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The Oldest Bar in Nevada

By Paul Lyons

4/12/2007 8:10:10 AM | Number of Comments: 0 | Add Comments +

Here I am writing a journal about San Francisco and the next thing I know it is about Nevada. Actually it is not all that strange. Nevada is only a four-hour drive on Interstate 80 and Highway 50. Up through the mountains we went. Along Highway 50. I had not taken this route in years as I have a general dislike for South Lake Tahoe now that Louis Prima is no longer with us. It would have been great to hear his show in the 1950s. We took a right on 237 and over a pass into a dryer, more-dusty terrain. We were headed to Dave Wally’s Hot Springs and Resort and a few days of kicking back with some friends in their time-share.

Dave Wally’s Hot Springs is actually a place with a bit of history. Since the late 19th Century, people have rested at Dave Wally’s, soaked in the natural hot springs, gazed at the beautiful mountains and taken in the delicious wetlands. During our stay these wetlands were simply brimming with geese, which I am sure in times past were easy pickings with a rifle. They were probably served on platters or simply roasted on a spit over the fire and eaten whichever way was practical. Mark Twain, in his westerly ramblings, stopped by Dave Wally’s. Lately, I have been reading the biography of Jedediah Smith, an interesting character from the early American West. Jedediah Smith may have actually been through Dave Wally’s. I have not gotten to that chapter. He was of the era of beaver trapping and fur trading companies. They would always be on tenuous terms with the Blackfoot, Crow and other native peoples, and would often be half starving and surely disoriented. Many had terrifying encounters with grizzly bears and were seriously mauled. One character, Hugh Glass, was basically ripped apart by a bear and managed to then walk, alone, hundreds of miles with only a razor blade to an outpost and survive. Grizzly bears. Spare me the burden.

We soaked in the tubs. Indulged in great food and drink and then soaked in the tubs and indulged in more great food and drink. I am certain that Hugh Glass would have thought he had died and went to heaven if he stumbled out of the desert and joined our party.

One night we went to Genoa where rumor had it that one could visit the oldest bar in Nevada. Genoa is a little town a few miles up a modern road from Dave Wally’s. While we drove this length I could not help but imagine what it would have been like to get out the natural hot pools, wipe the goose grease off your face, get on your horse and ride up to Genoa for a glass of whiskey or two. The bar was old and fortunately played host to the local characters drinking PBR in cans – obviously drinking on a budget. I took many photos of the walls inside, as they were quite entertaining: old outlaw wanted signs, whisky posters, half-naked women of the night, ancient glass bottles. Before we left we had one of the folks who was sitting on the front stoop take a picture of our group. It was a decent enough shot and all members have a smile on their faces especially some of the volunteer photographer's buddies who had snuck into the back row (see photo below… it is pretty funny). They had probably been through this routine many times.

Originally we were going to go skiing on this trip but spring has come a bit early in the mountains this year and the snow was not looking too inviting. Instead, went for a nice hike then back to Dave Wally’s.

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