Ely, NV-Reno Hilton KOA, Reno, NV
License plate of the day: "OHWEL" (spotted on a NV car in Ely)

Highway 50 sign outside Austin, NV On Hwy 50 before Fallon, NV. Our lone gas pump oasis

We left our beautiful Ely KOA campsite at 9:00 a.m. this morning and began our quest over the next five NV towns (Ely, Eureka, Austin, Fallon, Fernley) on Hwy 50 to collect "I survived Route 50" stamps in each town. First we stop at the Ely Public Library and spend 1 _ hours sending the log (days 11-14) and pictures, and check e-mail.

When we arrived in town on Thursday after setting up camp we went into Ely to the Visitor’s Center for our NV Highway 50 survival guidebook and kit. The gal at the center informs us this is her second week on the job and the kits just arrived yesterday. As she’s making up the Survival kits for us we tell her about our trip and fundraising for NDSDF. She is interested, asks more and suggests we post a notice in the center. We learn she is from Ely and has returned to be with her parents after working in several other states at visitor’s centers, chambers and for a hotel property management company. She’s well traveled for a "small" town gal, and has "learned a lot" she tells us.

Leaving Ely we hop back onto Hwy 50, headed for Eureka ("the Loneliest town on the Loneliest Highway", pop. 600). Another 75-some miles west, Eureka was originally founded as a mining town. Once there we scout out the chamber to get our Hwy 50 map stamped. Discovering it is closed, we learn later that it’s been closed for 4-5 years, although the sign is still in place, the railroad car sitting on the corner with a cluttered desk inside. We then go next door to the Tommy Knocker, one of the businesses listed as somewhere to be stamped. It is closed too. Spotting the Museum across the street, we hike up the hill only to find a note on the door that reads "Back in 5-10 minutes." We decide to wait and pull up a seat on the curb. In the meantime, a local dog comes by, very friendly, and stays around wanting us to give him some attention. We do.

The Museum attendant returns a few minutes later and she fills us in on the history of the Museum and restored home of the Eureka Sentinel Newspaper offices which date back to 1879. The Eureka Sentinel was published from 1879-1960 by three generations of the Skillman family. Two days after the paper ceased publication, Edward J.Moyle, an employee for 50 years died

"We’re one of the few Museums open along Hwy 50," the attendant informs us, as we peruse the gift shop/visitor’s center. I ask about the local dog and she tells me he belongs to an employee at the Court House across the street. "He doesn’t like to stay in the yard so he just hangs around the Court House until his owner is done for the day." I take a few moments to tour the museum and Sentinel offices. Lots of history here in items preserved for future generations. Reading a posted notice I learn there are 38 towns in the U.S. with the name Eureka.

On an adjacent corner is the Eureka Theatre, started in 1879 as a labor union hall. Later finished as an opera hall, the building was also used as a community auditorium, movie house and dance hall. Today the Theatre is the site where theater productions and conventions are held.

On to Austin, another 73 miles west on US 50 we pass through Monitor Valley, Simpson Park Mountains to the north and the Toiybe Mountains to the south. This is rugged terrain with flat, straight stretches of road. Desolate would aptly describe this part of Nevada, much of the land owned by the Bureau of Land Management.

Eureka County ends and Lander County begins. About 45 miles west of Eureka we make a stop at the Hickson Petroglyph Recreation Area. Pat and I climb the trail to see the prehistoric rocks carved with petroglyphs dating back to 10,000 B.C. We think we’re the only two visitors up here until at the top of the trail, out from around a mountain comes a man, resembling an old miner. He introduces himself as Phil and tells us he’s lived in these parts for many years, although originally from Idaho. He’s carrying a Big Gulp cup and is dressed in wrinkled dusty maroon-colored pants and a flannel shirt and cap.

Phil tells us about the area, the Toiybe National Forest and the pine nuts he picks and roasts, offering us some to try. The Pine nut, or pinyon seed was much sought after as food for centuries by the Native American and Europeans. Today they’re used in pesto, among other food dishes. Enjoying the view below and the quiet, Phil points out the wild houses down in the valley. He figures they are Mustangs. "There are a lot of burros out here, too," he says. "The government has to move them every so often, there are so many of them."

On our way back to the car, we tell Phil we’re driving Hwy 50 and fundraising for NDSDF. Not wanting to end our conversation, he suggests we check out his son’s web site advertising his business Red Jeep Tours. On the site, he grins, is a picture of him, holding a big salmon he caught. "Click on spokesperson, he laughs, and you’ll see my picture holding that salmon." We promise we’ll do so next time we’re on the Web, and we slowly pull away making our way back to 50.

Austin (pop. 300), one of Nevada’s largest and richest communities, and still one of the "best unreconstructed mining camps," is rich in history. There are several churches in town dating back to 1866, the Stokes Castle, constructed in 1897 to resemble a Roman tower, the Gridley Store (1863), and the Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park (preserved 20^th century ghost town and archaeological dig). Between Eureka and Austin are the Pony Express sites next to Hwy 50. We can see them clearly. Once reaching Austin we decide on the International Café as the spot to have our kits stamped. Said to be the first hotel in Nevada, the manager is very accommodating. Pat and I head for the restrooms, then make our way back outside through the attached bar. Nobody sitting on the stools yet.

Next we head for Fallon, but first we stop and get a picture of the "Highway 50: The Loneliest Road in America" sign. The local police have stopped a speeder so we’re careful to tip toe out of town. A few minutes out of Austin Linda asks if we think we have enough gas to make it to Fallon. "I don’t know," I reply, "how many miles is it?" "One hundred and ten," says Linda. "Let’s chance it," I answer.

Close to 50 miles out of Austin the car’s information center is flashing 0 percent oil capacity, reminding us it’s time for an oil change. Descending New Pass Summit (6,348 ft.) we pass by Cold Springs, a mere dot in the desert landscape. We sail by before realizing there may have been a gas pump. Consulting the AAA Tourbook we learn Cold Springs Station was once a Wells Fargo stagecoach stop and an Overland mail station in the 1860s, before the railroad linked the east with the west.

About 12 miles from Cold Springs is Middlegate Junction. This time we decide to turn in looking for gasoline and oil, at the intersection of NV 361 and Hwy 50.Sitting in the middle of nowhere is one building, one gas pump, a relic of the past, and a lone phone booth sitting adjacent to it, surrounded by remnants of old cars (circa 1920s) and two wagons half buried in the sand.

Pat goes inside the restaurant/bar/visitors center/gift shop in search of oil, pausing to point at the cat sitting on the roof (a "hot" tin roof, no less). Old trailers, lived in, and a strip of about 10 motel rooms with an outhouse, complete with a half moon on the door also sit on the property. I follow Pat inside to find a restroom. The bar is full. It’s dinnertime and the few who live here (17) are congregating. Dogs of all kinds are everywhere, all friendly, a chiuahua and a mix waiting for their human to finish up inside.

Pat comes back with a quart of oil for the Yukon. We pour it in, gas up and head back out onto Hwy 50. At just about the same time, one of the locals leaves the restaurant, hops into his jeep, the chiuahua and the mix following close behind. They both jump into the back seat and the jeep takes off down a dusty road, into nothingness. We’re thankful for this little piece of paradise in the desert, even though I’m confident we wouldn’t have run out of gas! Even at $2.49 a gallon I guess it can be considered peace of mind

The map tells us we’ll soon be entering the Fallon Naval Target Range, restricted area belonging to the Fallon Naval Air Station. In the distance we begin to notice the fencing with warning signs posted and targets positioned every so many feet. The landscape resembles a mirage consisting of sand.

In another half hour we arrive in Fallon. It’s 6:00 p.m. now and the chamber is closed. Looking for somewhere to get our kits stamped, we pull into the parking lot of a small, old motel. Linda goes inside, has a nice chat with the owner, who gladly provides the stamps on our maps. Fallon is considered the breadbasket of Nevada and one of the state’s most agricultural areas. Wally-mart is here, along with the many chains it attracts and the roads look new and freshly paved.

As are the other towns we pass through today on US 50, Fallon is one of Nevada’s oldest historical and cultural sites. Located 25 miles east of Fallon is Sand Mountain, a 600-foot high mound of sand that stretches two miles. We see lots of RV’s turning off at Sand Mountain, as we pull into the out lot to take a picture of the "Loneliest phone on the Loneliest Road." The giant dune was created by wind-carried sand from beaches of a prehistoric inland sea that once covered much of Nevada.

Passing by signs for Grimes Point, one of Nevada’s largest petroglyph displays, the Churchill County Museum and Lahontan State Recreation Area we comment about how many RV’s and campers we see. We’re far from alone out here. The last town to collect a stamp is Fernley, originally founded as a railroad stop. It’s here we pick up I-80 where it intersects with Alternate 50. It’s too late for anything to be open so we skip this stamp stop.

Linda has called ahead for a reservation at the Reno Hilton KOA. We reach Reno, in all its splendor at night, around 8:30 p.m. and search for the KOA. What a nightmare. We can see the Hilton in the distance-one can’t possibly miss it-but we don’t see any KOA signs. After driving around for close to 45 minutes, we confirm that it must be adjacent to the Hilton Hotel/Casino. Sure enough, we finally see a KOA sign, follow it around the perimeter of the Hilton lot (much like a shopping mall), and pull in. The KOA office is closed but we find our reservation waiting, locate our campsite and set up. Only one catch: We’ve arrived too late to secure a key to the restrooms/showers. Driving back into Reno-a nightmare once again. We decide on a McDonalds for dinner-and potty stop.

This is a nice enough campground, but very urban. All concrete, with a tree planted at each site. There are many large RVs here, some permanent, some just for the night. Most are probably empty right now, as their owners go gambling at the Hilton.