Wanderlust V

Choose Your Own Adventure: I,II, III, or IV.

Welcome. Inspired by the above links, I briefly considered writing this entire post in italics. But I didn't want to facilitate a slanted tone.  

Over four months ago, I shortly resumed a running series within this blog chronicling my great Road Trip of 2011, cleverly titled Wanderlust. I have provided links to all of the previous installments in the event that my infrequently-written Wanderlust posts have left you grasping at straws for context. Please enjoy and be inspired by Wanderlust V. The fifth installment. We pick up in the early morning hours in West Wendover, Nevada...

And when I say early morning hours I mean about 6:30 local time. I hadn't subjected myself to that hour since I was waking up for senior year of high school. In our groggy haze Kate and I thought we had misplaced the room key we needed to return to the front desk, and I curtly accosted a Knights Inn employee upon her questioning us. We found the key in Kate's purse or something. But this grogginess was not for naught; we were about to indulge my whimsy and see the Great Salt Lake Desert in daylight! We peeled out of the Knights Inn parking lot and headed east. It was brief, but turned out to be our only true backtracking excursion of the road trip. 

A sea of white surrounded us on both sides of the highway. We pulled into the first rest stop so we (I) could take it all in and walk across some salt. I felt like we were on the moon. It was a truly incredible experience. The combination of the desert being totally unanticipated (I had no idea it existed/what it was before we drove through it) and the panoramas literally feeling otherworldly, I will boldly proclaim that it was my favorite part of our entire road trip across the nation. Let that sink in as you behold the Great Salt Lake Desert of western Utah:

Salt stuck to the bottom to my white flip-flop.

Salt as far as the eye could see. Stretching miles and miles towards mountain peaks. I had never seen anything more awe-inspiring in my life. My only regret is that we weren't able to take in the entire 40-mile stretch of salt flats via I-80 West as we had already rumbled through them the previous night, squandering an opportunity for a full daylight viewing. And since we had to get to central California by evening to meet my uncle, there wasn't much time for an 80-mile round-trip leisure drives through salt flats. A mile from the western edge of the desert would have to suffice on this day. 

So we climbed back into the Sentra after about 15 minutes and I reluctantly resumed driving westward. The salt flats quickly morphed into eastern Nevada high desert, which was my first experience with deserts as I had always imagined them: sparse, brown, and enchanting. It was also our first experience with a truly western rhythm of towns. Meaning, the towns were few and far between. And when we would come across a town, it would feel like a metropolis, regardless of its actual size. Case in point: Winnemucca, a "city" with a population of just 7,700, situated in north-central Nevada. Only it had everything you would expect from a city 20 times its size: a raucous main street, hotels, restaurants, and casinos. Naturally, we just stopped at a trashy Pizza Hut for lunch. SIDE NOTE: every single city, town, or village you go to in the state of Nevada has a casino of some sort. State laws are more chill here, man.

The view from the Winnemucca Pizza Hut.

I wish I had taken better pictures of the Nevada landscape in retrospect. We drove right through widest girth of the state, and was a truly gorgeous affair I don't feel is justified by these photos. We carried on into western Nevada as it became afternoon, and stopped at a historical-marker rest area at the eastern edge of the Forty Mile Desert. The history of the desolate Forty Mile Desert, perhaps the most perilous stretch of the fabled Oregon Trail, is manifest in the present-day (unintentionally, I think) via the facilities at this rest area. I'm talking a row of eight single-stall "bathrooms" with non-locking doors and "toilets" that feature a black hole straight into the ground. I will always remember my first experience with such modern convenience. 

Traversing the Forty Mile Desert.

Unlike frontiersmen of yore, Kate and I miraculously survived the Forty Mile Desert of Nevada, mostly thanks to our modern automobile. Soon we were charging through the Biggest Little City in the World and across California state lines. 

Our first impression of the Golden State was one of height. We were now among the snow-capped Sierra Nevadas. Might I remind you that this picture is from the month of June:

   
We were truly in a foreign land; there was snow directly outside our vehicle in June. It was all downhill from there, though. And by that I mean we were driving downhill for the entire rest of the day. Destination: California's famed Central Valley. We arrived at my uncle's house in Fairfield in time for a Texas Roadhouse dinner date. Not to mention a walking tour of his humble Californian home including a glimpse of his giant motorcycle parked in the garage and his wife's lavish garden out back. Fairfield was strangely reminiscent of home for us, in that it was a mid-size city with plenty of chain restaurants and department stores. One major difference, however: the roads were fucking wide. We learned of a major component of anyplace in the West on that day. There is a shitload of space, and thus, cities are sprawling. Roads are wide. Business is booming, and abundant. An enchanting concept. We concluded the evening watching the modern adaption of True Grit and retiring to a guest bedroom full of hats. We spent but a single night at my uncle's pad, for the next day brought southward California adventure.

Coming soon: Kate and Travis do California.

(I promise to not take four months to produce Wanderlust VI.)