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Day 54: {just west of point "B"}
JULY 29,
Only after I had brushed my teeth, washed up and donned my cycling gear did I realize the time was actually closer to 4:30 a.m. My cell phone’s time was somehow an hour earlier than actual Pacific Time.
Oh well: read for an hour, then woke Ben at 5:45 a.m. actual time. We weren’t in a hurry, wanting the sun to be high in the sky before we ventured out.
Had a real breakfast at the Toiyabe Café (French toast, omelet), then set out at 7:15 on the long downhill out of
Day started cool with cloud cover. Climbed the passes easily and increased our mph on the long downhill that followed. The high desert countryside we saw was pretty much the same as that of the last few days: long valleys separated by mountain ranges.
But on the sign for the 30-mile dirt road for Antelope was a noteworthy bumper sticker – “Donna’s Ranch: Where the West Is Still Wild.” A brothel, no doubt – in the middle of nowhere.
Ben and I, who throughout the trip have steadfastly avoided off-route points of interest, made no exception for Donna’s.
About 30 minutes beyond the turnoff we reached another goal – the trip’s 3,500-mile mark. We took the obligatory bike-computer photo and continued. But not for long. Before noon Adam, Stephen, Garin and Dana showed up with trail mix, granola bars, ice water and encouragement.
After lunch we set out on what was to be a long downhill slide into Middlegate. But throughout the 90-minute-plus ride we bucked a strong headwind.
Middlegate was worth the wait. It is the middle of nowhere. From a distance – and for that matter from up-close – it looks like a rundown, dusty outpost whose reason for existence is unclear.
Bizarre punctuation for the scene were sonic booms from U.S. Navy jets flying out of Fallon Naval Air Station. Pilots also hang out at the this unlikely outpost, as evidenced by a certificate signed by airmen thanking the Middlegate management for a great Christmas part.
Indeed, the place has a certain charm: The wooden motel looked rickety from the outside, but the rooms were comfortable, swamp-cooled and equipped with flat-screen cable TV. Alas, no Internet, no cell.
The bar, favored by bikers and cowboys, has a ceiling plastered with dollar bills tacked up by patrons 9We added ours). In the corner was a guitar that anyone could pick up and play. The food looked and smelled good, which is fortunate, because there’s no other place to eat within 50 miles.
After I retired, Ben and his friends went to the bar to play pool and ended up talking nd playing music with a couple of the resident oldtimers, Dennis and Paul. The kids consensus was that this was likely the best place we will stay on our
Tomorrow: on to
