|
June 29: Toulon and Donner Pass On the last day of my visit we visited a grab-bag of unlikely places, foremost of which was Toulon, Nevada. We were only interested in it for its name, which it shares with the (real) location of the prison in which the (fictitious) Jean Valjean, of Les Misérables fame, spent his hard time. Arlene had noticed it on a map, and for the name alone, a excursion was necessary. Another morning with the Nazi Channel, another pit stop at a gas station (this time, actually a truck stop), and a seventy-mile drive into the northern desert of Nevada brought us to lovely Toulon. Along the way, we passed more empty space that perhaps even the hardiest developer can contemplate, shimmering salt basins, scrubby sagebrush, and a lot of rocks arranged to spell out people's names. Apparently, spelling your last name in roadside rocks is the highway activity of choice on I-80. When the Toulon exit sign finally appeared, we stopped for a picture and took the exit ramp, turned left at the next Toulon sign...and determined that the large, dilapidated patchwork barn and thirty or so ramshackle trailers parked in a forlorn clump were Toulon. It was such a tumble-down mess that we didn't approach any closer, but headed north on the frontage road until, fifteen miles later, we hit Lovelock, an Armpit of the West, the caliber of Bakersfield at least. We were partly interested in a drink and food, and also interested to see if the cluster of buildings was indeed Toulon, or if there was something else farther up the road. (We will never walk the streets of Toulon, and having seen it at a distance, that's in all liklihood a good thing.) In Lovelock we found a Taco Hell and therefore, lunch. We also drove past an eerie sight: a Pizza Factory. The reason the Pizza Factory restaurant was so weird was that there used to be one in Naples, right at Exit 16, with the exact same sign with the exact same graphic of the moustachioed guy flipping a pizza with the exact same logo: "We toss 'em, they're awesome" in the exact same font. How a Pizza Factory, which for all I knew was a privately owned singly occurring restaurant in Naples, gets to Lovelock, Nevada, one hundred miles from civilization (as defined as towns with casinos in them) is a mystery at least as deep as the bizarre light show residents of Roswell were treated to in 1947. Someone in the goverment is hiding something. The men in the black helicopters will be arriving any day now. So, after that goofy side-trip we headed back to Reno, stopping for a brief walk-through of Victorian Square in Sparks. It was a brief walk because Victorian Square is likewise brief. Arlene had been wondering about it but had never gotten around to visiting, and turned out that aside from an old steam engine with a caboose and sleeping/dining car attached, she wasn't missing much. It was a small square of old-looking buildings selling knick-knacks and a Mexican restaurant. But we got to stretch our legs after a very long, hot desert drive. To cap off the day's driving we stayed on I-80 and went 180 degrees in the opposite direction, west up to Donner Pass, site of famous pioneer cannibalism. However, the point is the scenery. As one of the highest passes in the area, it commands a fine view. The interstate follows the Truckee River (the only river that flows out of Lake Tahoe) and a railroad track follows the river, clinging to the side of the mountain on wooden tressels. We stopped first at the California state line fruit inspection outpost, where uniformed state employees care desperately about your plums and grapes, and then again at a scenic overlook, and yet again at a rest station at the top of the pass. From it, we could see mountains still clinging to their snow caps and a small lake that would have seemed remarkably clear but for the precedent of Lake Tahoe and that did seem as warm as a sauna thanks to the precedent of Lake Tahoe. We turned around at the next exit, and stopped once more at the east-bound scenic overlook for more pictures. The rest of the afternoon was killed off with a walk downtown to sample the blues festival that the city was sponsoring. The rodeo was in town, along with fair rides and probably plenty of strange people to see (and bulls!), but that would have taken more effort. As it was, the main street was blocked off from traffic, and jammed with pedestrians, all sampling...beer. A few bands were set up at opposite ends of the thoroughfare, but it was more micro-brewery oriented than the previous year, and the balance of the tents and stands were doling out suds in little plastic mugs. We walked around a bit, saw the end of the World Cup third place game at a sports bar, I took the picture of the bridge and the Truckee River that's on the first pictures page, and we went back to the (cooler) house. That evening, after the sun had set and things had cooled off, we went in for a final indulgement in mini golf at the super-long 28-hole course at Reno's Magic Carpet franchise. I finally broke through and won the first half and tied the second, and recovered my mini golf ego. Not to mention I made a hole in one at the revolving hole green. And foiled the mechanical bear's attempt to nudge my ball away from the hole. By the time we were done, it was after ten, and we spent a good while finding a restaurant for our late dinner. This was how I was introduced to the west's (well, mainly California's) version of Denny's (which they still have anyway), Carrow's. Weird name, and their menu suggested that the restaurant brings to mind hills "flecked with red-roofed houses" or somesuch, but they had good quesidillas. And you can never have enough good Mexican food. And that was it. The next morning I went to the casino, enjoyed my typical pre-flight anxiety, and took the shuttle to the airport. Though there was no monk to bless the plane, they did show part of the Grand Canyon Brady Bunch episode (we landed before it could end, though, darnit), and the flight was smooth and dull, the best kind of flight there is. Unless said flight is part of an "airport" movie, in which case, that's one boring movie....
Nothing On the way to Toulon. That's the West Humbolt Range in the distance. Note the salt basin (white ground) in the distance.
More Nothing and a Truck We were also passed by several hay trucks and, reassuringly, a flammable gas tanker truck.
Exit 93 We've found Toulon. It's that dark smear in the background. The sign is more prepossessing.
Closer Here we are coming around the back of the side of Toulon. Note that Derby Field (the "airport" advertised on the previous sign) is also to the left.
Toulon No. 1 This is the big, giant barn portion of Toulon.
Toulon No. 2 The trailer part of Toulon, just to the right of the big, giant barn part.
Donner Pond (Not Its Real Name) The little pond at the top of Donner Pass at the rest station. We were there on the day that, according to the plaque inside the building, Eisenhower created the nation's interstate system, or something like that.
Donner Lake Seen here from the final scenic overlook. Note the train track running against the side of the mountain.
Some Mountain or Other Also from the overlook. It was supposed to show the snow on it, but it didn't really come out that way.
Some More Donner Pass Stuff This is supposed to show you that the sky is very blue. And that there were rocks and trees at Donner Pass. Yeah, that's it.
The Airplane Wing Well, I got most of it out of the shot. The city you can just see part of on the left hand side is Carson City, according to the little flight-path graphic Continental was showing us.
Not Carson City Until the sky clouded up and turned flat and gray—possibly an effect of the huge fires that were burning in Arizona at the time—this was just about all there was to see from the plane. It made me glad I was flying over, not driving through, Nevada.
Addy... was awful glad to see me when I got home. Mainly he wanted a a good belly scratch.
|
