They don't have to be a particular age, or of a particular reason, or look a particular way.
Drowned towns... an ancient gas station... pioneer homes... I'm not picky.
But the rickety old west holds a spell over me. I suppose it has much to do with the fact that it is what's offered, here. Utah's oldest buildings are not ancient, certainly. And they're 200 years younger than the history belonging to the east coast.
But maybe that's a part of it. Maybe it's because even though modern history here only goes back 170 years, The Old West is a moment in time unlike anything else in the world.
Pianos and hootin' and rotgut whiskey.
Indiana running through The Lost City. (This outfit was not by accident.)
So I like ghost towns.
Yesterday the four of us headed out, exploring places some of us (the children and I) have never been.
An old mine entrance
This particular ghost town we found was not entirely made of ghosts. Well--at least the two people we saw that belonged to this town didn't appear to be ghosts.
One of them invited us into a building, and offered a few stories as well as a few sights.
He asked the children if they'd ever seen a well--like on television--inside a building. (It is still a working well.)
He told us a story of how moonshine was made in the back of this building, and when raided, they put it down in the well, to hide it during the Prohibition. And that the liquid gold was never once discovered by the law.
There are actually four ghost towns in that area, all within a few miles of each other, so there was much to appreciate and explore.
Graveyards. Camp Floyd. Tales to the children by Eric of these being childhood hunting grounds (quite literally--came out here to hunt jack rabbits), and how when he was a boy, his class came here to look for bullets from Civil War soldiers that had been found lying about in the dessert.
Eventually it started to get on toward evening, and we had another plan for our day, as well..
It was a well-loved day.
And it's a well loved life.