6:00 A.M. Before I open my eyes I know the exact time within two minutes. I am awakened each morning at 0600 hours without fail by a furry, four-legged alarm clock who hasn’t erred two minutes the past ten years. I arise to his nibbling and meowing, dress and go downstairs to feed my furry companion. What a ritual. One I enjoy.
Once the coffee pot is on, I retrieve the paper from the driveway. Outside in the early morning coolness, my warm breath forms ice crystals in the clean refreshing mountain air. I immediately notice the rare phenomenon known as “pogonip”, a Shoshone Indian word meaning “ice fog”.
Pogonip is hard to explain if you’ve never seen it first hand or a picture depicting it. It’s rarely seen anywhere. During the twenty years we’ve lived in Reno, the pogonip phenomenon has happened five or six times, tops. It usually occurs in the late fall to early spring and only when temperature, humidity and atmospheric pressure conditions are perfect. To best describe the effect, every twig and branch, on every tree, seem encased in a layer of icy crystallized white powdered sugar. Meteorologists describe it as, “the ground being too warm for frost but the frost freezes on the trees”. To just say “beautiful” is an injustice. You are in awe of Mother Nature.
Seeing pogonip and looking westward to the Sierra Mountains, the fresh snow-covered ski runs of Slide Mountain, the face of “The Lady of Mt. Rose”, her protruding chin, lips, nose, eyes and long flowing hair covered with a blanket of fresh mountain snow, I had one thought…“ROAD TRIP”!
Meggin was out of town on business. Back inside, I turn off the coffee pot, turn on the aquarium light, feed the fish and go upstairs to shower and dress. Backing out of my garage onto the street, I think, ‘where’s the heat’? After driving a few short blocks, I reach the highway and drive south on US 395 towards Washoe Valley.
7:30 A.M. Just west of US 395, steam is spewing hundreds of feet into the air from the many geothermal springs in the area. The scenery is breathtaking, rolling hills with trees shrouded in pogonip, clouds hovering atop the Sierra Mountains in the distance like giant puffs of cotton candy floating in air. Reaching Washoe Valley, the terrain flattens out and this section of road is straight as a ruler. The highway seems to go on for ever.
The mountain pass in the distance leads to Carson City. It seems close enough to reach out and touch, but experience tells you it’s about ten miles away. I settle in to enjoy the drive and the view. The sun has started coming up over the lower mountains to the east. Sun rays glisten off the pogonip, forming eerie shadows along the tree line to the west. On my left, Washoe Lake seems alive with dancing elves as sun light bounces off the waves. My truck heater has warmed up nicely. I’m real comfy.
8:00 A.M. Coming off the mountain pass descending into Carson City (Nevada’s capital, for those of you who didn’t pay attention the day we studied state capitals in school) the sun rays hit me with such suddenness, I sneeze. Why is that? It never fails. First direct sun rays of the day---sneeze. It’s a steep decline into Carson City from the mountain, about 20 degrees. Gear down and tap the brake on occasion. The sun is now above the mountains in the east. Sun light hitting Carson City Airport’s east/west runways along the mountain backdrop remind you of long skinny icicles on a newly decorated Christmas tree. Seeing a small single plane take off, I wonder… “SKY TRIP”? A short way into Carson City, still on US 395, I turn east on US 50 (known as the loneliest highway in America) towards Dayton, NV. My destination for breakfast.
8:30 A.M. It’s a short 12 mile drive from Carson City to Dayton. One pass with barren mountains on both sides of the highway. Dayton, a small community and one of the oldest in Nevada, is also home to an Arnold Palmer-designed, eighteen hole championship golf course with private airport. Several upscale homes are built around the course and residents are able to taxi to, and hangar small aircraft on their own property. I’ve played the course several times and like the layout of the course but not the afternoon wind. Wind coming over the mountains is compressed by the canyons causing windier conditions than I enjoy playing. Golf is a game to enjoy, not to get aggravated with.
8:45 A.M. Destination. Mom’s Café. There’s nothing like breakfast. My favorite meal, especially after rising early and driving for an hour or so. Works up a great appetite. Everything just tastes better. Meggin will be upset when she learns of this “ROAD TRIP” without her. She loves Mom’s corn beef hash. I like everything. Especially…Bacon, Bacon. Bacon. About the only time Meggin doesn’t raise an eyebrow when I order bacon is on a “ROAD TRIP”. She has no idea how often I make a “ROAD TRIP” when she’s out of town. Hee! Hee! My only secret from her. Please don’t tell.
10:00 A.M. After an enjoyable meal and visiting with some of the locals, it’s time to get back on the road. I back track from Dayton to SR 341 north. Virginia City, NV, home of the Comstock Lode is my next destination. The largest silver strike ever found in the USA, or perhaps the world, was in this area. San Francisco was built through investments made from the ‘Comstock’. [Go to www.virginiacity-nv.com & click on history, for more information]. Winding through the mountain passes you witness remnants of past mining claims. Riches or sorrows? How many stories could be told? If only these hills could scream out and tell the torture they have endured.
Before reaching Virginia City I pass through Silver City (now I wonder how that name was derived). Silver City has two to three privately owned “bed & breakfast” homes catering to tourists.
Reaching Virginia City, you immediately think you’ve been warped back in time. If not for the black top of SR 341 you might swear you were living in the 1860s. Sun bleached, weathered buildings, board sidewalks, old signs, actually advertising products of the day (the 1860s, etc.). Full bearded, old prospector-looking men, and an occasional donkey, laden with supplies, are readily visible. Probably the most famous landmarks in town are the “Bucket of Blood Saloon” and the “Opera House”. Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens), who got his literary start in Virginia City, spent many an evening in both.
11:00 A.M. SR 341 north. Destination…home. This is one winding, scary route to travel; on a cold, wintry day, it’s even more challenging. Steep, snaking, up and down sections, and sharp drop-offs measuring hundreds of feet. Narrow shoulders, or no shoulders, and guard rails few and far between. ‘Just pay attention,’ I tell myself. There are several scenic turnouts along the route worth taking advantage of, not just for the scenic views, but to get your nerve and wits back together. (I have a neighbor that teaches high school in Virginia City and makes this drive everyday. Nuts I tell him…he’s nuts). However to put things in perspective…once, maybe twice a year, the drive and the view are worth every anxious moment.
Coming over the last crest you can see the “Truckee Meadows Valley” in its entirety. To the northwest is Rattlesnake Mountain thirty miles in the distance, framing the city of Reno. Breathtaking…fabulous, this view alone is worth the trip. Home is now in sight. The sun has risen higher in the southern sky and the heat from its rays are beginning to evaporate the moisture on the pavement, creating low floating clouds of steam, disappearing like carnival smoke with the rush of wind created by passing traffic. This section of SR 341 is known to locals as Geiger Grade and runs just along the south Reno subdivision where Meggin and I live.
11:30 A.M. Home. I hope you enjoyed the “ROAD TRIP’. I did….and I’m home in time for “Judge Judy”. What a life!
