Distant DREAM
Off on America’s loneliest road trip
YOU might just start to miss all this social-distancing when it’s gone.
The crowds. The hustle and bustle. They’ll soon return and we’ll probably be pining for the good old days of space and solitude.
If that is the case, then over in the US there are bits where isolation has always been a thing.
The rocky desert landscape that accompanies the Nevada stretch of US Highway 50 is so vast and remote it was once branded the Loneliest Road in America.
It is ultimate road-trip country. So prior to this virus crisis I set out early one day from Las Vegas.
First stop was the high and mighty Great Basin National Park next to the Utah border.
It rises sharply from the desert valley and it is surprising how soon you reach pretty temperate forests and glacial lakes, culminating in the towering 13,000ft Wheeler Peak – a great snapshot of the entire state’s topography, flora and fauna.
Eureka
That night I was able to get out of the saddle at the relatively nearby Ely, a little Old West town that started life as a stagecoach stop.
I stayed at the Hotel Nevada with its retro neon signs and casino, a cool and rather surreal place to unwind after a long day’s drive.
The next morning I hit Highway 50 proper. As billed it was remote, but I felt far from lonely.
Following the old stagecoach and Pony Express route, it arrowed through valleys straight from old Westerns, snaking over mountain ranges then descending into the next giant valley. Over and over.
The desert was less hot than the blazing Mojave around Vegas to the south but the occasional oncoming vehicle still materialised out of the shimmering horizon like a mirage.
For lunch I had a Eureka moment – stopping at the town named just that. Then I headed back out into the incredible landscape, driving under the monstrous blue sky until the peaks seemingly caught fire in the setting sun.
That night I stayed at the tiny mining town of Austin, tucked into
the fold of a hill. It can plummet to -15C here in winter. The next morning I took a detour from Highway 50 on to Route 722. It was even more lonely, only two vehicles passing me in 60-odd miles.
At one stage I went off piste and drove across a salt lake, probably one of the craziest driving experiences of my life.
On rejoining Highway 50, things continued to be spectacular. Sand mountains. More salt lakes.
Then there was a slow return to urbanity as the highway approached the state capital, Carson City, so I instead headed for the hills to take a final pitstop at Virginia City. Once a boomtown above silver mines, it is now like a cowboy theme park with its historic buildings mostly occupied by cheesy saloons and souvenir shops, but still a great stop.
For the final leg of Highway 50, I climbed up the Sierra Nevada mountains and on to Lake Tahoe, where Nevada meets California.
With its cobalt waters and colossal conifers, it’s all so green and serene compared to the deserts below.
In summer the lake is awash with aquatic activity. In winter it’s all about the snow. The north side is more rustic and chic but I stayed in South Tahoe where there’s a buzz of hotels, bars, and restaurants.
After all that self-isolating, turns out I did need a bit of company. FACTFILE: Flights from Heathrow to Las Vegas from £389 return. See virginatlantic.com. One night at Hotel Nevada starts at £57pn. See hotelnevada.com. Car Hire from £30 per day at alamo.co.uk.