I was out of Nevada for only a day, and it already felt like it was a distant memory. I can’t recall many of the details beyond the first couple of days when I spent quite a bit of time in my head. Beyond that, my mind had gone blank. Each day was a just a number that I had to cross off to get home.

Nevada didn’t start off like that. It certainly posed a cycling challenge from the moment we connected. But, the first two days heading to Highway 50, a 400-mile stretch that was dubbed the “loneliest highway in America” provided me with the solitude I had not truly experienced on any part of the journey. And it was truly the only lonely part in Nevada. Since the mid-80s, where the Nevada officials used Life Magazine’s coining of the stretch as a marketing opportunity, the loneliest highway in America became a popular adventure for the brave drivers who with only a full tank of gas, in an air-conditioned vehicle, with drinks, snacks and a 75-mph speed limit, would take on the challenge of surviving the 70-110 mile stretches of nothingness between small towns.

For cyclists like me, the lack of service, without any type of biking shoulder on roads that were well traveled by the brave drivers, combined with 95+ degree heat, with winds that rivaled Kansas, along with significant climbing, provided the reason to go tunnel vision. Simply focus on forward motion of getting through Nevada. At this point of the journey, the mental state I was already in was matching how the environment was fueling my one-track state of mind.

Luckily the landscape throughout did not inspire me differently, either, not from the lack of its own kind of beauty, but because it was not an engaging environment that required undivided attention. Moving at the speeds I was on a bicycle, its beauty existed always from a distance. Nevada’s beauty was from all its individual parts coming together to create its harmony and relationship with its visitors. The mountain ranges with its black and brown dry face with a basin colored by the pale green, orange, purple, red and yellow desert flowers provided me with a vision of a beautiful painting that was done with a desert paintbrush plant that grew along the roads. But the true beauty of the desert, from my perspective, came from resiliency of the environment that knew how survive and blossom with what little it had.

It was an interesting place to be after Utah had provided the compete opposite of engagement. Each individual piece, section, was its own. It was unique, and it inspired and wanted an individual relationship that it deserved. Nevada, on the other hand, wanted me to find harmony with it by learning how to survive with what little it provided me with.

The stretch starting from Cedar City UT to Baker NV was my first true moment of deep reflection of the road I had traveled on, and what was in front of me for the continuation of my journey. I thought a lot about Brynn, and how the world is dimmer from not having her beautiful and brilliant mind in it. I will always wonder what she could have and would have done with her life. But the anger I had been living with from losing her slowly started subsiding as time gave me space between the acute memories and emotions that would fuel that anger. I thought about Elena and how lucky I had been for us to come into each other’s lives when we did. Elena’s patience and love helped me pickup and put back together the shattered pieces of my heart so it could beat again, eventually beating with love again.

For the first time since I started on this journey, I began thinking about my next professional chapter. This was a big consideration for me because I was enjoying the creative pursuit in the world I was experiencing with traveling, but I was very much missing the creativity and intellectual stimulation facing and trying to solve big problems in the business world. I was in the height of my career when I left to go on this journey, and I realized I still had places to go with it and would be ready to explore them sooner than I had anticipated I would.

Those first two days were giving me glimpses of the transition I would be making, mentally and emotionally, when I no longer had a schedule, no longer had a daily goal of getting from one location to another that guided my existence. The real test of my decision to go on this journey was not the bike ride, but what I would be doing once I was back at home: who was I going to be and how was I going to approach life?

I would cross into Pacific Time Zone arriving in Baker NV, population 36. This felt like a big milestone, as the closeness to home started feeling real. It would also be the starting point of my time with Highway 50 that would lead me all the way into South Lake Tahoe, California. And the point my blinders begin developing, keeping my focus straight ahead in one direction towards west. I would go through the towns of Ely, Eureka, Austin and Fallon, and the distance between each town would force me to exercise a level of patience that was appropriate with where I was. At this point, I was physically tired, and I had shown that my traditional response was to push on through. I would not be able to do that in this stretch. There was no pushing on through, given only option existing between towns was getting to the next town on the map that was at least 70 miles away. There would be no more opportunities to deviate from the plan. I had to sit with the feelings I was experiencing. Yes, I had tunnel vision, but not to the detriment that made me unreasonable.

I was not always myopic in my view throughout this stretch. I had moments that snapped me out of my state of mind. The happiness I would feel when the sun coming up in the morning that would send warmth down my back; similar to that feeling entering a warm bed on a cold night. That sigh of comfort, coziness, and peaceful feeling you feel before drifting off to sleep. Or the beauty I would get to experience the first moment when the day’s light shone a spotlight on the desert flora that had stubbornly grown and thrived in the this environment, accentuating its subtle colors. Or when that aromatic smell that lingered in my senses for an hour when passing through freshly cut sagebrush that occupied long stretches on the road. And of course, the honks, waves and thumbs up I would receive from drivers with their sign of encouragement as I hauled myself up those long climbs. All these moments put a smile on my face as I write them.

Nevada had a beauty that came from everything working together harmoniously. It just knew how to make the best of what it had. And all of these experiences were part of the harmony that would provide memorable moments when I would pull myself out of the incredibly focused periods I would need to be in getting through the parts that made it challenging.

Climbing over Austin summit, I would have one more delightful experience. As I summited one of the last big climbs in Nevada, I pulled over under an elusive tree at the top of the climb to take a break from biking and the sun. I was just thrilled to see a tree that I can rest under its shade. It is amazing the things you begin to appreciate out here on the road. You pay attention when life slows down, and biking across the country is a slow experience that affords you plenty of time to notice things that you may not have before. I was hunched over my bicycle writing some thoughts I had about the day, about my state of mind at that moment. This couple from the Bay Area, who had passed me along the way, were taking a break from their drive, got curious and a bit worried whether I was ok biking under the blazing heat of the desert. They came over to check on me to realize I was smiling at the thoughts that were coming out of my mind on to the electronic piece of paper. We started talking about our respective adventures and naturally the conversation got very deep and quite delicious in a hurry. It has been my experience throughout this ride that people do want to have genuine moments, a connection with complete strangers, no matter how temporary they may be.

Arriving in Austin, I would have two more days and 200 miles left before crossing into California. And those two days became about riding my bicycle to get home. I pedaled hard, relatively fast, and without much focus to what was around beyond counting of each mile that I was leaving behind. On the last day with Nevada, it had decided I had enough with what it put me through and rewarded me because of my kindness towards it. I had a lovely tail wind riding on a full lane wide shoulder all to myself as I would have one very big climb out of Nevada into the big blue Lake Tahoe, crossing the last state line I would experience on this journey. And with that I was back in California. I was coming home.

Nevada and I had an interesting relationship. Although I was yearning to be back at home, seeing my community and sleeping in my own bed, I had to be patient with the process. I had to allow myself to experience what was around me, slowing down enough to notice the beauty that was this desert. I may not be able to remember all the intimate details of each mountain, each plateau, but Nevada will tell you to find your harmony with it, because that is when you will experience its true beauty. And of course, carry lots of water…

-Troy

Ride Stats (as of this post)

Garmin Files
Days on the Road: 56 days (6 days off)
Distance Covered: 3,797 miles
Total Ascent: 184,408 feet
Flats: 3
Mechanical issues: 1 (new chain installed was too short)
Bike Traveler Sightings: 21

Nevada: Tunnel Vision