Nevada (Day 4)

Mammoth Mountain... none of the staff seemed to known why their mountain was named after a Mammoth.

It turns out that Mammoth Lakes is quite a busy little spot when it gets to winter time. As it's still Fall and completely snow-free this means we have the chance to look around without struggling through the ski crowd. Nicole has done her research and decides to take us out to see the Devil's Postpile, and possibly some other things.

Erick Schatt's Bakkery in Mammoth Lakes - who do a great turkey sandwich but do less well at spelling 'bakery'.

On the way we accidentally arrive at the Mammoth Mountain resort lodge. Nicole spots a gondola that goes up the mountain. You know, like a sky car. I am petrified of heights but I also don't want to stop Nicole from doing anything.

So I nonchalantly suggest we go up in it.

Nicole loves this idea. We buy some tickets, find our way into one of the cars, and it starts to ascend.

All I can think of is the James Bond film Moonraker, where Roger Moore goes up in a cable car in Brazil and fights the terrifying henchman Jaws. They both end up outside of the car and dangle over the edge as they duke it out. 

My steely resolves breaks almost immediately and I resolutely stare at the floor as the car rocks around me and lifts into the air. I hear desperate high-pitched sounds and eventually realise that they're coming from me. "Why did you agree to this?" asks Nicole, incredulous. 

My least shaky photo from inside the gondala

I force myself to look up and even take a few photos. I can't say I enjoy the ride but at one or two points I almost don't feel scared. The view from the top of the mountain is quite lovely, and shows a panoramic vista of the big east-Californian wilderness. 

The top of Mammoth Mountain

Puma skin at top of Mammoth Mountain. Most Americans seem far more interested in bears than mountain lions.

After I gratefully make it back to the bottom of the mountain, and Nicole takes a few more happy snaps, we head off for the Devil's Postpile. The Devil's Postpile is an unusual basalt formation caused by a volcanic eruption prior to the last ice age. It's situated along a hiking trail near Mammoth Mountain, not too strenuous a walk, and we see a few more squirrels, chipmunks, and what I think might be a garter snake. 

The postpile is unusual because the columns of rock are strangely geometric. In terms of rock formations it's fairly young - only 80 000 years old - and changing quite rapidly as the years go on. I would suggest you try to see it as it could be gone within the next 20 000 years. 

The Devil's Postpile. Many of the columns are naturally hexagon-shaped.

It gets to 1:45 pm and its time for us to tackle the hard part of the day - getting from Point A to Point B. Our plans for America are to see San Francisco and then move on to Utah, but this means that we have to pass through a whole state that we don't really want to see - Nevada. The most famous part of Nevada is, no doubt, Las Vegas. But unlike most people I know, I have no interest whatsoever in going to the world's most famous gambling town. This means that we have to get through Nevada in the quickest possible time so we can get the most out of our 12 days in the U.S. We settle on taking a series of highways just north of Las Vegas. Google Maps tells me that this should take about 8 hours.

The Loneliest Road in America

Nicole isn't feeling the best, and the drive is too much to undertake in one go. We hold off booking our motel for the night and decide to see how far we can get. I think Nicole plans to get all the way... she's a stubborn bird sometimes, but she's also in a bit of a bad way. Nothing too serious, just needing some rest. What compounds the issue most is that the particular route we have chosen turns out to be the Most Boring Road Ever Built.

The road through Nevada is nothing but brush-desert and cattle grids for many, many miles. It's a very hard drive, with some very long, flat roads. About 20 miles before the first main settlement we notice a strange lighthouse-like structure (see photo below). Internet searches have been unable to confirm what this is, but what we didn't know at the time is this:

We drove through Area 51.

Best photo I could get from the road. This tower in Area 51 was lit up and looked a bit like a lighthouse.

Area 51. The infamous military base alleged to be the home of all things alien and UFO-based in America. More on this in a bit.

Nicole is busting to go to the toilet after a few hours of driving and we decide to stop in the first major town, Tonopah. This decision is quickly rescinded when we enter this town. The first thing we see is an abandoned house with a boarded-up door, spray-painted with the ominous words 'Armed Patrols'. Then there is a large building called the 'Clown Hotel' which has a prominent sign welcoming any and all bikers. Being Nevada, there are also the obligatory casinos, which seem strangely-placed in this remote desert settlement. We pass signs for a gun show, and a quad bike zigzags across the highway in front of us, completely oblivious to road rules. Both riders - one a man and the other the child - wear shirts with the sleeves cut off. 

And then, just as quickly as we enter it from the great stretching nowhere, we're back in the empty desert cradled by jagged treeless mountains. After a few more miles we see the Tonopah Speedway - some grandstand seats, a few stacks of tires, a whole lotta dirt, and some busted-up car shells decorated with local war paint. 

From our view inside the car, Tonopah is like a Mad Max film. That's why we don't stop there. Our prejudices seem confirmed when we see that every subsequent roadside sign is pitted with bullet holes. 

Back to Area 51. We didn't know this was Area 51 when we drove through it, but there were many clues we should have picked up on. The strange lighthouse-like complex was the first one, but we also passed a missile testing range and many signs warning of 'low flying aircraft'. 

Rachel's only Restaurant/Motel

Towards the end of our drive through Nevada we travel along a quiet road known as 'The Extra-Terrestrial Highway'. There are two towns on this highway, but calling them towns is probably a bit generous. The first of these is Rachel, a cluster of makeshift houses built from trailers and shipping containers. One large-ish trailer is called 'The Little Ale-inn' (geddit?). The town's sign is covered in stickers from all over the world, yet the town itself only has 50-odd residents. A bit later we reach Crystal Springs, which is even smaller. There is a large tin bunker here with a giant plastic alien stationed outside, and a graffitied trailer that sells 'E.T. Beef Jerky'. 

Disgruntled bull. I have a history with such bulls.

Nicole's research afterwards uncovers the reputation of this route across Nevada as the 'loneliest road in America'. There is definitely something eerie and tense about this silent and largely unremarkable stretch of highway. The landscape is unchanging and aside from a few angry cattle that wander out onto the road, there is little to see between any of the towns (which are about 100 miles apart from each other). As it gets dark the drive gets more tiring and Nicole decides to call it a day when we get to Caliente, which is about an hour from the Nevada-Utah border. 

It's about 8 pm and Caliente is almost completely asleep. A family of mule deer in someone's front yard look up at us as we pull into town. Despite being less than two metres from our car, they don't move. 

Gotta love American gas stations.

Hash browns in a carton, courtesy of the gas station.

A flower in the desert: the Rainbow Canyon Motel.

Both of the town's restaurants have just shut, so dinner comes courtesy of the gas station (who also run the town's main accommodation, the Rainbow Canyon Motel). The staff are exceptionally helpful and set us up in a room for a very reasonable 55 dollars. Sleep can't come quick enough.