Ely,Nevada

Garnet Hill, public land west of the town of Ely, a wild camp with a surprising amount of traffic nearby. 

People came and went in daylight hours and some after dark, headlights wavering up the hill competing with the star show overhead. 

It seems hunting for garnet stones is a huge hobby in this mostly barren area.  I wouldn’t know a garnet in its natural form if it slapped me in the face. 

Ely is the largest town we’ve seen on the Lincoln Highway across Nevada, the county seat of White Pine County with a population of 4,000, not a huge metropolis. Copper was its fortune when the mines came in 1906. 

Nowadays it’s a winter escape known for its murals and a tourist train that used to connect it to Eureka and Austin the main stops west of here. 

Mining and the Pony Express and the Stage Coach route and the Lincoln Highway…all the 19th and 20th century elements of life in this remote region.  Those were the reason this town was created. Tourism I suppose is the reason it’s still here, casinos every block and history laid over the old part of town. 

We arrived late morning and while Layne went hunting for breakfast I took Rusty for a walk. It’s a pretty little Old Town.  

However there was nobody out and about. Ely has wide streets in the old part of town, boulevards, but they are a grid of one way traffic. You could shoot the proverbial cannon on a July morning and injure no one. 

Rusty took his time enjoying the place, on a pleasantly cool 80 degree morning. 

Layne bought some mediocre pastries and we sat on a bench watching paint dry for a bit. I wondered aloud where you would go to catch a plane to visit relatives in Italy if you lived here. 

Salt Lake City International four hours away was the wife’s answer after a minute. I guess this part of the world is a bit lonely. 

At the end of the main drag the street turns sharp right and we entered the modern half of town, big block chain motels, box stores and all services. The Chevron station is famous on iOverlander for offering free potable water. We took it and bought four dollar gas to be polite. The ten dollar dump station we bypassed. 

Outside town on the road to Baker we came across a rest stop with a useful pit toilet to dump our small porta potty tank and they had information boards too. I’ve never really understood the difference between deer moose elk and reindeer. I’m still not sure but this was one small step along the path to enlightenment. 

The picnic tables below are all over this highway offering protection from the sun and the hot hair dryer breezes blowing down the valleys. I can only imagine how busy this area is in winter, but we had most of it to ourselves. 

On a whim about forty minutes east of Ely we explored a short dirt road at Connors Pass in Humboldt National Forest. The joy of traveling with your self contained home is stopping because you feel like it. 

Layne napped, I read and walked with Rusty and dodged rain squalls…we played backgammon and I lost twice which was good to maintain harmony as Herself is only slightly competitive. 

No cell service indicates a good wild camp site sometimes and Starlink came out of hibernation. 

Layne called it pizza bread but it looked to me like an open faced sandwich with the last of the rye bread from distant Carson City. Delicious whatever you call it.  The Corelle plates we’ve had since our sailboat cruise through Central America in 1998. Indestructible. 

8,000 feet above sea level keeps temperatures cool with good sleeping weather: