Talk about roads less traveled—today, Gary and I ventured down Highway 50 East, famously known as The Loneliest Road in America. And let me tell you, the nickname couldn’t be more accurate.
We drove for over two hours—120 miles—with absolutely nothing on either side of the road but endless sagebrush, the occasional clump of trees, a scattering of free-range horses and cows, and wide-open valleys framed by distant mountain ranges. We climbed as high as 6,400 feet and descended to around 4,000 feet, experiencing dramatic elevation changes that only added to the surreal, isolated beauty of the drive.
At one point, we passed an Air Force base that looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. I half expected to see alien spacecraft or some secret weapons testing—it had that kind of eerie, off-limits vibe.
Eventually, we reached BLM land (Bureau of Land Management), where you can camp for up to 14 days—for free! Our chosen spot was near the “town” of Austin, Nevada, whose claim to fame is a series of ancient petroglyphs etched into massive rock faces.
Our dogs, Lola and Fiona, may be among the first canine archaeologists! Although instead of excavating, they mostly sniffed and—well—marked their territory on the rocks. Still, they loved the hike.
I read that these particular petroglyphs are believed to represent female fertility symbols and rites of passage for Indigenous girls. While I couldn’t decipher much beyond some carved circles and lines, the setting—ancient symbols against a majestic mountain backdrop—was powerful. And I’m fairly certain the carving that read “M&B 4ever” may not have been quite as ancient as the rest!
That evening, the sky treated us to a spectacular show: billions of stars, several shooting stars, two visible planets, and the unforgettable sweep of the Milky Way galaxy stretching across the night sky. Gary captured some stunning photos, perfect for those future moments when we find ourselves under starless urban skies, longing for this kind of wonder.
The next day, we continued east along Highway 50, and if we hadn’t already understood the vast emptiness of central Nevada, it became abundantly clear. The road offered little more than desert valleys, rugged brown mountains, and the occasional dusty old town that felt frozen in time.
Interestingly, much of Highway 50 follows the historic route of the Pony Express, which adds a dash of nostalgia and Old West charm to the otherwise quiet desolation.
It’s hard to believe that this remote, starkly beautiful landscape exists in the same state as the bright lights and buzzing energy of Las Vegas. Nevada is truly a state of contrasts—magnificent in its isolation, haunting in its silence, and unforgettable in its raw, unfiltered beauty.