Loads of literature and ghost town hype later, I was driving 30 miles up into high desert country to a town called Chloride….a ghost town. Or so “they” said.
To my mind, a ghost town is deserted and eerie with rundown buildings and tumbleweed blowing down the street, a wolf or coyote howling in the distance. Perhaps a door askew, swinging on one hinge. Furtive eyes peeking through torn curtains. Not a soul in sight.
Driving to Chloride which was named after the type of silver that was mined there, my mind swirled with imaginary visions of long-passed glories.
I felt totally duped when I arrived. What I saw was just a tiny well-kept town with a burger joint cafe, a museum and some cabins.
But I decided to make the best of it and went searching for redemption. Walking past the touristy trappings, I came to a sign in the window of an old saloon.
Further along I saw a rare sight. Notice the adobe bricks used to complete this old stone cabin.
Inside the museum were some artifacts I had never seen. Notably the Indian fetish and Haute Couture dress.
The little deer in the photo below is one of the local residents.
The very clever scene below was made long ago by someone who used all natural parts of their surroundings. Even the tiny pieces of plant life.
I drove home from this non-ghost town fully satisfied. There’s always something else to discover and enjoy when you take a trip down (or up) the road!
Ever Grateful ~ Annie