Baker to Ely, Nevada

September 21, 2022

Against the Wind

The last day on the road, dawned a bit chilly but clear and bright. We were all walking around with a little extra spring in our steps, anxious to get on the road and bring this stage of our tour to its conclusion. The small town of Baker, Nevada lies in what is known as Snake Valley. Locals in the area consider themselves to be aligned with folks from nearby Garrison and Eskdale, Utah. They say they are from Snake Valley rather than from the individual towns on both sides of the state line. At least that is what the waitress at the restaurant told us last evening. Snake Valley sounds like a good name for the hometown of an old western outlaw.

Getting ready to begin, from Baker, Nevada, on our last day.

Baker also lies within a geological feature known as the Great Basin. A national park of the same name is nearby. It was obvious that we were in a huge geological depression flanked by high mountains. At more than 13,000 feet of elevation, Wheeler Peak dominates the Western skyline.

A mile or two out of town, we got onto US highways 6/50, made up of two cross country routes that meet here and then run together for awhile. Once again, Chuck and John-F were ahead, while Fred and I hung back taking pictures. John is constantly running video, so he doesn't have to stop as much for still shots. Chuck usually manages to take a few well placed photos while riding at his normal fast pace.

Following US-6/50, which run together in this part of Nevada.

Down the road a bit, we met up with a lady who was walking the entire American Discovery Trail (ADT). Her name, as she introduced herself, was Mary E. Davison. Since we had ridden some of the ADT in the eastern portions of our tour, we had a little bit in common with her and chatted for a while. Mary has written a couple of books and is writing another one about this current walk. We wished her well, parted company, and moved on west.

We met up with Mary, who is walking the ADT. This was on the road between Baker and Sacramento Pass.

The first climb of the day was a gradual ascent of what is called Sacramento Pass. It went on for a few miles, rising up and over the Snake Range to an elevation of more than 7100 feet. Fred and I steadily climbed it without very much difficulty. The view at the top was beautiful. We could see Spring Valley spreading out below and the road ahead was visible for a long way off.

View at the summit of Sacramento Pass... there was no sign that either named the pass or showed the elevation at the summit.

The descent mirrored those of the passes in Utah, going downward for long way while allowing us to reach speeds between 35-40 miles per hour. The view of the valley below and the mountains that bordered its far side were spectacular. As the road made a big sweeping lefthand curve, a giant wind farm came into view. The ride was going extremely well, thus far. We were making great time while expending little effort. The vistas were tremendous.

Descending from the summit of Sacramento Pass into Spring Valley. Fred is up ahead.

We were still enjoying the effortless downhill ride when we came around the aforementioned big bend that swept to the left. Immediately, the valley wind nearly stopped us in our tracks. Unlike other windy spots we had dealt with on this trip, this one was very powerful and wouldn't quit. Maintaining a speed of 5-7 miles per hour became difficult. Strong gusts seemed to come from the front and the side, making it difficult to hold a line. I was slowly moving forward but noticed Fred falling further behind. Chuck and John-F were ahead and out of view.

My sights were set on the top of a rise in the road that appeared to be a mile or so ahead. At my current rate of travel, it was taking a long time to get there. The wind was relentless but I fought my way through it, eventually reaching the portion of the road where climbing was required. As I got part way up, the truck was coming down toward me and I noticed two bicycles were loaded on the rack. Since there was no traffic, Jack-O (our driver) slowed down and I noticed Chuck and John-F were inside. I told them I was alright but wasn't sure about Fred, who was now a speck, a half mile back, or more. The plan was to for them to check on him and then meet me at the top, where I would be taking a break.

A while later, after I had reached the top, the truck came back with Fred's bike racked up, as well. The wind was not a lot of fun and its cross currents caused swerving that sometimes threw a rider out into the traffic lane. I was able to hold my line but could understand where it might be a bigger problem for someone else to do so. The guys decided to sag with Jack-O into Ely but I decided to keep going, for as long as I could. John-F was worried about me, so I reassured him. Reluctantly, they went on and the battle with the wind was mine to face alone. I was determined to finish and wasn't terribly concerned, only a bit disappointed that the beautiful ride we had been enjoying had now become a tough battle with gale force winds.

Spring Valley is a very good place for windmill placement. It is beautiful but not so good for bicycle riding on some days.

From the top of this little rise where they left me, I could see that far ahead, the road made a big sweeping turn to the right. The prevailing direction of the wind, from my left front and side, seemed to indicate that I might get it mostly behind me once I reached that bend in the road. So, it became my short term mission to reach that spot.

As I started out, "Mission Impossible" seemed like the right name for this part of the ride. The wind continued to blow while I plodded along, and that spot ahead seemed not to be getting any closer. After an hour or more, I finally reached it and got around the bend. However, the head and cross winds did not abate. The road seemed to stretch out for a long way before me, and the wind was still working against me. How does that happen, I wondered? I should have a tailwind but alas, it was not to be. Regardless, by this time, I was more determined than ever to beat this force of nature. So, I continued onward

A little further on, a female cyclist passed me from the opposite direction. We waved to each other and she kept on going. I figured she was enjoying a nice tailwind and didn't want to stop. Down the road another piece, a second female cyclist came along and since she indicated that she wanted to talk, I crossed over to meet her. She was a little worried about a third woman who had fallen back. Amazingly, I learned that they too were fighting the strong head and crosswind, even though they were traveling in the opposite direction from me. She asked me to let the other young lady know they were ahead if I saw her. I said that I would do so. The good news I learned from her was that the wind had only begun for them when they entered Spring Valley. If I could make it up and out of this place, my situation would improve. My determination to finish this ride received some much needed hope. I was determined to make it out of Spring Valley.

Ahead, the road was now rising toward the pass but it was a long way off (see photo above). The wind was noisy and unrelenting. A white sedan with a bicycle tied to the roof slowed down as it approached but did not stop completely. I motioned that the other cyclists were ahead of them and they seemed to understand. I had advised the second woman, with whom I spoke, that if they made it up and over Sacramento Pass, the wind would likely be gone. I hope they made it out of Spring Valley.

A lone crow hangs onto a dead tree branch swaying in the wind.

Eventually, I reached the point where US-93 meets US-6/50. The road climbed to an area where there was a wide pull off. This was Majors Station, an old Pony Express stop and now a restaurant, bar, and RV Park. Jack-O was there, with the truck. He dropped the other guys off at the hotel in Ely and had come back out to check on me. I took a break inside the truck. Getting out of the constant wind for a few minutes and enjoying a cold drink was nice.

When I started riding again, it was apparent that the climb up the pass had begun. It was 9 miles to the top. Jack-O had confirmed it would be all of that distance from this spot. I had gone roughly 10 miles, since the top of the hill where the others had decided to pack it in. There had been 2-3 miles of wind before that spot. All told, this Spring Valley misadventure would consume more than 20 miles and several hours of riding time.

The best part climbing the pass, if there is such a thing, was the temporary blocking of the wind as the road began to curve between the hills. Although the wind returned briefly at a few unprotected open spots, climbing the pass was actually easier than riding through the relatively flat but very windy valley. My overall speed had increased on the pass and I was making good progress toward the summit. Fully engaged in my struggle to beat this adversity, I didn't stop to take any photos while climbing the pass. But there was even more adventure (misadventure?) to come.

As the I drew closer to the summit of the pass, I noticed a small black sedan that had pulled over on the other side of the road and alongside of the guard rail. This was about a quarter of a mile above my position. There was very little shoulder on that side, so the car was out in the traffic lane. A couple hundred feet above that spot was a big bend where vehicles were coming down from the summit. Some of these were tractor trailers and huge motor homes.

As I was climbing toward the scene, a man and his wife in an SUV pulled over in front of the black sedan to render assistance. By the time I got there, the ladies had unloaded a number of items from their car and had placed them onto the road. Apparently, one of them was moving and had all of her worldly belongings stuffed into this small vehicle. Since they had a flat tire, everything needed to be removed to get to the spare tire and jack. I was getting pretty nervous, because this situation had all the makings of a disastrous accident waiting to happen. Doing the only thing that seemed logical at the time, I rode further up the road and positioned myself to attempt to slow drivers down as they came around the big bend above.

We must've been quite a sight... a guy on a bicycle trying to slow down traffic while two young ladies had their little car parked against the guard rail with all kinds of boxes and clothing strewn onto the road, another vehicle parked in front of them, a fellow under the vehicle with his legs sticking out into traffic, and three other people standing around. Fortunately, drivers were alert, courteous, and under control. They all slowed down, and went out around the whole situation when it was clear to do so. I could imagine the 6 o'clock news report now!

Unfortunately, once everything was removed from the sedan, it turned out the ladies did not have a spare tire after all. There was a wider spot I had passed earlier, a hundred feet down and on the other side of the road from where the sedan had stopped. I went back down and recommended that they let their car drift to that spot and stay there until help could come. At first, the driver was resistant out of fear of damaging the rim of the tire that was flat. Then I got a little firmer with her and said if a vehicle came around that bend above and hit them, she would have a lot more than a bent rim to worry about. That convinced her. We got everything re-loaded into the vehicle and with a push, they coasted down to the wide spot and got well off the road and into some softer gravel. To my great relief, one part of this situation was now resolved.

Our cell service hd been hit or miss up on this mountain pass. At the moment when the ladies and their car were finally safe, none of us had any reception at all. So, I said that upon reaching the summit, I would call for help. The fellow in the SUV was heading East and said he would make a call for help as soon as his cell service was restored.

Jack-O had texted me earlier, during a moment when we both apparently had service, to say he and the truck were at the summit. However, when I got there, neither he or I had had any service. Jack-O then told me there was a highway patrol office on the outskirts of Ely. He headed there, to inform them of the situation. Later on, during my ride to Ely, I saw the highway patrol car going past in the opposite direction. The ladies must have gotten some help, courtesy of Jack-O, the good samaritan in the SUV, or both. Our collective good deeds for the day were apparently done.

Reaching the top of Connors Pass was euphoric, not only for having reached it but also for the change in the wind. As I had hoped, whatever wind existed, was now behind me! Riding down the pass and through Steptoe Valley, which is the name of the valley on this side of the mountain, was the exact opposite of the ride through Spring Valley. The descent was long and effortlessly fast. Speeds in the mid-20s of miles per hour were reached with seemingly no energy expenditure. The road was straight as an arrow and the mountains around Ely were dead ahead. I was flying along, really enjoying myself, and feeling that times like this were what keeps me involved in this sport of rather extreme bicycle touring.

There is a state prison out here somewhere but it cannot be seen from the road.

The rest of the ride to Ely was scenic, relaxing, thrilling at times, and satisfying. The earlier decision to fight the wind was now being rewarded with this memorable ride through Steptoe Valley and on to Ely.

US-6/50, on the West side of Conners Pass and heading for Ely.

The approach to Ely was dominated by a beautiful mountain backdrop. There's gold and other valuable minerals in "them thar hills" and mining is still a dominant industry in the area.

View ahead during the approach to Ely on this windy day.

The area on the West side of Conners Pass is called the Steptoe Valley.

Gambling is another big activity in Ely. Many restaurants and hotels have various forms of gaming that goes on nearly all the time. Farming and ranching are also significant occupations. On my way into town, a fellow was plowing a field along the road and creating quite a bit of dust that I had to outrun in order to avoid choking. Two very official looking police patrol cars, from the Shoshone Indian Tribe, were parked on the edge of town.

I made it to the brand new Holiday Inn, which was our final lodging place. It was by far the nicest place we stayed on this stage of our tour. Perhaps we deserved it after this long and arduous trip. We looked around town for a good place to eat but eventually ended up next door to our hotel at The Prospector. It is a hotel, restaurant, bar, and gambling casino. The food and service were good and there was a lot of activity inside. We had finished the tour and had reached the Silver State. The next and final stage would begin here, in about one year.

Old mining car out in front of The Prospector Hotel and Restaurant.

The next morning, the long drive home began back across the country we had been riding across. The temperature had dipped to 36 degrees Fahrenheit! Brrrr! Fall had begun with Winter in these mountains being not too far behind.

Seeing the country we had recently passed through from the windows of a motor vehicle was an interesting experience. We ended up driving 40 hours straight back to Pittsburgh. That was tougher than having ridden the 650 miles of desert and mountains. The plan had been to stop and rest but for some reason, we kept on going. At one point, there were so many lights on my dash that i thought for sure the truck was going to breakdown. Amazingly, once we entered Pennsylvania, they all turned off. The trucvk knew it was home!

This stage of our tour was a success. We had very few problems, we had seen some wonderful sights along the way, and had all gotten along well for close to three weeks of close company. The last leg of our journey is planned for 2023 and we are all looking forward to the final stage.

Today's ride: 63 miles (101 km)
Total: 653 miles (1,051 km)

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