Ghost Rock
so many vistas and so little time.

Pressing on (Day 4 & 5)

Heading west on I-70, I began to realize that there are some really lonely places out here. I passed Green River and noted the sign saying ‘No Services next 100 miles’. They were not kidding either, but there was also some awesome scenery in there. I made a quick stop to see Ghost Rock, then soon crossed ‘the Breaks’, an upright ridge that was cut through for the highway.

The Breaks
impressive road cut. When I reached Salina and stopped for lunch, I called the guys to ask how they were doing and warn them to get gas in Green River. Jim’s bike was fixed and they were in Green River when I called. They were well behind me and I was headed southwest while they eventually needed to go northwest. I told them I should be fine (there I go again, the eternal optimist) and, if they wanted, to head north on 191. This was better than them trying to pound down miles to catch me then heading north anyway. I told them I would meet them after class next Friday.

Checking the map, I decided to call ahead and make room reservations at Ely Nevada. That proved to be an excellent move. Thank you AAA.

I got on to route 50 and headed out again. Route 50 is advertised as the loneliest road in America. I agree with that. By the time I got to Hinkley, the winds had become very strong.
Sandstorms In Hinckley - being prepared was helpful. The flags were standing straight out and the lady at the gas station said gusts were up to 40 mph and to be careful of sandstorms. Soon after, I was riding in one! I really appreciated my Pan-op-tics again. These glasses have a foam seal around your eyes and this kept the sand out. At times I seemed to be riding in a bubble where the storm was much worse in front and behind me. Thank you, Lord.

I stopped at the next service (97 miles without even a mail box) for a break. There I visited with some folks who had ridden through the storm just ahead of me. They were headed to Reno for a big bike rally. Seems they got blasted much worse than I had. Had a quick bite (pie), gassed up and after resting for 10 minutes, I rode out again.

The wind had calmed by now and the scenery was good again. I passed a couple of areas that looked like they were covered with snow. When I got up to them, I discovered that what I had seen was salt! Salt Lake City is not the only place in Utah that has salt flats.

Arriving in Ely, I went directly to Motel 6. There were many people waiting in line trying to get rooms. Of course; there were no rooms available as this was the weekend of the Silver State Classic, a race on public roads (they do close them) over a 90 mile course. Wow, it’s neat what you can do in Nevada.

In the morning it was dark and cold. I noticed several exotic cars in the parking lot. As I loaded up the bike, I talked to one of the racers, John Taylor. I asked about the race.
Silverstate Classic - racing across Nevada at 145 MPH! He explained it was somewhat like a rally, and you were to average a certain speed over the 90 mile course. He said the average speed for he and Steve Wallach was 145 mph, and they were not to exceed 165 mph! I wondered what we were talking about here. It takes me about an hour and a half to drive 90 miles. John said his goal was 37 minutes! Wow, I can’t even imagine that kind of speed. I thanked him and wished him luck. (I later learned that he averaged 145.323 mph over the course and finished second in his class) You can check it out at www.silverstateclassic.com.

I rode into the dark morning. It was cold, much colder than I had first thought. I layered up some more and wished I had connected that electric vest plug to the bike. Rain, great! As I topped the next mountain pass, I noticed there was a layer of snow on the bushes. Have to stop and take a picture of this. I can tell the guys I rode over the mountain in the snow! By the time I reached the next town Eureka, I was cold clear to the bone. I stopped at a restaurant and drank enough hot coffee to fill a bathtub while I ate my breakfast. Just about the time I was warm, a couple more bikers came in. They were dressed lighter than I was and were suffering from the cold. I filled up my tank and found the temperature to be 36 degrees. I was cold again in just a few miles. I began to count down the miles to the next town. Something to occupy my mind so I wouldn’t think about the cold. Riding like this can be dangerous as it is easy for hypothermia to set in. I was wishing for my BMW with it heated grips and electric vest plug in.

As I began to climb the next mountain range before the town of Austin, it began to snow. Hard! I tried to keep the windshield clear wiping it with my hand, but it was a losing battle.
Help me, Lord! - no athiests in the mountains. I finally slid back onto the passenger seat so I could see over the windshield. There was snow on everything now, including the road. The snow on the road was slushy and I could hear the wet sound of the tires cutting through it. I stopped at the top of the mountain and took a couple of pictures. Ron is not going to believe this, I thought. I considered the consequences had it been snowing a little harder. I could very easily be stranded up here, unable to move.

As lonely as this road proved to be, I could be here a very long time waiting for help. I remounted and started down the west side. I had just shifted into third gear when I noticed I could no longer hear the wet sound under the tires. There was now over 2” of snow on the road and it was no longer wet, it was packing under the tires and I was headed down a steep slope with no shoulders. I glanced at the reflector posts marking the edges of the road. They had extensions on them so they were well over 6 feet tall so the snow plows would know where the road was in the winter. Great. I gingerly held the grips. Backing off the throttle or touching the brakes was out of the question, I would be down instantly.

I began to pray. This was not your normal “God, please help me.” That you mumble when you are startled by something. No, this was calling out to God in a loud voice! I thought the old testament phrase ‘beseeching” seemed more appropriate. It continued like that for six miles. As I came into the town of Austin, the snow stopped and the roads were clear. I stopped at a restaurant and got off the bike. I was shaking, and not from the cold! I hate the after effects of an adrenalin dump! I have never been so scared in my life! Thank you Lord. I went inside and ordered another breakfast and lots more coffee.

As I recuperated from my exciting ride, I visited with the folks there. I ate my breakfast and turned around to look out the window. There was now 2” of snow on everything in town! Oh Boy! I discussed the situation with the locals. They said there were two more mountain ranges to cross before I dropped down into the desert, about 50 miles away. Since it was only snowing in the higher elevations, I would then be safe.
Even More Snow - I get another cup of coffee. I couldn’t face another snow covered ride like I had just had. We discussed the possibility of having someone with a truck take the bike over the next passes. One of the fellows called a couple of friends to see if they could do that. No one answered the phone, must be at church he said. Then he suggested I have another cup of coffee and he would be right back.

I waited for him as some more locals came in. One of them was Bob Keller. He and his wife own the Lincoln Motel across the street. He offered me a room and a place to clean up the bike. I asked how long the snow might last. He said it may be gone tomorrow, or it may be here for the winter! Wonderful I thought, remembering my comments about how nice the ride would be in September. My new friend popped back in about then, and exclaimed that the snow stopped three miles out of town. Now, that’s good news. I thanked everyone and headed back out. I hoped to get out of town before it became worse and desperately hoped there would be no more snow on the passes.

The snow was very heavy and slushy and pushed the bike around a lot, but just like he had said, it ended about three miles later. Back to rain again. I thought I might just get through this ok yet, when I came to a big orange sign on the road. “Caution, fresh seal, slippery when wet,” it said. And it was very wet. It looked like the road department had just sprayed oil on the road and the water was beading up on it. I eased back on the throttle again and rode on as smoothly as possible. That lasted another 20 miles, then I was back on good pavement and the rain stopped.

The mountain passes I had worried about were clear and even the cold that had drained me all day was beginning to ease. It never did get warm, but it did get into the 40s. For a while I rode next to a great sand lake. Many people had collected rocks and had spelled their names out in the sand. I wondered silently if those might be the people who hadn’t made it over the passes.

I crossed a huge valley and you could see for miles. The speed limit was 60 mph. I let the speedometer climb upwards. Soon I was doing 90 miles per hour on an endless road, rolling down the miles. I crossed the valley and eased it back a little. The desert soon gave way to small towns and I could see that Carson City was nearing. Oh, how good a nice warm shower and bed will feel tonight!

-LC