BUT THERE ISN'T A TOMORROW. The next morning, I head west on I-80 toward the Ruby Mountains, southeast of Elko, home of the annual Elko Cowboy Poetry Gathering. I've been dreaming about the Rubies for two weeks. Guidebook writers like to call them "the crown jewels" of Nevada's mountain ranges, but that image seems too delicate—they are tall, toothy peaks, with molars and incisors rising out of pine forests and fields of sagebrush. In the winter, these mountains get dumped on by snow storms and are home to some of the best powder skiing in the world, plus a top-notch heli-ski operation.

That night I consume a fabulous Basque-style steak at the renowned Star Restaurant in Elko, a town that still has a large population of the Basques who originally came here to herd sheep. I listen to two grumbling, Wranglers-wearing cowboys at the next table who seem to be at odds with the federal government, referring to the feds, with acrimony, as "they."

I leave the men to their obsessions and drive up Lamoille Canyon until the road ends. I'll take the Ruby Crest Trail to my goal, Liberty Pass, which looks over Ruby Valley to the east and Lamoille Valley to the west.

I begin my hike next to a rushing stream, picking my way through thorny bushes in search of the trail. I find it, and soon I'm climbing up switchbacks on the north side of the canyon. Each successive zigzag gives me a better view of the lush Lamoille Canyon. After passing the Dollar Lakes, I hear the gurgle of a stream and then see Lamoille Lake, a shallow mountain tarn in a glacial bowl, with steep talus slopes cradling it. I'm not in the mood for frigid swimming at 10,000 feet, so I remove my shoes and wade in up to my knees. I've been hiking and mountain biking for two weeks, and the cool water soothes my feet.

After lunch, I start walking again, upward, above tree line, and then the switchbacks kick in. More switchbacks. High above the trees, I get a perfect view of Ruby Dome. Down in Lamoille Canyon, cottonwood trees explode in yellows and golds, and a blanket of pine trees laps at the granite peaks. Gilgamesh would dig a place like this. I never imagined Nevada had this kind of beauty.