It was to be a short day so I encouraged Dillon to sleep in a bit. The short day also gave us time to have a nice breakfast so we walked down the street to a place that advertised the best whole grain waffles in the world.
obligiatory food shot
Being a cheap Yankee I've figured out a way to get the syrup "free" by making it a high point bonus in the Minuteman 1000. Dillon and I enjoyed our breakfast without Aunt Jemima thanks to rider #21, Jim Stoddard. Thanks Jim!
After breakfast we packed up, checked out and got on the road at a very relaxed time of 10am. With a short day planned I figured we'd be at our campsite by 4 or so. After the agressive pace of the last few days I was looking forward to dialing it back a bit. Our route included a chunk of Interstate before to Salina, Utah to pick up US 50.
US 50 through western Utah and Nevada is known as the Lonliest Highway in America and they are right. I put this on our route because both of us wanted to get away from civilization, or at the very least strip malls, fast food, neon and Walmarts. You won't find that on route 50. In between the few towns you'll go over a 100 miles with nothing except foundations of long since abandonded pony express stops. No water, no gas and absolutely no cell service. I was looking forward to this with some aprehension, should we have a breakdown in the desert I figured it could be up to six hours or more before meaningful help would arrive, assuming a good samaritan would stop and summon help from the next town. I discussed this with Dillon and we came up with a "disaster plan" that was pretty much put up the parawing, (shade) conserve water, watch out for sand critters and wait for help.
After leaving I 70, US 50 takes a jog to the NW, then merges with I-15 for a bit down to Holden before heading west to Delta, Utah.
As we approched the junction of 50 and I-15 Dillon informed me that a bolt holding the spare fuel can bracket on the sidecar was missing. We stopped and not only was the bolt gone but the angle braket was missing as well. This was sort of a big deal because the angle bracket secured the bottom of the carrier to the fender and made everything more solid. Without the bracket the carrier wanted to droop, distorting the body of the sidecar and making a bit of a racket when we'd hit a bump. We stopped at a truck stop but they had no material to make a bracket so I used a spare strap to take some of the load off the top bolts.
Feeling confident in the temporary fix we motored on. This leg was the reason we carried spare fuel and I didn't want to give up our reserve heading into the desert. We had about 14 miles to Holden before turning west into the desert where I planned on checking things over.
Just as we made the right turn out of Holden the alternator light came on. Great! Just what we need, electrical problems as we head into one area in the lower 48 where help isn't exactly handy, not to mention the closest BMW dealer might as well be on Mars.
I was somewhat prepared for this as common issue on the earlier GS's on the 2005 Iron Butt Rally was shredding the alternator belt. The belt had been changed prior to our departure and I was carrying a spare but the trouble light was only coming on at low RPM which meant it wasn't the belt. We had a brief discussion and decided to continue west to Delta.
We arrived in Delta around 2pm, as we slowed for town the light came on and stayed on. I told Dillon I didn't want to go further away from civilization without a better idea of what was going on so we stopped in front of an Ace hardware store with a Radio Shack. It didn't take long to figure out the problem, when I added the strap to the fuel carrier I tightened it up a little too much and introduced some chaffe to the wiring in the hack. Nothing like a real world shakedown, this was something that could have been done better in the initial build but was only realized after a few thousand miles.
From the start of the trip I told Dillon this wasn't a race, the Iron Butt Rally or a forced march. I joked back in February that at times the trip might be torture but it would never be punishment. The goal was to enjoy the country and each other. I declared that should we have a breakdown we wouldn't let it ruin the trip, we would simply rent a big ass Caddy with a kicking sound system and good AC. He asked me if we were going to need a caddy and I said no way. Memory fades over time but I think he was sort of rooting for the Caddy at this point.
We purchased what we needed from Radio Shack and went down the street to a hotel to find a shady spot to make repairs and if necessary to get a room for the night. Even though we had our first mechanical issue and it looked like we wouldn't be able to camp I was able to keep myself from popping a nut over the carelessness during the build although I admit it was close. I wanted to get fixed and get moving, the hotel had the halmarks of a crack den; multiple cars on blocks in the lot, shady people coming and going, plus an extremely malnourished woman tried to bum cigarettes or cash from Dillon while I was working on the bike. Not a happy place.
After a brief consutation with my friend Max Stratton of Max BMW Motorcycles (my dealer of course) we had most of the lighting we started with and decided to set off. I discussed our options with Dillon and while it might be a bit late to the park to camp we could see how it goes and continue on to Ely, Nevada for a room or we could stay in Delta. My goal for the trip was to leave as much of the daily decisions to Dillon when possible and this day he agreed that we didn't want to stay where we were, even if it meant getting to Ely late.
Off we went, departing Delta around 4:30, west into the blazing sun and out on the lonliest highway in America.
