This morning I checked out of the Jailhouse Hotel early. I returned my hilariously-labeled “cell key” to the “warden” at the reception desk.

While I waited for the warden to finish processing my paperwork I glanced around the lobby and spotted this blast from the past:

Eventually I was liberated from the Jailhouse and back in my car. On my way out of Ely I spied a sign for the “Ward Charcoal Ovens.” It looked like a minor detour on a dirt road, so I followed the sign. I’m glad I did. After a few dusty miles I encountered a collection of enormous, well-preserved, 19th-century ovens that had been used for making charcoal. Standing about 30 feet high, these are gigantic, otherworldly artifacts in the middle of nowhere.

The ovens were used to transform pinion pine and juniper into charcoal, which in turn was used to fire the smelters that melted ore during Nevada’s silver rush in the 1870s. These ovens were only used for a few years until the silver ran out, yet they’ve been standing for about a century and a half. I was impressed by how well-preserved they are. Not a speck of graffiti, no trash on the ground, and virtually no damage to the stone. (A ranger I talked to informed me that there has been some minor restoration work done to the mortar.)

The ovens (which somehow seem a little creepy to me, even in broad daylight) were a product of the era, when physical challenges (like melting ore) were met with ever-larger infrastructure (bigger locomotives, larger dams, these enormous ovens), rather than, say, intricate technological advances. It’s simultaneously awe-inspiring and incredibly wasteful. About 6 acres of trees would have to be felled each time an oven was filled, and after only a couple of years all the trees in the area had been cut down.

So, these ovens were environmentally damaging and obsolete in a few short years. On the positive side, they produce a cool echo effect.

The ovens are also, um, titillating.

Speaking of racks, I came upon this impressive display at a butcher shop just outside Ely:

And to round out the Giants theme, this gigantic watermelon slice was sitting in a parking lot in Green River, UT (pop: 850), for no discernible reason.

The watermelon slice is constructed entirely of wood, and a little Internet research reveals that it was built in the 1950s as a parade float of sorts. Remarkably, the watermelon is self-powered, with an engine hidden inside. I managed to sneak a photo through a small porthole (?).

Watermelons seem to figure prominently in the local agriculture, as I saw watermelon vendors set up in several parking lots.

But more interesting to me near Green River was a place called “Jackass Joe’s,” which is a combination gas station and purveyor of all manner of quirky and irreverent stuff. Their specialties seem to be T-shirts (with their own name on them), exotic jerky, and various styles of candy “poo.”

And yet, notwithstanding the fun factor of Jackass Joe’s and the various giant foodstuffs, by far the most impressive part of today’s journey was driving along I-70 through the San Rafael Swell and other geologic formations. It’s simply jaw-dropping. The craggy and stratified shapes are otherworldly, the colors are vivid and varied, and in keeping with our Land of the Giants theme, the scale is enormous. It was almost transformative to drive my little rental car along this narrow ribbon through these formations. Alas, I wasn’t able to take any photos, and more to the point, I realized my little iphone camera couldn’t possibly do the scene justice. So allow me to present a couple of photos taken from the Internet:

This section of Interstate 70 has been called an “engineering marvel,” as it twists over, through, and along these geologic formations, while attempting to minimize disruptions to the landscape. The construction process also unearthed various dinosaur fossils.

I’ve encamped for the night in Moab (pop: 5,400). Tomorrow we will finally arrive at Placerville, CO!

BREW OF THE DAY

The BOTD comes courtesy of Moab Brewery. They have a fairly extensive menu of their own beers. I let the server choose for me, with the only instruction being that “I don’t want a light beer.” She directed me toward the “Export Stout.” Unfortunately, it is not available on tap (i.e., bottle only), and the bottle holds 22 ounces. So this is a commitment.

Unfortunately, it’s a commitment that doesn’t pay off. I was hoping for a rich, thick, malty, high-gravity beer. What I got was something closer to bathwater.

OK, maybe it wasn’t that bad. But it was definitely thin in body, and it had no nose to speak of. It’s very carbonated–maybe over-carbonated. The flavor tastes of burned coffee (like when the pot has been sitting on the heating element at the truck stop for a few hours) and something slightly vegetative, like maybe moldy alfalfa. Deep in the back of your nasal passages you get a slight sense of Volatile Organic Compounds, reminiscent of Testor’s model glue. The finish reminds me of Crayola crayons.

I’m afraid I can only give it 1 star. But I’ll give four stars to the most excellent brewery pretzel that paired with it.