I’ve spent literally countless hours and days exploring this fantastic western state. “Fantastic?” I hear the amazed responses. “It’s just a bunch of barren desert!!!” is the typical protest. Well, that’s somewhat accurate, but it sure doesn’t paint the full picture. In some ways, the deeper beauty of the desert does not become apparent until you are actually there.

It’s odd, now that I’ve spent my whole life loving the deserts, I tend to find the mountains comparatively dull and featureless. In many areas, all there is to be seen is a vast sea of trees. Compared to such forestation, the naked desert is intricately beautiful and detailed, with colorful landforms exposed, waterways flagged with brilliant verdancy, and vast white playas filling narrow valleys between stripes of snow-capped, two-mile-high ridgelines.

I think the thing I like best about the desert is how empty it is — and how easy it is for me to see how empty it is. Unlike the mystery-shrouded flanks of forested mountains, the desert flaunts its vastness, with every un-clothed detail put on full display.

We began our trip this time with a short visit to friends in Minden (south of Reno), and hiked a local trail. At 6,000 feet we were a little unused to the reduced O2, but we had a fine time. (Greg, Karin, Chris, Nguyet.)

Chris and Nguyet took off for California and a tandem bike ride. We took off the other direction, out of Minden on US50 (“Loneliest Road in the West”), and headed toward Austin.

Our preferred camping style is “boondocking”, which is essentially finding a public-land flat spot away from ‘stuff’ and looking around. As our luck would have it, the first road we decided to explore got kind of rough only a half-mile from US50, and we stopped. As we were figuring out our next step, we noticed a couple of cattle carcasses off the side of the little dirt road. It’s not always obvious from watching these placid beasts stroll along, but they can live a tough (and short) life in some areas.

Bones were scattered hither and yon, indicating some frisky coyotes and/or other critters in the area. After checking out the hapless cows, it looked like a decent place to spend a day or two, so we settled in. Later on, we took a short hike around the local area. Far across the highway, a vast sea of purple wildflowers was just vaguely visible. While hiking, we found some of their cousins.

As the evening darkened, a couple of antelope browsed near our camp. This is very unusual behavior, for these animals are often hunted and are normally very spooky. They will usually start running 200-300 yards away and (due to “road-hunting”) are even more spooky about vehicles. Perhaps we were in an area where there is no season? I don’t know. This range is quite a bit south of the normal antelope territory.

It was a quiet, peaceful, but chilly night (26F).  The next morning, we saw some things on the map(s) that looked appealing, three more valleys over. We changed our minds about staying, and kept on going toward Austin.

The territory does get truly lonely out in this stretch. One vehicle every 15-20 minutes was typical. Here’s a shot from a pullout off US50, of the Toiyabe mountain range, where Austin resides.

East-bound, we traversed the top of Smoke Creek Valley, and crossed the northern end of Reese River Valley to get to the town. Much of Nevada is made up of north/south ridgelines, punctuated by narrow flat valleys — so this type of experience is very typical of east/west travel across the state.

Austin is still “hanging in there” if not necessarily thriving. That’s actually saying something, as many Nevada small towns or whistle-stops did not survive the 2008 meltdown and its aftermath. Sadly, my favorite hardware store has closed, not because of economics but due to a fracas between the owner and True Value. You don’t want to get into a fight with these independent Western folk; they don’t give in.

Leaving Austin, US50 climbs steeply up into the Toiyabe Mountains.

And then descends just as steeply toward our turnoff on NV376.

Heading south on NV376, the distant vistas of Smokey Valley are brilliant in the clear desert air.

At that point, things started to unravel slightly. We made several attempts at finding a camp on the western side of the valley, and ended up driving Howie quite a distance along what was actually a Ralph road. I had already (a few years back) had plenty of misadventures treating a 7-ton motorhome like a Jeep, and you’d think I’d learned my lesson. Ha! You can trust me when I tell you, this was NOT a Winnebago-friendly road.

Finally, just before we were about to give up and find a nice flat spot on the dry lake, we chanced on a really decent gravel road going up into the Toiyabe. Up at the top, a great flat spot waited for us (left over from some old mining activity).

We leveled out and got the camp chairs out, in plenty of time to watch the sun play out across the Smokey Valley.

The next day was Saturday, time to explore a bit and take Karin to attend Mass in Round Mountain, a mining town at the south end of the valley. Life is fun.