Eureka, along the loneliest road in America

 

An article in Life magazine from July, 1986 listed U.S. Route 50 as ‘The Loneliest Road in America’.

That sounded rather sad, and lonely. I just had to visit and try to cheer up this long stretch of remote asphalt up. I’m that kind of guy – always thinking of the road.

Route 50 extends west to east over three thousand miles from West Sacramento, California to Ocean City in the state of Maryland. That is one long piece of highway. I did not have the time to travel it all at the moment, so a decision was made. I’d only travel the roadway across the section which traversed the state of Nevada. That was still over four hundred miles, but at least two-thousand six hundred miles shorter than the entire route.

That was doable.

“Won’t you be lonely out there on the loneliest road in America?” Laureen asked.

“I thought you’d like a short outing,” I replied.

“No can do this week, really busy,” she answered.

So, I cajoled my buddy, Paul, to venture out for this newest adventure. He was game.

“I’m game,” he stated.

We drove north on U.S. Route 395 and enjoyed visiting the towns of Olancha, Lone Pine, Independence, Big Pine, Bishop, Bigger Pine, Lee Vining, and Biggest Pine. Cruising the eastern side of the Sierra mountain range is always a great road trip. Desert brown turning to forest green is awe inspiring. It’s as if Mother Nature is showing all the colors available on her palette. 

We grabbed Route 50 just east of Carson City and were on our way along the loneliest road in America.

I felt a tear slowly fall, as I made that turn.

Within a hundred miles, it dawned on me why this stretch of highway was given the moniker by Life magazine – it was lonely. There is nothing to be seen except flat lands stretching to the horizons on either side of the road.

“Do you see anything?” I asked Paul.

“Nope, nothing to see.”

Of course, there are the small towns of Fallon, Middlegate, Austin, and such along the way, but in between these locales there was nothing but mile after mile of nothingness and loneliness.

We drove for hours and never saw another vehicle. When it was time to camp for the evening, I didn’t even have to pull off the side of the highway. No, just pitched a tent in the middle of the road – no semi-truck ran us over during the night.

In all transparency, we didn’t camp in the middle of the road, which would be dangerous and stupid. Things I try to avoid, or don’t tell Laureen about.

Around noon, on the second day of our trip, we pulled into the town of Eureka, Nevada. I believed it would only be for a tankful of gasoline, but I was wrong.

This town, first settled in 1864 by a group of prospectors who found rich silver-lead ore in the nearby hills, was more than just a fuel fill-up. Turns out there is much more to Eureka than being one of the best preserved historic old mining towns I have come across. 

Part of downtown Eureka, Nevada

The downtown looks like you have been transported into the late 1800’s. Pristine buildings like the Eureka Opera House, the Colonnade Hotel, the Owl Club Saloon Roadhouse, the Eureka County Courthouse, and the majestic Jackson House Hotel, just to name a few.

One of the many older but well maintained buildings

And the best part about Eureka – it’s haunted.

According to Dana Lee Fruend, the Eureka Tourism Director, the town has more ghosts than can be counted.

John R Beyer with Dana Lee Fruend

So haunted, in 2017 the Travel Channel sent Zak Bagan and his crew from the series ‘Ghost Adventures’, to investigate. Since then, professional and amateur paranormal investigators have paid Eureka many visits.

We met Fruend in the Jackson House Hotel, built in 1877, and is supposedly one of the most haunted buildings in the town.

Jackson House Hotel in Eureka, Nevada

Many people have reported sitting at the bar inside the Jackson House Hotel and seeing the words – ‘I’m watching you’, mysteriously appear on the fogged mirror behind the bar.

“Perhaps it’s just Alexa, or the government” I stated to Fruend.

“I don’t think so,” she replied.

During the heydays of Eureka back in the late 1800’s, a violent or mysterious death wasn’t an unusual event for the town. For example, a man keeled over one night while drinking at the bar – he was dead before he hit the floor. Another man collapsed outside the hotel’s front door after receiving a fatal gunshot during a heated argument.

Violence in mining towns was not rare, and Eureka experienced its fair share through the years.

“I actually had a strange occurrence myself,” Fruend stated. “One evening I was doing some paperwork here in the office when suddenly doors starting opening and slamming shut. I heard footsteps right outside the office, but when I investigated, there was no one there. There was no one in the entire building. It freaked me out, so I gathered my things and went home to finish the work.”

Another employee, saw two children going up the hotels stairway and then just disappear into thin air.

“There’s a guy we call Ray, who really is active in the kitchen,” she said. “He’s not there, but the utensils move around a lot as though he’s trying to cook something.”

A ghost cooking? Talk about empty calories – I couldn’t resist that one. 

It also turned out that the Owl Bar, just down the street from the hotel is haunted. 

Owl Restaurant and Bar in Eureka, Nevada

“There’s an employee there who has been photographed with floating white orbs around her in numerous photos. There’s a cowboy who has been seen, just hanging out at the bar, but isn’t really there. And, a mirror where a woman is seen in it, and then the mirror can only be cleaned using Gin. No other cleaning product works after she is seen.”

That’s a picky ghost. 

“No, Vodka won’t do. You’ll have to use the good Gin to get me out of the mirror,” the ghost was once overheard saying.

Interior of Owl Bar in Eureka, Nevada

“There are other sightings in different parts of town and at different times of the day or year,” Fruend told us. “But this is a beautiful town with wonderful people who live here. I couldn’t think of anywhere to live.”

Eureka receives over ten thousand tourists a year – not bad since it sits on the Route 50. Most come for the beauty of the countryside or the numerous events held in the town. In June, there is the Legends of the West Bike and Car Fest, the great 4th of July celebration, in September the art, wine and music festival, and so much more.

Fruend is a fount of knowledge concerning Eureka, so much so, she described an old dilapidated part of town that most tourists don’t know about. It too is supposedly haunted.

We got the directions and within minutes were on our way.

Driving approximately a mile and a half over paved and then dirt roads, we found ourselves on a hill high above Eureka. There was a large production plant of some sort to the northeast of us and then a cluster of really tattered looking old wooden buildings to the southwest.

Outside of the town of Eureka, Nevada

Exploring buildings in disrepair must be approached carefully. You don’t want a roof beam falling down on your head. I do it because I’m a professional explorer and have a very hard noggin.

“Check this out,” Paul stated while he was standing in front of one of the buildings. No windows, no doors, but a very creepy cloth painting hanging on the rear wall. He was snapping photos with his phone.

“That is creepy,” I stated. It was a painting of a woman, tattered, and blowing in the breeze with two dark orbs as eyes.

A haunting image in Eureka, Nevada

“My camera won’t take a photo,” Paul stated. He then showed me multiple shots he had taken of the cloth painting and each one only came out dark blue. He then took a photo of another building and no issue. Clear and bright.

Again, I’m a skeptic when it comes to the paranormal stuff, but there was something in that small house that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

We walked around a bit, snapped a few more photos and it was time to go. I felt a bit better as I looked in the rear view mirror watching the rundown buildings disappear.

Eureka is more than just a place to look for hauntings. As the tourism director told me, the town’s motto is – ‘Eureka! You’ve found us! History, Folklore and fun, we have it all.’

And, they certainly do.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Evanston, Wyoming

 According to bartender extraordinaire, Lexi, Wyoming only has two seasons. 

“In this part of Wyoming, there are only two seasons,” the attractive dark-haired woman explained. “Winter and construction.”

Laureen and I had parched throats. That happens occasionally when out wandering and pondering, and we had found ourselves at the Suds Bros. Brewery in Evanston, Wyoming.

Suds Bros brewery - Evanston, Wyoming

We had driven up through Utah, entered Wyoming and found ourselves bivouacked at a campground next to the Bear River in Evanston.

 At nearly seven thousand feet above sea level, it is a town in the mountains – tall mountains.

Tall mountains in Wyoming often mean cold temperatures, no matter the time of year. Weather moves fast – we have learned that more than once in our travels.

Laureen once stated, “What a beautiful day to be out. Bright blue skies and not a cloud to be seen.”

Ten minutes later, we were running to an underpass as a seven on the Fujita Scale swept past us.

“That was close,” she said.

“Where’s our car?” I asked.

After setting up camp for the night – which means hooking up the RV, setting up dog fences, checking the hook-ups on the RV for the third time, and checking for any escape routes our very stealthy dogs would find, it was time for a walk to downtown Evanston.

The woman in the front office of the RV park was highly informative.

“Does the river walk take us to downtown Evanston?” I asked.

She looked at me. Looked at the exit door. Looked at me again. “It’s a paved path along the river.”

I nodded. “Yes, but does it take me to downtown Evanston, along that paved path.”

“Along the river,” she replied. “It does. But its paved.”

I nodded a second time; glad she had not replied that there wasn’t really a path, and that Laureen and I would have to swim upriver to the town.

Luckily, the river flowed downriver to the town. 

There is a genuinely nice and comfortable mile walk into the historic part of Evanston from the campground. The walkway winded this way and that. Tall trees stretched long branches over the walkway in certain areas, and in others we had clear views of the quickly flowing Bear River.

Beautiful Bear River

The city had installed those stop-and-work-out stations along the way.

‘Do fifteen pushups and go to next station.’ ‘Do twenty squats and go to next station.’ ‘Balance on beam for thirty seconds and go to next station.’ ‘Rub you stomach clock-wise and your head counter-clockwise and laugh at yourself.’

Nice idea, but we did not see any locals taking advantage. But then again, we may have missed the locals. We stopped and participated in about a half a dozen of the physical activities.

“I’m done,” I stated.

“You did five push-ups.”

I smiled. “With style.”

The Bear River along the paved path is not a large river, at least in mid-June, but the water was clear, sparkling, and very inviting. Inviting, if you were an eight-year-old who does not understand the concept of cold water.

“Come on, mom, it’s not that cold.”

“Wipe the icicles off your nose and get the in the house right now!”

The weather was pleasant. Our moods were pleasant. And the sight of Suds Bros. Brewery was pleasant.

As a public service announcement, while driving, stopping by a brewery isn’t the best thing to do. But when the day’s driving is done – then what the heck – taste a bit of the local flavor and enjoy. Always drink responsibly is my motto - never order more than you can afford.

The town of Evanston was created as a railroad hub in the late 1860's. The Union Pacific Railroad was constructing the First Transcontinental Railroad - known as the Pacific Railroad and later as the Overland Route, which was nearly two thousand miles of continuous railroad. The goal was to link Council Bluffs, Iowa with the Pacific Ocean, ending in San Francisco Bay.

Downtown Evanston

Welcome to the Depot Square

One of the original buildings in the Depot Square

A refurbished building in the Depot Square

There are two legends of how the town received its name. It was either named after a civil engineer for the railroad by the name of James A. Evans, or after the second Governor of the Territory of Colorado by the name of John Evans.

When asked, John Evans stated the town had been named after James A. Evans. Where-as James A. Evans stated the town had been named after John Evans. So very modest, these Evanses.

It was rather confusing, but as neither had the last name of Evanston, we may never know. 

One of the original businesses in Evanston

The entrepreneur, Harvey Booth opened a saloon and a restaurant in Evanston in 1868 in a tent, near what would later be the downtown area, but within a month, the railroad station was moved to Wasatch, twelve miles west.

Almost instantly the town dried up with all workers moving to Wasatch. But luckily for those like Booth, the railroad bigshots decided to move operations back to Evanston in June of 1869.

The town of Wasatch continued until the 1930s, but is now considered a ghost town. I don’t believe in conspiracy theories, though I love a good conspiracy – could the decision by the railroad be tired to how similar the name of Wasatch is to Sasquatch?

Just pondering here.

In fact, things were going so well with Evanston that it became the seat for Uinta County in 1873, when the first courthouse was also opened.

Uinta County Library

Evanston prospered even more through the years, especially with the abundant water nearby to refill locomotives that were moving cross-county, as well as a great supply of timber needed for a quickly growing population, not only in the Wyoming area, but across the nation. 

As automobiles found themselves more and more popular, roadways and highways started etching their way across the United States.

Evanston found itself in the center of the action.

According to my research, Evanston was a major stop on the Lincoln Highway. The highway ran east to west from East Service Road to Bear River Drive, on Front Street to Harrison Drive to Wasatch Road southwest to Echo Canyon in Utah.

The old Lincoln Highway can still be seen in spots along Intestate 80, which follows the railroad tracks. I was told this by a local in Evanston, but no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find it. Then again, once I put down my sunglasses, I usually need the assistance of the local search and rescue unit.

In the 1980s, new life was drilled into the Evanston area with the oil boom. Natural gas has also played a large role in this small town becoming larger and larger by the year.

The town offers so much in the area of entertainment for locals and visitors. Music at the Depot Square, Wyoming Downs Horse Racing, various brewfests, farmers markets, car cruises, hiking, bike riding, and the list goes on and on – but I am not going to type of all the activities. It is a long list of things to do in Evanston, and frankly, after all that excitement, I hardly have the energy to type at all. 

Laureen enjoying one of the local parks

We had decided to take US Route 89 out of Provo, Utah to Evanston, since it was a byway instead of the direct path to Evanston via Instate 80.

According to National Geographic, US Route 89 is considered ‘a drivers drive.’ The number one drive for travelers who want to venture from the Sonoran Desert, through Yellowstone, and into Canada.

The nickname for this highway is - the untraveled road.

What other path would anyone take?

The scenery was breathtaking. Tall cliffs of varied colors towering over us. Swift moving streams below us. Clear blue skies above us. Deer, elk, and some animal which looked a bit like a big hairy ape scratching their backside on a tree.

We passed Sundance, the legendary film festival mecca, but since I don’t know Robert Redford, we didn’t stop.

As we drove through this beautiful country, Laureen looked over at me and shared a thought.  “You know, highways are for making time. Byways are for making memories.”

Truer words there are not.

We slowed down and took in the sights. We ended up in a small town, by the name of Evanston, in southwest Wyoming and knew it had been the right path to follow. 

Lexi handed me a locally brewed libation and smiled. “Evanston is a great town. We offer so much, and each year more people are learning about it. Yes, our weather can change in a minute, heck, we had a bit of snow just last week, but who cares. It is beautiful, the people wonderful, and nature is here. What more can a person ask for? Local or visitor.”

John with a snow gauge in hand

She was so right. 

Twenty years later, and we still won't forget

 As we recall that frightening morning on September 11th, 2001 - we must as a nation never allow the date to slip by unnoticed. 

Though, twenty years have passed, it seems like only yesterday. Anyone alive during that fateful day will recall exactly where they were when the news came across the wires that the Twin Towers were on fire.

Laureen and I were getting ready for work. Our phone rang, and a friend of ours told us to turn on the news.

Our television had just flicked on, when United Airlines Flight 175, suddenly came into view and struck the south tower of the World Trade Center in New York City. The north tower had already been struck by an American Airlines flight minutes earlier.

One plane striking a tower - a possible and tragic accident. Another plane striking the opposite tower - we knew the United States was under attack. 

We were stunned. 

Laureen cried. I cried. We knew our fellow citizens - innocent citizens were being murdered. Nearly three thousand Americans died on that day - many more first responders have perished since that date due to complications of being the heroes who ran toward the disaster and not away from it. They saved countless lives, while forfeiting theirs in the process.

We, at J and L don't need to write much on this topic. It is embedded in every American's heart and soul.

And that being the case - all we can do is remember each victim and pray they are at peace in a far more gentle place then the one they have left.