Rising up over the hill, we turn into the wind. Navigating the pass, the basin opens before us. It plays tricks on the mind. For 20 miles you can see the thin snake of the road swinging down the bowl and up the other side. They call it the Great Basin, and I can understand why. Nothing physically out of the ordinary; a long even descent into an equally long climb. But you can see the whole thing at once. Like someone who is told the arc of the rest of their life, the result is intensely intimidating. We all careen, open mouthed and open eyed into the nothing. We distract each other with our little tricks; naming quotes from movies, talking about how we feel so small. But the truth of what nature is doing to us is hard to avoid. I've never had an experience like it. I've driven through places like this, but on a bike it's even more incredible. And here we are, on the other side. Utah is gone; and for me, good riddance. Certainly there were parts I liked, but I'm ready for Nevada.
