Nevada State Route 722 is Truly a Lonely Road

 

Old U.S. 50, which just might be the real Loneliest Road in America

  If you want to find a road even lonelier than U.S. 50, which is officially called the Loneliest Road in America, than go no further than State Route 722, a paved highway that runs parallel to U.S. 50, that boasts even less traffic.

  Also known as the Carroll Summit Road or Old U.S. 50, SR 722 stretches between Eastgate and Austin, slightly south of U.S. 50.

  SR722 was, for many decades, part of U.S. 50. In the mid-1960s, however, state highway engineers realized that a more northern route avoided having to cross the high Desatoya Range, which can be treacherous to drive in the winter (and the road would often close).

  Once the new route of U.S. 50 opened, the old road continued to exist to service the handful of ranches and homesteads along the way. But few travel the 58-mile stretch of road unless they have to.

  And that’s too bad. SR 722 is actually very scenic and offers some wonderful views of wide-open Nevada landscapes.

  To access the route, head east on U.S. 50, past Fallon. Three miles east of Middlegate, travelers will find the turn off for State Route 722. The road slowly begins to climb as it heads toward craggy rock cliffs pocketed with small caves.

  An historic marker notes this is also the site of Wagon Jack Shelter, where prehistoric artifacts of the native Shoshone people, some dating back more than 1,500 years, have been found.

  The road passes through a narrow passageway in the rocks and an old stone house, which was once an Overland Stagecoach Station called Eastgate.

  The name was given to the area in 1859 by Captain James H. Simpson, who that year led an U.S. Army survey of Central Nevada. It reflected his observation that the shape of the terrain served as a natural pass or gateway into the surrounding valley.

  The highway continues to climb into the mountains, passing a small creek that has cut unusually deep channels in the soft ground. It passes a small rest area, just a picnic table under a few trees, before zigzagging through increasingly dense groves of pine trees.

  Soon, the steep climb ends at Carroll Summit, elevation 7,452 feet. This high pass, sometimes closed by snow, is a large part of the reason that U.S. 50 was relocated decades ago to lower ground to the north.

  The old highway now begins to gradually descend through the Desatoyas. Interesting, fractured rock cliffs, some of which resemble the formations found at California’s Devil’s Postpile, crop up occasionally.

  Along the way, travelers can view picturesque, small streams parallel to the road as well as a lush assortment of plant life, including large cottonwoods.

  Here and there, there are the ruins of historic ranches and other structures, such as the former Carroll Station, now little more than a little wooden frame house (it had been brought to the site from Lake Tahoe when the highway was built over the summit in 1924-25). The station once hosted a bar and a gas station.

  Up the road you can also see a couple of old stone buildings that are part of the Campbell Creek Ranch.

  At about 30 miles from the turnoff, the road crosses Smith Creek Valley, usually little more than a dry lakebed, before climbing over Railroad Pass (elevation 6,431 feet).

  To the south are the Shoshone Mountains, including North Shoshone Peak, which rises 10,313 feet. The air here is clean and fresh. In the spring, it’s often possible to see colorful fields of wildflowers.

  The route drifts south of the newer Highway 50 through the Reese River Valley. The view is gorgeous, with the snow-capped Toiyabe Mountains to the southeast and the broad Reese River Valley stretching out north and south for as far as you can see.

  The old highway crosses the Reese River, which during most years is more deserving of being called a creek. Ahead is Austin’s airport, a dirt landing strip with a windsock and a couple of small buildings.

  Throughout this valley, you can occasionally find cows wandering across the road and milling about the shoulders.

  About three miles west of Austin, State Route 722 re-merges with U.S. 50 and the side trip is over. You immediately miss the loneliness and almost want to turn around to do it again, just to see how things look from the other direction.