day 20 -- ely to san francisco

the early stop in ely left me with most of nevada and all of california to cross for a promised arrival across the bay on thursday. I wisely didn't chart the mileage, but I knew it was far enough for a long long day. but how better to appreciate the loneliest highway than to run it in one stretch? new for this still slightly damp morning was a chill! just a day removed from sweltering, I had to stop and layer up at breakfast in eureka. (and not just from the road...the diner was frigid as well.) this is unsurprisingly one of the best parts of this trip, esp in the west. back home you have to go a long long way to find an appreciably different climate. heading north or south or west in summertime from southern ohio doesn't really bring any appreciable change for hundreds of miles. same soupy hazy air, perhaps a couple of degrees change, but the extreme elevation of the smokies is about all that would make a difference anywhere within a two-days ride. but out here, the climbs and drops and rain shadows are striking...I noticed this first somewhere between flagstaff and the grand canyon. motoring through cool ponderosa forest, and then suddenly a slight drop and the trees disappeared into the edge of the painted desert. no fire damage, no national forest line, just a hard elevation/vegetation mark. I'd looked forward to climbing back out of the heat, but of course sweating out a touch too warm is always easier than shivering your way out of too chilly. the scenery made up for it. dead flat and unwatered valley floors stretching from sudden volcanic ridge to the next, so long zooms alternating with sweeping switchbacks...not a straight line across topography but a meandering zigzag following the flats seeking an easy pass over the ridges. later I was reading an excellent local history broadsheet in austin, NV, the author of which discussed traveling with and against the nevada grain. east-to-west, though higher mileage on account of the topography, is more tolerable driving than north-to-south with the grain and the interminably long stretches 'can't be completed in one lifetime' from the air (googlemaps) the apparently seamless flats are streaked by creek beds that are either dormant (making this landscape martian) or seasonal/occasional flood washes. stopped off at the petroglyph campsite and regretted again that the rain kept me from a night in the desert, but I took some time to take in the windy isolation. alas no picnic. one important thing I learned on the nevada open range is that cows don't just stand docile on warning signs as they do in most states...instead they turn menacingly into a threatening trot toward you!

somewhere about midway I stopped in austin, which is more than 100 miles from anywhere, and read that broadsheet I mentioned. tiny town with a remarkable local historian. he crammed everything interesting and nothing trite into a smoothly written piece on living in austin, not just dry history and facts...down to houses piled onto the north side of the highway (south-facing) to take advantage of sunlight, and his own personal encounters with the same patch of ice on two occasions spaced six months apart. the rest of the town's signage didn't add much to this history, other than turquoise for sale and a 'serbian christmas' celebrated january 7th. another place in which to tarry and explore, and a local historian to interrogate, but there was still a state-and-a-half to go, the full 122 miles to fallon first. some ugly strip mall stretches in dayton (I like the repeated town names...this trip has taken me from florence, KY to florence, AZ; dayton, OH to dayton, NV...) and then a spin through downtown carson city instead of the bypass. I was hoping to glimpse what has to be one of the smallest state capitol buildings in america, and I wasn't disappointed. its silver dome nearly obscured by much taller trees in front, the seat of nevada government was smaller than many east-of-the-mississippi county seats. but the legislature has its own separate building, so an allowance for that.

and finally finally into the california mountains and over into the central valley via the carson pass on SR88, squeezing between yosemite and tahoe. the former I've visited briefly, but the latter I'd like to see, but the crush of national park traffic kept me away. fantastic (but hazy) vistas of pine forest and granite cliffs, historical markers about the emigrant trail and the various iterations of roadway over the carson pass...and on the way down I knew, suddenly, that I was in california. it's not that there wasn't significant traffic around carson city, and of course I'd negotiated endless lights and eight lane suburban arteries in las vegas, but here were cars and trucks and boats piled up even in the countryside. recalled northern jersey in the clusters of boutique-y commerce along forest roads...but rougher edges and more frenetic driving. I expected as much in the valley on the way to stockton, but not so much in the foothills. into the burnt grass pastures edging the valley and then into cornfields and fruit stands and flat ground. made a good decision to skirt stockton and take SR12 straight through lodi and then turn south through the california delta. I had no idea california had a delta, but sure enough SR160 follows winding levees along marshy wetlands down to a soaring bridge over the sacramento river outlet and estuary. california freeway with traffic slowed to a crawl through the caldecott tunnel north of oakland and a blast of cool bay air on the other side, that legendary meteorological quirk. across the bay bridge (got there just in time to save $2 on the evening toll), which was shrouded in an otherworldly and notably-late-even-for-san francisco fog...hazy sun disk, prowling tendrils, and a dark purple wall in the direction of the golden gate. finally down to the mission district and a clumsy backwards push of the bike down into a hillside garage. 572 miles, all before sunset. knees sore from body armor, but otherwise intact, if a little wired.