So it was Wednesday morning, and time to head home.
I considered riding over through Death Valley and then up 395,
but instead opted to go north through Nevada on the way back to good old Northern CA.
I'd not been through much of southern
NV before (except right around LV), and even though I figured a lot of it
would be barren and ****** :blink: , for some reason that appealed to me
on this morning.
I actually imagined myself being on a ManStrom, wearing a grimy, gray 'Stich, and hauling ***
across the state, taking jacked-up, gravel roads, from whorehouse to bar, making friends with
derelicts and dirty hippies. And riling up all those sit-at-home, wannabe
adventurers, with profanity-filled, confrontational posts sent from my Blackberry.
Yeah! That'd be the ticket man!
But instead, I eased out onto 95 north, aboard my pretty blue, dignified, sport-touring motorcycle,
bound for Tonopah, the Venice of the Silver State.
Not far along, there was this.
And it was COLD!
I mean,
way cold.
Like, ...the mid-forties!
I must have been crazy coming this way this time of the year.
And it never got above the low fifties 'til I was almost to Lee Vining, for cryingoutloud.
How do these people
live out in this mother?
But, I pressed on, whimpering quietly inside my helmet.
Just out of Beatty, I stopped to have a look at this.
I guess this guy is like a reverse dark-sider. :lol:
I asked him what was up with his bike?
He said, "It all started when my CCT failed."
A little town called Goldfield.
A bit bleak, huh?
Tonopah, I think. The cold had by now started to cloud my awareness. (Don't say it Bust.)
Turned here. Smelled like fried bologna for some reason. Really.
Seriously, so much of this state really is beautiful in its own way. I mean, the parts without people.
Highway 6 takes you west over Montgomery Pass (7,100'), and just north of a couple of 13,000'
peaks in the White Mountains. Gorgeous country.
Back in California, I turned west again onto 120.
This is actually a really fun bit of 120.
If one wished to, one could probably get airborne on some parts of this road.
...if he wanted to.
Gotta get one of these signs for my FJR.
North then on 395. Stopped by Mono Lake to sit for a bit.
Damn, I enjoyed this ride.
Headed up over Monitor Pass, and on up 89. Very familiar roads and landscape.
Pondered that this breathtaking country was on my doorstep. Indeed fortunate.
I never take it for granted.
And finally, as I rode down into the valley, under that glorious western sky, I got a final shot of this grass fire
just off the highway. Looks a bit surreal, huh?
Again, thanks so much for taking the time to wade through this, and to offer your kind comments and critiques.
Stay strong Tyler. See you soon.
