Day 59, Austin to MIddlegate, 63 miles

I don't remember the details, but lord knows I awoke with a pretty smashed-up big toe. It seems I can cycle across the US but walking in flip-flops uphill proves an impossible challenge.  Regardless, we managed to pack up camp before 8:30 am. Shortly thereafter, a broken spoke stopped our exit from Austin. While Matt did a McGuiver job on his front wheel, I walked down to the gas station for lunch supplies. The broken spoke put Matt in a filthy mood , which could only be broken by the promise of a cooked breakfast. So we ditched our usual 'peanut-butter in various guises' for a decadent omlette each, followed by a pancake chaser. As luck would have it, our entrance to the cafe coincided with Alistair and Peters' exit. We were both thankful for the opportunity to soberly thank the guy for yesterday, plus exchange best-wishes for our onwards journey. We hope to chink beer glasses with either or both of the guys in Sydney some time. Alistair laughed and said he'd have to work this trip off before further travels. STill, time flies when you're having fun.

We ate some huge breakfasts and struggled to pedal out of Austin. The landscape was pretty but also pretty repetaative. We hit a lovely, vast valley but the road out of it was long, uphill and plagued with stand-still headwinds.  While we had originally planned on riding all the way to Fallon (111 miles)- the wind convinced us otherwise. A wind-swept 63 miles later, we gratefully pulled into the isolated gas-statin of Middlegate.

Middlegate is an exit sign on the lonely road of US0. A left turn and half a mile later, you find yourself at a saloon surrounded by makeshift buildings and caravans. We bought some cold drinks and were told that the camping was free, so felt obliged to ditch our camp-dinner for some bar meals. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. Outside of the bar, we met with three Harley riders enjoying a few beers after a ride from Fallon. Concerningly, they were headed back to Fallon after whetting their whistles (and the proverbial whistles sounded drenched.)

As we set up camp, a curious chap spoke incoherrently at us, while hammering a nail into the ground. Matt did well at giving the guy ambiguous answers such as 'Oh really?' and 'Yeah, yeah', while I felt reluctant to search out the 'red n white building' of the bath-house. Yet the desire to get clean won out and I set out in search for a wash. Thankfully, Matt swiftly followed.

We headed to the bar for dinner, where Matt ordered their famous 'Middlegate Monster Burger'; finish it and you earn yourself a t-shirt. Needless to say, Matt earned his t-shirt effortlessly. Or rather, nobly, Matt chose a tiny t-shirt for his nephew. This kind of culinary conquest has been on Matts' list of All-American experiences. I think he impressed the unflappable bartender when he polished off an icecream for dessert. When it comes to 'Matt VS Food', my money will always be on Matt.