Day 14: August 24th, 2008 – Beam Me Up, Feed Me, and Drop Me in Frisco

Middlegate --> Carson City



In my mind Middlegate had become the edge of civilization but when I had arrived the night before I realized that it was yet another oasis. I still had quite a bit of riding before Fallon and even more to Carson City and into California. Looking back on my ride I realize now that Nevada was some of the most memorable and awesome riding, but at the time I was so ready to be rid of the state. I damned it every morning and every night. After the first few miles across the Utah/Neva border I felt that I had seen it all, but all the discomforts of the state continued to reappear; like that political ad that you’ve seen a million times after the first was too much to start with. Although, if it wasn’t for the difficulties of the trip I wouldn’t have anything to remember except for nice views and funny people, which I could have easily experienced in fifteen minutes at a coffee shop in the Springs rather than a 17 day interstate bike adventure. That being said, Nevada wasn’t planning on letting me leave without a fight.


After leaving Middlegate I rode through several military installations which made sense due to the amount of Naval Pilots that had frequented the bar I had slept outside the night before. I actually wasn’t too far from the infamous Area-51 either…. You better believe that the night before, sleeping beside a shed in nowhere Nevada, I kept my eyes on the sky and cheeks a little tighter than normal. In fact this area had so much air traffic, worldly or intergalactic, that the sandy embankments along the rode were covered in messages written in the small lava rocks that were scattered throughout the landscape. Mostly things like; “Hank loves Lauren” or “Rock and Betty forever” but occasionally you’d get a “take me with you” or “Beam me up”. It had become easy to understand how a person living in these conditions might feel inclined to say that an extraterrestrial plucked them up and probed places that even humans won’t go unless they have a M.D. Regardless, the writings continued for many miles and entertained me long enough to bring me much closer to Fallon.

There were other sights to see thought; Sand Mountain stood shining in the distance for miles. It was a solitary 600-700 foot hill of pure sugar like sand. It gleamed in the Nevada sun like a million mirrors, so much so that every few seconds I looked at it brought another drop of moisture to my eyes. I would have stopped to play upon its slopes but nearly a year before I had spent days exploring the Great Sand Dunes at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. So I pushed on towards Fallon only to be stopped by yet another natural wonder. The valley floor became increasingly white until the land around me looked to have been bleached. I slowed to examine the wonder and soon found myself with a handful of the strange earth contemplating consumption. My mind had a theory that my taste confirmed, I was riding through and enormous salt flat. Everyday table salt covered the ground like a soft winter snow. I had already partaken of this salt flat the day before but in a much more domestic environment, I had salted my fries at the Austin Diner with a shaker boasting their delicious desert resource outside Fallon.

Well, between the flats and Fallon I ran into very little than interested me besides a serious greening of the landscape and quite a few non shoe covered trees. I stopped at the first enormous gas station I could find to refuel; Mountain Dew, corndogs, and of course a half gallon of milk. I made some victorious calls back home to proclaim that I had nearly conquered my third and most brutal adversary…I mean state. In this conversation ‘nearly’ was the word that I overlooked. I had tremendous luck as I crossed the state, I had managed to somehow avoid the terrible western winds that dominated forecasts but had been absent in recent days…. until now. From Fallon to Carson City I faced a head wind so strong that should I have a hesitation in effort my bike would slow to a point that threatened tipping, which I almost welcomed because it would end the constant struggle.

Through pure effort and constant attrition I managed to reach Carson City, The largest city in my travels thus far. It was early in the day but the wind had destroyed me, and so I found myself in the comforting glow of a Dairy Queen sign. I ate a selection of the menu while I tried to decide what to do with myself for the night. I had ridden deep into Carson City and I didn’t favor the idea of riding back out into the country to camp, so I sent myself up at a hotel right off the main drag in Carson City, a rather sleazy area of town full of casinos and unsavory looking women on street corners.

After I settled into my room I thought about trying my luck at the blackjack table, but instead decided to sit down and watch some Olympics so I wasn’t completely out of the loop when I arrived at the Training Center in a few days. Of the three nights I stayed in hotels along the way I can say only that I felt rather uncomfortable with the ease of my surroundings, I even slept in my bag. I did enjoy the showers though, but I cringed at having to cover my clean skin immediately with sunscreen in the wee hours of the morning. The amenities of the hotel were nice but the thought of entering the Golden State in the morning was enough to send me to bed with a smile.
Day: 116.69 mi
Total: 1427.33 mi
Elev. Climbed: 1400 ft
Elev. Difference: 100 ft

Day 13: August 23rd, 2008 – The Burning Man with a Badass Tan

Eureka, NV --> Middlegate, NV

SO I set off from Eureka at the break of dawn in order to avoid being arrested for sleeping in Historical Site #22, also there was more vast nothingness in front of me that I wanted to span before nightfall. Roughly 150 miles of it. So after a gas station breakfast burrito and a half gallon of milk I rode.

I continued to dominate basin and range over and over again until at the top of one of these summits I met Burning Man Dan the AU fan. I was standing half naked in the scorching midday heat of the top of a climb when Dan’s truck and trailer stopped. He greeted me with, “Hello Stranger, would you like a Coke”.

Now, the best part about my journey was that I was never in the position to refuse a favor. People offered and I accepted. So very often in my life I have rejected favors and gifts out of no other reason than pride, but my need taught me the beauty of my self inflicted dependence. In the middle of my solo self sufficient adventure I had found, then more than ever, I was relying upon generosity and pure kindness of strangers. It was a beautiful thing and has changed my paradigm forever. When all that we have is gifted to us what is our not to give back…..?absolutely nothing!

Well Dan’s apple and Coke did much for me, but it was his character that really got me going. Dan had driven all the way from Birmingham for the Burning Man festival in a desert North of Reno, Nevada. The way Dan described it, Burning Man was an experience abounding in drugs, nudity, art, and expression of all types. He was fascinated with my ride and my story all together, which he insisted on hearing every detail of. In fact, I’m not sure I knew I had a story before talking to Dan, he just kept asking why until I ran out of answers and had come to my End and my Means all in one. After telling my story Dan promptly told me about his daughter who was attending Auburn University. Dan was trying to set up a date for the two of us until I reminded him of two things. 1. I had never met his daughter and was thousands of miles away from her, and 2. I was a Georgia Fan…….Dan took a few photos of me with my bike and then I headed down into another basin.

After making it over a few more summits I had arrived in Austin, Nevada, a small burg of no more than 500 residents. I stopped in Austin Dinner for a burger and a cold drink. It was so scorching outside that even the air flowing out of the kitchen felt blissfully cool to me. After the burger I talked shop with some touring motorcyclists outside. Not only did they treat me like one of the boys, I was nearly elected bike gang leader. I answered dozen’s of questions about my ‘rig’ and the details of my ride. I grabbed some soft serve to go and rode down the main strip while eating my ice cream until a young woman ran out in from of my bike with a camera and a smile. When I lurched to a stop she asked me how the descent into Austin was. (The incline of the area was grueling and she knew that I must have headed into town in on my horse). Annie kept touching my face, arms, and chest as she asked about my ride. Her dad Laurence even joined in on the fun. I already thought they were odd until they told me what they had been up to; Laurence had taken Annie to a brothel the night before in Ely to be serviced...... both of them! Talk about a close father daughter relationship. Like everyone else that day, they were on their way to Burning Man. They videotaped me for a few minutes as I road when they passed me later on in the day... Annie was on Acid... they were from Memphis….just another reason why MEMPHIS is not part of Tennessee.


I rode into the desert hoping to make it to civilization by nightfall. The desert around Austin was perhaps one of the most unwelcoming areas of the entire trip so I rode like hell continuing directly along the route of the ole Pony Express. I was in a great mood considering riding had become some what of a piece of cake in the recent days. I had trained myself into shape and was a lean and fit tourist who needed only a mechanically sound bike and lots of calories to make it anywhere in the country in grand style. I sang while I rode, realizing only later than I had made up more words than I remembered. I formed alternate versions of the hits of almost every genre. Wagon Wheel, by Old Crow Medicine Show, was a particular favorite. While singing I thought about friends back home and my family. I thought for hours about friends I hadn’t spoken to in years and some that I still see every day. Memory is an amazing thing; I recalled entire conversations of no real significance from ten years past as well as images dating back to the cradle. Some time to think can be a wonderful thing.


Maybe 25 miles out of Middlegate I ran upon a goat hunt in full swing. A man crossed the road with a rifle in his hand and the handlebars of a four wheeler in the other. He was firing at the goat as if he was Yosemite Sam. I had to slow down to stay behind the man and out of his ever-changing line of fire. He disappeared into the desert as quickly as he came right at the rubble that marked the last remaining remnants of an adobe Pony Express station changeover.


Pulling into Middlegate I saw one of the most ridiculous sights of the journey, a tree. This wasn’t just any tree though; it was the first tree along Highway 50 for 150 miles! It was large and beautiful and stood with a type of pride that echoed its situation of solitude, but none of these things made the tree what it was. They say you can tell the nature of a man by the type of shoes he wears, well what about a tree. This tree wore every type of shoe; sneakers, high tops, low tops, basketball shoes, track spikes, keds, flip flops, hiking boots, and even the occasional pair of black pumps. Hanging from its branches were thousands of pairs of shoes.

Legend has it that the first pair of shoes was thrown up by a pair of feuding newlyweds who returned upon the birth of their first child to throw another pair up in a gesture of good luck for their new family. I like that story but figure it just as likely that the tree is just as easily a marker for a large crack house nearby. Either way you tell it, the Shoe Tree, as it is so creatively named, is something to behold and the next time you are driving through Middlegate, NV (probably never) you should stop and take it in.


A few hundred yards from the notorious tree is the town of Middlegate, and by town I mean a bar/campground/hostel/restaurant/general store/gas station with a year round population of three. The bartender/shop keep/ mechanic is married to the waitress/cook/innkeeper and they run the entire town. A great and happy couple, they really made me feel at home with a warm meal and a few cold beers, they even let me pitch tent in clearing behind the bar. The third resident of the town was a funny ole dude who played a very amateur style method of guitar for free beer and the occasional round of applause from all the transient guests. I ran into the goat hunter I saw earlier, and was regaled with the stories of the hunt. I never knew goat hunting could be such an epic adventure….

The bar keep let me use his family computer in the back to check my email. I cannot describe how odd being in front of a computer feels after being on the road as long as I had been. After I finished up inside I headed out to the back to set up tent and get some sleep. It was a very interesting day and going to bed that night I had a feeling that I would never have another like it.

Day: 135.8 mi
Total: 1310.64 mi
Elev. Climbed: 3900 ft
Elev. Difference: -2300 ft