Bad Water & Bugs....

The Humboldt is a muddy brown river about 290 miles long that flows west southwest across a good portion of Nevada.  It is the only natural transportation artery across the Great Basin. Then the water simply sinks into the ground and disappears about 12 miles west of Lovelock.  This left emigrants with a ~100-mile desert trek before facing the verticality of the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada.  

Today Interstate 80 closely parallels the emigrants' route along the Humboldt.  My one day trip from Twin Falls Idaho, to Elko and then Winnemucca in my trusty Toyota Highlander SUV is best described as a tedious ocean of sage brush.  On foot with no air conditioning that would be 18 days for the emigrants.  Their journey was further enhanced with foul water and clouds of insects:

"Today we bid a final adieux to the nauseating Mary River [later re-named the Humboldt by John C. Fremont in 1848].  Never again do I desire to see its poisoning waters, miserable sloughs, parched valleys and bare, painful looking mountains."  William Franklin, 1850

"The road to day has been very dusty and disagreeable -- the [Humboldt] river not far to the right all day.  The traveling on this river is anything but pleasant -- thick dust by day and mosquitos by night....Not a green thing can be seen ...but brown and rugged mountains is the constant scenery." Jotham Newton, 1853

By 6pm I reached Button Point, about 10 miles west of Winnemuccca, a natural spring area used as a camping spot by the pioneers.  It looks inviting enough:

Button Point Springs, just east of Winnemucca Nevada

I had stopped to clean my windshield. As Mike will attest, I hate doing this.  But, facing west into the sun, the bug splats had reduced my windshield visibility to nill.  How could there be so many insects fond of sagebrush?  When I stepped out of the car I was enveloped in gnats...

Bugs on my car windshield, Button Point, 10 miles east of Winnemucca

"Mosquitos were as thick as flakes in a snowstorm.  The poor horses whinnied all night, from their bites, and in the morning the blood was streaming down their sides."  Margaret Frink, July 11, 1850

"...a little water, not very good at that, and Musketoes in any quantity of all sizes, ages, from the size of a Gnat up to a Hummingbird, with their bills all freshly sharpened, and ravinous appetites."  John Wayman, June 27, 1852