On Oxygen

There's not a whole lot more to tell for right now. In the morning the roads were dry, and I woke rested. I enjoyed breakfast at Sorensons, joined by my cabin-neighbors and their two small children. The boy, about 2 years old, was an animated kid, hollering "sausage!" excitedly to the waitress, along with words for other things he enjoys. He was captivating... a little toe-head with bright blond hair, blue eyes and a love of fireplaces. The parents were interested in my travels, having taken a sabbatical from camping since the birth of their first child. They were good company.

I packed up slowly, and they were laid back about my checkout time. It hit the road around 11:30. The descent out of the Sierras was incredible. Steep, long dives with an incredible view laid out. The majesty that seemed hidden coming into the mountains, shone brightly on the eastern faces, with snow caps and peaks rising in every direction. The descent happened quickly, and soon I was in a valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides. The view behind me, in particular, was amazing.

The valley was slow going. The elevation map makes it look like an easy ride, but it reads relative to the mountains. There are gentle rolling hills all day, but the stretches feel long, and the hills surprisingly arduous. I realized quickly that my body was not prepared to ride at elevation. The first tiny hill, at around 6,000 feet, left me winded and concerned. The days was easier ride after the road dropped down to 4,000 feet and stayed around there.

I stopped in Genoa, a tiny town just east of the border which boasts the oldest bar in Nevada. There was no sign when I corssed into the states, since I was on back roads. I got a look at the oldest bar from the deli across the street, as I drank in the curiosities of a wedding next door. The men wearing Stetsons with fragile blond women on their arms... It was all new to me. This is the kind of west that you really don't see unless you live there.

I finished my sandwich and my coffee, hopped back on my bike, and was in Carson City a short while later. I wasn't sure if I should try to push on to the next town before sundown, and decided instead to catch an AA meeting.

The meeting was all right, but the near illiteracy of several of the attendees concerned me. Something I love about AA is how non-judgemental people are. It's a great place for a person to learn to read, or get their reading skills up to standard if they are lacking. We pass around the book, and people will help each other, offering support for difficult words, and not raising eyebrows if someone passes altogether. The number of people in the room in need of this kind of support was surprising to me.

I stopped in to a cheap motel and settled in for the night.

In the morning I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. The next major city was 70 miles east, and I had already decided that I wasn't going to ride across all of Nevada. Maybe it was the fear that had settled in, or the number of people raising their eyebrows when I said I was traveling that stretch along. Maybe it was the prospect of days without a water source, or camping next to the desert highway with no place to conceal my tent. Eventually I realized that I didn't want to force myself. This trip is about the journey, not covering every single inch between west and east. I remembered a very simple truth: You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.

I had planned to rent a car in Fallon, NV and drive to Cedar City, Utah, where I am sitting right now. Fallon was still 70 miles east of me... but the desert was already looking vast and empty and I really didn't see a reason to wait for Fallon. I talked to some friends by phone over breakfast, and decided to jump things in motion from Carson City. I let some time slip by, talking to some locals.

I rode over to the rental place, and they were closed. In Carson City on a Sunday... everything is closed. I shacked up in another motel (a less smoky one), and shut in for the day. There was a feather on the doorstep when I took my room, which told me I was right where I was supposed to be, as always. Feathers represent truth, traditionally, but for me they are also little roadsigns...

I was stir-crazy and bored, letting the day pass. I felt like resting, but I didn't feel restful, if that makes sense. I didn't go out much, just once to grab coffee, and again for dinner at a themed western restaurant that looked enticing. I had a good dinner, and helped a family sing "Happy Birthday" to their mother. As I wandered out, the waiter thanked me for not leaving him to sing alone... but the family had sang too. I think he was trying to make conversation. I took my leftovers and went back to the motel. I haven't been feeling very social the past few days.

In the morning I had a messy time getting the vehicle I needed, going for one car rental to another, and finally setting off at around noon. I had a 10 hour drive ahead of me.

I dont have a problem with driving. It was wild to see the road fall into desolation... but it was far more beautiful than I expected. I'm thinking that some day I might ride this stretch, but with company. The mountains stretch out, and the road goes on forever, with no sign of life in any direction. I made only a few stops. The first was to photograph a tree that people had been hanging shoes in for years... the strangest creature of a tree up by the side of the road. There was a little sign near it that said "The Shoe Tree". Someone had written on the sign that the shoes were killing the "spirit of the tree", and someone else had responded with "die hippie scum". The extremes of America, I guess. I photographed the tree, and the sign, and kept moving.

My second stop was in a small town called Eureka, where I very nearly got snagged into a religious conversation with a teenage boy while I bought my coffee.

"I don't like Mormons. Lots of Mormons in Utah."

That was where it started... and while I have plenty to say on the subject, I had NO desire to get into a discussion about religious freedom, stereotyping and God with a teenager. Especially when his next remark began "I mean, I think you'll go to heaven just if you're good."

See, an opening line like alerts me that this boy may have no concept that I might be inclined to present an argument entirely outside of the Judeo-Christian paradigm. I immediately imagine that in his world, there are just different kinds of Christians. I may have been judgemental, but regardless... I didn't want to talk. I smiled kindly and nodded, slipping out the door backwards, and got back on the road.

My next stop was to talk to two cross-country cyclists from Israel. They had braved the stretch of Nevada and were finishing an 80 mile day, into headwinds, landing in the town of Ely, Nevada. When I stopped to chat with them, they told me I had done the right thing, that Nevada was crazy. They had done 8 miles and 4 summits that day to make it to a motel. I was impressed. We exchanged information, in case we might cross paths again, and then I got back to driving. I wanted to catch the sunset at Great Basin National Park.

I drove fast. It's easy out there, with no one looking on. It's easy to look out for cops, too... there's so much space and road out in front of you. Not really many places for cops to hide. The sun was slipping over the hills, and I at least wanted to see Great Basin in the sunlight, if not sit someplace and watch the sun fall.

I was able to drive up the winding mountain rode inside the park before the sun went down, but the sunset itself would have been been viewed from back down on the ground. The road was closed up top when I got high enough that I might have had a view over the mountain. When I climbed back down, stopping to photograph some unusual art along the road... it was dark.

Driving in the dark out here is terrifying. I have never been afraid of driving in the dark. I crossed into Utah, and kept my eyes sharp. There were cows everywhere.

A black or brown cow, on the road at night, is nearly invisible until you are practically on top of it. I discovered this quickly. I rode the rest of the way to Cedar City praying not to hit a cow. I don't know, honestly, who I was more scared for... the cow, or myself. Cows are large, unmovable creatures. Hitting one would be a disaster.

Sigh. So I made it to Cedar City in one piece. I found my dream hotel... one with a computer, and a pool, free breakfast, and low rates. I have been holed up here for three days.

I didn't mean to stay this long, but I had a few things to do. I wanted to write on a real computer, and find a health food store. Most importantly, I had to acclimate my body to riding at elevation. I've ridden around town a bit, about 10 miles today. This city sits at 6,000 feet elevation, and my ride tomorrow is up to 10,000 feet. The climb is steep, and early today I was still losing my breath up little hills.

I stopped in the health food store and picked up some supplements for my lungs and for oxygen levels. By the end of the day, even before I took the supplements, I was feeling more comfortable on hills. I feel ready. So in the morning I'll be done with my little "vacation".

I am so excited.

Southern Utah is beautiful. Even my short ride today placed me in outstanding scenery. In the coming days I will ride past or through at least five major National Parks, including Natural Bridges and the Grand Escalante Staircase.

All right, that's all I've got in me today. After tonight I will be back in my tent for awhile, so I want to make sure I get a lot of lazying done this evening. I'm off to practice "The Art of Doing Nothing". Maybe eat some strawberries.