Day Two: What fresh hell is this?

Reno is not entirely disgusting. The river -- just a couple of blocks from the sad and seedy downtown -- is lovely. In the morning, while Mark and Owen took a swim in the El Dorado pool, Isabel and Jennifer carried breakfast down to the river. There was a crazy man foraging in the trash cans and yelling, but there were also people fishing for trout and sunning and there was a friendly family of ducks who came so close we could almost have picked up one of the fuzzy little ducklings.

Jennifer and Isabel decided that when they lose chickens to old age, predation, or rooster-slaughter, they may diversify with a few ducks, who supposedly have sweet personalities, require only a small tub of water, and produce wonderful eggs.

Mid-morning, we loaded the Odyssey and started our drive across Nevada.

 

We should be honest here. This was not fun. Although Mark and Jennifer are enthralled by the desert landscape, and Isabel is deeply absorbed in our audiobook -- Dog On It by Spencer Quinn -- Owen had many needs that were not met inside a minivan. He wanted lunch promptly at noon, multiple juice boxes, multiple PopTarts, a board game, promises that he can see the Transformers movie as soon as it comes out, etc. The one thing he finds amusing is taunting Isabel. This has sharp downsides for everyone else. For a while it felt like we were driving across the blazing desert under our own little thundercloud.

But we did eventually make it to the oasis of Winnemucca, one of those mysterious little towns that dot central Nevada. Jennifer has driven across Nevada on I-80 roughly thirty times, and has always wanted to spend more time poking around. This trip afforded an opportunity.

 

First we had lunch at a "fine family restaurant."

It was indeed "fine." Owen declared over lunch that he didn't care what the food was, he just wanted a lot of it. Lately, he has been eating like a deranged billy goat and we suspect a growth spurt. Lunch was the highlight of his visit to Winnemucca.

We look tired but fairly happy, don't we?

 

While enjoying their gargantuan combination plates, Mark and Jennifer began to wonder if driving all the way to South Dakota was a good idea for this fairly happy family. Decided to play it by ear. 

After lunch we discovered the deserted museum in the Winnemucca Chamber of Commerce, which included some fifty taxidermied beasts from around the world collected by a local hunter and arranged in dramatic displays.  This was Mark's favorite part of the visit to Winnemucca.

We also made a tour of the local public schools, which Isabel finds interesting -- it helps her imagine what it would be like to live in a place to see the schools. This was her favorite part of the visit to Winnemucca.

For Jennifer, the highlight was a pilgrimage to the community garden. Here, we met the groundskeeper, an old man "retired from the mines" who pointed out the thriving cherry and pear trees. Lots of tomatoes and beans and roses.

While strolling through the garden, we met a native Winnemuccan who tried living in San Francisco for fourteen years, but came back to Winnemucca because it's "nicer." We've always wondered who lives in places like this, and now we have an idea. He seemed remarkably smart and normal and was riding a bike. Jennifer asked him if there were any beekeepers around, or a place where she could buy some local honey. He said he wanted to start keeping bees, but knew of no one doing so currently. Her plan to buy local honey wherever she travels is not bearing fruit.

We also tracked down the Winnemucca Hotel, another Basque redoubt that appeared to be closed:

The afternoon drive was more peaceful, as Mark had bought Owen a Richie Rich book which kept him engrossed and silent. We were in Elko by evening, and ate at the Nevada Dinner House -- a Basque-Italian place. This was thrilling! No, not for the food, which was blah, but for the people! A posse of fat, long-haired Vietnam vets (they were scantly dressed and the tattoos told all about their war history -- one of them had been a POW!) sat at an adjoining table. One of the men became furious that the steak was so small, stood up, dropped his plate on the table in contempt and threw a loud, unapologetic tantrum. "You're tryin' to sell chicken fried steak for thirty bucks!" He said this repeatedly as he paced around the restaurant. All the waitresses got flustered, the male manager came out and grimly negotiated, the party was escorted out.

We talked about this all the way back to our hotel. Travel is so broadening.

Today we are hiking in the Ruby Mountains just outside Elko and sleeping in our tent, a gift from Mark's mother. As the campground probably lacks wireless, there may be no update for a day or two.