Reno Air Races

Rush Valley is remote and beautiful in a dry and desolate kinda fashion. Probably tough for the old pioneers to scratch out a living here. Just beyond the low saddle at the left of this photo lies Dugway Proving Grounds, the new and improved Area 51, or so the they say.





This route also takes me past another place I spent a lot of time at – Deseret Chemical Depot (I knew it as South Area). For those of you who have always wondered what the area that stored the free world's largest stockpile of chemical weapons looks like, well wonder no more – here it is.



The physical storage igloos are actually off the right side of this photo but this view better shows another interesting feature of this valley. The old Pony Express trail runs left and right directly in the center of this photo, and the irony of it all is not lost on me. In 1860 this area was used to help further communication between folks - make things better. Fast forward 100+ years and this same area was used to store some of the most insidious weapons of war ever created – to potentially be used against folks we weren't communicating too well with I guess. Oh, the madness. I spent a good deal of time here in close proximity to Sarin (GB) munitions and once I left this place I really thought I wouldn't hear about the stuff again. But it seems to pop up in the news a lot these days, most unfortunately. Be a critical thinker when it comes to discerning the facts around news reports of it's use.


I have one last old haunt to check out while I am in the neighborhood. Ophir Canyon Road is easy to smoke by if you ever find yourself on this remote portion of Utah Highway 73, but is well worth the 3 or 4 mile drive up it to the old mining community of Ophir. The canyon trends right on this photo. For you studs travelling through here with off road capabilities and a little time to spare, there are (or at least used to be) a lot of old mine works and buildings at the location of the red dot on the photo. The trail starts near Stockton, which lies at the left side of this photo. Inmate, ringokelly, has some great photos of the trails in these mountains if you would like to see more.

Ophir was probably a going concern back in the day, but is now home to just a handful of residents, it has a cool vib and shows off some nice old mine works.

As I am ready to leave something catches my eye and I notice this:






An American flag in the rugged-est spot I have ever seen. Good on you patriotic people of Ophir. I am proud to see that and very glad I was not the one who drew short straw and had to go plant that thing. Respect.

Well now it's time to make tracks and I spur the old girl on. We make our way through Lehi, pass the NSA Utah Data Center (good resting place for Halley's Comet if you ask me), and then on into SLC for a most welcome visit and dinner with my favorite cousin.

Hey Wobbly One.... this is really good stuff.

Great photos and very interesting background information and history.

I've done a few reports and know the time and effort involved, so thank you for your time and effort.

Those roads look a bit boring to me....tediously long and straight (more suited to big lazy V8 car I reckon) but the places and things they are taking you to seem worth the boredom.

Keep the good stuff coming, mate.

Very kind words Tarka - thank you. Last instalment below.

Day 8. Cold, rainy, and gloomy. My original plan was to head to Green River, Wyoming and then bear north across the state on remote two-lanes, but after seeing the weather forecast, and with the Highway 50 shivering episode still fresh in my mind, I choose a safer route with better odds. So I decide to head back north on I15 and backtrack along the route I started this adventure on. My mental GPS recalculates almost instantly, hampered only by old age and confusion, and off I go. Pink Floyd is giving a command performance, and although I am cold and damp, my ears are happy. The rain stops somewhere along the way and it actually gets pretty comfortable but there are ominous looking situations all around me. Just like an old horse that realizes it has been pointed back towards the barn and so starts to pick up the pace, my 23 year old ride does the same. I offer up a pact – just get me back safe and sound and I will change your oil. A fair deal is struck. As I fuel up in Dubois Idaho a man in an RV comes over and cautions me that if I am heading north (I am) to be very careful because he had just come through a heckofa snow and hail storm. I think I may have scoffed and waved him off like a child – he obviously does not know what an accomplished rider and force of nature I am. I get about 20 miles out and decide that I should go back to Ike's 66 and get a buritto. That and several cups of coffee later and I am ready to take another stab at this. Fortunately RV man is not there to gloat. So now it is late, storms are still swirling, and my manhood is diminished. I get as far as Dillon and have to call it, it is getting dark. I was hoping to get back home tonight but that just isn't going to happen. At least at a spot where I can get a hot shower and a nice meal, and be left with just a short 4 hour sprint back home.

Pull into Super 8 and I'm in luck, room is available and I can even park in front where the desk clerk can keep an eye on things. Sweet. Go to lock my forks and I fumble my key. After a series of many tinkles and clinks, it apparently comes to rest somewhere other than on the ground. Dang. I soon learn that years ago when Hanz and Franz were designing this bike, they anticipated just such an event. I think their operating theory was to protect the key from a nasty impact with the ground. So, through a series of Rube Goldberg funnels, inclined planes, and sloped surfaces, they engineered things such that the key would come safely to rest in a hidden pocket of the engine block, in wedged fashion. Well now I am in a fine kettle of fish. I unload everything to get to my tool pouch, and the flashlight that I wisely threw in at the last minute. I cannot even see a glimmer of this thing, so, off comes the belly fairing, the side fairings, and all associated items. In the dark with a failing Harbor Freight flashlight. I still cannot see this dang thing, even with my reading glasses on. I recruit the younger eyes of the desk clerk and that was all it took – key spotted. We concur that a piece of wire is needed and that a wire coat hanger will probably work. No wire hanger available, but a plastic one is, oh, and also a roll of packing tape. Somebody important once said "Necessity is the mother of invention", and boy did we put that one to the test. Although I am grateful that the key did not get scratched by a ground impact, I resolve to never leave home without a spare. A freshman mistake. It is way too late now for a nice dinner but a late showing of Wind River is playing at the theater next door and popcorn is half price. The evening is not a total loss.


Day 9. Not raining but a storm front is definitely blowing in and it is time to roll. The last 4 hours of this adventure were hurried but without incident. I roll into the driveway a younger man, met by a beautiful wife and two handsome dogs, all whom appear to be smiling. And life is good. My wife doesn't ride so motorcycling is a solo endeaver for me, but she always asks how my trips are and my usual response has been "good" or "fun", and there it sat. Now she has a little more to go on. Thank you for reading this report and for your comments. Until next time.


The trip stats:

9 days

2457 miles

56.14 gallons

1/2 pint of oil

3 deluxe Italian meals

5 or 6 premium cigars

a few modest credit card slips

several new friends

an Easter egg discovered

a time capsule opened

a nice visit with family

two bucket list items checked off in red

a shake of a military hero's hand

a few items added to the Santa Claus list

and a little time added to my expiration date

Nicely told; thanks for letting us ride along!

Thanks staticPort. I am glad you rode along.

...good stuff. I came through Wendover last July and visited the flats. Quite an experience.

Thanks Boxerbreath. Dang - July is a hot hot time of the year in that neck of the woods.

Great writing and photography. Thank you.

Ben

Thanks much for the kind words Ben. Was trying hard to put another Reno Air Races trip together this year but it wasn't to be. On the ride schedule for 2019.