Deeth Starr Valley
The family were up early and so was I. Michelle made me breakfast and gave me photocopies of detailed maps into Utah and around the Great Salt Lake.
I headed to the Elko Walmart to get long johns. They didn't have any (nobody really knew that term either) but had millions of thermal tops. Apparently nobody gets cold legs around here. I headed over to Big 5 where the only option were expensive Under Armour bottoms. Apparently I was at the end of "the season" even if the actual weather didn't quite agree. I needed them as my bivvy bag doesn't breath and leaves my sleeping bag damp with condensation in the morning.
On leaving Elko I found the last bike shop before Ogden, Utah a hundred or two miles further along the road. I pumped up my tyres whilst I had the chance.
I had a good few miles of freeway cycling. I was heading away from civilization again. That was brought home by the road signs:
After another stretch of I-80 I spotted a sign that said "Deeth Starr Valley". Either this was where George Lucas got the name from or somebody had a sense of humour around here. Taking the turn off was fortuitous as it turned out to be the diversion that Michelle had suggested to me the night before. Thank goodness I'm easily distracted by comedy names.
I crossed the railroad where engineering works were taking place and headed into the wind towards the snow capped mountains that I'd been heading towards for the last couple of hours. As I reached the edge of them things got strangely green with pleasant meadows. This didn't resemble the Nevadan high desert I'd got used to.
As I approached Wells there was a big hill. Over the top of it I was able to coast down into the town. I did have to keep a check on my brakes to stop me exceeding the 35 mph speed limit.
I headed to the first RV park which thankfully accepted tents. The owner was very kind and came out to my tent to offer me a big steak. As beef is the one thing I don't eat I had to politely decline. Nevadans are proving themselves to be a generous and friendly bunch.
In my tent whilst writing my journal I can hear the rumbling of my ever present companion on this trip; the railroad.