Showing posts with label ghost town. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ghost town. Show all posts

Friday, January 10, 2020

Town at the Top of the World



By Suzanne Norquist

Life at the top of the world isn’t easy, but early Colorado miners were a hearty bunch. If a prospector found gold and silver, a settlement soon followed. Such is the case with Animas Forks, which sits deep in the mountains at 11,200 feet (that’s more than two miles) above sea level. Cold temperatures, coupled with a lack of oxygen and moisture discourage life.


On a warm August afternoon, I stood among the ghost town’s preserved buildings and tried to imagine the bustling community. A few buildings remain standing, thanks to the preservation efforts of The San Juan County Historical Society, the Ghost Town Club of Colorado, and Outward Bound. It is the highlight of the Alpine Loop system of Jeep roads.


The “Three Forks of the Animas” was settled in 1873 by prospectors who wintered there. In 1875, the town changed its name to Animas Forks to accommodate the post office. Apparently, the more descriptive name was too long. By then, a wagon road linked Animas Forks to nearby communities. 



In 1876, Animas Forks boasted 30 cabins, a hotel, a saloon, a post office, and a general store. Before nearby Silverton became an incorporated town, Animas Forks was the San Juan County seat, where court cases were heard. One man who didn't like the outcome of his trial promised, "I'll take this to a higher court!" Responded the wry judge, "There is no higher court in Colorado."

The most photographed structure today is a two-story house built by local merchant William Duncan in 1879. Every time I visit, I stand inside and try to imagine living there.


By 1883, 450 summer residents called Animas Forks home. The Animas Forks Pioneer newspaper operated June 1882 through October 1886.


Most people migrated to nearby Silverton for the winter. Although I’ve been to Silverton in the January, and I wouldn’t call it warm. Harsh winters dominated Animas Forks. In 1884, a 23-day blizzard dropped 25 feet of snow. Locals had to dig tunnels to get from building to building.

The history of most mining towns includes a devastating fire because so many buildings are hastily constructed. Animas Forks is no exception. In 1891, a fire that started in the kitchen of the Kalamazoo Hotel destroyed most of the town. And, like most mining towns, they rebuilt, using better materials.


In 1904, the Silverton Northern Railroad came to Animas Forks. By then, locals enjoyed the use of electricity, telephone, and telegraph. The Gold Prince Mill was the first in Colorado to be built of structural steel. It was the largest mill in the state.


Animas Forks’ prosperity depended on the mines. In 1893, it suffered a recession when silver prices dropped. An upsurge in mining brought the town back to life in the early 1900s. But the high-tech Gold Prince Mill only operated for six years. By 1910, most of the mining had stopped in the area. Animas Forks was a ghost town by the 1920s.

Thankfully, some buildings still stand. A visit to the site brings this writer’s imagination to life. But I only visit in the summer, and even then, thunderstorms roll through most afternoons.

***

Suzanne Norquist is the author of two novellas, “A Song for Rose” in A Bouquet of Brides Collection and “Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection. Everything fascinates her. She has worked as a chemist, professor, financial analyst, and even earned a doctorate in economics. Research feeds her curiosity, and she shares the adventure with her readers. She lives in New Mexico with her mining engineer husband and has two grown children. When not writing, she explores the mountains, hikes, and attends kickboxing class.

She authors a blog entitled, Ponderings of a BBQ Ph.D.

“Mending Sarah’s Heart” in the Thimbles and Threads Collection

Four historical romances celebrating the arts of sewing and quilting.

Mending Sarah’s Heart by Suzanne Norquist

Rockledge, Colorado, 1884

Sarah seeks a quiet life as a seamstress. She doesn’t need anyone, especially her dead husband’s partner. If only the Emporium of Fashion would stop stealing her customers and the local hoodlums would leave her sons alone. When she rejects her husband’s share of the mine, his partner Jack seeks to serve her through other means. But will his efforts only push her further away?

For a Free Preview, click here: http://a.co/1ZtSRkK

Saturday, October 22, 2016

A Ghost Town that Lives On, by Marilyn Turk

Silver City, Idaho, during its boom in the late 1800s.
Seeing a ghost town was on my bucket list, but I didn’t realize I’d be checking that off on our visit to my brother and sister-in-law in Nampa, Idaho. I’m from the southern United States, and my knowledge of the West is woefully limited, so I thought all ghost towns were in California, New Mexico or Arizona. But I was in for a great surprise.

The drive from Nampa to Silver City, Idaho, was an hour and a half, but the longest, most arduous part was going up the mountain to get to the old mining town hidden 6,000 feet above sea level. As the paved road gave way to a rocky dirt one, we climbed higher and higher, rimming the edge of the Owyhee Mountains. My first thought was why would anyone build a town in such a remote area?  No doubt the name of the town was a hint.

The mountain road to Silver City
What interesting history I discovered! First of all, the name “Owyhee” is pronounced like Hawaii (silent H). Thinking the name was of Native American origin, I was amazed to find out that the name came from 1819, when three natives from Hawaii were part of a fur-trapping expedition sent to trap a stream that emptied into the Snake River. When they did not return, the expedition’s leader went back to check on them, found one man murdered and the other two missing.  He named the stream in their honor, using the word “Owyhee,” which was an early spelling for the word Hawaii.

Stagecoach arrives at the hotel, 1890
As our road got bumpier, we bounced around the single lane while I feared meeting a car coming the other direction, seeing no room for passing unless one of us was precariously close to the edge that dropped off the side. Later, when I discovered that Silver City was a stop on the stage coach line in the late 1800’s, I sympathized with those who had to travel the same roads in such an uncomfortable vehicle.



Finally we arrived at Silver City and the sign at the entrance telling visitors to respect the historic, privately-owned property. There was also a sign noting the population: in the summer, between 50-100, in the harsh winter, 2 (who are caretakers of the town).
Opening to mine







Silver City was founded in 1864 soon after silver was discovered at nearby War Eagle Mountain. The settlement grew quickly and was soon considered one of the major cities in Idaho Territory. The first daily newspaper and telegraph office in Idaho Territory were established in Silver City. The town was also among the first places in Idaho to receive electricity and telephone service.
Masonic Lodge


School, Silver City


In its heyday, from about 1860 to the late 1880s, as many as 2500 people called the settlement home. The town contained 300 homes and 75 businesses. At its mining peak, the Silver City Range boasted more than sixty mills processing ore, with an estimated production of at least sixty million dollars, in gold and silver, retrieved from over 100 area mines.

Outhouse in Silver City
Today, Silver City has about 70 standing buildings, all of which are privately owned. Many of the owners are third or fourth generation descendants of the original miners. There is no longer any electricity, but the owners use generators or solar power to supply their needs during their return in the summer months.

One of the best ghost towns in the country, Silver City has kept its character thanks to property owners committed to its preservation. Due to its historic designation, no new buildings are allowed, but maintenance such as painting and repairing continues to preserve the original buildings. With a little imagination, a visitor can visualize how the town looked at the turn of the 19th century when it was a bustling county seat full of people, horses and stagecoaches.

Idaho Hotel today



Freight wagon in front of Idaho Hotel, 1800s.

The 1866 Idaho Hotel closed in 1942, but was reopened in 1972 and still provides guest rooms and the only restaurant in town.





Pat's What Not Shop

Across the street at Pat's What Not Shop, one of the two other businesses open in Silver City, I found the most interesting book. Tales of Silver City was written by a Alta Grete Chadwick, a woman who was born in the town in 1895 and lived until 1972. For a history lover like myself, this collection of stories about life during the early 1900s in a western mining town is fascinating.



church, Silver City





Other public buildings still standing are the school which now houses a museum on its second floor, and the 1869 Masonic Lodge, which is still used for town meetings, and the 1898 church.







The bar in the Idaho Hotel


Wells Fargo office inside Idaho Hotel
Front desk of Idaho Hotel




A walk down the road leads you to a couple of cemeteries where tombstones disclose more about the resilient people who lived in the town.



Have you ever been to a ghost town? I highly recommend a visit to Silver City if you have a ghost town on your bucket list.



Marilyn Turk loves to study history, especially that of lighthouses and the coast of the United States. Her newest book, Rebel Light, is set in Florida during the Civil War. She is the author of A Gilded Curse, a historical suspense novel set om Jekyll Island, Georgia, in 1942, and Lighthouse Devotions - 52 Inspiring Lighthouse Stories, based on her popular lighthouse blog. (@ http://pathwayheart.comTo find out more about Marilyn’s new releases, sign up for her newsletter at marilynturk@pathwayheart.com. You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Friday, April 8, 2016

I Sleep in Ghost Towns and Other True Confessions of a Historical Fiction Novelist


Writers are famous for a certain quirkiness, often while blithely unaware we are doing anything unusual. Doesn't everyone trail off in the middle of a sentence to stare into space then, when prompted to continue, startle and ask 'what?'? Others might talk to themselves but usually not to the characters in their heads. While on the top floor of a historic home, other visitors edge away when we exclaim how easy it would be to throw someone to a horrible death from the window.

Our antics while on a research trip belong in a class by themselves. Not unlike ace reporters ferreting a scoop, we do the unexpected. Seemingly strange behaviors such as crawling into hidden places, hanging out of windows, or taking extreme close-ups of hinges and nails in the wall don't phase us.

When it comes to ghost towns, exploring them in the daylight is not enough. To fully experience the atmosphere, I need to spend the night in a ghost town.There's just something about going to bed in a room where the footsteps of past occupants echo through your imagination, waking in the small hours with the wind whistling outside your door, and the first rays of morning bathing ancient buildings in new light.
Sleeping in a ghost town isn't always convenient or possible. Not to be deterred by such minor concerns, I have managed it twice.
The Shaniko Hotel, originally called the Columbia Southern Hotel (ca. 1900) is listed on the US National Register of Historic Places and is part of the Shaniko Historic District. (Image by Ian Poellet (User:Werewombat) (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 or GFDL], via Wikimedia Commons.)
The Shaniko Hotel in the partially-inhabited ghost town of Shaniko, Oregon made an impression on me when I first saw it during a ghost-town-hunting expedition with my family. We stopped for dinner in the hotel's restaurant, and I determined someday to return for an overnight stay.

Shaniko is located on a plateau in Oregon's high desert, and the heat was sweltering when we returned. We checked in through the restaurant and then went to our room. The pictures I took are now lost, but I recall that it was small but adequate and had a closet of a bathroom. Some attempt had been made to modernize it, which I always consider unfortunate in a historic building. The view of the sun setting across town from our second-floor window was worth sleeping in the heat afterwards. I believe our room was the seventh one from the corner, above the cafe sign.

Shaniko's historic Billiard Hall (blue on left, built before 1910) and its neighboring house (unpainted right of center, built ca. 1920, relocated to present site in 1965), are listed as contributing resources in the Shaniko Historic District, which is listed on the US National Register of Historic Places. Image by Ian Poellet (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons


I didn't sleep very well that night, but now I'm thankful we booked a room before the Shaniko Hotel closed its doors to guests.The town is still interesting to visit, and in the summer months offers tourist activities meant to help visitors understand the town's sheep-capital past. By 1903, Shaniko had become the world's largest inland shipping center for wool.

Virginia City, Montana, USA. The view from the road agent cemetery on the hill.Image by SchmuckyTheCat at the English language Wikipedia [GFDL or CC-BY-SA-3.0h], from Wikimedia Commons
The temperature was dipping the other direction when we drove into Virginia City, Montana with autumn winds blowing. (This is the other Virginia City that served as the capital of Montana Territory at its formation, not the ghost town by the same name in Nevada.) In fact, the few bed and breakfasts in this partially-inhabited ghost town were closed for the season. My husband and I were on a research trip to one of the settings of Hills of Nevermore the first installment in the Montana Gold series, which releases next year. Being from California's Big Valley, originally, I had not taken into consideration that a mountain town would close for the winter.

Without a bed for the night, we would be forced to either move on or backtrack. After a long drive and with the sun about to set, neither seemed welcome. We traveled up and down the town's streets looking for a place to stay and finally pulled off the road to discuss our options. While we were talking, I commented on the beauty of the house we were parked in front of and the care that had gone into the yard.The pride in ownership contrasted interestingly with the abandoned structures all around.

I will sleep happily in a dilapidated old building and consider its run-down state a feature, but my husband (poor man) likes his amenities. For his sake, I knocked on the door.
The Gingerbread House in Virginia City, Montana was built in 1898 by one of Virginia City's most prominent citizens, C. W. Rank, pharmacist and owner of Rank's Merchantile.The original brick structure looked very different than it does today. Image courtesy of Karen Fisher.

A lovely woman named Karen Fisher, the owner of the Gingerbread House Bed and Breakfast, answered. Finding me huddled like a refugee from the storm on her doorstep, she didn't blink an eye but explained gently that she was closed for the season. I asked if she knew of another place to stay, but chances didn't look too good for us. I couldn't help but admire her home. My interest was genuine, springing from my love of history, not an attempt to flatter her into having us stay (really), but then she wanted to share her home with me. I received the grand tour, with my husband invited in to see it, too.

Karen had moved back in from the cabin where she stays when hosting guests and understandably didn't want to shift again for our one-night stay. However, if we would give her a little time, she'd let us spend the night in one of the cabins. We backtracked to a restaurant in another town and lingered over dinner to give her time to prepare.

The Bickford Cabin, where my husband and I spent the night, was the home of former slave, Sarah Bickman, who arrived in Virginia City in 1870 and owned the water utility and the building where five road agents were hanged. Image courtesy of Karen Fisher.
Sarah Gammon Bickford

Karen explained that the cabin was named in honor of a former slave who rose to local prominence above many hardships. Both Sarah's parents were sold during the Civil War, and she never saw them again. She suffered at the hands of her abusive husband, John Brown, whom she divorced following the deaths of their three children,William, Leonard, and Eva. She went on to marry Stephen Bickford, a farmer and miner, and the two had four children together, Elmer, Harriet, Helena, and Mabel.

Staying in that renovated cabin remains a cherished memory from the trip. Despite frosty temperatures, we spent a snug night and awoke ready to visit boot hill, sample the last of the season's ice cream in a vintage shop and, of course, photograph all the door knobs in town...

About Janalyn Voigt

Janalyn Voigt's unique blend of adventure, romance, suspense, and whimsy creates breathtaking fictional worlds for readers. Look for her upcoming western historical fiction. The Montana Gold series begins in 2017 with Hills of Nevermore. Janalyn also writes epic fantasy. Beginning with DawnSinger, the epic fantasy series, Tales of Faeraven, carries readers into a land only imagined in dreams.

Janalyn is represented by Wordserve Literary Agency. Her memberships include ACFW and NCWA. When she's not writing, she loves to discover worlds of adventure in the great outdoors with her family.
Visit Janalyn Voigt's website.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Of Books and Ghost Towns

Today's post is brought to you by Janalyn Voigt. Escape into Creative Worlds of fiction. 

My husband and I are about to head for Montana, where I've been invited to participate in a the Festival of the Book. I'm thrilled to be included in an author panel with Tracie Peterson and Janet Chester Bly, among other favorite authors.

It's a thrilling opportunity to spend time with other writers and with readers, all celebrating our passion for books! 

There's already a lot of excitement in the air. You can check out the on-the-street buzz on the Facebook page for Humanities Montana Festival of the Book.

This all came about in an amazing way. My friend, Angela Breidenbach invited me to stay with her when I visited Montana for a research trip in August. We set a date and my husband took time off work, but then circumstances prevented our going. It was disappointing, especially since going on research trips for the books I write is one of my bucket list items. We rescheduled the trip for October, and that's when Angie told me about the Festival of the Book. Had I gone on my research trip in August, I would have missed out on a golden opportunity. But the story is even more interesting.

You see, my main research destination is the city of Bannack, now a ghost town protected as a state park. In July it suffered from a freak flood. Much of the town suffered water damage, old boardwalks washed away, and one building was destroyed. One woman suffered a horrible ordeal in the flood but came through it through prayer. Click here to read her account. Bannack was closed to visitors as workers restored buildings, rebuilt walkways, and even resurrected the fallen building. 

I wondered if the town would ever be the same until I read a post online about the loving care with which it has been restored. Bannack is now open to the public again and ready for my visit.I'm looking forward to seeing the town and grateful I didn't go on my trip at the wrong time. 

We'll also explore Virginia City, Nevada City, and Robber's Roost, all of which will feature in the first novel in my Montana Gold series. My agent and I haven't found a publisher for my series yet, but I believe in this story and will do my research against that possibility.

I now have a professional Canon camera and will capture images on the trip. If you share my love of ghost towns, you're welcome to stop by my Historical Worlds site, where I write about my ghost town adventures and post photographs I take.

Meanwhile, I'm giving away three digital copies of my medieval epic fantasy novel, DawnSinger, at Debbie Lynn Costillo's  The Sword and the Spirit blog. Entry is easy, so I hope you'll click over for a chance to win. There's also an entertaining interview (Debbie asks the best questions) in which I reveal something I kept hidden for many years. The giveaway ends soon, so don't be slow! 




As an author, I offer readers escape into creative worlds of fiction. DawnSinger, book one of my epic fantasy series, Tales of Faeraven, published with Pelican Books in 2012. To learn more about me and the genres I write, visit me at the author website for Janalyn Voigt.



Thursday, August 8, 2013

The Night I Slept in a Ghost Town

This post is brought to you by Janalyn Voigt. Escape into  Creative Worlds.

I peered out the tall window and across the wide, deserted street to a collection of dilapidated buildings, including one just large enough for a door and window that boldly displayed a weathered sign: Shaniko Bank. Shadows lengthened toward dusk and the horizon bloomed with the colors of sunset, but heat blasted me without mercy and the air did not stir.

My fantasy of sleeping in a ghost town somehow hadn’t included being baked alive in a hotel room without air conditioning. Ah, the joys of reality!

1910 photograph of the Columbia Southern Hotel, now the Shaniko Hotel , Public Domain Image
I’d first discovered Shaniko while on something of a zany ghost-town-hunting vacation in the high desert of eastern Oregon. My family had spent countless hours navigating winding roads through barren hillsides, peering in the windows of locked buildings, worrying about stepping on rattlesnakes, looking for gold near an old mine, and driving onto private property (with the puzzled farmer’s permission) in search of what turned out to be a couple of swaybacked buildings too dangerous to enter. Ghost town hunting has its share of pathos but it also can reward the diligent with unexpected moments where history comes alive.

This was one of those. Daydreaming caught me up. Who else might have looked from this very window, watching the sun go down in a similar heat wave? What stories did the empty rooms tell? No concierge had greeted us when we arrived, and no one was on duty now. Check-in had been through the hotel’s restaurant, which was now closed. From the silence, we were the only guests.



The historic Columbia Southern Hotel (built ca. 1900), located at the corner of 4th and E Streets in Shaniko, Oregon, United States, is listed on the US National Register of Historic Places (NRHP). The hotel, currently named Shaniko Hotel, also lies within the NRHP-listed Shaniko Historic District.


Image by Ian Poellet (User:Werewombat) (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AColumbia_Southern_Hotel_2009_-_Shaniko_Oregon.jpg
Shaniko’s bent toward tourism had come as a surprise on that earlier trip. We’d stopped to eat and learn a little about the town. Shaniko, built on sheep farming, was once the wool capital of the western United States. An interesting fact about the town is that spring water pumped from the Cross Hollows canyon to the south was kept in two wooden tubs in the water tower and distributed to the town through pipes. 

Although I prefer ghost towns in an arrested decay state of preservation, when I discovered you could actually spend the night in the hotel, the idea took hold of me. I promised myself I’d come back someday, and now, years later, I'd returned. 

I reflected on the intervening years. So much had changed in my life since my younger self had entered this hotel. What had happened to the ghost towns we'd visited on that earlier vacation? Was the leaning stamp mill in Susanville still standing or had time erased that remnant of the past? Had the farmer’s canting buildings finally collapsed? 

An awareness of the fleeting nature of time ached through me. Perhaps this was why I’d come back to Shaniko, to reconnect with my own yesterdays in this place of history.



For more of Janalyn's ghost town stories, visit Historical Worlds
Note: Shaniko Hotel is currently closed and not available to the public.

Monday, April 8, 2013

Ghost Town Memories: Where the West was Wildest

The track beneath my tires wended its tortuous way through the foothills of the eastern Sierra Nevadas. Other vehicles shared the road, some taking corners on two wheels, others crawling with too much caution. I chose a moderate approach, passing drivers with hands locked on steering wheels but giving way where possible to the restless herd behind me. Vehicles accelerated past, churning loose gravel as they hurtled through space and time, the drivers giving little regard it seemed for sanity. You had only to look into the ravine below to understand the dread of the slower drivers. I didn’t want to wind up there either, although the drop was less deep than many I’d encountered while driving through Yosemite National Park yesterday. At least today cars weren’t barreling towards me head-on in the middle of a narrow two-lane road with certain death mere inches from my tires. I'd arrived last night at the safety of the hotel on a wing and a prayer and possibly the last of my shredded nerves.
Ghost Town Memories, Where the West was Wildest
The long, winding road to Bodie Ghost Town
Please pin to Pinterest.
I’d rather have lingered in bed, then afterwards warmed my belly with repeated cups of coffee at the restaurant over plate-sized chocolate chip pancakes than venture forth on a new adventure, and yet the children in our family group were not to be denied. My own curiosity drew me onward until the ghost town of Bodie sprawled through dry grass and sagebrush before me. Built on gold, liquor, opium dens and houses of ill repute, Bodie was renowned for its lawlessness. Tweet This! Its reputation was so notorious that a little girl whose family moved to Bodie from San Jose is said to have prayed, "Goodbye, God. We are going to Bodie in the morning." (Source: Daily Bodie Standard, Bodie, CA, 13 February 1879)

I’d once visited this place as a young child on a family trip and had come away with the impression of sun-bleached buildings, scorching sunshine, and an abiding sense of history. Nothing seemed to have changed in the intervening years. Buildings over a hundred years old still baked in the heat of a sun that necessitated the application of sunscreen and repeated gulps from our water bottles. There was much to see, far more than we could possibly take in during the hours available for our visit. Many of the houses had been abandoned with the furnishings and paraphernalia of daily living intact, right down to wire hangers in the closets. Antique litter strewed the ground--the remains of a washbasin lay in the open, a rusting bucket sat beside a house, and a mining cart crouched in the grass.
Abandoned washpan, Bodie, California
Ancient litter strewed the ground.
Metal bucket at Bodie ghost town
Metal bucket beside a house.

Mining Cart at Bodie, California
Mining Cart at Bodie, California
Peering into windows revealed peeling wallpaper, coverlets on beds, and an antique potty chair. Tweet This! I peered into a brick strongroom and gasped. The safe inside had miraculously escaped decay. I put my arm through the grating to snap a picture of the safe still within the building. How many visitors have missed this discovery? And yet there was much we lacked time to see. Although only a fraction of the original buildings still stand, Bodie stretches into the surrounding hills with a scope that boggles the mind. Tweet This!
Peeling wallpaper, Bodie ghost town
Peeling wallpaper graces walls.
Bed with coverlet at Bodie, California
A bed made up and waiting.
Antique toilet seat, Bodie, California
Antique toilet seat at Bodie, California

Brick strongroom, Bodie ghost town
This strongroom guarded valuables.
Strongroom safe at Bodie, California
This safe is one of the hidden treasures that awaits the alert.
I posed for pictures in the doorway of a crumbling structure. When a sharp buzzing sound alerted me to wasps or bees, I left it in haste. Although much of Bodie has fallen to nature, the remaining buildings boast details such as carved doors and tin ceilings and are preserved in a state of arrested decay. This means that roofs and windows will be replaced as needed and standing buildings will not be allowed to collapse. Bodie is preserved as a ghost town museum. Tweet This!
Janalyn Voigt at Bodie in Doorway

I had to wonder how anyone could survive living here in the innervating summer heat, let alone the winter cold. Although most of the structures we explored were locked, we grew adept at ducking into their waning shadows for relief from the merciless sun until empty water bottles and the wails of our youngest member, aged two, drove us to the former miner’s hall, now a museum and visitor center. Inside among other surprises waited two hearses, presumably employed often in this rough and ready mining camp.
Plumed hearse at Bodie, California
Plumed Hearse in Bodie Museum
The west was reportedly wildest here. And yet, on the way back to the car for the arduous return journey, we passed a church.

God apparently followed that little girl to Bodie.
Interior of the Church at Bodie ghost town
This post has been brought to you by Janalyn Voigt. To see more pictures from Bodie and read the travel journal  Janalyn wrote at the time she visited Bodie, go to Ghost Town in the Shadow of the Sierra Nevadas at Janalyn Voigt's Fantasy Worlds site.

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