The ride from Cedar City to Milford was nice and uneventful except I crossed paths with another cyclist. I never caught his name but, he came from San Francisco and was quick to give some advice on the rest of Utah and Nevada. The only advice I remembered was that it gets really hot so start riding early and that there are sprinklers in the park in Milford so sleep under the pavilion. I remembered my experience in Dolores so, it was easy for me to remember this bit.
The park was behind the high school in Milford. I had little trouble finding it and after setting up, I decided to think about food. I would need dinner, breakfast, and lunch tomorrow. I went to the grocery store and stocked up. Not too long after I returned from the store, fully prepared for a pleasant, quiet evening, a car pulls up to the pavilion. A Mexican family gets out and is carrying party favors with a theme from the Pixar movie Cars. Hmm, I wonder where this is going.
I sit and wait. A couple more cars pull up. More Mexicans. I now give in to the fact that there is going to be a birthday party in the pavilion tonight. The question now is how long it will last. I am planning on a very early start, as the cyclist I met earlier advised. I decide to go for a walk and make some phone calls.
I come back, and now there at least 20 cars parked outside the pavilion and at least 50 Mexicans under it. This park was full of Mexicans. They were all speaking Spanish and I couldn't understand anything. It was not going to be the kind of night I had been hoping for. It was impossible for me to get frustrated because there were all these cute kids running around stepping in puddles and eating popsicles. Eventually, one of the men from the party came up to me and asked me if I wanted some tacos. Ten seconds later I was sitting down in the middle of the whole party with a plate full of tacos repeatedly saying, "Gracias."
They were interested in my bike ride but, one gentleman was particularly interested in me. His name was Juan Guerrero. I just had to ask a couple questions and I received a lot of information. All of the Mexicans were part of the same family and they all came from Chihuahua, Mexico. In Utah, they work on a pig breeding farm. I asked Juan what he thought of America and he said he liked it, however his 4 year old son was back in Mexico with his ex-wife. Also, the relationship with his ex-wife is not good.
Back in Mexico, Juan first studied to be an electrician to work on the phone lines. There is only one phone company in Mexico and according to Juan, they pay their electricians very well. It is typically very difficult to get a job with the phone company but, Juan's father worked for them. While studying, Juan could tell it was not what he wanted to do. Despite the fact that he would be paid very well and that he would be able to live and work in Mexico, he was not happy. His father was also not happy that he did not want to follow in his footsteps. He went back to school to study animal science. Now, Juan says he loves his job at the pig farm. He certainly was a very happy and friendly guy.
The conversation with Juan ended around 10 and the fiesta around 10:30. I didn't get to sleep until around 11 or 11:30. I didn't sleep too soundly and so I didn't start riding until 6:45. Despite this, I made it to Baker with no problems. It was a beautiful ride. Once again, the geography is drastically changing.
Not the first sign you want to see on your bike ride.
There were 3 mountain passes from Milford to Baker. As I would come over one, I could see the next one 20 miles away. I could also see the road to the next range.
State 8 of 9
After about 50 miles I stopped to eat my lunch. As I was munching, a pick-up pulled up behind with a younger guy in the front seat and an older guy driving. They asked if everything was alright. The guy in the front seat was from Boston and is riding his bike from San Francisco. The old guy was some guy he met in Milford. The man offered to let him stay at his place. They were on their way to Baker to get a tour of Lehman caves in Great Basin National Park.
Once I arrived in Baker, I pulled up to Silver Jack's Motel. I heard if you buy dinner there they let you camp out back for free. As I was sitting inside, Matt and his tour guide from Milford strolled in. I spoke with Matt for a while and even gave him all my maps from Cedar City, Utah to Missouri. He is a 5th grade school teacher back in Boston and unfortunately only has 30 days to ride his bike. He doesn't plan ride all the way back to Boston in that time. I told him to take his time.
Now that I'm in Nevada I am on Pacific Standard Time. Tomorrow will only be 63 miles to Ely. I am also considering riding up to see Lehman caves. Matt recommended it. However, I made a couple friends in Baker. One is Jim and his son TJ, from Durango, Colorado. He is a pilot for NetJets based in Columbus, Ohio. Jim has spent some time working in Ohio and even met his wife there. He certainly had no qualms about sharing his disdain for Ohio. Especially in comparison to Colorado. He mainly talked about Ohioan's narcissism. In other words, they are too focused on their image to enjoy themselves. I remember him saying that in Colorado, when people as you what do you do, they don't care what job you have, they want to know what you do, such as mountain or road biking, rafting, hiking, and so forth.
I could not argue against the fact that some Ohioans are like this. But, you have narcissistic people all over the place. Even in Colorado! Colorado's culture is different, but I think it is because of the geography of the state. Naturally, mountain biking isn't as popular in Ohio as it is in Colorado seeing as their are no mountains! The same holds true for white water rafting, skiing, and other such adventurous activities. Nevertheless, I am very proud of the fact I am from Ohio.
Speaking of the active culture of Colorado, remember my story about meeting two guys on separate occasions who had each run the Pike's Peak marathon multiple times? Well, as I was setting up my tent behind Silver Jack's, I met another Coloradoan named John. We got to talking and I told him this story about how one guy ran it 3 times and then the other ran it four times. He then casually mentioned he had run the marathon 7 times. Amazing.
life=good
life=good
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