Adventure 959: Goldfield, NV/72

Thanks to traveling mercies we passed easily through Phoenix and even more smoothly through Las Vegas. We endured the empty desolate edges of Death Valley on the way to Goldfield, NV, a ghost town that in its heyday produced 706,000 ounces of gold, and once boasted a population over 20,000. Today, less than 300 live among the tattered buildings, visible slag heaps, rusted car husks, tilted weather warn wooden buildings, and the wispy aura of distant memory. They say that there are ghosts in town, which is fitting for a place that hangs its hat on a ghost town reputation. Our little Air B&B is cute and we even did the local thing of bar hopping between the two local watering holes, one of which claims to be the oldest bar of continuous operation in Nevada. According to one of the bartenders, the local K-8 school services about fifty children who then finish high school about thirty miles away in Toponah. We cooked some Floridian Chili from our freezer stock for dinner on the single hot plate provided. We're fat, happy, and currently enjoying the hum of the air conditioner, which means that life is good, especially today.

My Bunny peeking out of her digs for the night.

Springy bed.

The gas stove is a desert mirage. Hot plate works well.

Some glass art in the back room window.

The rumor is that this is Elizabeth, a mistress of one of the original corporate sleaze balls. They say she haunts the hotel.

Reportedly, the oldest bar in Nevada.

Selfie of the day: Bar hoppers.

Bunny may not feel comfortable, but I'm right at home on a stool.

Make an offer. Another gold boom is right around the corner.

What's a mining town without a naked babe?