August – A Woman´s 4 Day Art Adventure

Silver City looking up toward Virginia City

Not many miles covered today, but some incredible scenery. The piece du risisdence of the day was a shared bottle of wine with old friends in Gold Hill. My old friend David Toll, editor and chief of the Gold Hill News, a paper now defunct, David was my employer of several years ago as I spent a season selling newspaper advertising to boost my sadly handicapped income.

We spent the evening reminiscing and trying to discover where all our common compadres were now located. David’s wife made an incredible hummus and after and a glass of wine several hours of visiting, I felt at ease to take on the Comstock hills and ride back to Carson City, in the dark. The night sky was amazing.

As I cruised through Mound House, I was as amazed as ever to see all the Brothel signage along the roadway. There is Kit Kat Ranch, The Bunny House, Moonlight Ranch, Starlight Ranch and several others. I remember these names from my childhood here and the tales of male teen initiation into manhood via the unspoken brothels. Nevada is as rich in history as in mineral deposits.

Day Four

Yawn, wow, only 5am. Forget it, no way am I getting outa this bed. I know I should try to get an early start to head home, but now….nada!

Seven am arrives and I drag my bottom out to the coffee pot. I realize then just how my addiction has cemented my psyche. Must have that cup o java before beginning anything meaningful. I down a couple of cups and get a quick shower and pack my bike up for the run home. Somehow, I always seem to have more to bring home than I do to take on the ride. Something to ponder…

I set Mike’s house straight and lock up and after much deliberation, head north on Hwy 395 to Hwy 70 leaving around 10:30 AM.

The wind is howling in Washoe Valley. The travel advisory reader board states “Campers and Trailers “NOT ADVISED”. This in layman’s terms means “ it is one windy mother” in the valley with wind speeds of 15 to 30 MPH and gusts up to 40MPH. If the sign states “Prohibited”, you are in for a very wild ride with wind speeds over 40 MPH and gusts to scary to clock!

When I finally reached Reno, I discovered another dream shattered as the wind was still as strong as ever and I grappled with whether or not I should just ride Interstate 80 home and forget the scenic route. But as usual emotion killed reason and I chose 395 N. When I got to Bordertown, I decided to get gas as I wasn’t sure how many gas stations I would encounter on 70. The wind was so strong that it was difficult to be off the bike and pumping gas at the same time, it was as though I needed an assistant, one to steady the bike or take a turn pumping the petrol. A truck load of workmen, jumped in to assist and all riders themselves, had to reassure me that this wind was common however today was exceedingly nasty. They advised going to the casino and having a beer. Gosh thanks guys, but I gotta get home.

I got back onto the freeway for 5 short windblown miles to Hallelujah Junction, aptly names as I am certain I exclaimed, “hallelujah!!!” when I arrived at the exit.

Hallelujah Junction

As I wound into the foothills the wind quieted but to a dull roar still claiming battle with motorbike riders. What could be worse other than snow or road construction. Well, guess what…for the next several miles I was either held back awaiting a pilot vehicle or riding on newly oiled surfaces, nasty smelly business, all in all.

At Blairsden, I took a left to Graeagle and made a quick stop at the local frosty and golf driving range. Huh, a likely combination. The place was packed so I could only assume that it would be great. Well, wrong again, or maybe just a bad day for the employees. I got a chocolate chip milkshake that was just that…vanilla milkshake with a handful of chocolate chips thrown in. Not great, in fact not really even good. I rode on.

On the Gold Lakes cutoff, I encountered another sign for road construction, however this one said “expect delays”. I rode on and was greeted by a very kind flagman, who told me I had just missed the caravan, which meant I had to wait for 30 minutes for the next exchange. I got off my bike and when I took off my helmet, I noticed I had lost one of my beloved amethyst earrings given to me, by my husband. Realizing, that the last place I had my helmet off was the frosty, I jumped back on the bike to at least take a look. Of course I never found it, don’t know why I thought I would, talk about a needle in a haystack! Upon my return I discovered that I had just missed the next caravan. Well, we know what that means. Since I had another 30 minutes, I decided to take some pix.

Gold Lake cutoff