Day 3: Winnemucca to Elko

After a hearty breakfast at the Griddle, in Winnemucca, we made a brief stop by the Winnemucca Visitor Center to learn about Buckaroo culture and history and to see the Buckaroo Hall of Fame. We returned to the Interstate to make our way towards Elko. Just outside of the city, the beautiful California Trail Interpretive Center facility can be spotted on the north side of the freeway. I learned a surprising amount about a period of U.S. history that I had previously imagined I was well-versed in. The exhibits and information are expertly curated, and the volunteer docent was knowledgeable and remarkably helpful.

Our first stop upon arriving in downtown Elko was the Western Folklife Center, a favorite of ours, and the host to the famed National Cowboy Poetry Gathering. The rotating exhibit at the Western Folklife Center still had the theme from the 2020 National Poetry Gathering displayed, which focused on the representation and legacy of black cowboys. Following the Civil War, roughly 25 percent of cowboys were black, which has seldom been represented in historical documentation or popular culture. The exhibit on display was both beautiful and powerful, and seemingly lent me another foot to kick myself with for missing the 2020 National Cowboy Poetry Gathering. We sauntered across the street to J.M. Capriola Co., a renowned saddle making and western wares company. They allowed us into the shop to watch them working on their next saddles, a marvel of craftsmanship to experience.

We intentionally compressed our day as much as possible to try to leave time for the sight that had been most calling to me on this trip. Lamoille Canyon is a mere 21 miles out of the back of Elko, and is the access point to the Ruby Mountains, also known as the Swiss Alps of Nevada. The stories of this area’s beauty have long piqued my interest, but I knew basically nothing about it. I could not believe how easily accessible Lamoille Canyon was from Elko. I really could not believe that it looks like that! Megan thankfully drove so I could wildly swing my camera in every direction with glee. After a short stint of 4-wheel-drive in the unplowed soft snow, the road ended at Thomas Campground. The last bit of light was hanging on the peaks, and we rushed out to explore what we could. I snapped away photos until it was pitch black, and we finally warmed our hands in the car on the way back into town. The exhilarating scenes for a landscape photographer were satisfying, but mostly they made me aware of my need to properly visit beyond the campground. 

Following a good stomp-around in the snow at Lamoille Canyon, we were ready to eat our weight at the dinner table. When I am following I-80, and I am hungry, I am likely to be found at a Basque restaurant. The Star Hotel is one of my absolute favorites. They spotted two hungry voyagers, right away, and had enough steak and sides to comfortably feed 5 people overflowing the bar top in short order. With just one day left on our trip, we went to go visit our best 10’ 4” friend, White King, then turned in for the night. 

Day 4: Elko to West Wendover

Our final day on the trip also began with a hearty breakfast. This time, from McAdoo’s, in Elko, and it started the day off, right. We intended to visit Angel Lake, outside of Wells, then head to Ruby Mountain Brewing Company. However, our directions were off, and sent us to the wrong highway, which then told us to cut through a ranch property bearing a sign stating that, “Your GPS is wrong, this is not the way to Angel Lake.” However, as luck would have it, that ranch happened to be the locale of Ruby Mountain Brewing Company (and it turned out that the highway towards Angel Lake was closed, anyway)! Steve and Maggie met us in the barn that serves as the brewery with their absolute ham of a pup in Rue. The garage door looks out on their working ranch, with the jagged peaks of the Ruby Mountains so close they look like you can reach out and touch them. Steve calmly and humbly explained his brewing history (as Maggie poked fun at him), which started almost 30 years ago as a pet project to hand off to his sons, who became firefighters. Instead, he has churned out award-winning beers, beating many of the big companies regularly at the Great American Beer Festival with zero hint of pretension. Do not pass Wells on I-80 without arranging a visit to Ruby Mountain Brewing Company if you love craft beer and outstanding company. 

This post is in partnership with Travel Nevada and Travel Mindset.

Nevada’s Cowboy Corridor spans roughly 400 miles on Interstate 80 from Reno to West Wendover, at the eastern edge of the state. The most obvious through line connecting the destinations lining the Cowboy Corridor is the fast-moving I-80. However, what struck me as the traits connecting cities and towns that would otherwise seem disparate in their size and setting, are the rugged authenticity, overwhelming kindness, and genuine beauty awaiting anyone willing to look for it. 

As a quick background on me, my name is Sam Brockway, and I am a freelance travel photographer based out of Boise, Idaho. As is fortunately often the case, I was able to bring my girlfriend, Megan, along on this trip. Her lens is invaluable on a trip like this, as we both have an individual relationship with Nevada, both on and off I-80. A great deal of our time is spent in towns and cities throughout the West that fiercely hold onto their original identities as frontier towns, and possibly no assemblage of cities and towns represents that respect to their origins quite like those found along the Cowboy Corridor. 

I will not bore you with my interpretation of the similarities and differences between Nevada and Idaho. However, I find myself drawn to the cultures that have grown out of the spaces still directly influenced by their genesis as frontier towns, where the community was all that people had to rely upon for at least a day’s ride in any direction. Each place, whether it still bears a minuscule year-round population or it has become a full-on city, takes pride in its individual identity, while sharing the true “I’ve got your back” sense of community and rugged individualism imperative for people to have survived in the frontier. That will be the lens that I will view the Cowboy Corridor through as I make my way across I-80. 

Day 1: Reno to Unionville

Upon return, Megan’s hat looked so crisp and, frankly, unworn, that she looked ready to head to the nearest arena hosting a Garth Brooks concert. She was able to brandish it just down the street to Louis’ Basque Corner from which it was nearly impossible to part with either the extraordinarily rich Chorizo Burger or the various groups that had become our new friends as they popped in to enjoy their Saturday. 

It was time to get out of the big city and follow the Cowboy Corridor. Our first stop on the route was less of a stop, and more of a pilgrimage. A love pilgrimage. In keeping with a Chinese tradition dictating that couples who symbolically “lock their love” will remain in love so long as the locks are intact, couples travelling the Cowboy Corridor have long signaled their dedication by locking their love in Lover’s Lock Plaza outside of the Pershing County Courthouse in Lovelock. After 13 years together, Megan and I decided that we were ready for this major step. We ventured to find a lock late in the day, and battled gale-force winds at the plaza. In the end, our love was effectively sealed. 

The last destination for the day was to get to where we were staying, at the Old Pioneer Garden Country Inn, in Unionville. We stopped along the way to get pizza at Gold Diggers Saloon and Grub House in Rye Patch. While we waited for our pizza, we met a very nice patron, Scott, who had a gold claim in my minuscule hometown, was at the same 1969 Led Zeppelin concert at the Green Lake Aqua Theater in Seattle as my dad, and lived two houses down from us when we lived in Seattle. We took our massive pizza with us to eat at the B&B when we got there. 

By the time we arrived in Unionville, it was almost 9 p.m., and the drive in was impressively dark. David and Mitzi were ready for us when we got there. The grounds were difficult to imagine with nothing more than a few orange-glowing bulbs sparsely illuminating small sections of the property. David showed us to our cabin, which was beautifully rustic from the outside, and downright charming and welcoming on the inside.

It was comfortably warm despite the sideways-blowing snow, and the only sound in any direction came from the wind hitting the building and nearby farm equipment. After what felt like a big day, we settled in, played dice, ate pizza and turned in for the night 

Day 2: Unionville to Winnemucca

A close friend kindly offered to lend me a 1913 copy of “Roughing it,” which includes a detailed account of Samuel Clemens’ attempts at mining for gold in the area. Upon the realization that it is only cheap metals that glitter, Clemens mused, “However, like the rest of the world, I still go on underrating men of gold and glorifying men of mica. Commonplace human nature cannot rise above that.” Clemens’ cynicism may have improved from being a better miner, but that would have certainly robbed us of his true gift apparent when he began signing his books under the moniker of Mark Twain. 

Our slow and begrudging departure from the Old Pioneer Garden meant a late start on the road. Still, we could not miss stopping at a sight we have seen countless times from the freeway, but never made the time to visit. Thunder Mountain Monument, in Imlay, is a towering series of sculptures that can easily be seen from a distance, made by Frank Van Zant, who would later come to be known as Chief Thunder. The lore of Thunder Mountain is varied and fascinating, and it was a treat to finally take the time to appreciate the eclectic structures. 

We were worried that we might be running late for the Winnemucca Ranch Hand Rodeo, but as we pulled up, the endless sea of horse trailers in the parking lot provided some assurance. We caught calf roping and left after the trailer loading (where a team of 4 riders must find a specific numbered calf to coax and wrestle into a trailer). The events were fantastic to watch and left me ready to eat a large portion of steak. The setting for dinner was the Martin Hotel , whose steak sandwich was just what the doctor ordered, then I stayed for a Picon Punch to assist with some photo work. I wound up making fast friends with an Elko native, named Elliott, who proudly declared, “If I’m not in Elko, I want to be able to walk to a Basque restaurant in 4 minutes!” An ambition that I can truly support. 

This post is in partnership with Travel Nevada and Travel Mindset.

Continue to Part II