Reno sits in a desert valley, surrounded by light brown hills. We start the day by looking for gas and breakfast. I suggest Bob Evans, Cracker Barrel or McDonald's, as I know what I can eat there. Steve checks Urban Spoon and google and laughingly tells me the nearest Bob Evans is in Missouri and there are no Cracker Barrels in Nevada. But Urban Spoon (iPhone app) leads us to a local restaurant named Jacks which serves up a decent breakfast.
We stop for gas before hitting I-80 east again and encounter something we've never seen before - a cash or ATM only gas station. So we fill up. We could probably make it to our next stop without filling up, but we know it is sometimes 150 miles or more between gas stations.
We pass from one desert valley to the next. But unlike Indiana valleys, the valley floor is flat and goes for miles. They look much the same at first glance, but each seems to have it's own character.
One valley looks like it might have salt flats, like they used to land the space shuttle on when it couldn't land in Florida. Lots of flat white areas. Near the shoulder area of the road, people have used dark rocks to spell out messages - their name or initials or Deb heart Steve.
Another valley has small patches of dark rock that seem to be almost uniform in size. Fist sized dark brown rocks creating a scarred look.
And for most of the day we follow the railroad and, it turns out, the California Trail that the wagon trains used. There are historical markers at the rest stops and an interpretive center that we didn't stop at. Here's a sign you won't see at a Midwest rest stop:
This is open range country and the rest stops and freeway entrances have cattle gates to keep out the cows. We only see a few cows scattered throughout, except for a herd of about 20 who were huddled together in the shade of a billboard. It's only in the 80's today, but there are few trees. If you see a row of green across the valley, it's probably a stream with trees and other vegetation along it's banks.
We keep seeing small clouds of dust near the ground and assume they are cars on a dirt road or a farmer in the field. But at least some of them are small dust storms. We see one ahead and I try for a picture:
It's hard to see, but in the middle of the picture is a cloud rising from the road. That's really a small dust storm - wind kicking up the dust. I'm sure there is a more technical name for it.
I'm writing this on Friday morning and Steve is anxious to get going. He wanted to be at the museum at 9 am and we're going to be a bit late. So I'll log off for now and tell you about Thursday's dinner later.
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