Elko to Reno
I like breakfast. Sometimes I like it so much that I break my fast twice. This is also known as first and second breakfast. But when traveling, adjustments need to be made. Due to our schedule, I often had one and only one breakfast. But today, I was very excited because I have literally nothing to do except to have breakfast and then safely journey to our next destination. I promised myself that I would have one, big breakfast.
Doing a bit of research, I read the accolades for a restaurant in Elko. It is an old school place with a cut out of a white coffee cup and steamy black coffee in it. The cursive signage in the front announces “Coffee Mug”. The building has big, front windows where you can sit in a booth and look outside. When we arrive, the place is packed with diners. And luckily enough, there is an empty booth in the front. Scanning the menu, one item pops up and sings its siren song – Huevos Diablos. When it arrives, it meets all expectations. The corn tortillas are slightly crispy and topped with refried pinto beans, a rich pork chile verde is ladled on top (with happy spillage), two over medium eggs and melted cheese covering the tasty mess. Hash browns on the side completes it all. No second breakfast is needed. I finish it all. A few minutes later, we are in the car, Francesca is driving and I take a few bites of a blueberry cream cheese pastry. Francesca is at first mildly horrified, resigned and then perhaps, stunned to silence. I stop eating and realize maybe I did have second breakfast after all.
We take the 80W through Nevada and pass the California Interpretive Trail Center. We are in Nevada but somehow a California center has sneaked it’s way past the interstate border and entrenched itself here. Miles of scrub land later, sandstone formations present themselves with niches of black empty space. The surrounding hills look as if they are comprised of a base of sandstone and after years of erosion, brush has taken hold. Passing the Nevada National Guard there are miles of sameness – flat lands and scrub. The sun is hidden behind billowy clouds and then on the straight road ahead, there is a mirage reflection on the road. Mirror-like, the road looks like the sky and billows like the clouds above.
Our novel view doesn’t last long and there are more miles of sameness and then in the corner of my eye, I see swirls of dust – dust devils. As we drive by these dust devils, they look like slow-motion tornadoes twisting in a small defined space – loose and turbid with dirt and air. In the distance is a wall of dust leaping from the ground. It reminds me of the geysers on the east side of Yellowstone. Dirt now, water then, both slipping out of the ground and as high up as heaven will allow. Both travelers seeking something more from itself. Wanting to grow and escape the confines of gravity. But thankfully, they don’t. They are rooted to the ground just like us.
Traveling alongside the Truckee river, there are multiple industrial complexes. One has large electric towers and wire fencing along with multiple office buildings and a half dozen railroad cars. At another, are multiple semi trucks. There is work on these lands and oddly, the companies don’t announce itself - there are no noticeable signs. Somehow that’s a thing here – mysterious work places with no banners or noticeable markers. These complexes like the ongoing brush, cling to the landscape - anonymous and ever present.
We arrive in the outskirts of Reno. A light sprinkle greets us. The town is crowded with casino-goers and revelers. And then there’s the two of us – celebrating the last night of our journey with a few raw carrots and pretzels. Finger food for weary travelers.