Lonely in Nevada
Jul 31, 2009 17:14:17 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 31, 2009 17:14:17 GMT
I am one of the people who have driven the entire length of US 50 in Nevada. It isn’t really an exploit in itself, because it is only about 700km long, but when you are coming in from Utah, you have already spent 500km on other empty roads, so it all starts building up after awhile.
The moniker “The Loneliest Road in America” was apparently invented by Life Magazine for a photo essay in 1986, and even though it was not meant as a compliment, the Nevada tourist commission picked up on it as the absolute alternative to promoting Las Vegas and the other casino resort destinations. Between Delta, Utah and Fallon, Nevada, there is a grand total of 3 towns – Austin, Eureka and Ely. That is the same distance as between Boston and Baltimore or between Paris and Zürich.
US 50 cuts through the center of the state and follows the Pony Express trail of olden times. There are quite a few markers along the way to show the remains of some of the Pony Express way stations (the express mail carriers were supposed to change horse every 10 miles). Mostly, though, there is a huge expanse of emptiness. The desert is white with scrub bushes hanging on for dear life. They are ravaged by the high heat but also sandstorms, flash floods and scruffy creatures that will try to eat anything. There are low mountains all along the way, with little trails heading off to the ghost towns, abandoned mines or in one case the “correctional facility.”
I was glad to have a new rental car in perfect condition, because it’s not the sort of road you would want to do in an old clunker. The statistics claim that in the central section, about 500 cars use the road every day, which means about 20 per hour, but on the day I was driving, it was more like 2 cars per hour. The statistics probably count old hermits who drive 10 miles to the store to buy a can of beans and then drive back to their shack. The “through traffic” is a lot less.
A lot of the road is straight as an arrow, which makes for a very hypnotic ride across salt pans and ancient mud flats with a few fluffy white clouds in the sky. The radio makes it sound like some sort of life is still happening over the horizon, with truck shows, dance halls where the ladies drink free, good deals on pre-owned vehicles and fun for all this weekend at the jamboree held by the Flaming Cross of Antioch Bleeding Heart of Jesus Family Values Military Academy Pre-School, tickets just $2 each at Pee-Wee’s Gas and Liquors. It sort of makes you afraid to ever get over the horizon, even though you might be needing some of Pee-Wee’s gas.
I stayed in a motel when I finally got somewhere. It wasn’t really as though I had a choice; there was only one place to stay. It was one of those old places built out of concrete blocks 40 years earlier with maybe a dozen rooms and 2 cars out front. You have to brace yourself going into rooms like that, wondering if it is going to reek of old tobacco and rancid sweat or old tobacco and rancid sweat covered with rose scented air freshener. Frankly, I have always found the sheets to be clean in those places, but I have never wanted to inspect the mattress. Oh, and if I walk barefoot on the carpet, generally I regret it.
God, I love those places.
(p.s. Don't read Stephen King's Desolation which takes place along this road if you ever want to appreciate it!)
The moniker “The Loneliest Road in America” was apparently invented by Life Magazine for a photo essay in 1986, and even though it was not meant as a compliment, the Nevada tourist commission picked up on it as the absolute alternative to promoting Las Vegas and the other casino resort destinations. Between Delta, Utah and Fallon, Nevada, there is a grand total of 3 towns – Austin, Eureka and Ely. That is the same distance as between Boston and Baltimore or between Paris and Zürich.
US 50 cuts through the center of the state and follows the Pony Express trail of olden times. There are quite a few markers along the way to show the remains of some of the Pony Express way stations (the express mail carriers were supposed to change horse every 10 miles). Mostly, though, there is a huge expanse of emptiness. The desert is white with scrub bushes hanging on for dear life. They are ravaged by the high heat but also sandstorms, flash floods and scruffy creatures that will try to eat anything. There are low mountains all along the way, with little trails heading off to the ghost towns, abandoned mines or in one case the “correctional facility.”
I was glad to have a new rental car in perfect condition, because it’s not the sort of road you would want to do in an old clunker. The statistics claim that in the central section, about 500 cars use the road every day, which means about 20 per hour, but on the day I was driving, it was more like 2 cars per hour. The statistics probably count old hermits who drive 10 miles to the store to buy a can of beans and then drive back to their shack. The “through traffic” is a lot less.
A lot of the road is straight as an arrow, which makes for a very hypnotic ride across salt pans and ancient mud flats with a few fluffy white clouds in the sky. The radio makes it sound like some sort of life is still happening over the horizon, with truck shows, dance halls where the ladies drink free, good deals on pre-owned vehicles and fun for all this weekend at the jamboree held by the Flaming Cross of Antioch Bleeding Heart of Jesus Family Values Military Academy Pre-School, tickets just $2 each at Pee-Wee’s Gas and Liquors. It sort of makes you afraid to ever get over the horizon, even though you might be needing some of Pee-Wee’s gas.
I stayed in a motel when I finally got somewhere. It wasn’t really as though I had a choice; there was only one place to stay. It was one of those old places built out of concrete blocks 40 years earlier with maybe a dozen rooms and 2 cars out front. You have to brace yourself going into rooms like that, wondering if it is going to reek of old tobacco and rancid sweat or old tobacco and rancid sweat covered with rose scented air freshener. Frankly, I have always found the sheets to be clean in those places, but I have never wanted to inspect the mattress. Oh, and if I walk barefoot on the carpet, generally I regret it.
God, I love those places.
(p.s. Don't read Stephen King's Desolation which takes place along this road if you ever want to appreciate it!)