Goodsprings, Nevada Part One

It's kind of difficult to get to Goodsprings, Nevada.  Well, really it's not - it just seems like a long way, both physically and otherwise. 

We rented a motorcycle on vacation in Vegas last week and were filling it up with gas after our first ride, when the man at the gas pump next to us began admiring the bike, and enviously asking us where we were going on this fine beautiful day.  He got all excited about recommending to us a ride out to the Pioneer Saloon, where he said bikers congregated and Clark Gable used to hang out.  He even showed us a picture of the outside of the bar on his iPhone. 

In the picture, it looked like the Clampetts' home in Tennessee - unpainted wood with a long front porch.  We looked at each other and immediately knew we wanted to see it. Should we have questioned the advisability of riding off into the desert on a rented motorcycle, to a venue recommended by a stranger at a gas station?  It seemed like such a perfect coincidence - we were looking for just such an untouched, vintage place that represented everything opposite of Vegas glitz.  When the opportunity presented itself we both knew it was right and couldn't wait to check it out.

We headed south on I-15 through the desert, on this wonderful rented Harley-Davidson Electra Glide Classic which made 70 mph feel like a Sunday drive.  At home, we normally ride my husband's Harley-Davidson Fat Boy, which isn't nearly as comfortable to sit on or ride at high speeds - although it's much cooler looking.  After a day and a half on the Electra Glide, however, we are seriously thinking of trading up.  As we get older, comfort trumps style in so many things...shoes, clothes, housing...and bikes.

As we drove, I realized what you notice in the American West after awhile is the sheer distance of things.  This guy at the gas station had said it wasn't far to the exit for Goodsprings.  We were beginning to wonder if our adventure was going to turn ugly after 25 minutes of driving down the interstate...("do you think he was trying to scam us?  should we have listened to a stranger at a gas station?")  I think people just must get used to "not far" being a long, long way because everything is a long, long way.

Finally, after a 35 minute ride on the highway, and just when we were thinking we had made a terrible mistake, we did encounter the exit for Goodsprings and Jean, Nevada - a kind of homey little southern Vegas outpost, with a Gold Strike Casino and Hotel advertising $4.95 buffets, and a nice gas station/convenience store with a meticulously manicured green yard surrounding it.  My husband Tim immediately commented, "Wow!  Look at the grass!"  We had only been in Nevada a few days, but we already knew enough to understand the care and feeding that a beautiful lawn like that required, and the dedication someone must have to keep it that way out here. Somebody cares about this little corner of the desert.

I checked at the counter of the station to make sure we were on the right track for the Pioneer Saloon.  The lady behind the counter, a youngish woman with long, long hair and an already leathery face said that she had never been there, but it was just down the road, not far at all.   

Well, we know what "not far at all" means by now, so we gas up again just in case (I know, we're paranoid about running out of gas in the desert) and head west on the road to Goodsprings.  What looks like stark, bumpy desert from far away is really a jumble of all kinds of plants and cacti, complicated and desolate.  I just can't imagine traveling in a wagon or on a horse with no roads through this landscape, and I can't imagine either how hot it must get here in summer.  However today it's a perfect day, and we actually need our leather jackets against the wind.

We started to see houses after about 10 minutes, so I'm relieved that "not far at all" may actually be somewhat true.  The houses and yards couldn't be less like where we come from back east...you get the feeling that people here are probably interesting, eclectic, not afraid to be different.  There is a pueblo-looking house that has obviously been added onto a few times, creating a stairstep silhouette against the hilly landscape. In the yard are a couple rusting metal sculptures of birds and animals or some other such things.  Next door is what looks like an original shack or barn falling down and with rocks all around it.  Across the street and set back from the road are some fairly new mobile homes with no landscaping, almost looking like construction temporary offices - but we know they are just people's homes because you can see that no organized, big-city construction has happened here in Goodsprings for a long time.

The road curves to the right and there it is, a small shack just like in the photo the guy at the gas station so proudly showed us on his iPhone, the Pioneer Saloon.  There's a smaller stone-looking building to the left that seems like it might have once been a store.  It's encouraging to see a few new, nice motorcycles parked out front and some people standing on the front porch who look pretty much like us.  We hope this means that it's not a dangerous place to be, so we decided to pull in.

TO BE CONTINUED...