The Loneliest Road

So we’re headed to Denver, and we’re taking Route 50 across Nevada and part of Utah—a highway also known as “The Loneliest Road.” Check a map . . . it’s a major east-west route. But it’s not exactly heavily settled. (Yet American enterprise is omipresent: The rare places of business you pass along the route sell T-shirts and mugs with the logo, “I survived the Loneliest Road.”)

The photos you see here were taken about 30 miles west of the town of Eureka, NV; first, looking back to the west, and then, looking ahead to the east. Notice the perspective from which the photos were taken: Yup, right on the old double yellow. No, there isn’t a lot of traffic. The Loneliest Road has a little town about once every 150 miles; other than that it’s just juniper and sagebrush.



We puzzled over the conspicuous-by-its-absence lack of roadkill on this road; being scientists we had multiple hypotheses. 1) Perhaps, since this is a desert landscape, there just isn’t a lot of wildlife to end up as roadkill. 2) Perhaps hardly any wildlife meets an end as roadkill because there’s so little traffic. 3) Perhaps the vultures and crows here are really efficient. 4) Perhaps coyotes drag the bodies off the road. 5) Perhaps the wildlife here is unusually agile and avoids the cars. 6) Perhaps Nevada drivers always brake for wildlife. 7) Perhaps local residents are into roadkill recycling (free dinner!) 8) Perhaps Nevada road crews are really into beautification and do an amazing job with roadkill cleanup.

Well, that’s how you entertain yourself on The Loneliest Road. Any other theories?

We stayed overnight in Eureka, an old mining town with lots of character. I stopped in a shop to replenish my supply of tacky postcards and found a genuine jackalope (taxidermied, not live) displayed on the counter. As we drive we’re keeping a sharp lookout for these rare western creatures, which have the body of a jackrabbit and the horns of an antelope. Hopefully live, not roadkilled.