Well, the road did NOT remain nice and smooth for long, after leaving the pavement. The washboards got so bad, we were forced to keep speeds down to about 15 miles per hour for most of the way. So much for making it to the ranch in less than two hours. In fact, making it in time for supper was no longer a given.
On the plus side, our route turned to the north, and paralleled the playa, just far enough away that the blowing dust was never a problem. In fact, when the sun began to set, the air was so clear that everything lit up in brilliant color! This is my favorite time to ride. And as you can see, even the washboards finally smoothed out.
We knew we were getting close when we reached Mud Meadow Reservoir - not very appropriately named, as it turned out. I was expecting something much less picturesque.
Spirits were high at this point. The temperature had cooled off significantly, and according to my trip meter, we only had about 6 miles to go, of the 50 stated on the sign, back at the highway.
Or maybe not. Just under three miles from the lake, this BLM sign reads "Soldier Meadows 1"! That may have been the first time on any trip that on-the-ground miles remaining was actually less than what my bike was indicating. I know, we're only talking about a two-mile difference. But with darkness descending, bellies empty, and arms of Jello from hours of rough road, those two miles off seemed like 20!
The bottom line of the sign pointed left, to High Rock Lake. That's the route we would take out of the desert in the morning - the 4 x 4 trail. Today was supposed to be the easy part!
But first, a good meal and a sound night's sleep.
As the sun sank below the mountain ridges, the bottoms of the clouds turned bright orange, which made their tops look dark and ominous. "Do not worry about tomorrow," Jesus told his followers. "Each day has enough trouble of its own."
Finding the right turn-off in the growing shadows was not at all difficult. The enormous white-painted steel archway was a good clue. I'd made a reservation a month ago. Probably should have called to confirm. But surely they wouldn't turn us away at this point.
Supper was supposed to be served, family-style, at 7:00. We pulled up to the Kitchen door at ten minutes til! By the time we removed our helmets and jackets, and took a few photos, it was about that time.
We walked (more like staggered) in the door together and I announced, "I'm Troy," really hoping that sounded familiar to someone in charge. Our hostess, who had evidently watched us pull up, already had two plates in hand, piled high with the biggest chunks of beef and scooped-up sides I had ever been served!
There weren't that many of us for supper - actually, just the the couple who operates the place, one hired ranch hand, and Jonathan and I. A young boy ran in and out ounce, but he must have eaten earlier. With no other tourists to direct the conversation, it quickly turned to ranching. We got a first hand glimpse into that difficult world, including dealing with neighboring operations, BLM regulations, even the struggles inherent with living such an isolated life. It was certainly not your typical bed and breakfast chit-chat, but added an authentic and personal dimension to our adventure.
After supper (which tasted as excellent as it looked!) we were led past the showers, down a long narrow hallway, to our bunk room. Once we'd scrubbed off all the road dust, we did some prep. work for the next day, and then it was lights out.
Big day tomorrow - really big.
We had no idea.
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