September 13,2020
Another epic entrance into the state of Nevada. I made tracks for Great Basin National Park. America’s toughest National Park. It’s between nowhere and nothing which makes it one of the last important places left in America. You don’t go to Great Basin because you happen to be in the neighborhood. You go there with the intention of going there. It has been my favorite place in Nevada since I discovered it 6 years ago. And in all honesty I readily admit there’s not much to it. That's the point. Repeated visits reinforce this idea. As with most motorcycle travel it’s the journey not the destination. But perhaps its this lack of being a destination, the utter uselessness of it all that makes it so worthy of admiration. I treasure it for it’s lack of sparkle and design. It’s certainly the most rugged part of the most roughshod state in the union. Although I’d say Las Vegas is perhaps just as unforgiving an environment, if there wasn’t a city there. Some would say the city makes it more intolerable. No matter, Great Basin has proven worthy of the blisters and scrapes. I begrudgingly admit the same of Las Vegas.
It’s a bowl shaped mountain filled with trees, evergreen and deciduous, it even hosts a small stream which is out of character for the Nevada I know. This makes it an oasis in no man’s land but it doesn’t make it any more magnanimous for having trees and water.
On this visit I tried to check out the ill-advised canal that miners attempted to carve on the west side of the mountain. Somehow despite there being signs designating a trail I couldn’t find it own the short hike I took. It left me out of breath and on the verge of throwing up so I got back on my bike and got the fuck out of there.
Ate terrible chili and a salad at Great Basin visitors center. I find that place adorable. However, an annoying older lady employed at the visitor center bothered me with questions about Oregon, specifically Portland. Throughout this trip when asked where I was from I always answered with Oregon instead of Portland. When pressed I would reveal Portland as my home. Sick of talking about the city I hit the road to be away from the specter of what Portland has come to represent in this time. It's human nature for people to be curious, and forthcoming with their own bullshit opinions. I didn’t want to discuss it to have the same contrived conversation ad infiitum. Reminded me of the trip I took to South East Asia shortly after 9/11. Friends tried to convince me I should pose as a Canadaian to avoid trouble. I didn’t give a shit and claimed American citizenship in defiance. Funny thing is people responded with enthusiasm and empathy, telling me how much they liked America. I’d probably claim Canada. This was back when I was willing and happy to share my feelings and engage. A lot has changed with the world. How thoroughly have things changed with me? Anyway, it’s people like this ignorant bitch who make me want to keep to myself.
She pestered me a few times, while I was eating the rank ass chili. I was courteous but did what I could to show I wasn’t in the mood. Finally she asked what I thought of the Oregon governor’s response to recent affairs, I snapped and said “I don’t care about the governor, that’s why I’m here!” Although it stopped the questions my annoyance didn’t faze her and she continued to smile her dopey automaton life. Moments after I blew up a fellow customer chuckled as he got up to leave with his wife in tow. Her ignorance and bullshit attitude made me wish I had stolen some of the stickers I bought from the place along with the flashlight I picked up in preparation for future camping. But it’s not her place of business, and I only want to support Great Basin in all it’s neutral glory. In any event I financially supported the hell out of Great Basin. As I made my way to the door she seemed to indicate the visitors center was a private enterprise, which came as a surprise. The next day I shit my guts out because of the chili. Once again the private sector gets the last word.
Saw my favorite trees the Bristlecone. Ancient. Patient. Willing to take shit secure in the knowledge our attention is the annoyance of a fly, soon to drop dead. 
Came down from the mountain and had issues getting gas at the sole gas station near GB. Paniced breifly when the motherfucker wouldn’t take my credit cards. Jesus Christ don't strand me out here. After I finally figured it out I turned left at the next major intersection and headed to Ely.
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