The DeWalt pressure gauge had indicated a slow loss of air when inflation was stopped. We had dismissed it as a mechanical situation last evening when I was being helped. But I could not get out of my mind the thought that I still had a slow leak.

I felt the tires in the morning and they seemed good. After packing and loading up, I went to a good breakfast at the other establishment operated by the proprietors of “my” inn. Then I headed out.

Dakota was out as I passed his house so I asked if I could use the compressor again as a final check. He was very nice to me and got the device out of the barn. We checked the pressure and I added some more air to the rear tire. When using a compressor to fill a bicycle tire, I am very careful to not put too much air in, too fast. This device seemed to deliver air in a more measured manner than other compressors but I wasn't taking any chances. This explains another reason why I was still concerned about my air pressure from the previous evening.

We talked for a little bit about the long road I had ahead of me. Dakota drives it occasionally for work and other purposes. He was concerned that I didn’t have the right nutrition with me. After going in the house, he came back out with half a dozen protein/energy bars. 

I had food with me and likely would have been fine but was happy to have the bars and grateful for his generosity. I gave him a bag of jerky in return. Although some cyclists like it, I don't really like eating jerky. It gets stuck in my teeth. I carry floss but using it on the side of the road is not something I like doing. Dakota was happy to have the jerky. 

All told, Panaca, Nevada was a good stop. A motorcycle track racing event was happening in town. Several participants were staying at the same inn as I. A few of us chatted last night. They had come from hundreds of miles to race. All were good folks. 

Besides the friendly people in town, I got to see a young antelope bounding down the street while seeming to tuck all four legs under the body with each "stride." This was going on as people were pulling in and parking at the high school for the Friday night football game. Nobody besides me seemed to pay any mind to the creature. Such things don't happen back where I'm from.

All of this led to a later start than planned for this ambitious day. About 4 miles North of town, Van (Dakota’s father) stopped his truck to chat with me. He was returning from an early mountain bike ride near Pioche. He said, “you haven’t gotten very far.” I told him what had gone on and he made sure I had their phone numbers. If anything went wrong, I am certain that either Van, Dakota, or both of them would have come out to help me and take me all the way to Ely, as they had offered to do.  They are a couple of great guys.

The long ride for the day finally began! The first 11 miles or so are a climb to the town of Pioche. After reaching it, a sign tells you there are no more services for 113 miles. It’s true. 

Panaca and Pioche have very different histories. The former was a more religious town that didn't allow any alcohol to be sold. The latter was a haven for various vices, outlaws, and guns. I read where in the 1870s, 60-70% of all the homicides in Nevada occurred in Pioche. Reminded me of the line from a Clint Eastwood movie where the fellow said that life in the town was a little too quick for some folks. Not many people were around as I passed through but I did see a couple of places with the word "Gunslinger" as part of the name.

At the summit, there is an area for vehicles to pull over and check things out before making the descent. A big RV towing a car and with bicycles pulled in. I stopped to make conversation but also to ask if they had a floor pump. They did and were happy to let me use it. Upon attaching it to my valve stem, the gauge indicated that no pressure had been lost! This was huge for my confidence in my equipment. I added more air to bring the pressure up to where I usually run it. It held! Again huge.

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I thanked them. We wished each other well and I headed out again. There are a lot of good people out there. Bicycle touring reaffirms that.

US-93 is a long lonely highway. It passes through a vast empty valley that is surrounded by formidable mountains that appear dark and mysterious at times. Very few people live out there and if you get stranded, it could be a long wait for help. I was trying (and praying) not to have any mechanical failures happen.

I adhered to a disciplined routine that consisted of stopping roughly every 5 miles, checking the tires, taking a measured drink, saying a prayer, maybe a stretch, maybe an application of sunscreen, maybe a bio break, maybe a photo, and then moving on. With a huge distance to cover, there was no time to waste. My goal was to make it to civilization before dark. It was going to be tight. 

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On the way, I saw some incredible beauty and thought about how difficult it must have been for the original settlers of the area. There are a few people living out here but not many were successful at making a go of things.

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It was a very long day. As I came up to the intersection of Highways 93 and 50, the road was climbing, the sun was setting, and I suddenly realized how fatigued I was becoming. To get to the town of Ely, a 7-9 mile climb of Conners Pass was needed and then I would have to ascend and descend it in the dark. The late start had cost me some daylight. The restaurant/bar at Majors Station was strangely not open on Fridays or Saturdays. Weird, because one would think those would be some of the better times for business. When I got there, not a soul stirred.

I stopped anyway at Majors Station, which has an Ely address. Upon checking my phone, I found that my friend Chuck had sent me a text. Since it was now after dark, he was concerned and was thinking about coming out from Ely proper to look for me. I tried to text him back but since cell service was not good, I didn't get any response from him and wasn't able to call. So, I wasn't totally sure if he was headed out here or not. While pondering what to do, the haunting sounds of coyotes howling very close by convinced me to keep on moving. 

It was dark, getting cold, coyotes were too close for comfort, and rain threatened. I had already ridden more than 90 miles and was now climbing Conners Pass at night on a shoulder-less road. Talk about extreme sports! 

Last year, during Stage 6 of our tour, I had climbed and descended Conners pass to finish up in Ely. But it was done during daylight hours and after having ridden a lot fewer miles. This was going to be a whole different ballgame.

My brief stop at Majors Station seemed to have given me enough rest so the climbing felt easier even though the odometer indicated I was not going any faster than before the break. I moved along. Fortunately, not very many motor vehicles were on the road that evening, so at least I wasn't constantly concerned about being hit. My lights were on and working well to illuminate the road ahead and to give warning to anyone approaching from behind. Storm clouds were rolling in with occasional lightning and thunder that seemed to be well off in the distance. It was becoming colder all the time.

A white pickup truck passed me and then pulled over a couple hundred feet above my position. I was not in my right mind anymore and didn’t know what was happening at first. Upon getting closer, I realized it was Chuck. He had gotten a new truck since the last time I had seen him so I didn't recognize the vehicle. I was very happy to see him.

He convinced me to stop for the day. We then loaded my gear and the bike and my very long day was over. After cresting the pass in his truck, the rain came in torrents. I am thankful not to have had to be out in it on that evening. Ely gets cold at night even without the addition of rain. In the end and with the help of several “angels,” I resigned myself to have succeeded and to have connected to our route from the last stage (6).

During stage 6 (in 2022), as was stated earlier, I rode Conners Pass and made it all the way to Ely. By the time Chuck and I got there on this evening, my rubber legs had me staggering around. Had Chuck not come for me, I suppose I would have made it but it would have been late and my reserves would have been severely depleted.

The pre-adventure is over. Tomorrow, September 10, will be a day off to recuperate. Stage 7 begins on September 11th.