Stop #1 - Tehachapi

Tom tried binoculars for trainspotting

Our summer trip to Nevada had been in planning for a long time. We first thought that we'd visit our neighboring state by crossing our favorite eastern Sierra, but Tommy begged very much to go see Tehachapi again, which had crossed our planning slightly. Fortunately we know a friendly family in Henderson, Nevada (near Las Vegas), who promised us shelter for one night, hence our southern detour through a railroad loop stopped seeming so nonsensical, and we could go. Richard's exact words of invitation were these: "How are we doing? Um, you are quite lucky, chances are we shall be in our hole at this time, like we did for the approximately last 13 years, actually."
I think this had started it all. Richard's family claim they are hobbits and the longer I know them, the more I have to agree with this definition.

Day one - the journey begins
After all our past trips, packing comes easy to us -- meaning that it happens fast and we tend to forget fewer things, although it does not mean me enjoying this activity. Still, we had finished packing on Saturday noon and we were ready to roll. That is, after we nixed our kids' idea to pack along their brand new umbrellas. What could we possibly do, in the desert state, now in the middle of the dry season, WITH UMBRELLAS???

We had found experts at the Tehachapi Loop -- a dad with a boy of about Tom's age had even brought collapsible chairs and said it had been their fourth hour there watching trains. We chatted a bit, observing weird things happening in the Loop. Shortly before our arrival, a train had passed through downhill at an unseen speed, and had momentarily blocked the Loop's lower part. There was another consist next to it, which we had seen approaching from Tehachapi Summit. We knew that two more trains were queued up below Keene, yet the tracks seemed completely clogged. Eventually the second train continued downhill -- and the formerly speeding train got coupled to six engines, which pulled it back UPHILL. Experts said that "something" must have happened to the brakes, so that it made more sense to pull the whole freight train back to the pass. Well, at least Tommy had experienced something new -- we had seen smooth traffic in the Loop many times before.

Rivendale - elfin buildings

A storm is approaching, we rather run uphill to avoid flash flood

Day two - in Hobbits' hole
The fact that Tom did not crack his head this time, caused we had arrived to the hobbits' hole in Henderson on the next day early afternoon. Our friends the Hobbits are very kind and hospitable, and you can spend the whole afternoon in a pleasant conversation all the way to the late night, and part on the next day with a large talk in the doorway with a feeling that still there is much to be told yet. Another hobbits' custom is giving presents -- Lisa was leaving with a huge stuffed horse (which Sid bravely opposed, pointing to our bus being already filled with stuff), while Tom was carrying a small stuffed bear with a bow as a consolation prize.

Day three - Rivendell, Caradhras, Mordor
The Hobbits refuse to leave their hole, but our encounter had thus definitely derailed our trip into a Tolkienesque story. Driving north on highway 93, we turned of more or less randomly to take a look at a roadside canyon, and we found ourselves at Rivendell. Alas -- the elves are long gone, the glory of the rich, elegant pillared halls has withered away, and the creek had dried up and turned seasonal, yet still Cathedral Gorge remains an enchanted place. We would have stayed longer, but dark clouds began gathering in the sky, accompanied by some evil thunder. We did not want to wait for the canyon bottom to fill with flood waters (desert ground is dried solid and when it rains suddenly, water does not soak in and instead it rushes the way of the least resistance) -- we opted for retreat.

What could we do with umbrellas in the desert???

Red glow over Mordor

As much we had welcomed thunderstorms, having left the inhumane heat of Las Vegas, it began to dawn on us that the rain would cause a substantial rift in our camping plans. Especially unseasonable rain in the desert, which can carry away dirt roads (often only paths of access), our tent, possibly even our car. We did not give up though and continued northward to Great Basin NP and the nearby areas with "National Forest" statute, where one is free to camp.

Tolkienesque motif of our trip became more and more apparent. We crossed into White Pine County (a white tree was the official sign of Gondor, although pine was probably not the first choice there) and began to look for a campsite on the slopes of Mt. Moria(h). Unfortunately we kept failing to find a decent spot -- these lands are overgrown with low, resilient sagebrush, and those that are clear are either too rocky or much sloped even for sagebrush to grow there. We wandered through the hills in vain, crossed a pass in close proximity of the national park and drove through a historic route, alleged ghost town (an old mining community) of Osceola, but to no good. The ghost town did not even look like a real ghost town -- there were some remnant of old buildings, but mixed up with motor home trailers and assorted garbage. More heavy clouds began pouring in, turning the sunset into a red glow over Mordor that would make Peter Jackson envy us. We concluded that this place was to be our Caradhras, upon which Saruman had called a storm (another theory is based on the fact that we forbade our kids to bring their umbrellas), and we drove away looking for a motel.

Historic cabin at Lehman Caves

Our kids appreciate every decoration along our hiking trail -- our steam engine Tom is glad of an ordinary bridge.

We had naively expected to find decent lodging at a town of Baker, and when the metropolis at the foot of the most spectacular national park in the region turned out to consist of about six buildings, we got lured by a billboard to a state line hotel and casino (you could literally see the next state, Utah, from there). We drove the few more miles to find something resembling a tiny and very poor jailhouse, squatting next to a relatively busy highway. Clenching our teeth, we slithered back around Mt. Moriah all the way to Ely, where we had spotted Prospector Casino with a good cook back last winter. Took a room and ordered a dinner. Lisa was past hunger, apparently too tired, Tom gobbled up fried mozzarella sticks, I had a salad. Yet we discovered the good cook had long since hit the road -- the new food was mediocre at best.

Day four - Fangorn and Moria
In the morning we had returned back to Baker, from where a narrow road leads to Lehman Caves. A pleasant ranger in the visitor center recommended leaving the caves for the afternoon as (another) rainstorm was forecasted, and quickly running through some trail in the Great Basin Park. We bought cave tickets for 2:30 and continued uphill to Wheeler Peak, were we aimed to walk up to bristlecone pines. Our kids ran with zest out onto the forest trail -- they were probably tired of endless sitting in the car from the day before. Sid and I huffed funny -- after all, we found ourselves at nine thousand feet elevation, this time without prior acclimatizing. A guide threatened us with two to four hours needed to reach the pines, but in the end it took us in one hour and half, with children. I admit right away that we omitted all of the interpretive loop through the pine grove - we would not have made the cave tour. Still we spotted the old forest of Fangorn -- and a few candidates for ents.

Is that a tree or an ent?

Mt. Moriah Panorama

As we were turning back, the sky cast over and thunder started -- and a few minutes after we reached our car, a great deal of water began pouring down. We sprinted to the caves in streams of rain, looking forward to dry insides of the earth. Tommy got enchanted right at the beginning by a concrete tunnel -- he's been impersonating a steam engine and a tunnel happens to be a very desirable commodity. Our guide went quickly through the history of the cave's discovery -- and then she said that it would seem by watching (our) kids and their (lack of) patience, perhaps we should make the tour a bit more action-oriented. So she abridged her talking and instead packed whole ninety-minute loop into an actual single hour. I hope that other visitors have not cursed us for this -- it very much suited us. I caught only a fourth of her monologue anyway and spent the rest of the time chasing after or controlling our children. Not that they would be mean in any way, but there were simply so many poorly lit tunnels, decorated with "icicles", and that could not leave them cold.

I have to say that even I was very impressed by Mr. Lehman's caves, and I had been hitherto pampered by Moravian Karst (by the way, the guide immediately started asking us about it when she noticed we were from Czech Republic -- apparently it's quite a famous thing). The dwarfs would be proud of this Moria. Kids received Cave Cadet pins at the exit. Tommy had eventually convinced Lisa to swap her blue pin for his green. Tom is particular about blue color; fortunately, Lizzy is quite tolerant of his obsession and is usually willing to support such adjustments.

Jelly fish of rock

Family snapshot in the cave

It was still raining outside; rangers were furiously removing mud and rocks from the road, brought there by a wayward temporary creek. At such moment we were quite thankful for our lodging in a motel -- the image of us returning to a tent was not attractive at all. Moreover, a heated indoor pool was awaiting us at the hotel, and so we swam for a while and then drove out to find some dinner. I did not have stomach for another round of fried cheese and hamburgers. According to the internet, Ely town features up to two Chinese restaurants -- so much for any exotics. The closer one, Twin Wok, turned out to be surprisingly good, with fresh food and pleasant, effective service.

I would like to make a dining detour here. As much we liked Nevada, they have horrible food. Here in (coastal) California, one has a great choice of ethnic cuisines; fish and vegetables are frequently served. Even a traditional breakfast with pancake or waffle is accompanied by fruit, not just maple syrup. After two days in Ely we had to visit the local grocery store. Kids got yogurt and I had never before savored simple miracles so much -- like raw carrots this time.

The exhibit was not a museum, but an engine repair workshop

Kids could check out the whole station

Day five - Erebor - visiting with dwarfs
Spoiled by Twin Wok, we drove out on the following morning to find an alternative breakfast place. Alas, Big Apple offered quite the same fare as our hotel did, only with more confused service. Still, a miserable breakfast is better than none at all -- soon we were checking out a historic railway station in Ely. We bought tickets for a sightseeing ride on four thirty in the afternoon, returned to the hotel to book another night, and went back to the station. A museum tour was to begin there at eleven o'clock. I was not sure what to expect, but I surely did not anticipate that they would simply bring us down to the engine workshop to an actual steamer taken apart and all other treasures they have there. We had found ourselves in a den where greasy enthusiasts devote their time to old machines. They have a forge and various tools and instruments to fix things, which used to be part of Nevada Northern Railroad Company.

Tom and Lisa lasted with the expert guide for little under an hour; then we quickly passed by all other engines parked there and we had to get out to the open and run. We left Sid behind in the clutches of the guide, and he had apparently enjoyed the complete tour. Then we ate from our portable food stash, splashed the kids in the hotel pool again, and time came for the afternoon ride. As both steam engines were currently being mended, a diesel engine pulled the train, which our guide Bob commented with a little disdain. It seems that a real locomotive requires much more care and work -- for he had explained earlier with fire in his eyes, how steam engines require even three hours of maintenance for every hour of service, or that a firing up a steam engine takes up to five hours, so that individual components can expand gradually at about same pace.

Lisa in the desert near Deeth

After a few miles, the desert landscape turned into prairie...

Day six - Rohan
Already partially paralyzed by the stay in the hotel, we bade Ely farewell and headed even more to the north, into Suchýš's beloved Jarbidge. Leaving interstate 80 near Deeth, we took a dirt road in general northerly direction (following a map of whole Nevada, therefore with mediocre resolution). We were not sure of ourselves for a few miles -- but then we spotted a guidepost announcing 45 miles to Charleston, which was supposed to be a gold mining ghost town on the way to Jarbidge.

After several more miles we became actually glad to be taking a chancy adventure with our bus (the dirt road to Jarbidge is 71 miles long). The landscape morphed from desert into a prairie interleave by ever more frequent greener hills, until we found ourselves in mountains with furiously green grass and real trees. We began checking the dells for prospective campsites and kept on expecting Jarbidge to pop out behind the next hill.

These are no deer, but antelopes.

Of course we found the town in the end, hiding in a narrow valley. Clouds began to gather over the mountains, but we hoped to manage to heat up soup for dinner at a campsite by a river. We were not fast enough; soup got thinned by a few drops of rain. We all squeezed into the back of our bus (kids) and under the open rear gate (adults). The rain would not let up, thunder rolled above the hills -- again it was chasing us away into the wider world. We retraced our tracks to the southern foothills. Weather was much less dramatic there and after thirty minutes of indecision what is worse, getting flooded in a tent or risking a night at another hated motel, we gathered courage and erected our tent. Kids were ecstatic, and the rest of us as well. Although a few showers passed through in the night, we stayed dry -- and finally slept hearing only cicadas chirping, and not air conditioners and generators at full blast.

A little curious bird entertained us in the morning. It jumped around our feet, perched on our tent, and seemed to be more fascinated than threatened by our presence. We consider small animals with no fear of man, a sign of a real wilderness -- a place where wildlife had no chance to learn dealing with humans and have no concept of possible danger. Earlier, on our way to this forgotten place, we took pictures of lightning fast antelopes, who, instead of running away, gaped at our bus.

... and prairie into green mountains.

Day seven - journey back
Family council had decreed there had been enough of travel and time had come to return home. I chased Sid from behind the wheel to enjoy some dirt-road driving, and we sped towards highway 225. Everything went smoothly until we reached a paved surface, although this route, in contrast to the souther one, crossed a much more boring desert. About eight miles on asphalt, a light came on indicating imbalance in tire pressure. Before we figured out what to do, the poor vehicle started buckling, and I quickly stopped on the shoulder. Our left rear wheel was empty.

No fear at all.

Among many a curse and disaster scenarios, Sid changed the wheel. American spare tires are usually smaller, one must not drive too fast with them, and we crawled fifty miles to the nearest civilization, Elko, for a whole hour. We just tried to ask for a local Costco (where we bought our tires and where they'd fix it for free) -- no luck, but we got directed to Les Schwab's. Sid arranged for a fix, we rolled the flat wheel to the shop, and when we were about to board the bus again and go find a lunch, a chap who parked next to us pointed out another flat on our rear axle. So we put the whole bus in the shop and sat down in a waiting area.

You would not connect Nevada with a forest much, would you?

Tom made friends with a two-year old Mexican boy, who's parents did not know a word in English. The boy was smitten by Tom's trains and cars, and his mother apparently happy that junior had a playmate. When Tom began to check out a candy vending machine, we would strictly order him away from it, but she went and bought him some... I felt like a bad mother, but we could not explain our motives; Tom devoured the candy and everybody ended happy.

Les Schwab really fixed both of our flats for free, even mounted the spare tire back at the bottom of the car (which is normally quite ugly work), and so time had come for a belated lunch. According to some nebulous instructions we found some suspect Chinese. We ran to the restaurant in a pouring rain and were glad for a roof over our heads. The service was nice, but food deeply below average. The more we longed for California. I drove three hundred miles to the border; interstate 80 cuts across some impossibly boring landscape, and I was quite done. We fondly remember another Nevada highway, 50, but we took it back in winter when it led among snow-covered mountains. Perhaps in summer it also turns into a hopeless gray-brown-khaki.

Our only camp site during the whole vacation

Leaving northeastern green tip of Nevada; a long journey home through a desert still ahead.

Stopping at a Thai restaurant in Truckee was a welcome interruption of our drive -- there no cooking like home cooking!!! We put our kids into their pajamas in the parking lot and continued on with the remaining two hundred fifty miles long way home. Sid drove, and even though it was a shorter distance than the one I did, it was the more unpleasant part. Pavement over Donner Pass is ruined by snow chains and beset with numerous work sites and detours; everybody drives like crazy. We had arrived shortly after midnight, devastated.

This has been so far the longest road trip we did with our children. In seven days we traveled two thousand and fifty miles (3300 km). We practically circled around the perimeter of Nevada, and looked under the lid of a land which only from a distance appears to be a boring desert. We met hobbits and dwarfs on our way through an alternative Middle Earth. Unlike during our winter trip to Utah, Lisa visibly bore signs of enjoying the trip; traveling is no longer mere distraction from our house regime. Tom was happy on account of all the trains, caves and hikes -- but we have known about his explorer's passion for a long time already.

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