Day 16: Battle Mountain, NV - Green River, WY

I allowed myself a half hour lie-in this morning, which somehow expanded to an hour and a quarter.  Add to this the time expended in saying goodbye to anyone who had managed to drag themselves out of bed and it was almost eight by the time I got away.  I-80 eastbound.  However, thanks to the Stroopwafel Fairies¹ I had an on-the-go breakfast approaching West Wendover.  West Wendover is in Nevada and is consequently stuffed to the gills with hotels, casinos, bars and other places whose business plan can be summed up thus: "Separate tourists from their money, thereby enhancing shareholder value."  Wendover is in Utah, where such things are frowned upon, or at least made impossible to build.

It was chilly until I reached the Bonneville Salt Flats, at which point the top came down.  This didn't help me to stay awake, though, and I was seriously contemplating stopping for a kip by the time I reached Salt Lake City.  And it rained at the top of Echo Canyon chiz, and threatened to continue to do so for the rest of the day.  I decided to pack at Green River rather than heading on to Rock Springs or even Rawlins.  The rest of the day went like this:

• Babbage-Engine Stuffs
• More rain
• Food
• More Babbage-Engine Stuffs

Those Readers who were in Battle Mountain, watching me tottering about on a crocked left ankle, will be pleased to know that it's much better today.  No, it's my knees and back that are giving me grief at the moment.  As well as the enlarged feet.  Bah!

Feet.  Green River.  Sunday

Depending on the timing of tomorrow's start I may go and have a shufti at Expedition Island, whence John Wesley Harding Powell (remember him, kids?) departed on his descent of the Colorado.  There may even be Bridges in the vicinity.

1. Messrs van Dijken and van Schaik were doling out packets of Stroopwafels to those held to be of Good Standing in the Community.  Thanks, gents!