ADVENTURE 24: Talk the Walk (Great Basin NP)

Wednesday, 7 September 2022, Ely NV

Not that we purposely lingered this morning ("Shall we leisurely eat our Everyday Grand Slam?"), but it seemingly took us forever to get moving. A bit of organizing would help us down the road, so take a few minutes. Do I need my hat? Certainly. My jacket? Nah, it's gonna be hot. And my walking stick didn't enter my consciousness, buried at the bottom of the suitcase.

We'd used an entire tank of gas getting here, so the gas station called out to us. While Bill filled, I noticed the tire under-inflation light had lit. An attendant pointed me to the air pump on the truckers side of the station, so I pulled the car in back of the nearest 18-wheeler and waited for him to finish fueling.

Our next destination: Ridley's, the closest approximation to Walmart in these parts. I picked up a sheet of construction paper and a magic marker for the one prop I needed today. The time had passed 9:00 before we got on the road, heading to Great Basin an hour-plus away.

I love the phrase, "He can talk the talk, but can he walk the walk?" Today, I would turn that on its head: I would 'Talk the Walk' - giving a 'campground chat' to whoever showed up, talking about the 60-Ways challenge. Following my half-hearted attempt at Lassen Volcanic, I got in touch with the proper ranger here, who arranged a permit for me to 'exercise my first amendment rights'.

I met Ranger Robb at the Visitor Center, and he handed me my permit. Unfortunately, I had apparently forgotten to send him a flyer to tout my talk - and with no such advertisement, how would anyone know to show up? "Oh, but I have a copy of the flyer on my laptop. If you have wI-fII could hook up to, I can email it to you."

Robb apologized, "Nope, no Wi-Fi here."

"Oh. Well, if you have a thumb drive, I can copy it for you."

"That won't work. I'm not allowed to load ANYTHING onto the computer here."

That gave me pause. Then I remembered: "I've got a paper copy of the flyer in my bag in the car. Can you copy it?" That worked! He filled in the date and time on two copies, posted one at the Visitor Center, and gave me one to post at the campground. All set for 5:00!

Since the morning had already flown by, we stopped next door at the café for lunch. By the time we finally got to out trailhead, it was pushing 2:00. To escape the heat as much as possible, we chose the high-elevation hike starting at 10,000'. The trail ran to the top of Wheeler Peak, Nevada's second tallest mountain at 13,300', but we didn't have the time (or energy) to attempt that. Instead, we would branch off at the Alpine Lakes loop.

The trail served as a great antidote to the bustle of the morning.

It started out running through an aspen grove, then crossed a few meadows, offering views of Wheeler Peak.

We chatted with many of the people coming down, who all asked if we aimed to hit the top. The first hiker must've nearly ran the trail, finishing in 3½ hours. "Clouds are coming in now, though. Glad I'm about done."

The next couple coming by hadn't quite made it. "I got to feeling light-headed," she said, "but rested for a few minutes then made it further. But when it got to the point that I could only go about ten feet before needing another rest, I knew it was time to give in. And we were close enough to see the people on the peak!"

The next couple had an accent I couldn't place, so I asked. "We're Czech Republicans!" they proudly announced.

I made it a point to engage everyone we met in conversation, forcing myself out of my shell. "If you're still around at 5:00, please stop by the campground amphitheater. I'm giving a talk on National Parks." Many of them expressed interest.

By the time we reached the trail junction, ominous sounds of thunder echoed around the basin.

We pressed on the short distance to Stella lake, where I managed to take one picture before I felt the raindrops. [Need my jacket? Nah.]

Choosing to not press my luck I started down instead. (Luckily it was only a light sprinkle.) One solo hiker wondered whether I might press on to Teresa Lake with him - his partner had forgotten her inhaler, so he was hiking by himself. I turned down the offer.

We set an easy pace on the way down, enjoying the mountain air, talking with the hikers passing us. One woman stopped us, asking, "You haven't seen anyone up there having difficulties, have you? Dying by the side of the trail or anything?"

"Ahh, you must be the person who forgot her inhaler, right?" I replied. She nodded. "Your husband is fine. When I left him, he was considering whether to continue on to Lake Teresa." We chatted for a bit, long enough for her partner to amble down the trail. We kept up the conversation, following them down the mountain, not noticing that we missed our turnoff.

Soon we realized that we hadn't crossed this bridge on the way up, hadn't seen this stream. "Don't worry about it," Ms. Inhaler said. "We'll be happy to drive you back to your car. It's on our way."

Afterwards, we tried one more unmemorable trail, then headed to the campground to prep for my talk, and calm my nerves. Seven years have passed since I last gave a speech - would this one engage the audience? Especially with no photos to 'wow' them with. (Rules for my permit: no displays, no projectors, no amplified sound.)

By 5:00, I had an audience of four: two couples traveling together from Seattle. Shortly after I started, another couple (from Texas) wandered up. They all seemed engaged, laughed at my jokes, asked questions, answered the trivia questions I presented. For 30 minutes, I kept them occupied.

Afterwards, the Seattle couples wandered off, but Barbara and George stayed for another half an hour, curious about my Litterwalk. I now have their address, and will send a book their way when I get home. Thanks!

A nice way to end the day. I do feel bad for Bill, though, who has congestion and a bad cough, waking up hacking several times in the night. And us traveling through towns too small for even a pharmacy.