Sunday - Ely, NV to Torrey, UT - 370 miles

I found myself lying awake early this morning, enjoying the slight breeze and wondering when my alarm was going to go off. Finally I threw off my sleeping bag and gathered fresh clothing, toiletries, and my camping towel. The hot water felt great, washing away the sticky sweat feeling from the day before.

When I walked back to the campsite, Mr & Mrs Overkill were out and beginning to prepare their wee-stroms for the day's travel. I stopped to chat and we speculated on when Deeter would show signs of movement.

Then it was back to my tent to see if I could get back into the drill of quickly packing up and getting ready to go. I stufffed my sleeping bag and pad into their compression sack and tossed everything out of my tent. Feeling pretty successful, I had my bike completely packed 1.5 hours after getting out of bed. Mr and Mrs Overkill were ready soon thereafter.

We went and got coffee from the KOA office while Deeter finished packing. Mrs Overkill was suprised to see that I only filled my coffee cup about 3/4 of the way. She commented on my furtive (and slightly ashamed) look just before I started dumping sugar into my cup.

"Ah", she said. "Want some coffee with that sugar?"

Mr Overkill helped me remove the YZF from the gravel pit that had threatened to claim it the evening before. A few minutes later, I watched in slight despair as the wee-stroms and Deeters R1 disappeared in clouds of dust down the driveway while my foot slipped in the gravel trying to heave my bike up off the sidestand. A young man was sitting by the building. I called him over and he was able to help me get the bike upright. I found Deeter waiting for me at the end of the driveway. He later admitted that he had been concerned about my ability to get the bike up, but hadn't thought of it until he'd already left the tent area.

I joined the crew (+Tom) at McDonalds for breakfast and took a few requisite group shots of the bikes and riders. Then I filled my camelbak with ice water and tank with gasoline. I was ready to go off on my own!
 

First stop of the day...Great Basin National Park. National Parks are pretty important to me as travel destinations. When I was a child, my dad would take a month off work every summer and we'd take the traditional American family road trip, visiting grandparents in Wisconsin and Pennsylvania, taking in Yellowstone, pioneer forts, natural wonders, and various monuments along the way. The wonder of traveling instilled in my youth has strongly inspired me to continue the tradition as an adult.

I love new places, and though I have traveled through Ely before, I don't think that I have ever stopped to visit Great Basin NP. I saw it from pretty far out. First I noticed the huge snow capped mountain dominating the desert skyline. It seemed to be in the wrong direction for the park, but as I got closer the road turned and I realized the mountain ahead must be Mt Wheeler, the showpiece of Great Basin NP, my destination. I pulled into the new-feeling visitors center and snapped a few shots of the mountain before gearing down. Inside the center, I stopped at the information counter to ask about the road to the top. A woman ahead of me at the counter sounded concerned. She repeadtedly asked the ranger if the road was very tight.

"I hate those roads." She said, "They're so scary!"

"What are you talking about!" I exclaimed, "Those are the best!"

"Yeah, on a MOTORCYCLE." she replied.

I smiled and checked with the ranger to make sure the road was paved all the way to the top, with a paved turn around area. It was, so I felt comfortable going up.
 

The visitors center is just outside the park on flatlands, so it can stay open year-round when the road up Mt Wheeler is closed due to snow. I drove up the road, enjoying the whimsical "no tresspassing" signs erected by neighboring property owners. I especially like the "alien in a wheelchair" and "legs sticking out of the ground before a hillside grave." Here is "cyclists last stand".

The interesting thing about Mt Wheeler and one of the major educational points of the park is it's status as an "island in the desert." The peak is so high that it gets above the desert climate into an alpine environment with it's own isolated flora and fauna. Many animals and plants in the park are unable to cross the desert to another such island, so they have been trapped here for millenia, free to develop and adapt to their unique environment. This island status is typical of many high Nevada mountian ranges rising above the flat plains of the great basin that stretches from the Sierras to the base of the Rockies.

The mountain road was a little gravely, so I didn't feel comfortable really enjoying my first twisty road after the long straights of NV. When I stopped for some pictures above 10,000 feet, I realized another reason for caution. I was slightly light-headed, out of breath, and dizzy. I was definitely experiencing some altitude sickness, so I resolved not to spend too much time up on the mountain. At the top, I stopped to chat with a group of rangers about to take a hike. I queried one about a strange, ummm, "column"-like rock formation, asking if it was named.

"Nope," he said. "But if you want to name it, we'll start telling everyone..."

I quickly declined and went back to my bike to take a drink of water before starting down the mountain. Mt Wheeler receded quickly into the distance as I entered Utah on SR12. The bike was operating just fine and the scenery beautiful as I rolled down the highway. I passed small towns, dusty homesteads, and the ubiquitous LDS churches. I stopped for gas in Milford. Resolving to stay away from fast food for the rest of the trip (not that there was any in this town) I asked the station attendant about a good lunch spot. She recommended the Station House restaurant around the corner from the gas station. I moved the bike and went in. I was surprised to find a combo Chinese/American restaurant with pretty good (if very-americanized) egg foo yung and fried rice. I went through almost an entire pitcher of water and thanked the grandmotherly woman who served my food with a nice tip.
 

Before leaving Milford, I called the campground in Torrey where I planned to spend the night and made sure they reserved a spot for me. The woman on the phone asked where I was calling from and sounded skeptical that I could make it to Torrey by nightfall. I assured her that I could make it.

I briefly picked up I15 down to SR20 across to 89. I started to see the rock cliffs characteristic of the "color country" along 89 and marveled at the beauty before me. I was also watching for a good gas station as I hit SR62 north toward Torrey. I wanted to make sure I had good tank range for the "Fishlake loop", but no major cardlock stations appeared. The fishlake turnoff appeared all too soon and I hesitated briefly. My tank was at 150 miles and I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it all the way to Torrey if I took the loop. Sadly I continued on to Torrey, vowing to hit Fishlake on another trip.

I found the Sand Creek RV park easily. The owner told me that the hostel cabin was empty and cheaper then a tent site. Thinking, I compared a questionable hostel with my own tent and mattress. I paid the extra dollar and set up camp. I had carefully chosen this particular RV park for the restaurant across the street (within walking distance). During my pre-trip research I had come across reviews of the Cafe Diablo as a gem of the desert. Zagat rated food in the middle of nowhere. Yes, I think so. As I crossed the street, I noticed a black & white with lightbar parked across from the park.

It was delicious. I ordered the pacific salmon with some of the best strawberry lemonade I've ever tasted. Before my beautifully plated meal came I enjoyed a plate of "house tapas" (marinated veggies and crusty bread). When the salmon appeared, it was hidden beneath a crown of crab flautas and shaved radish on a bed of tomato bisque. Yes, I will be back. The bill for one person was over $30 and all I got was an entree and a lemonade. Well worth it though.

While waiting for my food, I started talking to another couple that had arrived just after me. We both complained about the heat. They said they were from North Carolina and I immediately assumed that they were used to such heat.

"No honey, we're from the mountains! It never gets this hot there!".

They also brought up the usual topic of surprise at a woman traveling alone on a motorcycle. I explained that I try to keep in contact at least once a day when traveling, calling my boyfriend and my parents. When I was preparing to leave, the woman reminded me to call my mother.

Alas, there was no cell phone signal on my Verizon phone and I couldn't find a payphone in walking distance. Sorry Tony. Sorry Mom. Hope you didn't worry too much.

As I crossed the highway, I noticed the sheriff still parked there. I was suprised he hadn't found someone to pull over in the time I'd been inside eating.
 

My campsite - notice the red rock cliffs in the background. Truly spectacular here.