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April 16, 2004
A monthly pilgrimage
It's not the most scenic drive, like a cruise down Highway 1 along Big Sur, Calif., or the Blue Ridge Parkway in the Appalachians. Instead it's more like a chance to think about things while driving out in the wide-open spaces, keeping track of various milestones along the way. A dust devil can be seen rising up from a dry lakebed in Crystal while driving over Johnnie Summit, which affords the first view of the desolation ahead. The sign at the turnoff on U.S. Highway 95 says it's still 138 miles to Tonopah. A few hills later and the billboard at Lathrop Wells comes into view, "Yucca Mountain Travel Center: Last Service Before Area 51." The turnoff to Yucca Mountain is at Lathrop Wells. I've often wondered why there's no sign. Another interesting sight is the rust-colored, flattop mountain on the right side near Beatty that stands out like a sore thumb. It's the Cind-R-Lite Cinder Cone Mine. To the left of the highway, the setting sun leaves a three-dimensional shadow on parts of the Amargosa Valley sand dunes in the distance. A little closer to Beatty is the entrance to U.S. Ecology, a waste disposal site for some pretty nasty stuff, I'm told. Across from U.S. Ecology a dirt road travels east into a canyon in the desert mountains, leading me to wonder: what's up there? Is there a secret military base over that ridge? Is there aliens camped out up there? Ruins of a few buildings dot the landscape just before the curve through the mountains into Beatty. I can see why that area is called Oasis Valley, with wetlands lining the Amargosa River. A quick check from the highway and there actually is water flowing under the bridge this time. Tractor-trailer trucks are parked in front of the Burro Inn, near a sign that boasts, "Last good food for 500 miles." I wonder how the palm trees can survive the winter in front of the Stagecoach Casino. A few miles north and I pass Angel's Ladies Brothel with the plane crash in front. Now, there is a for sale sign advertising the availability of 48 acres and a brothel. I see there's also a for sale sign for Bailey's Hot Springs which includes 90 acres. Two crosses sit next to a bridge, Ethan and Kathy perished here. Another sign advertises the Best Western High Desert Inn, still another 92 miles away in Tonopah. Street signs are named Pioneer Road, Boiling Pot Road, Oleo Road and Fleur de Lis Road. I come across Springdale, the halfway point, and wonder if anyone will ever clean up the spread of junk cars and appliances. A small hill leads to an almost deserted valley. I'm now reduced to reading mile markers; at Nye County MM 81 a road leads east into the mountains where this time there's a security guard shack. On the west side of the highway is a dry lakebed that sometimes holds water, but at this moment is no more than mud. Another small hill leads into yet another valley. Now there's a few signs of life: a deserted, rusted-out gas station at mile marker 91, a tractor-trailer parked in front of an RV park advertising $7 full hook-ups; an occupied mobile home with tires holding the metal roof down; and the Shady Lady Ranch bordello. It occurred to me about the only thing between Beatty and Goldfield was the brothels. A pair of mesas signals another hill, beyond which is Esmeralda County. The Cottontail Ranch is just past the county line. I wonder if there are any familiar vehicles parked outside? I'm surprised to find there's no trucks parked along the road at Goldfield Summit. By now it's dark and Goldfield has some antique streetlights on the block where the county courthouse and fire station sit. There was a spell when there were no businesses open on the main street through Goldfield, now there's gas available at Goldfield Fuels and a store advertising beer and soft drinks. I see it's 8:25 p.m. on the red clock in front of Dreams Come True Antiques; at least they remembered to set their clocks ahead. I notice the sign for Gemfield, four miles, and wonder if there would be some interesting artifacts there. After that is a sign to Alkali and Silver Peak, then soon another sign to Silver Peak. It makes me wonder if Silver Peak is some metropolis. As I begin to climb that final hill to Tonopah Summit I begin to wonder about the raison d'etre of this cold, isolated place on top of a hill. Oh yeah, Jim Butler struck silver here way back in 1900. (Write to Mark Waite at mwaite@pvtimes.com.) |
