Overlanding — Blog — Backroads Banet

Typically visiting Berlin, Manhattan, and Austin in a single weekend would be a downright daunting logistical nightmare spanning two continents and seven time zones. Luckily, if one can get themselves to Tonopah, Nevada, all these bustling cities can be visited with a single tank of gas and a 300 mile loop along some of the Silver State’s finest backroads. No, you won’t walk under the Brandenburg Gate on your way to the Reichstag Building, see the flashing lights of Times Square, or pass the Texas state capitol building; but you’ll see the glimmers of the past sparkling through the dust of Nevada’s old mining boomtowns.

a well-built relic of the late 1860’s, this smokestack stands tall in central Nevada

Whether they hailed from these cities or thought their gold strike would spawn a similarly iconic city, Berlin, Manhattan, and Austin stand today as living ruins of the past and a testament to the resilient future. In July of 2020, a three day weekend and a lack of overnight backpacking permits in the Sierra sent Sammie and I across the state line to Nevada in search of solitude, hot springs, mountain peaks, and mining ruins of bygone eras. All were found in abundance. Sammie is a college friend from SC Outfitters, one of USC’s outdoor programs. She’d been living in Washington DC at the time and was back in California visiting family so getting out to some classic Western scenery was high on the to-do list.

a red toyota tacoma sits on a mountain ridge with a 4wd track leading further up the ridge behind — campsite views in the Toquima Range

After a quick pit stop to admire wild horses near Montgomery Pass on US 6, we made our way to Tonopah Dunes OHV area. Baking under the sun around 90º before 11am, the picnic tables and staging area were unsurprisingly empty. Under the shadow of the bankrupt Crescent Dunes Solar Tower, I aired the truck down to about 12 PSI and proceeded to roam around the low dunes. Very cognizant of the heat and lack of cell service, I didn’t push the Tacoma’s limits too much and stayed away from the steeper and larger dunes.

the solar panels reflect to the tower and heat up salt to molten temperatures when it is then used to heat water to steam to spin turbines. Fancy tech and bankrupt in 2020 when we were there.

Rolling up and over waves of sand felt disorienting like we were adrift on an inland ocean of sorts. The tower of the solar plant would appear over the dunes at times reminding us of Nevada’s strange contrasts. After 30 minutes or so, we’d circled the dunes and explored what could prudently be driven in the circumstances and vehicle we had. I aired back up to highway pressure wondering what sort of OHVs had left their tracks on the highest dune faces over 300 feet above us. From here, it was a quick 15 minute ride to Tonopah, the last gas station for about two hundred miles. Filling up the tank didn’t take long and then we hit the road again.

certain angles of the dunefield made you forget these were OHV dunes

It was a quick 50 miles into Manhattan and once there, we found the library. I’d heard there was a bit of a local history component to it and boy, was that right. An enthusiastic older man and woman spent the next half hour showing us photos and recounting the stories of Manhattan’s mining past under pressed tin ceilings and old mining machines scattered around the books. A gallery of photos of the museum is below. The last two images are of the church in town.

The lady’s father had brought them to Manhattan many decades ago and she was still here telling tales of the town’s past in her retirement. We were told what mines to look at on the way out of town and told to envision the giant hydraulic dredges tearing up the mountainside to create the current topography of streets threading their way through open pits. Having reached the treeline of piñon and juniper, outside temperatures were quite pleasant. One of the librarian’s facts about Tonopah residents liking to buy summer homes in Manhattan finally clicked.

Airing down the tires for the bumpy stagecoach road (and the next hundred miles on dirt)

A few miles out of town, we veered off the main county road to follow the original stagecoach road to Belmont, the next small town about ten miles away. What followed was an uniquely unpleasant ride on 6 inch high sandy washboards at a violently jostling 10mph. When the stagecoach road soon began to parallel the modern highway with the occasional car zipping by at 60mph, we really felt like the original travelers in their stagecoaches. At the first opportunity, we rejoined the pavement as well.

The chimney from the original mill that processed Belmont’s silver ore. The town boomed from 1867-1888, but a number of residents have stuck in out and still call Belmont home.

Belmont was a quick stop as there were no community institutions other than the Dirty Dicks Saloon. Full to the brim with maskless SxS riders and the date being in June of 2020, we decided to press on into Monitor Valley where there were far fewer people. We stopped in the shade of a massive 1800’s mill for a lunch of hummus and bell peppers in pita pockets. Walking around this site was an impressive homage to the industry that had these hills alive with activity many decades ago. All that remains is the tall brick chimney and walls. The site was remarkably devoid of any graffiti and perched right at the edge of the trees. It was an amazing place to watch cloud shadows drift over the sagebrush sea and mountains of the Monitor Range.

We utilized this tiny patch of shade for a lunch break.

150 years later and the brick walls are still standing

Here’s an 1872 photo of the mill at Belmont. Image is courtesy of Western Mining History. More photos and history here- westernmininghistory.com/towns/nevada/belmont/

A quick drive to the north led us to a canyon that rose to the crest of the Toquima Range. On the way up, we stopped at a gold mine that the librarians in Manhattan had told us about. I’m not sure if it was the right place or if it had been stripped by decades of like-minded treasure hunters, but a brushy scramble up a dry gulch led to collapsed shafts and a distinct lack of the gold bearing, quartz veined rock we were told would abound.

The Flower Mine camp from the washed out road that used to lead to the mine.

Nearly to the crest, we made a detour to a Forest Service Guard Station with a spring bubbling out of a pipe. Located in a high mountain meadow, this cabin was in an idyllic spot with grasses bobbing in the breeze. Guard stations are a forest service tradition from the 1920’s when remote parts of the national forest often took many days to reach and rangers or trail crews would be based out of the cabin while conducting patrols or work in the area. In the coming decades, automobiles rendered many of these cabins obsolete and hundreds were torn down. A lucky few remain like this one.

Meadow Canyon Guard Station is a cabin that forest service employees used to use a hundred years ago. — Meadow Canyon Guard Station and its outhouse

The old corral still stands in the meadow next to the cabin. The two photos below are of the inside of the guard station.

a spring in the meadow next to the cabin

A final climb in 4Lo separated us from the crest and camp. We set up in some small trees below Mt. Jefferson. With a few hours till sunset and Comet Neowise, we set up lawn chairs, donned a light jacket and settled into some good books.

Surveying the landscape before calling it a night with camp here.

I was reading Eating Stone by Ellen Meloy. I learned much about the ways of bighorn sheep in the southwest and the quiet appreciation of the wild that comes with decades of observation.

The Belt of Venus appears on the eastern horizon after sunset.

As the sun set, the lights of Round Mountain mine came on many thousands of feet below us. They could not take away from the celestial spectacle that soon appeared though. Comet Neowise was making its once every 6,800 year visit past Earth and was spectacular in the dark skies of central Nevada. The ion trail adjacent to the main comet trail was clearly visible. With the Milky Way arching overhead, we enjoyed the 45 minutes of comet viewing before Neowise set behind the western horizon. The faint glow of Las Vegas could be detected by my camera despite being 200 miles distant from us.

Comet Neowise arcs across the sky over Nevada's Alta Toquima Wilderness — Comet Neowise gradually became more and more visible as the sun’s light faded out of the sky.