The Loneliest Highway. Also known as the Pony Express highway, and occasionally as US 50.
Thia morning, rolling west from Ely across the wide valleys toward cardboard cutout mountains on the horizon that become steady uphill grades, sending the trucks over to the right hand lane to huff and puff their way along. As the day grows warmer, the valleys fill with mirage lakes that flood over the highway ahead, threatening trouble. The lake disappears as it passes by, though, and the highway reappears unharmed.
Pretty cool, really, but getting hotter. Looking forward to the mountains and the forest.
The mechanics in Ely checked the obvious things -- blue smoke from the exhaust on startup, drips from the drain plug. Nothing. I could smell the hot oil burning, I remeinded them, it has to be leaking somewhere ... nope. Their advice was to keep rolling and check the oil level frequently, thanks for stopping here, no charge, bye!
The advice would almost have been worth what I paid for it, I thought, if it hadn't taken up three hours. Pfft.
I went back to the truck depot to say goodbye to Nathan, and had the good fortune to run into the store supervisor, Nathan's boss, and sing a few bars of praise for my benefactor. Some return for his generosity, at least.
On the way west, I happened on the thriving town of Eureka, Nevada. Photos follow.
At noon, the Ion cleared the last summit before the USFS campground I planned to stay at last night. Beautiful place in Toiyabee National Forest, I will stay there tonight and continue toward Castro Valley. I plan to stop for dinner to avoid rush hour, and arrive mid evening.