Day 6 Sparks to Lovelock, Nevada 93 miles 3250 feet of climbing

from everything we were told last night, i truly expected not to be taking pictures today.  we knew it was going to be long.  we knew we had to be careful as we'd be spending a great deal of time on interstate 80, and we knew it was going to be a record-breaking heat wave of a day.  so all i was concentrating on was being safe on the highway and hydrating like mad.  but as i began riding, it became clear i wanted you to see what i was seeing.

departing just at sunrise

the hair-raising begins

we rode most of the day on I-80.  it was hot as blazes, just as predicted.  although we left right at sunrise with cool temperatures in the 60's, by 11:30 in the morning, it was already 105 degrees.  at noontime, i looked again and it was 107 degrees.  after that, i just didn't bother to check anymore.  [by the way, at dinner tonight at 6:00, the temperature had dropped to 101 degrees.  guess i won't need that blanket tonight!

the truckee river, still flowing though from California

as the river ends, so does the vegetation

riding on route 80 was both scary as all get out and peaceful.  just not at the same time.  the sparks/reno metro area comes alive at six in the morning and so does the traffic on that major interstate.  the sun was just peeking over the tops of the mountains and, as we were heading due east, right in our eyes.  this collection of factors caused a number of trepidatious moments.  first, with the sun right in my eyes, i couldn't see debris on the shoulder.  then, when the sun rose just a bit, the shoulder was half in sunlight and half in shadows.  that meant riding in the narrow strip of sunlight to ensure not running over anything that could cause a punctured tire.

and the land losses it greenness, becoming more barren and brown

then there were the trucks.  the speed limit in the metro area was 70 miles per hour, but i doubt anyone was going that slowly.  the aerodynamics of an 18-wheeler passing a cyclist were explained to me later at one of the pit stops.  first, as the truck first comes up on your flank, the force of it cutting through the air pushes the rider towards the guardrail.  as the truck passes the rider, it's created a vacuum that pulls the rider back towards the right-hand lane.  if a series of trucks pass in quick succession, they all pull the bike with them, increasing the bike's speed.  so, all in all, it's kind of quick rocking motion that i went through.  after a while, i got used to it.  and, for the first twenty-five miles, i also noticed how fast i was going, with my average speed of over twenty miles per hour.  that didn't last.

i also said it was peaceful.  how could that be?  well, yeah, i did have to get over the freakishness of the truck traffic.  but once we got out of the metro area and the traffic calmed down, there was nothing but me and the highway.  by ten in the morning, i could go for miles before a passing truck or car drove by.    and miles before seeing another rider.  as the road would often be straight as an arrow for miles, i began to drift into a very mellow, tranquil state.  just the sounds of the passing vehicles now and then, and my own breathing and the sounds of my bike.  a very different calm from that of the ride through norton grade, and a helluva lot hotter!

this scene just went on for miles.  but it became a peaceful ride.  just no shade!

we rode through, basically, a bowl most of the day.  from all points around me, i could see mountains.  but where we were riding was, more or less, salt flats.  and, as you can see from the shots below, not a very auspicious place to be riding, at least from an historical standpoint.  at one point, four of us wound up meeting up with each other because, for over a fifty-mile stretch, there was only one traffic sign that hung over the highway.  that sign created a shadow.  and even though it was barely three feet wide and extending across the eight-foot  shoulder, we fit four of us within its cooling confines.  i swear the temperature under the sign must have been a good ten degrees cooler than a foot in either direction.

not a good place to traverse, by covered wagons or by bicycles

this is as barren as it gets.  and it just went on for mile after mile

of all the gin joints in all the world...

has someone ever asked where you're from and, when you tell them, they ask, oh, do you know such and such a person? the probabilities of actually knowing that person are minuscule.  it's not like we all live in such tiny places that it's ever likely we'll know that person in question.   however, the following story defies those odds.   it's the god's honest truth and told to the best of my recollection:

our second pit stop was at a rest area exit off of I-80.  no services, no town, no gas, no food, just a couple of picnic tables and bathrooms.  no reason to stop unless mother nature is calling or you're a nut bar who's riding across country on a bicycle and this just happens to be your pit stop.

as i headed down the exit ramp to the rest area, a old panel van, painted with bright pictures and looking like something out of the woodstock era, was also exiting the highway and turning alongside me to enter the rest area.  other than the paint job, i didn't take much notice.  i pulled my bike under a shaded picnic table and did my usual routine of taking my gloves and helmet off, signing in [so they can keep track of everyone's progress during the day's ride] and grabbing some fresh water, gatorade and granola bars or fruit or whatever i needed.  there were already about six riders plus the crew at the pit stop, all doing the same things as i was about to do.

as i was filling up my water bottles from our van, a charming young woman with a strong british accent came over to the support van.  she introduced herself and, bouncing with delight as she spoke, wanted to say how impressed she and her friends in the van were as they passed a bunch of us cycling down the highway.  she inquired as to where we were going and where we'd come from.  i asked where she was from.  she proceeded to tell me that she and her bandmates, yes, they were a traveling acoustic act, started out in miami, headed all the way to san diego and were now heading back east, with some gigs in the midwest before heading to new york and boston.

knowing that one of our riders, the young woman from england who had taken a gap year to ride across the states, was only minutes behind me, i actually was asking her where in england she was from.  since she was impressed with all of us riding this day, maybe , i thought, she'd be impressed with a fellow brit doing this as well.  she told me she was from surrey, england.  funny, i replied, that's where one of our riders is from.  a young woman who's taken a year off to do this ride, i added.  what's her name, the young english woman asked.  emma something, i replied.  can't remember her last name.  at that point, the young english woman froze.  emma mason?  yeah, that's her last name, i answered.

at that point, leticia [as i would later find out her name], began to cry.  oh my god, she exclaimed.  emma is my sister's best friend.  my sister just texted me yesterday to say that emma was doing this ride and, maybe, you'd pass her while you and the band are driving across country.  leticia never really expected that to happen, but it was a nice thought.  no more than five minutes after i told her about emma, sure enough, there on the ridge above the rest area, rode emma, coming down the exit ramp.

the scene that ensued was something for the ages.  emma pulls into the rest area, totally unaware of what's about to happen.  leticia comes running towards emma who doesn't at first get the context of the moment.  then, the light bulb goes off.  emma recognizes leticia and the two of them, with the dual choruses of riders and band members gathering around to witness this most unexpected reunion, break into screams and tears of joy.

during this entire scene, no one remembered that it was blazing hot.  no rider remembered how sore they were.  and no one could keep from grinning or tearing up from such a joyous experience.

as it turns out, lettuce and the whatever his name is [1. yes, that's her stage name and, 2.  i'm going to get the formal name of the rest of the band shortly] will be playing in new york city in a couple of weeks, possibly the weekend i return to new york.  halle, if you're listening...you and i are going to see these guys play.  after this afternoon, it's only fitting.