Leaving Ely with 50+ riders the next morning didn’t feel particularly lonely but facing 317 miles, all on Route 50, seemed more than a little daunting.
I couldn’t find the name of the photographer to credit for this image but it totally captures Route 50.
With clear instructions on where the very few fuel and food stops were on the 50, we set out determined to make the best of this long, hot, lonely ride.
If memory serves me, the first 150 miles were only broken up by a few twisty mountain passes, a quick fuel stop, the wonderful smell of sage and several roadside memorials marking the life of someone who sadly didn’t survive America’s loneliest road.
At about the half way point, we stopped to fuel up at the Chevron in Austin, Nevada. A tiny gas station with a large selection of “I survived HWY 50 the loneliest road in America” paraphernalia. I bought the t-shirt and even Hippo got in on the fun. As I said, diversions were few and far between.
Zandra had done her best however to find a few more interesting tidbits along the way including the shoe tree. This was not the original shoe tree as that was chopped down by vandals on December 30, 2010. Who does that??? But the ‘reborn’ shoe tree, just east of the original, did not disappoint. (Albeit, our diversion bar was not particularly high – see above).
We then spent almost two hours at the Old Middlegate Station restaurant – the only game in town. We hadn’t really planned on spending that long for lunch but with the limited food opportunities on the highway, all the Sisters’ riders seemed to descend on the tiny place at about the same time. With few seating options, we asked a non-rider if we could share his table. We quickly started with the “where are you from?” conversation that should have led as quickly to the “how did you come to being in the middle of nowhere?” Our pat answer was now Ontario, Canada because we had yet to meet an American who had even heard of Ottawa. They do “know” that Toronto is the capital and that we have a “really hot new president”. 😄 So we were very surprised when this fellow asked “whereabouts in Ontario?” “Ottawa”, we replied and lo and behold he was from Hamilton and his sister had recently retired from the City of Ottawa (where Zandra works). I think we all should have gone out and bought lottery tickets. What were the chances that the guy we would ask to share a table with in this quirky little restaurant on the loneliest highway in Nevada would live only a few hours from us? Bizarre.
The wall.
The ceiling.
The phone box.
Looks like we not only survived the loneliest highway, we conquered it. 🇨🇦
Whatever you ride – ride safe.
Helen
The Almost 200 Gang 