Runamucca

I am writing this post from the far reaches of Winnemucca, Nevada, where I am visiting a friend and Tweepers, his cat. Winnemucca is as far into real cowboy country as you can get. You see cowboys on the street, and they aren't dressing for the Rawhide! This weekend there is a Harley rally in town, which means there are a lot of bikers, so we stopped in at the Mineshaft Bar -- "where T&A is A OK"! They had cherry shots that tasted of lighter fluid, strippers, and a door that never locks.

Yesterday, we drove on dirt tracks to Waso: an old way-station for the railroad. It had several little tiny buildings, most of which were deserted. One of them was a tiny two-story building just big enough for a railroad worker. It was such a nice design, and very functional. It made me bemoan our culture's desire for big houses. This one would have suited me fine, if I had a shed for all of my stuff.

I haven't even written about the landscape out here. People think of Nevada as a big wasteland with Las Vegas in the middle, but out in Eastern Nevada I've seen some of the most beautiful landscape I've ever experienced -- miles of scrubby sagebrush with big rolling red mountains in the background. If you are exploring around here, seek out Paradise, a town I am hoping we'll head out to today. It is lovely: remote and arid. The climate is rough, but it is worth checking out.

Last, but not least, if you are hungry you can get a really good Basque meal at the Martin Hotel. And on some nights they have live music. If I survive one more night of bikers, bars, and booze, I'll be back in San Francisco by tomorrow night. That is, if I don't ride off into the sunset on the back of a Harley.

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