water - but alkaline and will kill you like a bullet

The mighty Humboldt River (they called it the Humbug)

Neil doing housekeeping

Neil and I entering Idaho

Hi All

So I was getting pretty tired of the monotony of the endless roads of Nevada. Then in the 40 mile desert my crank started to make a grinding noise and that caught my attention. Luckily it lasted until I got to Carson City where yesterday morning I left possibly the scummiest motel room it has ever been my privilege to occupy, and went to the bike shop where the fellow changed the bearing. It was shot - possibly from me dropping the bike with me on top numerous times.

Then I turned south parallel to the hills on the way to Genoa (pronounced Wannabee - Dayton is the oldest town in Nevada - Dayton has a big sign that says so), to visit the Mormon Station. Essential stop on the Trail. Well I had a mean head wind the whole way but I thought as soon as I turned west into the climb it would improve - hahaha - it changed to west. There I was, coming on dark and nowhere near anywhere - I had only gone 30 miles - far short of the plan to camp at the height of Carson's Pass under the stars. Instead I was huddled in a dry camp up a fire road off the highway. And then it deteriorated. The wind really came up and the tent cracked like a whip, I heard my bike blow over and since I was beside BEAR CREEK - guess what I thought. The night was interminable, but eventually the stars faded into the dawn.

The wind was formidable and gusting from several directions. As I started up the canyon the gusts pushed me twice into oncoming traffic (or would have if there was any and the point is that there could have been) so I resorted to plan B - stick out your thumb. The third truck stopped and John the Carpenter (and avid biker) told me he only had to take me to the top of the canyon and the wind would abate. Its been so long since I was in a car I felt like we were going about 300 kph. He let me off just after Carson's Pass at Kirkwood which as a town is nothing but a restaurant (perfect) where I had the most delicious breakfast to celebrate being alive. Then up and down the hills, but with manageable wind, until the turn onto Mormon Emigrant Trail (Hwy 5), which was 31 miles of the prettiest scenery imaginable. Almost no cars, a new road, and huge old trees through which you glimpse scenery dropping thousands of feet. The road swooped and soared and with little pedalling I arrived in Pollock Pines to discover that California does not allow bikes of the freeways (what would Ayn Rand say). So back roads through a paradise of flowers and grapes and apples and trees and just a visual feast after the arid prairies. You could imagine the immigrants seeing this land after months of the prairies and saying "this is the promised land".

And then for the night a real treat - a Best Western - that's right - a regular motel you don't hurry to leave. My little treat to myself.

I have 39 miles left to Sutter's Fort in Sacramento and then a bus to Vancouver and then home to bore you all senseless with rambling anecdotes and fuzzy pictures.

Love
Laurence
ps John, I'll call you to see your availability.
ps Lee - what are kms? I am converted.
ps Glenn - some who wander are lost - just ask me.
ps Neil I expect to get to your place Friday or Saturday - leave a crowbar
ps Binks, never trust anyone in an RV - today realizing he couldn't safely pass me because of oncoming traffic, this RVer resorted to blowing his horn and coming on. Good practice in projecting my voice from the diaphragm as I picked myself up from the ditch.
L