Journey Through the Desert on a Bike With No Name

Now or Never

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to realize a long-lived dream of cycling solo across the vast expanse of a wide-open high plains desert in the American West. Riding conditions were optimal: cloudless azure skies, daytime temperatures in the high 70’s or low 80’s, nighttime temperatures only dipping to the mid 40’s, no wind, and occasional light breezes. I was coming up on a three-day weekend, so the time was right. With winter approaching and my impending move to China, it was now or never. I had to ride now or forever live with the regret of not going. I chose to throw a leg over my trusty steel horse and sally forth into the desert void. For those who have the same dream, here’s a little eye candy to stoke the fires. This was my journey. It was awesome. I have no regrets. I hope you enjoy the pictures.

Wide Open Spaces

The route was a 217 kilometer run (440 km roundtrip) from Carson City, Nevada east on U.S. Hwy 50 (a.k.a Loneliest Road in America) to the crossroads Silver Springs, then swinging north on U.S. Hwy 95 Alt to the town of Fernley, and continuing northward on SR 447 along the Truckee River through Paiute town Nixon then paralleling the mountain range east of Pyramid Lake northward and onto the Black Rock Desert (of Burning Man fame), which lays a few miles north of the tiny bergs of Empire and Gerlach. The long journey provided plenty of time in the saddle to melt into the wide open spaces and was of enough distance to put my new Co-Motion Divide through its paces while fully loaded. It took me about 12 hours to make the trek into the Black Rock Desert, with the time alone in the saddle out in the middle of nowhere were worth the effort.

Even in the seemingly desolate, rugged desert terrain, life is abundant. There was always something to see, if I just looked. Occasionally, I observed pairs of hawks circling lazily in the thermals overhead. Once a golden eagle swooped low over the sagebrush and creosote bushes across the road in front of me to rise up and light on telephone pole of a set of power lines paralleling the highway. On the way back, a solitary wily coyote trotted along the road just off in the scrub brush warily eyeing me, probably considering as to whether I would make a good meal or not. In the end, he passed on the prospect and faded away into the pale green sagebrush blanketing the hills around me.

Riding in the darkness of the morning twilight, I smacked head-on into a wall of stench wafting up from a squished skunk in the middle of the road, an odor so pungent it filled my nostrils and I could taste it in mouth as it seemed to coat my body as I rolled past. Now and then, I passed herds of wild mustangs grazing in the distance, often raising their heads to shoot me a furtive glance as I quietly pedaled by with small kernels of rock crackling under my tires. Every hour or so, a lone car or truck swooshed past me, with the drivers offering support by flashing their lights, waving hand or giving me the “thumbs up.”

Desert Solitude

Alone with only my thoughts, the quiet hum of my wheels evaporating into the desert solitude put me into a “taking stock” mode, a time for my mind to run free, thinking, reflecting, creating, and connecting with the immense open spaces of the desert northwest. There’s nothing like gradually falling into vastness of the American West to remind you of your singular insignificance on this planet and within the universe. It was a great time for refection, calculation, appreciation, and to take in the full measure of things. My mind was abuzz with thoughts and ideas, and dreams of future journeys — definitely an uber “flow activity” for coming up with new adventures.

A Night in the Desert

Out on the playa there was not a single sound, save for a pack of lonely coyotes in the distance yipping at the moon overhead as the last rays of the sun melted away behind the ridge of jagged peaks lording over the desert floor. The night sky was inky black, studded with a million stars from horizon to horizon surrounding a huge silvery full moon that cast an eerie light so bright a headlamp was not required. I could see clearly in the pale light without it, just as if it was day. Sleep came quickly, followed by an early dawn. I was barely able to scribble a few scattered thoughts in my journal before a my eyelids were to heavy to hold and deep sleep overtook me. I was out like a light. All was quiet in the desert, not so much as a sound, with only my breathing and the occasional rustle of my sleeping bag disturbed the still night air.

Not From Around Here

“You rode all the way from where?” burped the waiter as he poured me a cup of coffee.  “I saw you way down the road a piece while I was driving out here,” snorted a customer wearing a truckers kicked back on his head at a rakish angle and nursing a cup of brew as he sat hunched over a table adjacent to mine. The word quickly got around the cafe that some “crazy guy on a bike” had ridden all the way from Carson City to Gerlach in a day. Before long, Bruno, the proprietor of the only motel, cafe and casino in town had to come and have a look for himself. He stared out through a partially opened door at me quietly as I put on my gloves and helmet preparing to go. “Good day,” I gestured, but Bruno never made a sound and just keep staring out me in disbelief. After a long silence, he slowly closed the door and went back inside. It was obvious the local folk thought me pretty strange for riding all the way out here on a bicycle.

Adventure is What You Make of It

Long adventure cycling journeys are awesome. But shorter journeys, or micro-adventures as Alastair Humphreys puts it, can be just as exciting and rewarding if done right. They are usually simple to organize, don’t cost much, and can be accomplished on a tight time schedule ranging from a morning or afternoon to a day or two. In between longer voyages or for those that can’t get away for extended periods of time, getting out on your bike for a day or two is just the ticket to keep your adventurous spirit burning bright and your dreams alive. You don’t have to journey to the other side of the planet to have an exciting time. Adventure is what you make of it, near or far, traveling through the exotic or the familiar. It’s really about your state of mind in relation to your perspective of the world around you. Some of the best adventures are just out the front door.

Thin Air and Opportunity

As I rolled back into Carson City three days later, I thought to myself, “Yes, I did it.” My little voyage had become a dream dreamed, an adventure lived, and now a journey fulfilled. From here forward, I will always live with the rich memory of a solitary desert passage, experienced in a way only riding a bicycle can do, a memory of completing a journey through a unique land all because I took that first step; thus, enabling me to move forward without regret and nagging thoughts of, “I could have… I would have… I should have…” Adventure is what you make of it and can be found in the most common of places, which is most likely right outside your front door. More often than not, if you look, you will find there is nothing between you and your dreams but thin air an opportunity.

The road is calling.