Highway 50 and the high desert.

In the tradition of inaccurate expectations, our continuing journey across northern Nevada on Highway 50 has been far from what we anticipated. Failing to check the almanac combined with our lack of experience outside the northwest USA has left us surprisingly cold out here in this high desert. Ignorantly miscategorizing all desert climates south of Oregon as hot, our base layers and coats have been pulled from the depths of our packs to once again keep us warm. On the other hand, this stretch has provided many diverse and scenic landscapes for us to enjoy and photograph. The mountain passes reach around 7,500 feet, and each range is separated by 15 to 20 mile wide valleys, which are traversed by the straightest stretches of road I have ever seen. It's possible to see the road from 15 miles or more across these valleys; a two lane road can become very small before it disappears. Out here, we have seen all varieties of weather; wind/sand storms, rain, snow, hail, lightning, and even sun. Without thermometers, we have only been able to measure the freezing level on the mountains and foothills surrounding us.

As mentioned, in our cut eastward, the options for camping in designated campgrounds have dwindled. On the desolate stretches of Highway 50, most of the land is BLM (Bureau of Land Management) land and the people out here know how to use it. In the tradition of the wild west, the inhabitants of the small towns encourage free use of the land, for it is our tax dollars that pay for it, therefore it is ours to use; unless we burn it down or use it for something illegal. This free access is something unique to the vast open spaces of our country, places undesirable to the private land owner. As we continue our way through to the southwest and down into Texas, I hope for more of the same free living. As the population increases, and the landscapes transform, we will encounter new obstacles for obtaining free tent space.

One free, yet valuable resource we happened upon a few days ago are the Spencer hot springs outside a small town called Austin. As told, this place use to be a big resort. Today, the site is completely unmarked from any access road, and consists of a handful of spring fed pools. We spent a rest day soaking, relaxing, and watching the weather patterns blow along the mountain range five miles away, on the opposite side of the valley. All 100% free; country club living without the dues.

One final note regarding the third picture in this post. We recently encountered a man on a walk from San Francisco to Missouri. The simple feat of walking is an ambitious objective, but this man is doing it while dragging a cross and 150 pounds of gear in a trailer. We shared camp for a night and learned he is an interesting fellow with a commitment and passion for his beliefs. He told us there was another man a day behind him walking the same stretch of Highway 50 to advocate same sex marriage. Only in America.