In Middlegate, Nevada, a camera functions much like a comb—you’re never quite sure what you’ll find until you’ve drawn it over the surface a time or two.
Escaping the Reno metro area (and earning Bonus Miles for taking an alternate route*), Ulrich and I motored east on Lonely Highway 50. Middlegate was to be our base while we visited the Navy’s electronic bombing range in nearby Dixie Valley.
A rainstorm had preceded us; dirt roads in its wake would be impassable for…days. We had two.
But the porous soil drinks rain almost as fast as it falls, and so we kept our date with surplus targets in Dixie on our second day there.
Better yet, we met Martin, from Switzerland, who was walking across America. We stayed a night in the Rawhide House (and got the door mostly closed). Ate some good food (Martin commented that, in America, “everyone can cook.”)
Listened to Paul Smith sing the blues. Felt unhurried, and Welcome.
Places like this used to be called oases. This one still is.
*When asking for directions, remember: the person(s) you query may have moved there five days prior to your arrival. But they won’t tell you that. And do yourself a favor: don’t use an outdated map.
However it’s framed, life on the grasslands of southern Saskatchewan has never been easy.
After the sunset on the prairie, there are only the stars. —Carl Sandburg
While the boss was in the mercantile, these good buddies partnered up for a deserved break on a long summer day.