From Winnemucca to Salt Lake City we hit the highway and rode with the monster trucks on route 80. High desert terrain, Kenworths and Peterbilts, some pulling three loads, kept us company for most of the day. Cruising at 70 we passed hundreds of tractor trailers struggling to gear up the hills in order to make their cross country deliveries on time. We would stop for a break, then revisit truckers that we had passed before, who hailed us with a friendly wave. My respect for theses drivers and their machines was renewed. Lonely days on the road, sometimes crawling to cross a mountain, they make sure that we have all the goods that we need to survive.
Through Nevada, the scenery remained the same - naked mountains and dry valleys covered with mesquite and sage. A snow covered peak surprised us in the growing heat of the day. Gusty wind pulled the bike randomly. Towns, with their initials painted on the mountains where they nestle, appeared at lengthy intervals of the highway.
At times, as we hot-footed it through sere basins, the mountains seemed only a few miles away. Guessing games as to the actual distance proved Jules the most accurate. A winding section of road that curled into the horizon sported a mountain range in the distance. Twenty miles, as Jules had guessed, finally saw us reaching their heights. It's amazing how you can entertain yourself on a long, hot trip.
Utah announced itself with salt. Blazing into the Bonneville Salt Flats, we were shocked. The anomaly of a seemingly snowy landscape in extreme heat boggles the mind. Jules, the ever curious traveler, decided to check out the "raceway" where the land speed trials take place. Into the salt pan we rode, the mercury rising to 100. The remnants of prehistoric Lake Bonneville, 44,000 acres of salt stretched out before us. The speedway is moved every race to the areas with the best conditions and is groomed accordingly. Small amounts of rain, only 1/16 of an inch, can cause the hard pan to flood and cancel the races. Unwilling to drive Rascal out onto the salt, we made it to the end of the road. Jules threatened to take her out to see how fast she could go, but we realized that if the engine blew up, our trip was over.
Back on the highway, we drove through salt for miles. More than a desert, this was the most drastic terrain we have ever seen. The heat spiraled off the flats and wound itself around us. Soon, the Great Salt Lake paralleled us and we knew we were closing in on the city. Stopping in the outskirts at Tooele for the night, we gasped into the air conditioning of our hotel. After a day of fast running and hot wind we melted into our room and never left. Picnic dinner and lots of air helped us decompress.
This area of the States is harsh and unforgiving. Yet, people have chosen to settle here, living a lonely life out on the desert, or joining together. Pioneers walked across this wasteland, survived the elements and formed a community. These communities are monuments to the power of human determination and will.
High Desert morning
Snow capped mountains
Nevada rocks
Town identification fail! Would you want to live here?
The road stretches ahead - 20 miles to the mountains!
Whoa! Salt!
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