Travels

A wet winter in the Great Basin is pretty much always a good thing. Most Nevadans will gladly sit through their third April snowstorm if that means babbling brooks and green hillsides into July. But it’s not only grass, sage, and alfalfa that reap the rewards of strong runoff: Snowcapped peaks in spring means a bumper crop of beautiful wildflowers.

There’s something about retro, vintage, and chic that’s practically irresistible. Maybe it’s the way they stir up nostalgia—or maybe people just had better taste back then. And sure, while you could don a pant suit and aviators for your retro revelry, why not go all in with an immersive stay at some of Nevada’s coolest overnighters?

Many moons ago, I wrote about my best-ever stay in Nevada, at a little place in Kingston. Times change and businesses close, so my search began anew for my favorite spot. I’m thrilled to say I’ve got a new leader on the clubhouse wall, and I’m not surprised it happens to be in the same locale. Kingston Cabin—in the small hamlet of Kingston (population less than 150)—offers that exceptional combination of a perfectly furnished stay in a sublime location. The two are inextricably linked to me, so let’s tackle them one at a time.

Nevada is known for many things: Las Vegas, mining, and wide-open spaces, for example. While some people may be aware, it’s perhaps less known that the state is home to more ghost towns than currently populated ones. Many states have ghost towns, but here, there are more than 600 spread across the desert landscape. That figure outnumbers populated towns almost five-to-one, based on the approximately 175 zip-coded locales in the state. So just how did Nevada end up with so many places no one wanted to call home any longer? And what is a ghost town, exactly? Are there really “living” ghost towns? Read on for the answers to these questions and more.

During my senior year of high school, I took a trip to the Black Rock Desert. I remember sitting in the back seat as we drove through Wadsworth and Nixon, past mysterious Pyramid Lake, and into the unknown toward the tiny town of Gerlach. The landscape was alien to me; at that point in my life, I hadn’t explored outside the Gardnerville-Carson City-Reno area, and I had no idea what secrets hid in the Nevada desert.

In July 1986, “Life” magazine used the term “The Loneliest Road in America” to describe the stretch of U.S. Route 50—more commonly known as Highway 50—from Fernley to Ely. AAA even advised against traveling the highway, claiming there was nothing to see. They noted that anyone crazy enough to make the journey should carry survival gear such as water and cold-weather clothes.

Fish Lake Valley is a green stretch of high desert straddling the Nevada-California border. Even by Nevada standards, this is rural country. Beyond the tiny town of Dyer—home to one gas station and no stoplight—only farms and weathered homesteads dot the landscape.

As a 30-something-year Nevada resident and a writer for Nevada Magazine & Visitor Guide, I've spent a lot of time on the road. I can safely say I have been on every major state route and highway, not to mention countless graded backroads and washed-out two-tracks. Over the years, a few routes have become favorites, and I always look forward to taking or recommending them.