Day 1- Pollock Pines to Austin; I am Really Doing This!

I vacillated between scared, excited, nervous, intimidated, antsy, hopeful, jittery, and optimistic with a undercurrent of panicked stress all week. Where did the time go?

But today, I was finally underway. All that twitchiness just fell away and there was only road on my mind. The anticipation leading up to a big adventure faded away once I was back in the moment. Wasn’t that a lesson in mindfulness? Something about not dwelling on the future and living in the here and now?

So, this morning I packed the last of my supplies. For those of you who have followed along, you will recall that driveway was the site of my first drop and today I probably added another 50 pounds of gear to the bike including a gallon of gasoline since then. So, I gunned it up the driveway and left no opportunity for a last glance back.

At 6:45 a.m., I had the roads of Pollock Pine to myself save for the morning deer meandering the neighborhood. As I came around a bend, one opted to view my departure from the road in front rather than the shoulder. “Deer in headlights” was not just a fun little quote. Deer really did just look at me, flicking its ears and sniffing the air when I approached.

The solitude of the crisp morning allowed me to shake off the jitters and take things at my own pace. I needed the 26 mile ride over Mormon Emmigrant Trail to get the feel for how the bike handled with the extra weight. Frankly, I ended up with several extra items that I hadn’t planned to take, but I tossed them in because the bags I shipped across the country were maxed out. I should have paid the extra $30 to ship more weight. I had a feeling I would shed some unnecessary items before the weekend.

Mormon Emmigrant Trail ended at California State Highway 88. I last passed through on 88 with a friend going the other direction after leaving Tahoe, so I knew sections were being repaved. Fortunately, it was pristine newly laid pavement northbound heading right into Carson Pass with a birdseye view of Silver Lake followed by a view of Caples Lake. Couldn’t beat being alone on an open road with fresh asphalt underwheel.

Feeling relaxed and grateful for the road, the weather and the day, I nearly missed my recommend breakfast stop at Sorenson’s (worth a stop and maybe a stay,) Glad I didn’t. My stomach had settled and coffee and yogurt were welcome. Leaving the cafe I found myself “whooping” into my helmet and singing along with Beck’s “The Golden Age”. Oh sweet, sweet coffee!

I descended from 8000feet and the valley opened up to rangeland speckled with cattle and an odor to match. The GPS announced “Welcome to Nevada” and the suburbs of Carson City, the capital of Nevada, start unfolding in all their strip mall, chain restaurant and desert casino glory. Not my spot of tea, but I did opt for a spot of gas.

Headed east from Carson City was Highway 50 dubbed the “Loneliest Highway in America.” Unfortunately, this stretch of loneliness was clogged with traffic – 18-wheelers, work trucks, SUVs and more – which kept me wishing it was actually lonelier. The next 70 miles to Fallon were more like disheveled and neglected suburbia than lonely desert outposts.

I wasn’t clear on fuel option between Fallon and Austin, so I topped off the tank, layered on my cooling vest and wet my neck collar. For the next 120 mile stretch across the desert, that lonely highway actually got pretty lonely. Nevada’s open country was breathtaking. East of Fallon, Highway 50 ran across the Dice Valley. It was surrounded by a beach-like salt basin with sagebrush hills ahead in hazy distance. There was even a soggy wetland that seemed like a dirty and strange oasis among the piles of sand. As I closed in on Austin, the desert gave way to high mountain brush covered in sage. The aroma permeated the air as I gazed up at the 4000 foot Bald Mountain that hovered over Austin.

Sounds lovely, right?

Sure, but this stretch was long and straight and monotonous and long and straight and monotonous and. . . tiring. As landscape slipped by I tried different positions in the saddle to stave off the onslaught of ass-ache. A few weeks ago, I had tried an inflatable comfort seat, but returned it because I didn’t like it for riding the squiggly mountain roads of Pollock Pines. But I realized, THIS was what that pad was for. I used every slight curve shift my weight and lean.

Then, I found myself getting bored. No more singing along. Lots of searching for new songs. I finally started an audio book to occupy my mind. Was Handmaid’s Tail a good option for keeping one company on a high salt basin? Good enough to keep me occupied for the last 30 minutes. My one casualty was along this stretch. I tried to sip from my hydration pack and knocked my chin curtain out. It was crushed under a truck’s tires. Oops.

I finally arrived in Austin, Nevada, my stay for the night. During my nervous energy, I did a bit of research on the place. There were two cafes in town and according to reviews one was not particularly welcoming to those who were not Trump supporters (see the cafe in the background of the photo below). Not that I was not willing to talk politics, but I preferred to keep things on friendly terms this trip – especially since my motel was right across the street. So, I went to the Toiyabe Cafe where the staff was lovely and there was not politics to be discussed.

I only threw these little red meat pieces in because of fascinating juncture our country existed at the time. Seriously, there was a politically hostile cafe along the “Loneliest Highway in America” in a town of 192 people that was 110 miles from Fallon and 147 miles from Ely with very little in-between. Today, there was a steady stream of visitors to the Toiyabe Cafe as a little oasis in the desert selling soft serve, shakes, burgers and an opportunity for travelers to stretch their legs. They were buried in business, short-handed, but friendly, welcoming and even a bit apologetic for the delays. Yet, people stayed and waited. Perhaps because it was the leisurely pace out in the desert or maybe many of them didn’t want to exercise their option for a hostile alternative. I couldn’t check in for two hours. I had an outlet to charge at and my thumbs to type with.

And I had no desire to exercise my option for some combative political banter. I felt good about that. And I felt good about the day’s accomplishment.

Off to the Extraterrestrial Highway tomorrow.

Happy cooking and riding!