Austin, from Pony Summit

According to Louis L'Amour, "the thing to remember when traveling is that the trail is the thing, not the end of the trail. Travel too fast and you miss all you are traveling for." So, with that in mind we fueled up our trailblazer and sashayed out of Carson City.

It was a beautiful fall afternoon and I couldn't believe a year had gone by since the MaryJane Sisters' last road trip. This time we decided to follow U.S. Highway 50 from one end of Nevada to the other, with the Great Basin National Park as a turnaround point. In addition to our usual mission of seeking out old saloons with a jukebox and a pool table, we planned to stop at every Pony Express Station site as well as other curiosities along the way. And, believe me, there are a lot! So with our map and travel book in hand to chart every roadside stop, we set out on our journey across the vast deserts of Nevada.

I know it's said that Hwy 50 is the loneliest road in America but we didn't find it lonely at all. Sure, it doesn't have all those big rigs and zillion cars with people in a hurry like on I-80, but who wants that anyway? On the Hwy 50 trail we could stop and pull over whenever we saw something that interested us; like a tree or a road sign. You can't do that on those lackluster limited-access freeways. And, not only can we pull off the road on a whim, we get to see and meet people. These are just a few of the things we look forward to while traveling the trail.

Our first stop on the trail was Lahontan Reservoir on the Carson River. It is named after the Ancient Lake Lahontan, which covered 8,500 square miles of the western Great Basin during the ice age. We wanted to check out the day use area and Silver Springs boat launch. The water level was down about 15 feet and we could see sandbars, which were symptomatic of the depleted water. There was a sign that said, "pay fees here" but we reckoned the fee didn't apply to us since we didn't have a boat. We were just pass'n through and wanted to behold the beauty and the spirit of the area.

Second stop was Grimes Point Archaeological Area, just outside of Fallon. We were the only visitors, as no other cars seemed interested in stopping at this roadside attraction. Jets from nearby Fallon Naval Air Station were practicing touch and go as we walked the trail through the large boulders with ancient Indian petroglyphs carved in them. We tried to guess what they meant and thought maybe they were showing the way to a hidden silver mine. (Yeah, I know, I've been reading Louis L'Amour too much.) A short drive down a dirt road led us to the trailhead of the Hidden Caves. However, we decided to continue on our trail since we had more places to visit before we ran out of daylight.

Third stop was Sand Springs Desert Study Area and Pony Express Station. The remnants of the old station were intriguing and stirred up thoughts of young men hell bent for leather galloping across Nevada. If all went well and danger didn't befall them, the young riders would exchange their tired mustang for a fresh mount or get a much needed rest at these desert ancestors of truck stops. We tracked a rabbit's obvious telltale sign and Jane inadvertantly flushed the furry critter out of its hiding place.

From here we could see Sand Mountain Recreation Area. It looked like a mound of white beach sand in the middle of the brown "punky" sagebrush desert. We could hear a faint buzzing sound and saw what looked like black ants scurrying all over it.

As we drove closer, the optical illusion created by the desert became clear. That mound of sand was a huge sand dune about 300 feet high!

And, those weren't buzzing ants scurrying about. They were adults and kids on dune buggys scrambling all over that hillock of white sand. They were having a blast and sand was flying everywhere. However, we couldn't help but wonder how long that beautiful sand dune would remain a phenomenon of nature and a roadside oddity with people flinging its sand into the air to be carried off and scattered by the wind.

The sun was drifting down our back trail as we neared Middlegate and stopped at the next oddity. Our travel book made reference to this site as "The Old Shoe Tree" and a picture tipped us off to bring an old pair of shoes along with us. In our case, it was a pair of zoris (rubber slippers.)

But even though we saw a picture, we weren't prepared for the enormous size of the cottonwood tree and the plethora of shoes that had accumulated on the branches of that old tree. The shoes had been tied together by their shoelaces and thrown on the tree by countless passersby. It was a hilarious sight and from the road the clumps of shoes looked like giant hornet nests.

After we stopped laughing we tied our zoris together and attempted to throw them up on that tree. Now, that's not as easy as you think. When swinging and letting go of shoes tied together you find they spin heel over toe and do not go in the direction you are aiming. More often than not, they would land at the foot (no pun intended) of that old tree which was in a dried up creek bed.

Our shoes weren't the only ones that missed their target and ended up in the dry wash — there were hundreds! We weren't about to give up and carefully climbed down and retrieved our zoris. With determination and adjusting her swing Jane finally got them to hook. I rescued another "lost sole" and flung them up on the tree.

So no matter what size feet you have, if you travel by that big cottonwood, it's worth stopping to see. If you didn't bring spare shoes along with you and you don't want to abandon your new sneakers, just salvage a twosome from the leftovers and start throwing.

As the setting sun was turning the Desatoya Mountains crimson, our last stop was Rock Creek and Cold Springs Pony Express Stations. The remnant of Rock Creek Station is along side of the highway and surrounded by a high chain link fence. Again, we could envision young horse riders loping across this desolate territory. Cold Springs station, was a mile and a half east of Rock Creek, however it was now too dark to walk the mile out to its ruins.

Needless to say, we didn't get very far that day and Austin was the perfect place to bed down for the night. We had visited Austin on our last road trip, and had such a good time that we were looking forward to staying there again.

We got a room at the Lincoln Motel (again) with its ideal location close to the action. We just had to walk across the street for dinner at the International Restaurant and Saloon. Service is excellent as long as you aren't in a hurry. And you shouldn't be in a hurry while traveling the trail. This time we learned that Wyatt Earp had stayed there when it was the International Hotel.

After dinner we walked through the passageway into the International Saloon. Everything was the way it was as we left it. The ball return on the pool table was still broken and the cardboard box was still under the table to catch the balls. So games were still free. But, this time the jukebox wasn't working. We were sympathetic since it was an old jukebox that still played 45s! Records that is, not the year. Then again I think some of those songs were from 1945! However, there was a new attraction to the saloon: a TV that could get music channels.

The saloon was uncommonly quiet, except for the vivacious voice of its bartendress, Curly. Jane saw her on an episode of "Wild Nevada" and we were delighted and honored to meet her in person. We had missed her on our previous visit and when I asked her if we could take pictures, she said "honey, you can do whatever you want, just don't piss me off". And I didn't.

So with Curly's thirst-quenchers and colorful commentary and music from the TV, we commenced to shoot pool with our new friends Rob and Matt. The MJ sisters demonstrated some of their defense tactics (described in a previous trip report to Austin) and we all had a good time. Curly was eventually ready to put up the shutters and so shooed us out of there sometime after midnight. We closed the bar (again) and were glad our accommodations were just across the street.

In the morning we packed up our gear and ate breakfast at the International Restaurant. We were not in a hurry and had time to enjoy our meal and do some shopping at Main Street Shops before heading out on the trail to Ely. We were looking forward to a "hot time in the old town tonight".

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