Day 13: August 23rd, 2008 – The Burning Man with a Badass Tan

Eureka, NV --> Middlegate, NV

SO I set off from Eureka at the break of dawn in order to avoid being arrested for sleeping in Historical Site #22, also there was more vast nothingness in front of me that I wanted to span before nightfall. Roughly 150 miles of it. So after a gas station breakfast burrito and a half gallon of milk I rode.

I continued to dominate basin and range over and over again until at the top of one of these summits I met Burning Man Dan the AU fan. I was standing half naked in the scorching midday heat of the top of a climb when Dan’s truck and trailer stopped. He greeted me with, “Hello Stranger, would you like a Coke”.

Now, the best part about my journey was that I was never in the position to refuse a favor. People offered and I accepted. So very often in my life I have rejected favors and gifts out of no other reason than pride, but my need taught me the beauty of my self inflicted dependence. In the middle of my solo self sufficient adventure I had found, then more than ever, I was relying upon generosity and pure kindness of strangers. It was a beautiful thing and has changed my paradigm forever. When all that we have is gifted to us what is our not to give back…..?absolutely nothing!

Well Dan’s apple and Coke did much for me, but it was his character that really got me going. Dan had driven all the way from Birmingham for the Burning Man festival in a desert North of Reno, Nevada. The way Dan described it, Burning Man was an experience abounding in drugs, nudity, art, and expression of all types. He was fascinated with my ride and my story all together, which he insisted on hearing every detail of. In fact, I’m not sure I knew I had a story before talking to Dan, he just kept asking why until I ran out of answers and had come to my End and my Means all in one. After telling my story Dan promptly told me about his daughter who was attending Auburn University. Dan was trying to set up a date for the two of us until I reminded him of two things. 1. I had never met his daughter and was thousands of miles away from her, and 2. I was a Georgia Fan…….Dan took a few photos of me with my bike and then I headed down into another basin.

After making it over a few more summits I had arrived in Austin, Nevada, a small burg of no more than 500 residents. I stopped in Austin Dinner for a burger and a cold drink. It was so scorching outside that even the air flowing out of the kitchen felt blissfully cool to me. After the burger I talked shop with some touring motorcyclists outside. Not only did they treat me like one of the boys, I was nearly elected bike gang leader. I answered dozen’s of questions about my ‘rig’ and the details of my ride. I grabbed some soft serve to go and rode down the main strip while eating my ice cream until a young woman ran out in from of my bike with a camera and a smile. When I lurched to a stop she asked me how the descent into Austin was. (The incline of the area was grueling and she knew that I must have headed into town in on my horse). Annie kept touching my face, arms, and chest as she asked about my ride. Her dad Laurence even joined in on the fun. I already thought they were odd until they told me what they had been up to; Laurence had taken Annie to a brothel the night before in Ely to be serviced...... both of them! Talk about a close father daughter relationship. Like everyone else that day, they were on their way to Burning Man. They videotaped me for a few minutes as I road when they passed me later on in the day... Annie was on Acid... they were from Memphis….just another reason why MEMPHIS is not part of Tennessee.


I rode into the desert hoping to make it to civilization by nightfall. The desert around Austin was perhaps one of the most unwelcoming areas of the entire trip so I rode like hell continuing directly along the route of the ole Pony Express. I was in a great mood considering riding had become some what of a piece of cake in the recent days. I had trained myself into shape and was a lean and fit tourist who needed only a mechanically sound bike and lots of calories to make it anywhere in the country in grand style. I sang while I rode, realizing only later than I had made up more words than I remembered. I formed alternate versions of the hits of almost every genre. Wagon Wheel, by Old Crow Medicine Show, was a particular favorite. While singing I thought about friends back home and my family. I thought for hours about friends I hadn’t spoken to in years and some that I still see every day. Memory is an amazing thing; I recalled entire conversations of no real significance from ten years past as well as images dating back to the cradle. Some time to think can be a wonderful thing.


Maybe 25 miles out of Middlegate I ran upon a goat hunt in full swing. A man crossed the road with a rifle in his hand and the handlebars of a four wheeler in the other. He was firing at the goat as if he was Yosemite Sam. I had to slow down to stay behind the man and out of his ever-changing line of fire. He disappeared into the desert as quickly as he came right at the rubble that marked the last remaining remnants of an adobe Pony Express station changeover.


Pulling into Middlegate I saw one of the most ridiculous sights of the journey, a tree. This wasn’t just any tree though; it was the first tree along Highway 50 for 150 miles! It was large and beautiful and stood with a type of pride that echoed its situation of solitude, but none of these things made the tree what it was. They say you can tell the nature of a man by the type of shoes he wears, well what about a tree. This tree wore every type of shoe; sneakers, high tops, low tops, basketball shoes, track spikes, keds, flip flops, hiking boots, and even the occasional pair of black pumps. Hanging from its branches were thousands of pairs of shoes.

Legend has it that the first pair of shoes was thrown up by a pair of feuding newlyweds who returned upon the birth of their first child to throw another pair up in a gesture of good luck for their new family. I like that story but figure it just as likely that the tree is just as easily a marker for a large crack house nearby. Either way you tell it, the Shoe Tree, as it is so creatively named, is something to behold and the next time you are driving through Middlegate, NV (probably never) you should stop and take it in.


A few hundred yards from the notorious tree is the town of Middlegate, and by town I mean a bar/campground/hostel/restaurant/general store/gas station with a year round population of three. The bartender/shop keep/ mechanic is married to the waitress/cook/innkeeper and they run the entire town. A great and happy couple, they really made me feel at home with a warm meal and a few cold beers, they even let me pitch tent in clearing behind the bar. The third resident of the town was a funny ole dude who played a very amateur style method of guitar for free beer and the occasional round of applause from all the transient guests. I ran into the goat hunter I saw earlier, and was regaled with the stories of the hunt. I never knew goat hunting could be such an epic adventure….

The bar keep let me use his family computer in the back to check my email. I cannot describe how odd being in front of a computer feels after being on the road as long as I had been. After I finished up inside I headed out to the back to set up tent and get some sleep. It was a very interesting day and going to bed that night I had a feeling that I would never have another like it.

Day: 135.8 mi
Total: 1310.64 mi
Elev. Climbed: 3900 ft
Elev. Difference: -2300 ft

No comments: