Meandering Angler: On ‘the loneliest road in America’

By the time you read this, Dottie and I will be somewhere near Austin, Nevada, the virtual geographic center of the state on U.S Highway 50, dubbed the “Loneliest Road in America” by Life Magazine in 1986. We’re on our way to join Sonoma friends Tom and Katherine Culligan, Chad Overway and Jeanne Montague in Basalt, Colorado, where we plan to fly-fish for trout on the Frying Pan river and other nearby streams.

The 287-mile stretch between Fernley (east of Reno) to Ely, which is located near Nevada’s border with Utah, was called loneliest by the Life reporter because, “there are no attractions or points of interest…”

That guy was wrong. There’s all kinds of interesting things to see and do.

For example, just beyond Fallon you see signs along the highway warning you to look out for “low-flying aircraft.” That’s because the Navy’s “Top Gun” air base is nearby and the fighter pilots get their kicks making runs over the desert floor so low that you’d swear they’d take your car’s luggage rack off the roof.

Watching out for them is futile. They’re on you and gone before the sound rocks the car. It’s exciting while it lasts (about a half second) and then you’re glad you took a bathroom break at the last rest stop.

You also pass through some spectacular high-desert scenery, including bone-white dry lakes, towering snow-capped mountains and dramatic moon-scape-like rock formations.

From the road, you can see the Sand Mountain Recreation Area, which looks like a movie set for “Lawrence of Arabia.” And beyond that there are directions to “Earthquake Faults Viewing Area.”

In December of 1954 a series of large magnitude earthquakes rocked the Great Basin with its epicenter not far from Fallon. The result was an instant rise of more than 20 feet in the nearby mountains. Signs of that dramatic rise are there for the viewing.

Most of the terrain is, in fact, pretty drab and desolate. But in May of 1997 I actually went trout fishing there.

Back then, I was driving Highway 50 following directions that would allegedly lead to a brand-new trout fishing “resort” opened by the proprietors of Smith Creek Ranch, near Austin.

My fishing buddy, Fernando Tabor, who ran Fly Fishing, Etc. here, was with me.

As we drove through dust-covered sage brush, we both doubted that there was water enough anywhere near us to float a small goldfish, let alone support trout.

We left the highway and ended up on a dirt road that ran through a dry lake bed in the Shoshone Mountains, which led us to a small opening, that led to a narrow valley between jagged, snow-covered peaks. Driving up that road, we saw the land transform from moonscape to paradise in just a few miles.

We stopped at a large ranch house nestled in a large grove of trees fronting a small lake. Formerly a stop on the original Pony Express line, it was the very definition of an oasis.

The Hendrix family ran a large cattle-ranching operation there. In addition to the little creek, there were a series of lakes and ponds in which dwelled very large trout. At 6,600 feet elevation, the waters stayed cold all year. The fish were thriving, so much so that the family decided to open a fishing resort, even as they managed the rest of their very large ranch for cattle.

Fernando and I stayed for two nights and caught lots of big trout. It was a thoroughly enjoyable fishing trip. Alas, it was in the middle of nowhere. And it was difficult convincing anglers that trout could live in the desert.

As far as I know, they are still running a cattle operation. A couple of years ago they earned Nevada’s environmental stewardship award for what they’ve accomplish in protecting the natural beauty of their land.

However, I do not believe it ever got far as a trout fishing resort.

Still, it belies the allegation that there is nothing to see or do in the center of Nevada.

But wait. There’s more.

If you’d been driving this part of the state during the Triassic period when much of the Great Basin was under water, you could have fished for the 49-foot shonisaurus sikanniensis, aka Ichthyosaur.

They’re actually still here, but only in fossil form. Motorists driving Highway 50 will note a sign directing them to Ichthyosaur Park, where they can view the fossil remains of these enormous aquatic reptiles.

And if that’s not enough for you, there’s a Starbucks in Fallon.

Who say’s there’s nothing out here?