Striking it Real

When I went to Colorado to work on a guest ranch there was one other thing that I wanted to do out West more than anything else.  I wanted to visit a ghost town.  Not a tourist trap with gunfight reenactments, and souvenir hats but a real ghost town with deserted buildings, tumbleweeds rolling down the streets and at least one battered wooden sign swinging from a hook and creaking in the wind. You know, a real ghost town just like the ones on TV and in the movies.

I bought a book about how to find some of the few historic towns that remained untouched.  The closest one to the ranch was a town that grew up around silver mines high in the mountains.  According to the book, at one time the town had 5 restaurants and 3 saloons accommodating the miners and their families.  I followed the map to the location and knew I had found it when I saw the picturesque head frame of the mine shaft that was still standing and a historical marker describing the silver strike as one of the richest ever made.

The only other structure that could be seen was a small shack a short distance from the mine.  I hiked up to it and carefully stepped through the open door and onto the broken and rotting floor boards.  The sun pierced through the scattered holes in the roof as the dust I disturbed floated through its shafts.  There were tattered pieces of wall paper clinging to what remained of the walls.   A small wooden table stood at one end but other than that it was empty. Imagining anyone living, and working in this remote place was difficult if not impossible. None of the re-creations I had seen even came close to what living in such isolated and harsh conditions must have been like.

I wasn’t disappointed by what I found.  It might not have lived up to my expectations but it was real and it was the kind of reality that matured my thoughts and made me want to seek the truth instead of chasing fantasies.