We are now just two days away from finishing this trip and we finally broke 11,000 miles. Not bad for a couple of old, out of shape, motorcycle ridin' retirees.

We left Ely in bright sunlight pointing the Goldwing due west on Hwy 50. Hwy 50 is billed as the Loneliest Road in America after a 1950's Life Magazine article. Once Life anoints your ribbon of asphalt as the loneliest, that becomes the gospel. The small towns and hamlets along Nevada's portion of Hwy 50 now boast about their loneliest (photo 1). Truthfully, Nevada's SR 6 is far lonelier, but who am I to argue with Life Magazine? That's not to say there are a lot of people and traffic out here, there's not. I'm just saying there are some even less traveled roads in Nevada.

Many people "badmouth" Nevada as an "ugly" state. I respectfully disagree. The eastern half of Highway 50 is rugged, scrub brush covered desert, it's true, but it also processes a stark beauty as it winds it's way through a series of mountain ranges towards Austin (photos 2, 3, & 4). If you believe that Interstate 80 is the best way to get across Nevada, you're missing some beautiful country and easy riding just a little south on Hwy 50. It's a fact that the gas stations are few and far between, but not far enough to be a problem for most modern motorcycles. If you fill up each time you come to a town you'll do just fine. The solitude and scenery makes it worth that small inconvenience.

A lot of people don't realize that Nevada does have some areas that actually support the growth of small trees. Eastern Nevada on Hwy 50 is such a place (photos 5, 6, & 7), as are portions of the far western part of the state. For Linda and me, it's a pleasant route to travel across our neighboring state. Linda even mentioned that when we head back to Colorado in December, we should think about using this route again.

We quickly fall into a pattern, which seems to be, a) slowly climb up the side of a mountain range then b), come quickly down into a broad valley (photo 8) on the other side like some misplaced desert roller coaster. Please repeat A & B until you are nauseous.

We finally pull into Eureka and get some gas, a drink, and then continue on west (photo 9). There's not much to do in these small towns if you don't gamble, and besides, we're heading for home now and are starting to feel a little like horses heading for the barn.

Since we try to get off the bike every ninety minutes or so, we find ourselves stopping by, what appears to be, an old well with the pump activated by a windmill (photos 10 & 11). The windmill is constantly squealing as it turns, a mournful sound of desperation since no water flows from this dirt dry well. The broken vanes on the windmill make me wonder if someone didn't try and put it out of its misery in an attempt to spare it a life of disappointing futility, apparently without success. We grab a drink on the side of the road with little fear that anyone will soon be by (photo 12).

As you look at this dry, dusty, landscape, and think of the person who first dug this well, erected this windmill, built the stonewall catch basin, and laughed a hearty laugh when the first water made it to the light day, you wonder where they are now, did they succeed, or did they go bust. This is a harsh land, and unlike some wimp who stops by the side of the road on a pleasure ride around the country, it takes a hearty soul to survive and tougher yet, to succeed in this environment. Better him than me.

With Linda back on the bike, we continue west, now making good time because after Austin, the road becomes straighter with fewer mountain ranges to slow us down. We cruise comfortably at 75 to 80 mph and could easily do more if we chose to. I'm anxious to reach California but I'm not in a hurry. It is hot, but without the humidity of Florida, not unbearable. Linda and I are down to long sleeve shirts and are not terribly uncomfortable.

We stop once again beside a phone booth our here in the middle of nowhere. It looks like it still works and has been covered with graffiti by locals or bored passersby (photos 13 & 14). Off in the distance is a sand dune right in the middle of this small mountain range called, surprisingly, Sand Mountain. Where it came from, I have no idea, why it doesn't blow away is apparently a matter of physics (photos 15).

As we read the historical marker (photo 16 & 17), we find that this was once a Pony Express station in the middle 1800's and that the dune covered over the remains of that lonesome outpost and then was uncovered by archaeologists in the 70's. That must have been a hell of a job. Anyway, this is the type of stuff that makes traveling across this wide-open country, interesting.

We continue on and stop once more across from a dry lakebed (photo 18), which has its own tales, I'm sure, before starting the steep climb into the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada. As we climb, we think of how difficult this must have been for early pioneers who had just crossed the Nevada dessert only to be confronted by this rock wall that is the Sierra Nevada Mountains. And modern Americans get frazzled when they can't find a parking spot right in front of a store.

The Goldwing makes an easy molehill out of this mountain and we can feel the drop in temperature as we climb. The increase in trees and granite rock let us know from experience that Lake Tahoe is close at hand. We round a high-speed curve to the right and there it is. The sapphire blue waters of Lake Tahoe greet us like a long lost relative (photos 19 & 20). 58 days ago, we spent the first night of our trip on this lake, looking forward to an unknown journey. Now, with just one day left, we have a warehouse full of memories to savor over the next few years. Being at Lake Tahoe just seems like the right way to end this trip.

We decide to stop at Stateline for the evening and I decide to splurge on Linda and get a room at the Embassy Suites, across the road from Harrah's. It is the most expensive room on our entire trip but the last night we will spend in a hotel for a while. What the heck!

We eat a nice dinner, drop a few bucks in the slots, and enjoy just being alive. What more do you need? Tomorrow we will spend the night at Linda's parents house, and then home.