… do I ever?

I’m going to recommend a book. It’s a religious book … of a different sort. Tales of Ely, tracking elk across the mountains, digging for ore, sagebrush and the open desert, redemption.

So maybe it won’t appeal to you; such a book wouldn’t appeal to me either on the face of it but for some reason, I picked it up sometime, somewhere I no longer remember.

Redemption of a Hardrock Miner – John Gergen

What first drew me to this book was the cover photo, title, and blurb:

“John was [is] traditionally a hardrock miner, who was raised up in the back room of a central Nevada roadhouse secluded in the high desert mountains.“

I used to stop at that “central Nevada roadhouse” back in the early 80s; a bar, a gas station, an old livery barn, and a nice hot springs: Warm Springs, NV at the intersection of US6 and NV375 (aka “The Extraterrestrial Highway”).

Back in the day, it was the gathering place for miners working the mines in the area – Tonopah was the nearest anything and it was 50 miles away: the miners could bunk down on payday, run a tab at the bar and gas station (and probably the girls). They’d collect their pay once a week, pay off the tab, and repeat the following week.

Even after the mines closed down, the gas station closed down, and finally the bar closed down, one could park out behind the old stable and soak in the springs; hidden from any rarely passing cop car, not noticing, intentionally or not, that you were there.

Those were the days before “progress” and civilization happened.

As far as I can tell, the only reason Warm Springs shows up on Giggle Maps is to fill in a mighty large blank space .

A few of the buildings still stand; ruins now, not worth the cost of tearing down. The gas station is gone, the stable is gone and the springs fenced off. A few trees grow along the run-off, the stone corral for wild horses is still there; a wide spot in the road for truckers to stop and check their maps.

The book speaks of places I’ve been and thoughts I’ve had out there in the high desert, of times when I was in the area – so of course I read it.
And it spoke to me.

Interlude

Evey so often, I get together for breakfast with a friend of mine who lives about 40 miles away. We trade off places to go; sometimes we go to a town near him, sometimes we go to a town near me. I don’t recall when I was living back east thinking of driving 40 miles or so to meet for breakfast – different world; need a passport to go east of Kearney.

We’ve been doing this for a year – come to think of it, two years now. As it so happened, the diner we went to closest to me shut down recently when the owners decided to retire after 40 years.

How dare they!!!

This is agriculture/ranch land; population isn’t high, not enough business to support a lot of such places so we’ve been looking for a place on my side to replace the old place.

A relatively new place in the town. About 20-25 minutes away for me; longer for him.

“Let’s meet at X’s at 7AM“
“OK – see you Saturday“

He’d been overseas since before Thanksgiving; we hadn’t checked this place out before.

So I’m there about 7AM opening time, grab a seat at the counter and a cup of coffee … and wait.
And wait. And drink another cup.
And wait. And drink another cup. This time though, I gave up on him showing and ordered.
A kill-me special: biscuits, gravy, two eggs over easy, two sausage links. Large milk. More coffee.

The guys next to me are BS’ing when I hear one talk about a trip down to Warm Springs. I pop up and tell them I used to go to that bar when it was open in the early 80s. We get to talking and one of the guys happens to mention he had written a book.

This book.

Now I’m going to tell you, this was a guy like I imagine Jesus to have been – I believe Jesus existed, not so sure about the divinity but then not many have had the influence on the world he has, divine or not. This guy’s a hard rock miner rather than carpenter but a down-to-earth long-haired redneck type. Works his hands for a living digging rock. Nothing special about him, just some guy – someone most wouldn’t be comfortable around.

Now, I’m not a redneck. People that aren’t rednecks think I am; the genuine article knows better. My brother’s a redneck, my cousins are rednecks. I’m not a redneck but many of my friends are and I get along fine with them; more so than I get along with people in my professional work really.

So I met the author of this book quite by accident this morning. We seem to have a lot in common yet have very little in common. Maybe the most important part is our feeling for central Nevada, the smell of sagebrush, the wind through the trees, the vast openness of the country – closer to God than other people. I can stand in places and look over valleys where the entirety of NYC would fit with room to spare and probably have not as many a dozen people.

And because I went to breakfast this morning and met some guy, y’all get this rambling discourse and mention of a book I think worth reading – all because I had a chance meeting with the author, who just happens to live not far from me, who loves the same places I do for the same reasons, and works in a field I can relate to.

The voice in my head told me to write this post.
Gets me thinking about heading down to the high desert country again.

Play it again, Sam …

Across the mountains here Nevada sings
Tellin’ me it’s time to hurry home
Hot dry and wind blown country callin’ me
Out where those shadows run so tall