Nevada Desert

Despite the fall of darkness, and with fear of further vehicle failure coursing through our veins, we escaped from Reno. Our first aim was to return to California and to head towards Tahoe's southern shore via the postcard towns of Auburn and Grass Valley. These manicured and pretty detours each offered character and history, but each also failed to offer an incentive to remain longer then a couple of hours. Therefore, after one final night in California we stocked up with water and fuel and headed back towards the vast nothingness that dominates so much of the state of Nevada.

Following a short ride on Highway 50, the transition to desert was rapid and severe. Within an hour we were within the rural flatlands of Douglas County. An hour further as we headed southeast on Highway 95, the only vegetation that could be seen was a sparse covering of dry coarse shrubs over an endless layer of light brown dust. As we continued the air became drier and drier and the need for regular hydration quickly intensified. We were in a vast bowl of emptiness that stretched all around us. Only the occasional derelict structure and forgotten town blemished this intimidating lunar landscape. Each of these stood, slowly decaying like failed acts of defiance that forgot just how inhospitable so much of this state is.

Walker Lake

Ghost Town

After we had crossed 3 almost infinite straight roads into the horizon, Nevada's more sinister side was exposed. Hawthorn Ammunition Depot, a huge facility that is used to stockpile weaponry emphasised the shear scale of American military strength. Further still, isolated brothels (it's legal in this state) also stood, remote and hidden like the dirty desperate secrets that they facilitate.

"Playmate Ranch" A Legal Nevada Brothel

That night we rolled into a small mining town established, and seemingly forgotten by the tough Wild West pioneers who have been so heavily and justifiably romanticised in American history. Tonopah, which sits in the middle of Highway 95 is best known for its association with the perhaps the most famous American peace officer who ever lived; its former sheriff Wyatt Earp. This is a place where people come to be forgotten, and the towns’ bar is where those forgotten people congregate to ply travelers like us with warmth, friendliness and round after round of free drink. Honestly, I don’t think that I have ever experienced such immediate friendliness anywhere else in the world.

Tonopah

Tonopah Founders Graveyard

© All Images By Paul