My plan was to go north toward Reno, skirting the Sierra Nevada mountains to the west, and avoid Death Valley to the east, eventually crossing Nevada and into Utah. Hwy 14/385 climbs steadily from sea level to about 4000ft when I turned east near Bishop, CA. As I got closer to Yosemite and seeing lots of road signs for Mammoth ski area, the pace of traffic picked up both ways with lots of trailers, campers, RV's hauling bicycles and a few Harleys. It appears the wild fires near Yosemite are not keeping people away. I read that there were 2600 fire fighters battling a 200 square mile blaze which is huge. But, when put in perspective, those 200 sq miles were like a dot on the map. This place is so vast and rugged it's hard to explain.
There were times that the road was so remote, I wouldn't see a car for up to an hour. On one of those roads somewhere near the CA/NV line, I came upon a Harley and rider on the side of the road. Not having seen a living soul in about 30 minutes I pulled over to see if he was OK. It was then I noticed another rider coming our way, and I saw that he was filming his buddy. His bike radio was blasting "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC and he had his video camera rolling. He asked me to film the two of them riding together and for a time I stood in the middle of the deserted high desert highway filming their ride down the long straight road with the mountains in the background. They were from Switzerland, riding the West for a month. Speaking flawless English to me and German to each other, we shared our riding stories. As my friends from New Zealand had told me a couple of weeks ago, they too could not get over the vastness of the American West. As we departed, he warned me about the dust hazards ahead, and I assumed he just meant the wind was blowing and it was dusty. Man, was I surprised. As I crossed a low mountain range, topping out at about 6000 ft, I wound and twisted my way to the valley below. I could see the dust in the distance. For most of the day, I had been heading north, and the south wind was at my back. Now I turned east, and the south wind hit me with all its' fury. As I shared last week about the wind being bad, this was worse. Then I saw the road sign that said "Dust hazard ahead" The highway was covered in dust in the low spots, and it was necessary to go slower than I already was due to the wind.
Coming into Tonopah, NV, it was time to refuel, and make a decision to stop for the day or continue on. Since it was only 4:30, and I had stopped for a really good lunch a few hours earlier I decided to continue on. As I left this historic town with an old hotel and casino, I began to wonder if I had made a mistake. The sign outside town said the next fuel was 163 miles. Since my Harley has a range of about 220 miles on a normal day, I thought that I would be OK. In the end, I did have enough fuel, but I once again hit the most horrific winds I have ever faced. At one point, a dust whirlwind hit me head on and pushed the bike all the way across the highway. There was no leisurely cruising here, and I was yearning for the earlier part of the day when the wind was at my back.
Nearing the 100 mile mark of this leg, I crossed another mountain range and came into a valley, and the wind was gone. Opening my face mask, I could now smell the rain that I had seen earlier in the distance. I was giving thanks to the Creator for bringing me through the wind and dirt, and off to my left appeared a rainbow. It was as if He was reminding me of His promises to never leave me.
Forgot to mention this earlier, but the bike developed a small oil leak. Being the in middle of a desert wilderness, and no Harley shop for hundreds of miles, I asked God to protect me and the bike earlier this morning. As I saw the rainbow, and the leak seeming to have slowed down considerably, and the wind and dust storm gone, I was reminded of God's great power and majesty. And, His love for His creation.
Pulling into the first small town I came to, Alamo, AZ, refueling, and finding a motel, I witnessed an amazing sunset over the mountains I had just crossed.
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