SO MANY ROADS, SO LITTLE TIME!

Today, Monday, August 22^nd I crossed into Nevada…and set my watch back to Pacific Time.  I took a beautiful, but rather desolate, highway – Rt. 21 – west across the state line to Nevada.  During that 120-mile stretch of highway from Beaver, UT to the state line, about 10 vehicles passed me going east, but I was practically the only traveler on the westbound lane.  There were no major towns along the way, so I made sure to fuel up in Beaver.  I saw only one pronghorn, which ran across the road ahead of me.  Those are beautiful animals…it’s always a thrill to see one.

Just as the pavement took on a different color at the state line, so did the route number – Rt. 21 became Rt. 487.  About five miles further west, at the town of Baker, I turned south onto Rt. 488 towards the Great Basin National Park.  As usual, I went first to the Visitor Center to get information about the park and the campgrounds there.  Of the four campgrounds, the one I wanted to go to was way up on Wheeler Peak.  Wheeler Peak itself is 13,063 feet above sea level.  The lady ranger said that at an elevation of 9,886 feet, it will be chilly, etc. etc. at the campground up there.  I said that will be fine because my camper has a heater and I’ve got warm clothes, etc. etc.

Getting on the Wheeler Peak Scenic Drive the first road sign I saw advised that the distance to Wheeler Peak was 12 miles.  Oh, that’s not too bad.  The second road sign advised that the grade going up would be 10%.  Whoa, now that is steep!  It’s a lot to be asking of my truck, loaded down with the camper, to climb a 10% grade for 12 miles.  I was hoping the road would level out in spots on the way up. 

Then I saw the third road sign but I’d gone by too quickly to read the whole thing fully.  All I managed to catch was the number “24.”  I stopped and since there was nobody behind me, I backed down to the sign and read it once, twice, three times.  This sign advised that no vehicles over 24 feet should continue on the drive because the road was narrow with sharp curves.  With the camper on my truck, I come out to 25 feet.

“Hey, Mapita, ya think an extra foot will matter that much?”

I don’t know.  Maybe.  It might.  It could.

“Well then, Mapita, ole girl, ya wanna go and find out?”

No.  I really don’t.  I think, at this point, I’ve exhausted my supply of adrenaline!

So I set up camp at the Upper Lehman Creek campground instead, at a site not too far from a bubbling creek.  A sign at the payment post advised that a mountain lion had been sighted in the area but that didn’t stop me from sitting outside on my red chair and start reading a new book, my third on the trip.  Later I played Scrabble with “Maven” on the laptop…and lost.

Getting back on Rt. 487 the next morning [Tuesday, August 23rd] I soon connected to Rt. 50 W and set my sights for Ely, about 70 miles away.  From a scientific standpoint, the Great Basin is another ecological wonder.  It’s a --

“…vast region of sagebrush-covered valleys and narrow mountain ranges named for its lack of drainage.  Its streams and rivers mostly find no outlet to the sea, and water collects in shallow salt lakes, marshes, and mud flats to evaporate in dry desert air.  It’s not just one but many basins, separated by mountain ranges roughly parallel, north to south, basin and range alternating in seemingly endless geographic rhythm.  Broad basins hang between craggy ranges – from California’s Sierra Nevada to Utah’s Wasatch Mountains.”    

It was certainly a beautiful drive today, going up and over mountain ranges and then seeing this huge expanse of flat land for miles and miles before arriving at the next range. 

Utah Route 21, heading west to Nevada.

A touch of gold along Nevada's Great Basin.

Rt. 50, officially known in Nevada as “Highway 50 - The Loneliest Road in America," traverses through this Great Basin.  It’s a highway I’ve long wanted to drive on.  I almost did when I traveled around Nevada in the camper in October 2009, but the threat of snow at that time stopped me from making the drive.  I didn’t want to chance it then because tire chains are required when there’s snow up on these ranges.  Ely is the westbound starting point and the 287-mile highway ends at Fernley.  To quote from the July 1986 issue of Life magazine --

     

“’It’s totally empty,’ says an AAA counselor.  ‘There are no points of interest.  We don’t recommend it.’  The 287-mile stretch of U.S. 50 running from Ely to Fernley, Nev., passes nine towns, two abandoned mining camps, a few gas pumps and the occasional coyote.  ‘We warn all motorists not to drive there,’ says the AAA rep, ‘unless they’re confident of their survival skills.’”

Nevada residents and officials “knew better” and have actually capitalized on that “warning” from Triple-A.  Arriving at Ely, my start point, I walked around the old downtown section, going inside some of the casinos, including the historic Hotel Nevada where many long-ago celebrities stayed and played the tables and did their thing.  I got a bite of lunch (Fish ‘n Chips this time) and then got a site for the night at the nearby KOA.    

Back on Highway 50 W the next morning [Wednesday, August 24th] I discovered that this highway is also the famous and scenic "Lincoln Highway."  The "Loneliest Road in America" moniker is just for the segment of Nevada highway between Ely and Fernley.  About 5 miles west of Ely, I turned onto a county road leading to Ruth, an old copper mining town founded in 1899.  I think Ruth became a sort of ghost town but then mining revitalized in the area and the town is now New Ruth, “Home of Nevada’s Largest Operating Copper Mine.”  I read somewhere that the author Stephen King visited this town and this is where he got the idea for his book, Desperation.

About 78 miles later I arrived in Eureka, “…one of the best preserved mining camps in the West.”  Indeed, many of the buildings in this town, built around the mid-1880s, have been restored.  Silver-lead was the predominant ore mined here and the town also had a successful smelting industry for the mined ores.  The population was a mix of Irish, Cornish, German, Italian, Chinese, and Jewish settlers, who came to Eureka to work the mines and provide other services for the townsfolk. 

Eureka is an impressive place to visit.  Referring to a Walking Tour brochure that I picked up, I noted that over 45 structures are still standing, most of them restored to some extent.  Walking along Main Street for about an hour or so, I went inside the restored Eureka County Courthouse (1879) and the restored Opera House (1880), which later served as a movie theater in the 1940s.  I would have loved to stay here longer, but I got in the truck and moved on.



A restored hotel and the restored Opera House in Eureka, Nevada.


 The distance from Eureka to Austin, the next town on the highway, is only 55 miles, but several sections of “Follow the Pilot Car” type of road construction resulted in some delays.  Although there were a couple of mountain ranges to climb and cross over, this drive was through a mostly flat and arid landscape.  Clouds, a generous mix of white and grey, filled the sky and the wind was gusty enough at times to force me to grip the steering wheel a bit tighter.  A Stephen King Desperation kind of scenario, I thought, with some amusement…and adrenalin to spare!

I gotta say, there’s a first time for everything.  Arriving in Austin, I decided to drive through the town first to see what RV parks might be available here.  I saw only two, both at the eastern end of the town.  Done with driving for the day -- it was approaching 3:00 p.m. after all -- I turned around and headed back east to that end of town.  Spotting the all-important two-letter “RV” I turned into the lot, and that was when I noted the park’s full name – Austin Baptist Church and RV Park. 

A church and RV Park combo!  What a novel idea!  Gotta hand it to the pastor, or whoever thought this up!  Looking for the office, I ran into this lady who was preparing (or overseeing) some sort of supper in a community room.  She told me to grab this one site that was available, stick my $20 in the envelope provided outside the front door, and slip it through the slot.  As I did that, I wondered – “The RV Park is full already?”  I walked around a little bit and, on closer scrutiny of the RVs in the area, it seemed to me that most of the folks here were more or less permanent, not traveling like me.  I found the restrooms, showers, and the church itself.  Posted on various walls around the building that housed the church were religious symbols and Biblical quotations.  Right outside the restrooms was a poster with quotations justifying the sanctimony of marriage between a man and a woman.  Also posted was a flyer advertising a gospel music revival scheduled for, of all nights, tonight!  I walked over there around 8:00 p.m. to check it out.  It’s a nice church…small and simple…and there were around 20 or so people there.  

Before getting back on Highway 50 the next morning [Thursday, August 25th] I decided to spend some time in Austin, get some breakfast and then walk up and down the town’s main street.  As with the previous towns I visited along the highway, Austin was also a prosperous mining camp.  The difference here, which is what I actually like best of any town I visit, is that Austin retained much of its rustic 19^th century characteristics.  In addition to being a somewhat smaller town, compared to Ely and Eureka, Austin is also very hilly.  Main Street was level enough, but the houses, including an historic Catholic Church, were up on hills.



A mural on the side of an old bar.  Austin, Nevada.



The abandoned office of an abandoned garage.  A peek through the windows of the garage revealed tons of stuff.  Austin, Nevada.  

 

An Austin, Nevada street scene, as viewed from the Catholic Church on the hill.

 The distance from Austin to the next town, Fallon, is around 115 miles – the longest stretch between towns.  A few miles outside of Austin, a wooden sign pointed out the Pony Express Trail and, for most of the way, much to my wonder and amazement, Highway 50 ran parallel to the trail.  Today’s drive was rather humbling.  The desolate landscape that I was looking at -- but from diesel horsepower on pavement -- was what the wiry young riders also saw from the backs of their galloping horses. 

As I’d learned earlier in my trip, in Nebraska, Pony Express relay stations were set up from 5 to 20 miles apart.  I did a Google search and apparently there were seven stations between Austin and Fallon.  To quote from the link –

“The Bureau of Land Management has marked the Pony Express route across Nevada. About 80 per cent of the route is on national resource lands and, therefore, is accessible to the public. Maps and detailed descriptions of each site and route have been preserved.

The Nevada desert is broken by almost a hundred separate mountain chains, all running north and south. The arid stretches between the mountain chains are dotted with sagebrush and greasewood. The few rivers have no outlets to the sea, but spread into great marshes before being swallowed by the thirsty soil. Nearly 500 miles of the Pony Express route lay through this desolate and uninhabited wilderness.”

I visited the site of the Sand Springs Pony Express Station, built in March 1860 near Sand Mountain.  Constructed entirely of rocks (there being no timber in the desert), the station had no roof and was described as filthy, squalid, and filled with dust and sand.  Abandoned when the Pony Express ended, years of drifting sand nearly covered the station.  It was later found and became an archaeological site.  Although many of the stones had been carelessly toppled over by humans climbing up on the structure, experts were able to determine which room had been what.  Walking around, I tried to imagine a horse and rider barreling down from over that way and the rider taking off again in a matter of seconds on a fresh horse, going on westward to the next station, and the next.  What a life that was!

Sand Mountain itself was a surprise to see.  The “…mountain of clean, white sand is a single dune 500 feet high and one and a half miles long surrounded by lesser dunes…”  Popular with ATV riders and sandboarders, the recreation area is managed by the BLM.  I drove over there for a look-see but there wasn’t anybody around, not even a staff person.  It was in the high 90s today.  Maybe it’s too hot to play in the sand.  Or, it’s the middle of the week.  Or, folks have gone back to school…

The Pony Express Trail, running parallel to Highway 50 on the left.

A corner of the Sand Springs Pony Express Station, near Sand Mountain.

Fallon is a big town with box stores and fast-food restaurants.  It’s also one of Nevada’s agricultural centers, “…famous for its delicious ‘Hearts of Gold’ cantaloupes.”  I got a site for the night at the Fallon RV Park, which is also a gas station and mini-mart.  The guy in the office said they had everything except a swimming pool.  I caught up on my emails and turned the TV on to my favorite station – CNN.  Ohhh, first the earthquake and now Hurricane Irene.  As I write this, I’m sending a telepathic “hang tight” shout-out to my East Coast family and friends.    

Ahhh, California!  I crossed into California this morning, Friday, August 26^th.  Fernley, the last town on my fabulous Highway 50 journey was less than 30 miles from Fallon and from there I got on I-80 W towards Reno/Sparks, and then connected to Rt. 395 N.  It was a nice enough drive and I decided to keep it short, stopping at the Susanville RV Park, in Susanville. 

The office was closed but the payment instructions were posted next to the door.  Just as I reached for the envelope the lady came back and opened up the office.  Like most people I encounter, she immediately realized I was deaf, and like many of those folks assisting me, she attempted to use some sign language with me.  All she could seem to remember was the sign for “Yes.”  Sometimes I really do want to know.  Other times, I just want to show my appreciation for the effort.  So, I almost always ask, as I did today, “You know some sign language?  Where did you learn it?” 

She said she also had a hearing loss.  Since she appeared to be in her late 40s or early 50s, I discounted “old age” and asked her a few more questions.  She said she grew up with a hearing loss but had enough to get by.  People, she said, don’t believe she has trouble hearing.  I asked her about her schooling and she acknowledged she did experience a lot of frustration.  I told her I’d had a few unpleasant experiences of my own but it’s easier for me now, as an educated adult, to understand that the teachers in my hearing schools were simply ignorant.  I asked her if she wishes she had gone to a school for the deaf.  Her response was interesting.  She said she wishes she were deafer so that people would believe her that she can’t hear them well.  Hers is such a familiar story and only reinforces my gratitude that Mom and Dad recognized my own struggles when they did and sent me off to the Lutheran and [a year later] the Indiana Schools for the Deaf.  I just had to give this lady, my “Fellow Deafie,” a hug, which surprised her I think but I also think she appreciated it, too!

I turned north this morning [Saturday, August 27^th], not south towards home.  AJ and Navidad, my kittys, are waiting for me up in Washington and that’s where I’m now headed.  As I reviewed my maps last night and considered my timelines and route options, I thought about where I had been these past two months.  The relatively flat, but beautiful Nebraska.  The mountains of Colorado.  The desert-basin of Nevada.  But, of course!  I should head for Washington by way of the Oregon coast!

My itinerary all sketched out, I took the more scenic Rt. 139 N up through the Modoc National Forest to the Oregon state line.  Along the way, the beautiful snow-capped dome of Mt. Shasta loomed to my left.  Crossing into Oregon, I followed Rt. 39 N until I reached the KOA in Klamath Falls.

Sunday (28^th) I took Rt. 97 N to Rt. 318 W – the “Rogue Umpqua Scenic Drive” – through the winding Umpqua National Forest,  The mountains and forests here surround Crater Lake, a recreational area I would love to visit someday.  At Roseburg, I got on I-5 S for about five miles, connected to Rt. 42 W, and arrived at Coos Bay, just off Hwy 101.  The Sunset Bay State Park, near Charleston, was practically full, but there was a site for me.  I got the camper all set up and before doing anything else, I took a late afternoon walk up and through a wooded bluff to see the Pacific Ocean.  It was beautiful.  It was perfect!

Trail through a wooded bluff near Sunset Bay State Park, Oregon.

 

Oregon's Pacific Ocean! 



As I write this [on Monday, August 29th], I’m at the Heceta Beach RV Park in Florence.  Over the next few days, I’ll be taking a leisurely drive up the Oregon Coast.  There are many state parks along the coast and I look forward to staying at some of them.  I’ll pick up the kittys next week and we’ll then turn south towards home.

Until the next CAMPER ADVENTURES!