Good Thing That Jerk Didn't Hit That Ewe!

The drive north from Tonopah was pretty, though desolate in many places.  Lots of ghost towns, dilapidated buildings, old mines.

After a while, we started seeing rows of mounds that looked like underground bunkers.  I thought we should turn down one of the little dirt roads and explore.  Bruce vehemently disagreed.

He thought this little barbed wire fence was supposed to be a deterrent!

As we got closer to what looked like an overground inhabited area, the highway was dedicated to veterans of various wars.  There was a new sign every mile or two.  This group recognized the Cold War.  Sorry that sign was blurry.

Turns out maybe it was a good thing Bruce was driving.  It turned out to be the Naval Sea Systems Command, Warfare Centers, Mines Logistics Branch, and we were just outside Hawthorne, Nevada, a little town I had never heard of, but that I might want to revisit later.

Hawthorne appears to have loads of personality.  It's obviously a military town with a veterans park where dog owners fear to leave gifts.

Those brown stones under and in front of the flag are engraved with various campaigns and the names of residents who lost their lives in that campaign.

The town was definitely military oriented, with an ordinance museum and various artistic installations of military and Old West equipment.

Not all of the installations were military or Old West themed, though.  But, if you're going to have a military base, you really need a pool hall.

On the other side of town is the beautiful Walker Lake.  The road is between the lake and some small mountains, and the road is marked with multiple signs to watch for wildlife.

It didn't take long before we came upon a herd of ewes.  Just as we were rounding a curve, one of them was crossing the road and jumping the guard rail toward the lake.  We stopped and took some pictures, giving them time for the rest of the herd to follow, but they didn't seem to be so interested.  So, we went down to the empty docks to see if we could see the ewe that had already crossed.

This little ewe was on the lake side of the road and looking back.

After a while, we decided they must be happy where they were, so we went back up to the road, turned around again, and came back through to look at them one more time.  Right at this time, the larger part of the herd decided it was time to cross.  So, we stopped to wait for them to cross.  While we were stopped and the ewes were almost finished crossing, some jerkwad driving an RV came up behind us.  He had plenty of time to slow down and stop, and he did actually slow down.  Then, he decided he didn't want to stop, hit his accelerator, and whipped around us, barely missing the last crossing ewe and scaring the crap out of all of us.  We caught up with the dipstick not far down the road, and I tried to get a picture of his tags and the driver's face.  I know there's nothing I could do about it, but maybe I could put him on Facebook blast and let everybody know what a dick he is.  We finally got a safe passing area, and I had my phone trying to get pictures.  It didn't work out.  I didn't get a single shot of his face, but he looked over and saw me shooting.  His eyes got as big as saucers, and he hit the brakes.  He apparently knew what I was planning and didn't want any part of it.  He slowed waaaaay down, and after making a few more curves, we never saw him again.

After stopping for lunch in Reno, it was my turn to drive.  That's why there are no pictures of the juvenile moose that crossed the road in front of us somewhere around the Modoc National Forest in rural Northern California.  Bruce was asleep, so he swears it never happened.

After spending the night in Klamath Falls, Oregon, we were back on the road, still on back roads, heading northwest.  Just a little before reaching I-5, there was a little covered bridge just off the road.  Knowing that I like covered bridges, Bruce pulled into the road, and we stopped to check out the Lowell Covered Bridge.  The bridge is no longer functional, but it is maintained as a destination, with plaques in the center describing how it was built.

It was a beautiful day, and people were enjoying themselves on the Dexter Reservoir.

But we were growing road weary and were looking forward to getting back to Puyallup.  I told Bruce that I thought I might want to stay still for a while and rest, unless, of course, a deal that can't be passed up falls in my lap.  Within just a couple of days, a steal of airfare to Australia dropped in my lap.  Hopefully, I'll be able to get into good enough shape to do everything I want in the Land Down Under!