When we last left off, we were in Austin, Nevada, at an old, abandoned stone tower known as Stokes Castle, which dates back to 1897. In Part 1 of this series, we followed the route of Highway 50, also known as the “Loneliest Road in America” due to its vast, wide open spaces, and long distances between towns.
Mormon cricket migration
It was at Stokes Castle that we first started to notice a few large crickets on the ground, with a reddish-brown color and distinctive long “tails.” These tails are actually called ovipositors, and are used by females to lay eggs deep into the soil. We didn’t know it at the time, but we were having our first experience with Mormon crickets, a species that exists in low density throughout much of its range but which can, at times, become a migratory swarm numbering in the millions.
As we drove down the dirt road we had just driven up a short time before, it suddenly dawned on us how many crickets were on the road. Had we just not noticed them on the way up? I swerved the van back and forth trying not to run them over, but as we got closer to the main road it became impossible to avoid them all. Getting back on Highway 50 east, we encountered many more swarms of crickets on the road, and even though I continued to try to avoid as many as possible, it simply was not possible to steer clear of all of them without going off the road or causing an accident. Indeed, there have been reports of numerous road accidents caused by the presence of these crickets, and as a local sheriff stated in a press release quoted in the May 28, 2024, edition of Deseret News, “Mormon Crickets and Rain make roadways EXTREMELY slick and unpredictable for stopping distance.”
The name of this cricket comes from an incident that occurred in 1848. Latter-day Saint pioneers had arrived in the Salt Lake Valley in 1847 and planted crops. Later, swarms of crickets crept in and began devouring the crops that the Mormons had so carefully planted and tended. Then there was the “Miracle of the Gulls,” when a large flock of seagulls suddenly flew in and got rid of all the crickets. Mormon crickets got their name from this incident.
A not so lonely highway
As we continued to make our way east on Highway 50, it turned out to be not so lonely after all, at least if you counted insects. The roadway was covered with crickets most of the time, and there was nothing to do but maintain speed and not do anything that could cause an accident. These crickets were on a migratory move from north to south, and with their numbers in the millions, the relatively few that were lost on the roads was not going to have any effect on the species’ overall survival.
Later, arriving at Hickison Petroglyph Recreation Area, where we’d meet up with our friends Kris and Dennis and spend the night, there were plenty of Mormon crickets on the ground all around us, but we stepped around them. They didn’t bother us, and there was no “Miracle of the Gulls” to clear the land of them. Sometimes you just have to press on and persevere regardless of conditions, and this was one of those times.
An ancient encampment
As the sun set over the peaceful scene at the ancient petroglyph site, it was easy to forget about the crickets crawling around us and just think about all the history that happened there. Starting in 1860, the Pony Express mail service operated from Missouri to California and went right through this area, largely paralleling the route of today’s Highway 50. Much earlier than that, Native American tribes such as the Western Shoshone lived there and made carvings on the rocks as far back as 10,000 years ago. Emigrants came that way on the Oregon and California wagon trails in the 1840s, and today road trip enthusiasts flock to the road that still offers up history and adventure.
Eureka
As we made our way to the next outpost down the road, the Mormon crickets began to thin in numbers as the miles went by. Before long, the road ahead was clear and we were pulling into the old mining town of Eureka, located 70 miles from the last town we visited, Austin. The area was first settled in 1864 by mining prospectors from Austin, and eventually silver and lead mining created a boomtown, with the population reaching a high of 10,000 by 1878. Eureka was served by the Eureka and Palisade Railroad from 1873 to 1938, and even had its own opera house. Over time, decreasing mining production and changing market conditions led to the closing of most of the mines, and today the population is just 315, according to Census.gov, 2022.
Eureka’s town motto is “The friendliest town on the Loneliest Road,” and we found that to be true, as a shopkeeper allowed us to take a peek into the back area of her historic building, and glimpse the old underground tunnel system that once connected all the downtown businesses. This labyrinth of brick-lined tunnels allowed the delivery of goods and the movement of people even during times of extreme cold, snow, or searing summer temperatures. Many of the buildings have closed off access to the tunnels, but they still exist in some places and it was fascinating to get a glimpse of these historic subterranean passageways, a remnant of the past unseen by most visitors today. As is fitting for a wild west mining town, it is also thought that these tunnels were involved in bootlegging and other illicit activities over the years.
History walk
Picking up a self-guided tour brochure, we stepped outside to explore downtown Eureka, a town described as “one of the best examples of a 19th century silver mining town in Nevada.” People from all over the globe came to Eureka in the 1860s to seek their fortunes, and the town once featured 100 saloons, dozens of theaters, many hotels and restaurants, and an opera house. The Eureka Sentinel newspaper was published from 1879 to 1960, and its original building and press equipment still exist today as a museum. Despite the 90-degree heat on the day of our visit, the historian in me felt compelled to walk the entire town, even the back streets, to trace the history of this incredibly well-preserved example of an 1880s mining town.
Onward to Ely
Finally, after traveling 124 miles that day and only passing one town, Eureka, since leaving the petroglyph site in the morning, we arrived in Ely (pronounced “EE-lee”), situated far from any large city, town, or interstate highway. This town and its historic railroad was the inspiration and reason for this trip. We were there to take the “Star Train” that evening, an excursion out into the darkness of the sagebrush desert, where National Park rangers and astronomers would teach us about the universe. At a remote spot, we would disembark from the train and view stars, nebulae, galaxies, and the moon through telescopes.
Though not a large town by American standards, Ely, with a population of about 4,000, was certainly the largest town we’d seen in some days. It was founded as a stagecoach station along the Pony Express route, and when copper was discovered in 1903, it experienced a late mining boom—at least compared to the earlier silver, gold, and lead mining booms elsewhere. This mining activity lined up perfectly with the country’s rapidly growing demand for copper, as the use of electricity and the telephone were increasing. Whether it was electric transmission lines, telephone lines, the electric elevator, the lightbulb, or electric streetcars, every new invention required copper, and any town producing copper became a boomtown. Such was the case in Ely, and that led to the construction of the Nevada Northern Railway, which connected the mines to the smelters, and the smelters to the mainlines of the Southern Pacific and Western Pacific Railroads, 137 miles to the north in Cobre. This railroad also provided passenger and freight service to and from Ely, opening the town up to the outside world in a way it had never been in the past.
Cat appeal
While the Star Train out into the desert was wonderful, and the time spent exploring the historic train yard and museum was fascinating, no trip to Ely and the Nevada Northern Railway would be complete without seeing the official feline “boss of the shop,” Dirt Jr. The original Dirt the Cat reigned from 2008 to 2023, and lived his whole life around trains, coal and shop tools. His regal attitude and dirty coat earned him fans around the world.
Sadly, our visit to Ely came too late to meet the original Dirt, but on our first day we found Dirt Jr. lounging around under some old train equipment, trying to stay cool on a hot day. The next day, we found him resting atop a toolbox in the engine house, where steam engines are maintained and repaired. It was clear that Dirt Jr., just like his predecessor Dirt, had the run of the place and could sleep and relax wherever he wanted to.
Keeping a vintage railroad operating is an expensive proposition, and while the original motivation to care for these cats came from a love for animals, an additional benefit of the mascots is all the attention they receive, and there can be no doubt that they have been good for business. There’s an entire section in the gift shop—available online as well—where shoppers can buy Dirt the Cat T-Shirts, calendars, bumper stickers, mugs, magnets, books, pins, and more.
Great Basin or bust
As our journey on Highway 50 continues, we’ll continue east towards Great Basin National Park, close to the Utah border. But before we do, there’s an interesting overnight trip to take, one that involves a ride down a dusty dirt road to a place where six large, beehive-shaped stone ovens have stood in a beautiful mountain setting since 1876, when they were built by Italian masons known as carbonari. What these 30-foot-tall stone ovens were used for will be explored in the next installment of this series. In the meantime, looming over the Ward Charcoal Ovens site, far in the distance, is Wheeler Peak, which at 13,065 feet above sea level is the highest point in Nevada. As it looms majestically on the horizon, looking impossibly large, the question running through my mind is, “Will we be able to summit that peak this time, or will we fail like last time, four years ago?” That question, and more, will be answered in our next installment.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via [email protected]. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
