Ely, NV. Laundry and a few cokes at the Trumper bar. I don’t do politics, but the place is both interesting and entertaining: the pool tables are covered with house plants. As Les Claypool said, “ I like the way the boots are all reverbed out [on the floorboards].” There’s live, ready to rock and roll, assault rifles behind the bar. The publican is a white haired lady in her 70s that smokes 125mm menthol lights, one perpetually hanging lit from her lip.
Plus they have a visitor logbook I always sign into when I’m there, one more point of contact if I go missing. I first stumbled in there, badly dehydrated, barely able to speak back in 2019 on the first GBDRT at and was treated very well.
Plus, lots of the old timers there are retired miners and prospectors. Time to once again dust off the old barfly social skills and buy some information.
So I put on my “perfectly ‘ normal’ desert rat face”, buy a few rounds, and start gently wringing them out for new camping and fossil sites. Bert draws many eyes and much conversation, particularly when they learn the “off road” package in it’s entirety cost about what Wranglers spend on wheels and tires.
We talk desert backcountry, fossils, and gemstones. I learn of some new to me sites in the deep desert I need to research. We talk using maps and making fun of “Subaru people”.
Timer goes off. Time to pick up laundry (1.25$ a pound wash, dry and fold!) I refuel at the reservation owned gas station/grocery/dispensary and grab a few supplies to deal with altitude.
Waves of monsoon storms hit me as I make excellent time to Snake Creek in the south eastern quadrant of Great Basin National park. I stop at the visitor center and file a back country permit, give the Ranger copies of my route maps, and log my SOS beacon info.
I stop at Baker, NV for a cold drink at what used to be the saloon. Now it’s a trippy-hippy general store…but they have cold, alcohol free craft “beer”. Chat up the bartender. Leave my business card and another map.
Driving up the canyon road, which washed out and “trapped” me for a bit last year, I’m lucky. It’s Tuesday? Wednesday? Dunno. Who cares. I’m on vacation. No one is there. I choose the campsite as close to the trailhead, vault crapper, and on the highest ground.
Camp is set. I bust out maps, check coms (there is none)…not even AM weather radio.
I’m set. Tomorrow, up before dawn and make the climb to 11k feet to finally see bristlecone pines, the oldest known living organisms.
I’ve been training for months for the climb. Spent a year building a vehicle to get me there. Finally. It’s time.
I turn in early after a few MREs, an entire loaf of bread as PB&J, and 500ml of olive oil.
The normal, daily, late afternoon rain starts…
I fall asleep to the gentle patter. Tomorrow is the day!
