The Two Thousand Mile Entry

Photos

Davis, CA

Leaving the merry San Francisco to its own devices, we drove to Davis, CA, where another ex-Chinaclimber called Dan led us to the American River in the late afternoon, where we plunged gaily off rocks into the cold and swift water. A shame we couldn't spend more time hanging out, but Lake Tahoe loomed unseen over the distant horizon, beckoning us with its sapphire waves.

Lake Tahoe, CA/NV

En route to Lake Tahoe the sun took itself off to sleep and left us with a dazzling wash of colours as we climbed through the forests of evergreens. It was truly dark by the time we arrived, and armed with Alex's address we immediately set to getting lost. After half an hour of turning down identically labyrinthine streets we were forced to admit defeat and make a call. Alex and family came to extract us and provide an honour guard back to their home. What a home! Half way up a mountain and facing the lake; we had lucked out on accommodation! In the evening cool we drank a couple of beers on the balcony, caught up with Alex and marvelled at the starlight reflecting off the breeze-ruffled water. Having hammed up the food logistics (regrettably not literally) we were forced to scour any fast food establishments that might still be open at 10pm, but unfortunately we were in a respectable neighbourhood (Incline village) that had very few. Even Subway was regarded as slumming it. Mercifully, Alex and family took pity on our poor shrivelled stomachs and stuffed us with hotdogs.

The next day Alex and his sister were heading back to the UK, and Angus (Daddy Graham) off somewhere else for a few days. We were expecting to camp (surely no better place?) but had become a little nervous from the number of "don't camp; there are bears" warnings. One had the impression that Lake Tahoe was filled with bears, crammed in between the trees nose to tail and piled up in the Lake such that you might run from one side to the other. Mercifully we never had to chance the bears, as Angus very kindly offered the use of the house for as long as we needed. Later that day we went for a hike from Eagle Falls (shouldering our way between the bears) up to Dick's Lake. We took a wrong turning and never quite made it to Dick's Lake, but were more than content with the breathtaking scenery (quite literally, the mountains were steep and we have become fat and weak) we had found. 

Day 3, mountain biking! The strongly recommended "Flume Trail" turned out to be 4 miles of sandy uphill, which was not quite what we had bargained for, so we returned to the car (at relativistic speed), dismantled the rented bikes, unclogged the bears from the chain and chucked all the parts into the back of the faithful Steed. We then went to the Tahoe Rim Trail, which was utterly, utterly mind blowing. It was 12 miles of ridge-top trail 500m above the lake, through sandy, rocky woodland bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. Never been on anything like it. Joe ate dirt once on a sneaky turning jump, but was fairly pleased with his overall lack of significant damage. In the evening we rewarded ourselves with beers at Rookie's sports bar. All in all our impressions of Lake Tahoe are of a rich community of outdoor-loving (hiking, mountain biking, diving, boating in the summer and skiing in the winter) holiday makers. Of the people we met and spoke to, very few were actually from Tahoe. No-one in Tahoe is from Tahoe. 

Route 50 and Nevada

After an entire morning of faffing and trying to leave, we finally got on the road (bears ricocheting wildly off the front bumper) sometime in the early afternoon, striking out for mid-Nevada for stargazing camping. The change from California to Nevada was drastic. Within 15 miles of leaving the Cali border the trees stop in a disciplined line and handed over scenery duty to the dusty desert and low rocky hills. It turns out Route 50 is "The Loneliest Road in America". There were towns roughly every 80 miles but otherwise nothing but sweet desert to either side. As dusk fell the mood of the journey lost its franticness to "get going" and took on a more relaxed, cruising kind of attitude. The kind that eats up miles and hours without effort, and was perfectly augmented with Pink Floyd and a distant lightning storm, internal flashes lighting the clouds pink. One town we passed through had a police cruiser, a courthouse and jail all within about 500m. The cruiser kindly flashed his lights as we passed, causing us to drop a brick apiece. If we had been breaking the law we could have probably been caught and processed to a cell in under 3 minutes. After driving as far as we felt like, we pulled off the road onto a sandy track, and then again into the scrubby nothing. We ate a hasty meal of week-old boot cheese, nectarines and mouthwash and went to sleep in the car. Our plans for stargazing were foiled partly by the clouds overhead and partly by the sandy wind. It is very windy in the desert.

Utah

Mark's eyes slammed open at 6am with the rising sun and he set to driving immediately, grim determination in his eye and jaw. Today we were heading for Moab, Utah, so that we could visit the nearby Arches National Park. Joe, ignoring Mark's pleas for his co-driver and in-car entertainment, did his best to sleep, still in his sleeping bag. 2 hours later, coming across a sizable town we didn't know existed, we discovered to our surprise (nay, dismay) that we had taken a wrong turning, or missed a turning, or did something 80 miles earlier and ended up in Wendover, home of the tallest mechanical cowboy. Joyous as we were to see this visionary piece of engineering we were somewhat galled at adding mileage to what had already promised to be a formidable day. No matter. We manned up and got on with it, and a couple of miles later we were in Utah. Long, straight roads. Salt flats. Heat. Sometimes dust. Dark green scrub, yellow dirt, pink rocks, blue sky and white clouds (the fluffy continental kind). Tumbleweed. More salt flats. The saltiest lake ever. Words written in stones and beer bottles on the side of the road. Birds of prey wheeling above the highway. As we progressed south, the landscape changed from salt flats so vast and flat that the perfectly flat horizon looked like the edge of the world, to shallow rocky hills, to bigger rocky hills, finally to ravine and cliff like features -  the kind of thing you imagine old cowboy convoys rolling past. As we neared Moab, the geology became more and more outrageous. Who needs the Grand Canyon when you have Utah? So far we love Utah. Perhaps if you are desperate to be getting somewhere, then you will not enjoy Utah. If you are travelling for the love of the journey, then it is a fantastic place to be. 550 miles after awaking in the desert, we have reached Moab.

The Future

Tomorrow we head to Arches National Park and get a proper taste of Moab.