Sitting in a Starbucks in Fernely, Nevada, the gateway to Carson City. Just crossed the great state of Nevada on US50, The Loneliest Road In America. It wasn't so bad. Pulling to the far shoulder of this two-lane road to let a convoy of those big mining dumptrucks (the BIG ones; yeah) and other assorted mining monstrosities on flatbed was quite interesting. This time, "wide load" actually meant it.
That, of course, is about the most interesting thing there is to say about north central Nevada. After that is passing an bedraggled homeless-looking dude, without backpack or anything, on the shoulder of the road 30 miles from the nearest town, in the middle of the desert. Of course it might have been a mirage. Some odd things I've come to conclude so far on this trip, in no particular order.
Canned V8 is the most wonderful post-hike/camping food out there. Just enough salt, flavour, and nutrients, and just enough substance that you enjoy chugging it like a meal.
Nutella is awful awful stuff. In order to keep the car Alyssa-friendly, I've avoided peanut putter. When the almond butter ran out a few days ago, the only alternative I could find in the local markets was Nutella. I'd never had it. The stuff is absolutely horrible -- the top two ingredients, in order, are "sugar" and "modified palm oil". I through out the jar after one morning bagel's worth. I'm sure Davis California, my destination for tonight, has a good choice of granola shops that stock real almond/other butters though.
Always keep a spare 2GB SD card in your wallet/daypack/shoulder-bag/etc. It's a real downer to realize halfway up a trail that you don't have a memory card in your camera.
Always sample the local beers. You know you're not really "roughing it" when the biggest challenge for the night is discovering one of the bottles of beer you bought isn't a twist off and you have to fetch the leatherman from the car. The best local brew so far was the Dead Horse Ale at the Moab Brewery.
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