Day 2: Modesto CA - Battle Mountain NV

 Modesto this morning was only very warm rather than disgustingly hot.  And there were sossidges and eggses for brekko.  Hurrah!  First port of call after getting everything squirreled away, forced protesting into The Luggage and generally not forgotten was the branch of Home Depot - a big-box DIY emporium - to shell out the not-very-magnificent sum of $2.48 on a two-pin plug.  This has now replaced the UK-stylee one on the 4-gang that travelled with me so it can plug straight into the extension lead instead of have to use one of those poxy adaptors.  It seems I got the wiring right too, because it's currently powering the laptop on which I am typing this nonse.

Then to Angel's Camp wherein might be found, or so the Intertubes had it, a Little Library.  There to offload the other one of Will's Travelling Books, which was supposed to have moved to Tucson in 2019 but didn't, because Reasons.  Anyway, said location was right where it was supposed to be and thus:

Travelling book in new home

Sitting on the fence opposite was this rather splendid Wol:

Wol! Wol!

Those au fait with the geography of Western USAnia will know that the Sierras Nevada stand between California and, er, Nevada and are pretty big as mountains go.  The loftiest peak in the Lower 48 is one.  Of them.  And not a Rocky as you  might expect.  And there are limited routes across the things.  One I hadn't used before was California Highway 4 over Ebbetts Pass, so that is where I went  John Ebbetts was a Victorian-era fur trader and chump, as he claimed that the route that now bears his name would be suitable for a railway.  Which it is not.  It's not suitable for lorries, who stay away from it, and enormous 5th wheel campers, which don't.  Somewhere along its length is the small but perfectly formed Lake Alpine (actually a reservoir) which looks like this:

And occasionally has dogs floating in it if, like this one:

they fall out of their owner's canoe and categorically refuse to get back in.  CA-4 would be dead photogenic if there was anywhere sane to stop, but there isn't, or else there is but there's a tree in the way.  And its pleasing three-dimensionality is spoiled by the discovery that, unlike many previous 'stangs, the Blackstang lacks the paddle-shifters for playing tunes on the gearbox when it's in Sport mode chiz.

Once you get over them thar hills the best way to get to Battle Mountain would be to continue east to Austin and then turn left.  Alas, no-one has seen fit to build a road connecting this area with US-50, so whichever way you go requires a long detour.  Long enough that, when I stopped to add more motor-spirit to the Blackstang, I decided not to go that way but rather head north to Fernley and do the rest of the trip on I-80.  A hundred miles shorter, higher speed limits and no need for a second petril stop.  Hence I arrived in Battle Mountain around 17:30.  Got vaguely unloaded, then wandered over to the Civic Center to hang withe the early arrivals for a bit.  Most notably Team Policumbent.  With four riders and three vehicles arriving early was probably wise.  Outside the Civic Centre are a Several of metal sculptures with a sort of Western theme, including this rather splendid Horsey:

Except...

Oh...

Thence to the Aguila Real for Mexican with the Ligtvoets and van Vugts.  The former are driving a 7-series Beemer the size of a supertanker.  Arnold doesn't like it much, though.  Return to the Super 8 and its New! IMPROVED!!1! Internets which, given the lack of vast numbers of Penniless Student Oaves using the Social Media du jour, might actually be fast enough to afford this Unit a half-decent night's sleep while I'm here.