Western Express Day #17 Ely, NV to Eureka, NV
Western Express Day #17
June 17 2021
Ely, NV to Eureka, NV - 77 Miles
Start 6:40AM, Finish 2:39PM
Ride Time: 7:10
Ascent: 3960'
Descent: 3897'
Tour Total Miles: 1131
I slept incredibly well in my comfy bed in room 405 of the historic Nevada Hotel. My body was still on mountain time and I woke up before my 5:45AM alarm. Morning light was streaming in through the window. My room came with a free breakfast at Denny’s downstairs, which didn’t open until 6AM. I was a little early and joined the queue in front of the entrance. I had eggs over-easy, bacon, pancakes, coffee, and orange juice. The hotel street entrance was playing the Rolling Stones’ ‘Emotional Rescue’, as I saddled up and rode out of town.
It was a little chilly and breezy at the start of my ride. My wind app had predicted 15 mile an hour winds on the road today, but I didn’t expect them so early. I began climbing immediately. I was paralleling a railroad track as I climbed up through a narrow canyon. There would be no services for the next 78 miles to my destination in Eureka. I had packed two extra small water bottles in my two front panniers
US 50 was also known as the Lincoln Highway, and I passed the first road sign to acknowledge that. There would be four passes on today’s ride, and the first was Robinson Summit. I passed on my left what appeared to be a large mining operation, excavated piles of gravel, rock, and dirt. It was on the scale of mountain top removal.
The canyon wall to my right gave me shade, and I was pleasantly cool as I ascended. I was wearing my cycling shorts, short-sleeve jersey, and helmet brim. I finally left the canyon and entered a wide expansive valley. I no longer had any shade, yet it was still early with a decent riding temperature. It was a little breezy but not too bad.
The motorcyclists whom I had seen in the hotel lobby this morning passed me. I was crossing the Copper Flat. I eventually reached a steeper grade and passed the 'chains - snow tires required when lights flashing' sign. The old cars that I had seen yesterday in Ely passed me. I didn’t know much about old cars, but my Brooklyn upstairs neighbor Matt B is enamored by them. I had tried to take photos yesterday, but it was tricky out in traffic. One of the drivers recognized me today and gave me the thumbs up.
I reached the top of 7607’ Robinson Pass. There were four sheep skulls lined up in front of the elevation sign. It was 8:30 AM. I enjoyed the downhill with little motor traffic, and I then encountered a section of road that had been recently oiled. There were no traffic markings. The highway wound around several ridges and then the valley opened up in front of me. I could see twenty miles ahead, and where the climbing for the next pass began.
Once again there was no phone service on today’s ride. I was listening to a WFMU Nickel And Dime Radio with $mall ¢hange file on my iPod. I was riding up against the Butte mountains and there was an irrigation system and green grass to my left. I was riding through the Illipah Creek Valley. The wonderful fragrance of sage brush filled the air
The new oil paving stretched across the valley and up to the next pass. I came to a sign that read ‘Begin Work Zone’. This was the roadwork that Greg had told me about. I passed a sign that read, ‘One lane road ahead’. There was a flag person with line of queued traffic. I rode right up to the flag person and pushed my way through. There was no use waiting for the pilot car, and I wasn’t going to be pressured into being transported across a gap. It was a smart move and I was respectful of construction vehicles that I encountered. They were oiling the eastbound lane and I rode in that lane on the opposite side of the road until I got to the fresh oil. This area had a history of mining, beginning in the mid-19th century. I was headed up to the next pass and rode past the 'chain and snow tire' sign.
After a few miles the pilot car came through from the west, with about six cars following. I continued pedaling on the shoulder on the wrong side of the road, away from the wet oil. The pilot car returned from the east going westbound with all the cars that had been lined up earlier. They drove through the wet oil on the westbound side. I finally came to the oil spreading operation. The oil trucks approached me in the eastbound lane where I was riding, and I had to cross over to the westbound shoulder. The oil was stinky. The pilot car returned from the east with a dozen motor vehicles in tow. A vehicle with bikes strapped to the back give me the thumbs up.
I was almost to the top of 7438’ Little Antelope Pass. The construction ended at the summit. I documented the elevation sign and a downhill sign indicated a 6% downhill grade ahead. I was more than halfway to my destination. It was 10:30AM.
Coming down off the pass a huge valley opened up in front of me. It was overcast with a bearable temperature. At 11AM I pulled over to apply sunscreen and drink some water. I had 6517’ Pancake Pass ahead of me. Pancakes are generally flat, and this wasn’t a difficult climb. I thought about the pancakes that I had enjoyed at breakfast. At the summit I documented the elevation sign and encountered a bit of headwind. There was a cloud system to the west, and it was somewhat overcast.
I rode down into Newark Valley, and I could see ten miles out ahead. I could make out the highway turn that led up to the next ridge for the final pass. I was twenty-five miles from my destination. I assumed that the wooden slat fencing running alongside the road were snow fences. They were smaller than the ones I remembered from Wyoming.
I was on a straight stretch heading directly west, right into the wind. It was a strong headwind and I was exerting all of my energy to go forward. I came to the intersection of State Highway 892, and a truck pulled over and offered me a ride. I politely declined. I could see a bend two miles ahead and it required a lot of effort to get there. In addition, there were plumes of dust being kicked up into the air. The road was littered with thousands of jumping Mormon Crickets. I remembered these horrible creatures from the TransAm. The asphalt was smeared with brown stains and tire tracks. These despicable pests are cannibals, and I noticed one of them eating another.
I finally made it around the bend and entered Eureka County. It was 1 PM and I was ten miles from my destination. I was hot and tired, and sat for a moment in the shade of a juniper bush. I drank some warm water, and realized that I had a cell phone service, so I uploaded some social media. I was headed up towards my fourth and final pass of the day. I passed the 'chain and snow tire warning' sign.
It was hot and the sun was strong. But, as I had predicted, heading north I had a slight tail, which really aided the climb. At long last I reached the summit of 7376’ Pinto Pass. I was fantasizing about cold beverages on ice. It was a five mile descent down into Eureka, population 610 and elevation 6481’. Eureka billed itself as the friendliest town on the loneliest road in America.
I stopped at DJ’s Drive-through, where I purchased a large Pepsi on ice and a Root beer float. After an enjoyable bare-footed rest, I surveyed where I’d be spending the night. Afterwards I headed to the Owl Club, where I ordered several pints of Kilt Lifter, along with a cheeseburger and fries. The bartender wouldn’t let me play shake shift, saying that it was for locals only.
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