Nevada-Oregon Trip, Day 14: From the Black Rock Playa to Wild West Towns and Unsuccessful Off-Road Attempts

A long, demanding, and extraordinarily challenging day where I swallowed a massive distance of 477 miles. 

The route provided an intense combination of extremes: it started in the rugged wilderness of northwestern Nevada, crossed the bustling metro area of Reno, climbed into an old-fashioned historic western town, and continued into nerve-wracking drama deep in the backcountry.

While it left behind a bit of disappointment, it ended with a surreal night drive into absolute darkness, arriving at 10:30 PM in eastern California.

Fly Geyser, Trego, and the Town of Gerlach

I started the morning very early, pulling out of my sleeping area at the southern end of the playa to visit some of the famous landmarks along the desert's edge.

Fly Ranch Geyser: I drove out to see the famous, colorful geyser, but unfortunately, the entire site was still closed to visitors. The property is privately owned by the Burning Man organization and access is highly restricted, so I had to settle for a quick look from a distance, directly from the highway.

Trego Hot Springs: I crossed over to the other side of the playa. By morning, there were already other people here. I stopped at this wild desert spring located right alongside the railroad tracks at the edge of the flat. The spring looks like a long ditch filled with hot water and mud. Because it was so early, I didn’t have the energy to bathe in the main pool, so I settled for taking in the site and moved along.

Gerlach: A quick pass through this small, isolated cowboy town, which stands as the absolute final outpost of civilization for the Black Rock Desert. I stopped there to get organized and refuel, and from there turned south onto Highway 447.

Around Pyramid Lake

Continuing south, I entered the reservation lands of the Paiute Indian Tribe:

Pyramid Lake Museum and Visitors Center: A visit to the beautiful visitor center located in the town of Nixon. The center presents a fascinating display of the tribe's rich history and the unique ecosystem of this massive, deep, and saline lake.

Kooyooe Panunadu Overlook: A stop at a spectacular viewpoint looking down from high above onto the deep blue waters of Pyramid Lake and the unique, dramatic tufa rock formations jutting out of the water.

Petroglyphs and the Historic Virginia City

Griffith Canyon Petroglyphs: I kept driving south toward the Reno area and set out on a short walk into Griffith Canyon to find the ancient rock carvings left behind by Native Americans thousands of years ago on the basalt walls. 

This morning's walk wasn't long, but for the benefit of other travelers, I must note that the site itself was not particularly impressive. I have seen much clearer and more beautiful examples over the years, so this is definitely not a mandatory stop.

I continued south and drove straight into the metropolitan congestion of the Reno area. It was Friday around noon, and the freeways were completely gridlocked. 

I wanted nothing more than to cross the area as quickly as possible and escape the urban crowding.

The Reno Metro Area in Brief

A city that has undergone a massive transformation in recent years, Reno is now home to nearly 580,000 residents. "The Biggest Little City in the World" is no longer just a smaller, older version of Las Vegas; it is a booming tech and hardware hub, thanks to massive facilities like Tesla's Gigafactory, and a bustling basecamp for outdoor extreme sports.

The city offers everything from mountain biking and skiing in the adjacent Sierra Nevada to tubing and kayaking on the Truckee River flowing right through downtown.

Reno also features a couple of geographical facts that challenge logic: due to the dramatic curve of the North American continent and the West Coast, Reno, Nevada, is actually further west geographically than Los Angeles, California! 

It is a detail that surprises almost every traveler. 

Additionally, it holds the world's tallest artificial climbing wall (about 164 feet high) built directly onto the side of the Whitney Peak Hotel downtown, and is home to the National Automobile Museum, which showcases one of the rarest and richest classic car collections in the United States.

As a side note, the fastest and most direct main axis connecting Nevada's two largest cities, Las Vegas and Reno, is US-95 South—a classic desert route spanning roughly 440 miles that takes about 6.5 to 7 hours of pure driving time.

I escaped Reno's traffic jams and began climbing up the winding Highway 341 heading south into the high mountains. I pulled off at the spectacular Geiger Lookout Point, which overlooks the entirety of the Truckee Meadows and Reno spread out far below, while directly across from me rose the massive, snow-capped mountain range surrounding Lake Tahoe.

Virginia City: 

From the overlook, I drove into one of the most historic, authentic, and important towns in the American West. This city was born overnight in 1859 following the discovery of the Comstock Lode, the richest silver deposit in American history. The discovery instantly turned it into a wildly wealthy boomtown that absorbed thousands of miners, building opera houses, luxury hotels, and raucous saloons—where a young journalist named Samuel Clemens first began writing under his pen name, "Mark Twain."

The town was packed with tourists, so I looked for a parking spot a bit away from the main drag and set out to explore on foot. 

Walking along the main street (C Street) is an absolute step back into the 19th century: old wooden boardwalks, picturesque brick buildings, and historic saloons that look like they were taken straight off a Hollywood western set. I wandered the steep, sloping side streets, soaking in the nostalgic atmosphere of this city, whose mined silver wealth actually helped finance the Union Army during the American Civil War.

Today it is very much a "Wild West" town geared toward tourists, filled with bars and entertainment, but you can still feel that it holds something authentic, rugged, and tough to this day. I didn't physically enter the local museums or other paid attractions, choosing instead to simply enjoy the walk and the atmosphere along the main street.

Walker Lake and the Town of Hawthorne

From Virginia City, I got back behind the wheel and began a long drive south on the desert Highway 95:

Walker Lake: A long drive alongside the impressive Walker Lake—a large, natural, and striking blue lake in the middle of the desert that is unfortunately shrinking over the years due to the diversion of its water sources. It is surrounded by rugged, bare, and arid cliffs.

Hawthorne: Passing through Hawthorne, a small desert town known across the US as a massive ammunition depot for the US military. The sight around it is quite unique: thousands of small, fortified military bunkers are scattered like mushrooms across the entire valley surrounding the town.

Backcountry Drama: Unsuccessful Attempts Deep in the Desert

From Hawthorne, I decided to head out for another off-road adventure, but nature, the tracks, and especially the weather decided otherwise this time. I had several points of interest marked in advance on my topo maps in the desert west of Walker Lake, deep beyond the rugged mountain range, and I saw on the maps that a good dirt road entered this remote area. 

My two main goals were to visit hot springs located inside a remote canyon on the banks of the East Walker River, or to continue along a high mountain axis that connects directly in the west to the legendary ghost town and state historic park of Bodie in California.

By the time I reached the town of Hawthorne in the late afternoon, a bit before 5:00 PM, I saw the weather taking a turn for the worse as heavy, low, black clouds began rolling in rapidly from the west. 

I have bitter experience from the past with desert roads that turn into a slick, impassable clay soup within minutes during heavy rains, so I immediately heightened my alertness. When traveling alone in a single vehicle across the remote desert, the absolute last thing you want is to get stuck; off-road recoveries in these zones are highly complicated operations that can cost a pretty penny, a lot of time, and your mind health.

The route I planned, which retroactively earned the sobering and accurate name "NV Hawthorne Fail Drive" in my navigation app, turned out to be a rugged and demanding 81.1-mile off-road axis off the asphalt.

The topographical graph presented crazy data: a sharp, fast climb from an elevation of 5,000 feet at the valley floor to towering mountain peaks at 8,006 feet, and back down. The pure driving took nearly 4 hours of total concentration, but the real story of this axis wasn't the statistics; it was the laws of the high desert that demanded I exercise professional judgment and know exactly when to call it quits and retreat.

A Thought by the Roadside: On Solo Off-Road Travel, Fear, and Ego

People always ask me: "Isn't it dangerous? Aren't you afraid to go out alone to these places?" and the answer to both questions is absolutely yes. There are real dangers in the backcountry, and there is fear. But ultimately, it's all relative; the dangers are highly calculated and far from irresponsible "extreme" behavior, and the fear? It is actually a healthy survival mechanism. It increases alertness, sharpens the senses, and keeps you from making foolish, fateful mistakes in the field.

When it comes to off-road driving, it’s not like I woke up one morning, hopped in a car, and drove a hundred miles into the wilderness. Behind me are nearly 40 years of rich off-road experience of all kinds, alongside extensive knowledge in survival, navigation, and improvisation. 

I know the traction and clearance limits of my vehicle, and I always make sure to drive with a large, comfortable margin of safety, never pushing to the absolute edge of the vehicle or myself. From my years in the field, I’ve learned that it’s usually not the big things that ruin a trip, but rather small, momentary errors and a lack of attention, so I try to stay highly observant.

Bottom line: An extensive toolkit of experience, combined with leaving your ego at home, is my formula for minimizing risk, staying safe, and returning home in one piece from independent off-road drives in the desert.

The First Attempt: To Bodie Ghost Town via Aurora

My original plan was to head west on the off-road tracks, visit the hot springs in the canyon, and from there cross the geographic border line into the state of California to reach the famous Bodie Ghost Town via the historic area of the abandoned mining town of Aurora.

I began the steep, winding climb up Lucky Boy Pass Road into the mountains. 

As I gained elevation, the desert weather shifted completely, turning stormy and cold. When I reached the summit of the first mountain ridge, I could see the lower terrain beneath me stretching far to the west, but then a heavy, driving rain began to pour down.

I started worrying deeply about continuing toward the hot springs in the valley; I knew that a heavy rain like this would quickly turn the dirt road at the bottom into deep, slick, and swallowing mud. Terrified of getting stranded there without a way out, I made a calculated decision to skip the drive to the springs and try to press straight ahead toward the abandoned town of Bodie in California instead.

I attempted to drive straight to loop around the mountain range, but the trail in the valley was already quite muddy and water was starting to flow across the axis in the washes, so I didn't want to take any risks. I turned the jeep around and backtracked to a large trail junction. There, I identified a route on the map in good condition that climbed inward, directly into the high mountains and away from the flooded valley; it looked promising.

I began climbing the mountain track as the rain continued to pelt down relentlessly.

The climb itself wasn't technically difficult, and the area became more forested and greener. I reached the site of a large, open gold mine, and there I stumbled upon an old wooden sign leading to an ancient cemetery. It turns out this is practically all that remains today of the historic town of Aurora. 

Standing there completely alone in the pouring rain, at an elevation of nearly 8,006 feet, facing the lonely, broken, and abandoned tombstones of the pioneers buried in the heart of the isolated mountains, was a unique and incredibly powerful sight.

I looked up toward the high peaks of the mountains leading toward Bodie where my trail was supposed to pass, and I could clearly see that chunks of snow still remained on the mountain crests, alongside very steep and winding sections on the ascent. The combination of the snow, the falling rain, and the mud building up on the axis made it clear that continuing down this path was problematic.

I made a balanced, responsible decision, turned the jeep around for the second time, and began a careful descent back down to the base.

The Second Attempt: The Broken Tracks to Bucks Tubb Canyon

When I made it back down to the main valley, I was met with a stunning and confusing sight: although I had been driving under a continuous, pouring rain for a full hour up high, the entire valley floor before me was completely dry, as if not a single drop of rain had fallen! 

The lower area where I was initially terrified of getting stuck in deep, slick mud was bone dry, without a cloud in sight. Such are the wonders and instability of weather in the high desert.

I didn't want to throw in the towel on the day without reaching a destination, so looking at the map, I decided to try a completely alternative axis and cut north toward another isolated and intriguing spot: small, natural hot springs named Bucks Tubb, nestled deep inside a remote canyon right on the banks of the East Walker River.

Right before I set out at a fast clip on the wide trail leading north, I was treated to an amazing encounter: I spotted a group of about 8 pronghorn antelopes roaming free in the open expanses. They stopped and stared at me with intense curiosity for a few moments, but at a certain point, decided that the jeep's presence wasn't for them. They erupted into a crazy, fast sprint and vanished into the background within seconds (this is the fastest land animal in North America).

I continued driving fast north, crossing the dry, flat basin toward the mountain range at the far end of the valley. There, I turned onto a narrow, rough dirt trail leading west, straight toward the deep river canyon. As I approached the channel, the road became dramatically rougher, narrower, and steeper. 

On the final, most intense descent into the remote canyon, I came to a dead stop in front of a critical off-road obstacle: the trail included a very steep drop with a highly dangerous, problematic side-hill camber over an unstable scree of loose rocks, while a sheer drop-off of several yards into the wash yawned right next to the edge of the trail.

In solo off-road driving, when you are traveling completely alone in a single vehicle far from any help, a severe side camber on a steep, loose descent is a surefire recipe for disaster and a severe rollover hazard. All it takes is one small rock under the high-side tire to bounce the jeep, throw it out of balance, and flip it onto its side down into the wash.

I realized immediately that the risk here far outweighed the reward of soaking in a spring. I stopped the vehicle, and despite the feeling of regret and frustration over all the distance and time I had already spent on the winding roads, I decided not to cross this dangerous section and not to risk the jeep or myself under any circumstances.

I had the option to leave the car parked to the side in one of the wider bends without blocking the track and march on foot from that point to the hot springs (a distance of about 2 miles in each direction), but the hour was already very late and I didn't want to risk hiking and driving out of this canyon in absolute darkness. 

I came to the smart decision to pass on this spot as well. I turned the vehicle around with extreme care, scraping by millimeters on the narrow trail, and made the long drive all the way back on my tracks.

I finally said goodbye to the rough dirt roads and exited the backcountry onto the safe asphalt of Highway 359 near Hawthorne, at the exact spot where I had entered, just as darkness began to fall over the open prairie. 

That’s how it goes on real off-road trips: sometimes the greatest success and true bravery is knowing when to turn around and return home safely. I pulled over to the side of the highway, pulled out the compressor, and spent the time inflating the vehicle's tires back from the low off-road pressure to the appropriate pressure for fast highway driving.

Night Drive in the Prairie and Arriving in Lee Vining

Darkness had completely fallen and the sky was painted pitch black when I began the long drive on Highway 359 (which further along becomes Highway 167 on the California side). It was a truly unique driving experience; this road is rightly considered one of the straightest, darkest, and most isolated corridors in the entire American West.

You drive for miles upon miles in absolute darkness, on a road straight as a ruler stretching out to the horizon, with the jeep's headlights being the only thing existing in the universe to illuminate the path. The sensation is one of a surreal drive inside a black, absolute void between the bare mountains, without any streetlights, illuminated signs, or oncoming traffic. 

I crossed the unnoticeable border line back into the state of California and hit the main artery of eastern California, Highway 395.

Ultimately, I arrived at the eastern slopes of the Sierra Mountains and the small town of Lee Vining, nestled on the shores of the unique Mono Lake. I filled up on gas and went to look for a camping spot. 

I found myself a quiet, familiar, and isolated night spot not far from there to finally put an end to this long, rattling, and intense day. I climbed into my sleeping bag completely exhausted at 10:30 PM, at a spot I have visited many times in the past, ready for the nature of the eastern Sierras awaiting me tomorrow.

We are down to the final two days of your 16-day loop!

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