On the Road Again

My neighbors waved as the Georgetown and I rolled out of North Ranch. Yesssss! Eight a.m. and on the road again!

George and I hung tight, said a prayer, and plunged into Nevada in time for the afternoon Las Vegas traffic. We made it to I-15, heading for Salt Lake City. I turned north on U.S. 93. It was hot and I had been going full tilt since 4 a.m. A shaded rest area between Upper and Lower Pahranagat National Wildlife Areas was just the ticket. I trailed the electric cord between the inverter and the fan in the bedroom and let the solar cool me as I snoozed. We RVers are soooo spoiled. Yeah! I love it!

I considered turning onto SR 318 toward Ely. I knew a great bookdocking grove of trees on the corner of 318 and the Extraterrestrial Highway awaited me. But with a little more daylight left, I chose continuing on 93. Wherever I stayed, it would probably be more peaceful than that grove. The constant UFOs circling overhead is very distracting. Area 51 anyone?

Driving at Dawn
It was a little late to visit Valley of the Fire or Cathedral Gorge state parks, but I made a note to explore them on the way back in the fall. Beyond Pioche, sunset silhouetted giant Joshua trees against the brooding mountains. I passed on several free mountain summit campsites only to find myself nestling into an already dark and lonely rest area somewhere south of Ely. The night air cooled George for a perfect sleep under the stars, no distractions.

There is nothing quite like driving during that dawn light just before the sun pops over the mountains and paints the world in pink. On June 16 and coming from Arizona’s triple digit temps, seeing mountaintop snow was heaven on the highway. Great Basin National Park is 60 miles east of Ely. Traveling 93 put me directly in line for watching the rising sun kiss 13,063-foot Wheeler Peak’s snowdrifts. Wow! If you haven’t been there, go. It is not only a great park, but includes beautiful limestone and marble Lehman Caves.

I had the road to myself for 2 1/2 hours. A truck and car passed me after I turned west on Route 50, the Loneliest Road in America. I stopped at an elk viewing area but no one told the elk, so they weren’t there. With snowcapped mountains on all sides, deep green grass across the fence and a tranquil morning, it was perfect timing for coffee and a breath of springtime. I definitely need to spend more time in Steptoe Valley to drive the 33-mile Success Loop and visit the Ward Charcoal (Beehive) Ovens Historic State Monument.

See, RVing is this way—you don’t have to see it all in one trip. With daughters on opposite coasts, I visit or experience different places and activities whenever I cross the country regardless of the direction I’m traveling. It is the freedom to pursue your own dreams in your own time that is so charming.

Favorite Place
Ely is my favorite Nevada town and it’s growing. It is full of casinos, but it has maintained the old west charm. The Jailhouse Casino downtown has the best breakfast, but I’ve been there for evening prime rib, and it was mouthwatering, too. If you like trains, you’ll love The Ghost Train of Old Ely. The train museum was interesting, but the ride didn’t fit my timing. I’ve checked out the nearby ghost towns but had no luck whatsoever finding garnets at the much-touted Garnet Hill west of town.

McGill, north of Ely, hadn’t changed since the last time I drove through. It crawled up the mountainside until it quit. The General Store had about all you’d need, including fresh meat cut up in the back room. I asked the clerk if the town was losing its battle. She was born in McGill and said, “It depends on the mine. McGill comes and goes as the gold mine opens and closes. The gold mine is open again. In 2006, a big power plant is being built 20 miles north of here. That should make a difference.” Although most of the houses had cars or trucks parked in front of them, the stores were mostly closed and forlorn. Time will tell.

The Schellbourne rest area has a small monument to the Pony Express. In 1860 to 1861, the riders rode 1,900 horseback miles from St. Joseph, Missouri, to Sacramento, California, through extreme weather, road-agent attacks, and Indian Wars and still delivered the mail in nine days. Hmmm.

On to Idaho
I continued toward Wells; the wind howled. Suddenly, an all-white mountain range rose beyond the green hills as if on cue. It took my breath away. The Ruby Mountains are another place to explore another day. A couple more lifetimes ought to do it!

After Jackpot, I crawled up the mountain into Idaho. As I write this, I am parked between mountain ridges on SR 55 headed north to a Life on Wheels Conference. It rained. The sun shone. The blooming syringa bushes fragranced the air. The Payette River cascaded through the layers of my mind and it was peaceful.

My thoughts took me back to a conversation with a delightful single mom in Vermont’s Quechee Gorge State Park last summer. She was tent camping with her 7-year-old daughter. After discussing my travel map on George’s back, she said, “Enjoy your travels, you are taking some of us dreamers with you!” God Bless