Camping for convenience on a push northward

Thursday, May 11

Leaving Ward Ovens Historical State Park, Egan Mountains, south of Ely, Nevada

A very short travel day!

The Perfect Tow Vehicle transports Reggie and me seven miles on the dirt road to Route 93. About eighteen more miles north on the highway, we arrive in Ely.

We need groceries so I’ll stop at Ridley’s Market.  Once we’re well stocked with supplies, I’ll park the Best Little Trailer in back of one of these truck stops where internet signal is strong.  That will give me all afternoon to work on the blog, research possible camps further north, and otherwise take it easy before another travel day tomorrow.

At the busy intersection of Route 93 and Route 6, tractor trailer trucks pour out en masse from the Shell Travel Center.  Across the road, a Love’s Travel Center is under cconstruction.  Cars roll in and out of MacDonald’s.

A hub of activity!

Gee, it must be noisy at night.  Trucks coming and going.  Reefers rumbling.  Not good. Hmm . . .  We passed another truck stop on the way into Ely . . . .

Backtracking less than a mile up the road, Route 93 crosses into the Shoshone Reservation.  I pull into the Chevron station.

Big lot in back, only one truck.  This is much better! 

Friday, May 12

After a restful night, Reggie and I get up early on this brisk morning and board the PTV which I’ve pre-warmed for our comfort.  Before leaving the Chevron Station, I grab a cup of coffee at the convenience store, have one of our propane tanks filled, and gas up the PTV.

We’re off! 

About fifty-five miles later we reach Lages Station where there’s a family compound including restaurant.  It appears to be closed.  I take this opportunity to stop and look at my Benchmark atlas.

Peacocks make quite a racket!

By the way . . . What the heck is that thing on the peacock?

At Lages Station Route 93 turns to the northwest and Alternate 93 goes northeast.

We continue on 93 toward Wells, Nevada — about 80 more miles.

Easy, straight-line driving past the tiny settlement of Currie, through Goshute Pass (6,365 ft.) and into Clover Valley, a lovely name for a valley that seems at this point to have more sage brush and juniper than clover.

There are few places to pull off the road.  Eventually we come to what looks like a weather station.

“We’ll stop here, Reg.  I bet you’d like a break.”

In the distance the snow-covered Ruby Mountains float like an apparition.

Reggie and I walk a maze of dirt lanes.  It’s apparent that people have driven around the juniper trees in order to camp.  There’s evidence that someone made a small campfire.

I’d camp here.  I’d snuggle the Best Little Trailer behind a juniper and enjoy the views of mountains on both sides.  Warm breeze coming across the plain.  We’d be far enough from the highway that the occasional truck wouldn’t bother us.

“Okay, Reg.  We’ve dawdled long enough.  Not much further and we’ll be in Wells.”

I don’t know where we will stop for the night.  

For reasons of which I am unaware, I’m compelled to keep going.

In the next post . . . 

The journey continues to a new camp!



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