Day 8
Day 8, Monday August 21
I was up early, but it took forever to get packed since everything seemed to have filled with sand as I slept, for being up at 5:30 I didn’t get riding till 7:30. It was 55 degrees when I got up and 71 when I started riding
I was headed for the tiny stop of Rachel, and I was getting low on water so took very little for breakfast. Lesson one, be careful where you buy your water bottles. I had bought 4 of the largest I could find from a Company I will not mention as I don’t want to give them bad press. But depending on the make-up of the plastic it can really make for distaste-full water, more like Kerosene than water.
I crossed 4 long passes in a row, each topping out at 6000 feet plus, and most would be a climb of 4-6 percent. There are two of these whose climb length is in excess of 12 miles. I topped a hill and thought for a moment I had already passed the “PEARLIES”, it was a strait ski ramp type slope down in front of me, with several green circles that spelled irrigation and water. Not only that but I could make out what looked like buildings off way in the distant. I licked my dry lips and set my mirror on vibrate ( that’s the only setting that works), and plunged down the mountain. With all the weight I carry, I try to keep it under about 25-28 mile per hour.
Whoa Moma, RACHEL, here I am, and how thirsty was I. But once inside I was like a church mouse, so dry I couldn’t hardly get my lips to make the word……and I think my toungue had completely left the building. Finally “water” did come out, and I knew that I would live for another day. The gals who run the place were quite amazed that somebody was stupid enough to not only attempt the ride but also admit it in public. Anyways they took real good care of me, and oh how sweet is that Rachel water, let me tell you as fine as any Evian. I had a fabulous Ham and Cheese Omelette, and thirty nine glasses of ice water. While I ate, the gals washed out and filled all my bottles, as well as my water bag, and one local hay grower gave up two qt. bottles of Gatorade from his own stash.
When I left Rachel, I was full , content and very heavy.
From the moment you leave Rachel to the east it is up-hill into the Coyote Summit. This one runs on at some length, with a 5% grade to it, my bike was reading 106 and I was paying for the intake of water at Rachel, not to mention I had a very strong headwind to contend with. As I was coasting down the other side, I already knew what lay ahead of me since I could see the dead strait line that lead to the next range of mountains. I was fair pooped with the last Pass. Funny thing these Nevada valleys, the drainage is quite oftemn in the very center and it rises in both directions from that exact point, now it may run at 2-3 percent to the foot of the actual climb of 5-6% but it is still a hill and you have to gear down and ride up it as well.
MY bike was now reading at 112-113 and I was dead on the pedals. I recall telling the Lord that if he wanted my celestial body in heaven before the buzzards of Nevada got to me he had better bring on the shade.. This particular range is very dry, with Joshua trees and dirt that is about all, and facing a stiff head wind I was doing about 7.5 across the valley floor. Before I knew it, I was riding under a dark mass of cloud that stayed with me nearly to the foot of the posted climb. While this took place my on bike temp dropped from the 112 range down to 100 range. I hit the foot of Hancock Summit and read the sign that said next 6.5 miles is 6%, which with the valley run-up gave me a total of 13.75 miles of gear down climb. Poochie Maggie, I was done in, and it was a hot climb to the top. I told the Lord that I was so tired that if there was a shade tree at the top I was going to just up an bury myself. This is a pass that had been up to this point entirely Joshua Trees, offering no shade. But right there at the very top was a tiny 8 foot tall Juniper with one side deformed and giving great shade……..boy howdy, I was off that bike with my shovel so fast……… Sorry, but I fell sound asleep before I got the hole for my carcass dug. I must have slept for an hour and felt very refreshed, so I said my thanks to he whom provides in such abundance and mounted my velocipede to conquer yet more miles.
Coming off of the Hancock Summit you make a hard left at the mid-way point and then catch a glimpse of the awaiting valley below, and what a sight it was. There is a long running string of Cottonwoods along the valley floor, and you know when they run in a line it means a creek not a spring. I could hardly wait to see what it held, but I still had several more miles to pedal before I would find out.
I was shocked at how marvelous this little oasis was, it is the junction to turn down to Ash Springs, and I was on the White River of eastern Nevada, where Hwy 93 meets up with Hwy373 and 318 all meet. I could hear running water and looked off to my right to see a great pond formed by a swift running cool river going thru a narrow irrigation gate. Sorry Pastor Mike, but the nudist in me just took over on me and I had to get in, even if I was only some 50 feet from the highway…………I thought what the heck folks pay a lot of money to go to France to see this on the Riviera. I parked my bike and stripped and had a blast, the water was just right, not that shocking cold. And the water ran so fast thru the spillway that I could hardly stay on my feet, so I had me a “Cowboy Spa”, I crouched down and let that fast water play against my back giving me one of those Shiatsu Massage. I managed to get all my clothes at least rinsed out, and hung on my frame to dry to their proper shape like my Mom used to do with our sweaters when I was a kid. Yes, I got lots of horn honks, and I only mooned one trucker when he went by for the third time. What a break after a very long day of riding, but still more miles to go.
It was now about 7:15 and I managed to convince myself I would enjoy another Bagel with Peanut Butter, like a fool I fell for it. I left the River and heade right up hill into the White River Pass as I think it was called, its not as tall but runs on a good ways to the top. I rode till 9pm, and was totally done in, I even smelled like I had not had a swim, it was 89 degrees on the bike with a fresh wind in the face………time to quit.
Set up the tent and mattress, down went the bag and followed by a tired cowboy with out his spandex skivvies. Let me see, supper was two red twists and a swig of water, only barely had time to say my Prayers before my eyes closed and I was gone.
Good Night and God Bless