Bob-Kats on the Road 05-07-12

A Tale of Two Cities

Winnemucca, Nevada

Just when we were suffering from beauty overload, it was time to move on to Winnemucca.  We had not expected much from Winnemucca, a small town rather in the middle of nowhere in Nevada.    In fact, we had heard that there was nothing there except a few brothels.   Perhaps there is some of that going on since it is legal in Nevada, but we didn’t see anything like that.   We did see a quirky little town with just about everything necessary for a pretty good life.  Wal-Mart and Rally’s – what else do you really need?  The Hi-Desert RV Park was also a plus, very clean with great sites and a great owner who came by and made us feel quite at home.

We went on a walking tour of historic Winnemucca.  It was a short walk.  The historic houses were occupied and most did not look like they had been particularly updated since construction in the early 1900s.  I liked that.  Living in Marshall, Michigan, a town where historical houses are kept pristine and almost rigidly correct, I found this more casual attitude charming.

Shone Boarding House 1901

W.C. Record House 1874

The church was lovely though, and as we were taking some pictures, a woman driving by rolled down her window and asked if we would like the keys to the church.  Really?  She opened it for us and said just close the door when you leave and I’ll be by later to lock it.  There were some beautiful works of art inside, so from that I am assuming nice people in this town and little crime.  The latter may or may not be true, but the former certainly is.

A block from the church, however, did display a crime scene.  Butch Cassidy and his gang robbed the 1^st National Bank here on September 9, 1900.  Today it’s a tax preparation service.  Hmm ... taking from the citizens in a different way?

Shopping done and the tour finished, we began looking outside of town for something special.  Paradise Valley was it.  A small town about 40 miles away, it sits in the foothills of the Santa Rosa mountains.  Large poplar and cottonwood trees hang lazily over the vintage buildings that are relics of the town’s mining days.

Through the picturesque farm and ranch land, we traveled out of town and turn up towards Hinkey Summit.  You climb past rushing creeks of snow run-off lined with quaking aspens and wildflowers.  The vegetation thins out as you go up.

Finally you are at the top – 8,470 feet and the view is wonderful.

 

Up here, it’s not yet spring for these aspens.

Along the way down we saw two deer – a mother and young one.  They looked like deer of some sort to me.  That is until we saw papa.

They were pronghorn antelope!  They are not actually antelope of the African kind, but they certainly are arresting when seen in the wild.

And magpies!  They are one of our favorite birds, if for no other reason than their tropical appearance.   The large size, striking black and white color and long extravagant tail makes you think you have been transported to some place exotic.  They are related to crows and jays and like them, are gregarious, raucous birds – so much fun to watch.  Rare elsewhere, they are common here.

A perfect place to stop for refreshment after trip.  Met the nice people who run it.  They were a treat!

On our last night, we went to a lovely historic hotel, the Martine House, recommended by the saloon owners.

We had peeked in earlier and knew we wanted to go for dinner.  Loved some of the old letters and things on the walls.

July 25, 1903 "Some of the boys got their checks, it might

be a good thing to open up the roulette earlier than usual"

Basque food?  Sounds interesting.  We arrived to find the place jammed with people.  We thought at first this must be the most popular place in town, but then we began to notice a certain similarity in the patrons.  A few questions solved it.  They were all geologists there for their monthly meeting.  They have drinks and food and then go to a lecture in the back room.  There must have been 50 of them.  Ah HA!  I remembered  the main industry in this town was mining, gold mining.  Nevada mines 79% of all the gold mined in the US.   There was a huge fenced area on the outskirts of town that was full of parked cars.  And there were 10 full-size buses that seem to run constantly.   It was a puzzle at first, but now we realized they were taking employees out to the mines.

We bid good-bye to golden Winnemucca and moved on down the road.

West Wendover, Nevada

What can I say about Wendover?  It may be one of the most awful places I’ve ever been.  There it was in this beautiful, if somewhat stark, setting – sheer cliffs above, the salt flats below.  It could have been lovely.  But it was garish with the lineup of casinos dominating everything. They were huge and there were – I don’t know – six of them in that very small space and each one all decked out in flashing lights.  The town was one big casino.   Slots are in the grocery store even.

Wendover is in fact entirely owned by casinos.  The casinos insure that there will be no restaurant or entertainment of any kind outside of a casino.

The RV park was a minimalist sort of place consisting of a few dispirited trees, baked gravel and peeling fences.   But there were people there.  Wendover is a destination in that “nowhere land” at the end of Nevada and the beginning of Utah.  If we didn’t care for casinos, plenty of other people did.

We went off to find other things.  And there were indeed other things.   Bonneville Salt Flats is perhaps six miles from Wendover.

By pure luck, we arrived at the same time as a professional tour guide and her two charges.  She was wonderful!  She gave us so much history – both geographical and racing – that we could hardly take it all in.  She made us see the speedway at race time in our mind’s eye.   There is the salt glistening in the summer sun and heat, the lanes marked off, the thousands of people on the flats watching, motorhomes, concession stands and a general air of chaos.  Last year there were 800 competitors.  They race anything you can  think of.  Barstools was one category – the winner went nearly 50 MPH with the driver seated on the stool!  Records of all sorts have been set here over the years.  The salt, however is shrinking and the track is growing shorter, limiting the speeds here.  They are down to 12 miles, so the land speed record of 767 MPH by Andy Green was set in the Black Rock Desert rather than Bonneville.

The race is always in August, as the salt is unstable until it is baked by the sun  for a few months.  It may look solid, but is a wet quick sand under the surface.  We wanted to drive on it – and indeed you can.  There seem to be no rules at this place.  But if you get stuck out there, the only thing that is going to get you out is a snow cat.  It costs $650 just to get it there and then a stiff hourly charge after that.  The snow cat people could own your car at the end of day.  Pass.

Okay, I will walk.

White, sparkling, it stretches out in front of you.  It is eight times saltier than the sea.  I decide I must check that out.  I bend down to take a fragment.  EEE-ooooo!  You do not realize how much dog crap you are surrounded with until you are on a permanently white surface!  But there it was – dog crap everywhere!

People, what are you doing?  Why would you think your dog wants to run bare-pawed on a salt?  Ya think you would like to?  And then there is the ick factor.  Developing an attitude towards – or at least towards dog-owners.   So, I cannot personally confirm if it actually is eight times saltier.

That being only a semi-positive event, we are off to something else.  Blue Lake.  About 20 miles away, this is a thermal lake that is warm and … well, blue.  It is clear and about 60 feet deep, so is used by the university for their scuba classes.  The students have released some interesting aquarium fish into the lake and have also decorated the bottom with things like a chair, lamp and television set .  Cute.

There was a slight sulfur smell to the lake from the natural underground heat that warms it, but it was lovely.  My scalp began to prickle in the afternoon sun.  Hmm, sun is quite strong out here in the desert.

In about 30 seconds the prickle became a maddening itch and burn -- like wearing a fire ant helmet!  I lost all interest in the lake and made smartly for the car.  Once the door was closed and air on, the discomfort began to subside and 10 minutes down the road, it was gone completely.  I have no idea.  But I am not taking any chances by going back to Blue Lake.

We decided we needed to take a break from Wendover.   I stayed in and rearranged the silverware drawer and Bob washed the Jeep.  A pristine Jeep is a sad thing.  It is an admission that it was bought just for show.  So, we believe in getting ours pretty dirty.  But now and then, you have to clean it up – inside as well – and this was a bit past due. 

That evening we began to think about the casinos.  Perhaps it was unfair to criticize something we had not seen.  And I remembered a wonderful time at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.  Just the ceiling in the lobby is worth the trip – 2000 hand-blown glass flowers, the Fiori di Como by Chihuly.  And the flowers.  Hanging baskets a full story tall with every petal perfect.  Then there was the shopping … Armani, Versace and so much more.  It’s not Las Vegas, of course, but maybe there is something special to see.  So we went.

Montego Bay seemed the fanciest.  The first thing we noticed about the lobby is that there wasn’t one.  You walked straight into the casino.  You were immediately engulfed by the acrid air and plinka-plink of the slots and the flasha-flash of the lights in the ceiling and on the machines.  Perhaps we are not in the proper festive mood for this, we think.   We bought a beer for Bob and a margarita for me.   $15.  Okay, so much for the lure of cheap drinks.   We circled around.   No beautiful people here.   Shops?  There was a kind of R rated hospital-type gift shop.  Restaurants?  There was a buffet, but you have to sit practically in the middle of the casino where the air quality was especially low.  We walk towards the door.  Plinka-plinka, flasha-flasha, smokie-smokie, chokie-chokie …

And just in case we were like on the fence about Wendover, it gave us a parting shot.  As we pulled out of the RV park, the dust from the motorehome blew over the newly washed Jeep, turning it entirely gray.  Wendover, buh-bye.

Next:

Two awesome places!