The day was clear and cool, staying in the mid-60s most of the morning and only creeping into the low-70s at the peak of the day. Great riding weather! Even though the road didn’t have a shoulder, I made good time and didn’t have to worry too much about the one or two trucks that would blow by each hour. Between the rare vehicle, and the occasional clutch of livestock, it was just me and my bike for the vast bulk of the day. The scenery was beautiful, and the peaceful quiet was a true pleasure, but there was something nagging at me nonetheless.
I reached Kemmerer right about lunchtime and availed myself of the Café Ritz – the fanciest eatery in town. (And, yes, you guessed it – the only one.) One filling, if uninspiring, grilled chicken sandwich later, I was back in the saddle cranking my way westward. I passed along the southern edge of the Fossil Butte National Monument. It sounded like the kind of place I’d normally have liked to stop and check out, but with nothing between me and the horizon I didn’t want to use up daylight playing tourist.
As I approached the town of Sage, I dutifully recited my gas station prayers. Of course I could have pulled out the smart phone and asked Google what was ahead, but where’s the fun in that? My prayers, once again, went unanswered. There was absolutely nothing there. See – I was able to spend a good hour in hopeful anticipation instead of dejected resignation. Later, when I did look at Google maps I saw that the town was labeled as “Sage Ghost Town.” Thanks again, paper map!
After another 5 miles, I hit the Utah border. One more state officially behind me! This more tangible milestone buoyed my spirits more than crossing the Continental Divide the day before did, but there was still that nagging sense of something. I was finding out that I was more intimidated by the realities of crossing Nevada than I had been by imagining the ordeal of mounting the Rockies. That was just going to be some hard work, but Nevada was going to be hundreds of miles of deadly nothing.
I was feeling generally strong. No injuries, legs were holding up fine, no problems with dehydration, no mechanical issues to speak of, but I still had an uncomfortable feeling about the road ahead. During a rest stop I reviewed my route again. I would cut across the cap of Utah north of Great Salt Lake, take route 30 to the border, where it would change over to 233, until I reached the aptly named town of Oasis. There I’d pick up interstate 80 and take that to just short of Reno. I had encountered very little civilization over the previous several days, and where I was headed there was likely to be even less.
It wasn’t the absence of people per se that concerned me, but rather the lack of services – namely food and water. Sure, I know that people and services are a package deal, but you know what I mean! I decided I was just going to have to stock up as best as I could whenever I had the chance and power through the unforgiving wastelands like our intrepid pioneer ancestors did. Then I came to the junction with route 16. Screw the pioneers! Half of them died out there in the desert being all stalwart and intrepid! I turned south and headed for Salt Lake City.
What I Learned: Barren emptiness is an interesting place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.
Distance Today: 76 miles
Total Distance: 2,698 miles
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