The Midas Touch
As the month of June began to wear on and the mercury climbed for triple digits, the coolness of distant mountains called. It was also obvious Trish and I were overdue for a ghost town adventure. A ghost town road trip can also be referred to as an off-road trip, as such destinations often require numerous hours and untold miles from paved or smooth roads.
The first two hours of the trip were the longest, as they were spent on the interstate; the most loathsome driving of all. But alas, we exited I-80 and easily found the road that would take us 58 miles to the semi ghost town of Midas. This was a long anticipated visit, as Midas was one of the few places in the state I had not been to.
First settled in 1907, the original name had been “Gold Circle,” but this did not last long. Gold was so abundant here and in the surrounding canyons that many of the 2000 converging miners believed King Midas himself was sprinkling the land with gold. Within a year the town was renamed Midas. However, it may be noteworthy to add when the Post Office was established the same year, the government had decided there were already too many Nevada towns prefixed with the word “gold” in the name.
Midas flourished, complete with all the trappings and illusions of the day. Besides the usual assortment of hotels, saloons, restaurants and stores, Midas also boasted its own newspaper, chamber of commerce and vaudeville performances. But long term prosperity just was not in the cards, as King Midas turned his back on his namesake. Most of the action was over before 1910 due to low quality ore. There were a couple of other hearty attempts in the early 1900’s, but eventually only a few rickety structures and a handful of residents remained.
Such was the case when Trish and I rolled into town. The couple of people we saw were talking outside the Bighorn Saloon. Buildings were few and far between. There was, nevertheless, evidence of some sort of restoration, or at least preservation. This made for a somewhat cute and rustic display as we drove back and forth along the dusty avenue through town, stopping often to walk around old buildings and take pictures.
As often happens, we got bored with town. We found a trail that went off into the mountains. The road began to get narrow and bumpy, and I thought I would turn around. As also often happens, Trish waived her hand and said, “Just keep going.” Thirdly, as often happens, this turned out to be a good thing. We ended up at a mine. Evidence suggested this may have been active as late as the 1930’s. The mine entrance was fenced off, but a few wobbly structures still stood, and part of an ore car trestle protruded from the mountain. After some time in Midas and surrounding areas we decided it was time to move on.
Named After a Union Civil War Gunship
Tuscarora was another 41 miles along the same road. We were repeatedly slowed by cows in the road. It seemed as if they saw us coming and would mosey into the road and stand there. These were black cows and I assume because my Rav4 is black as well, they gave me dirty looks as I crept by them.
Tuscarora is sprawled out along the base of Mount Blitzen on the east flank of the North-South Mountain Range. Its prominent surviving mill stack is a landmark for miles around. Otherwise, this semi ghost is a mixture of old and new homes, junkyards and fading glory. The history though is much grander than its current state suggests. In fact, one could say Tuscarora had many times the metropolitan advantages that Midas did, with competing newspapers, mason halls, churches, ballet and ballroom dances and a elocution school to boot. There was also an expansive Chinatown and several mills. By 1877 a population near 4000 enjoyed all the modern amenities a Nevada boomtown could possibly offer.
We dawdled around a bit, checking out some old buildings. Most are dilapidated and some on the verge of collapse. One exception would be the Tuscarora Society Hall, which had been restored sometime between my first visit, years before, and this one. We headed on up to the mill site remains which was once the mammoth Independence Mill. The towering stack, as impressive as it may be, is the only intact part of the mill. The rest of it has been reduced to crumbling stone walls, depressions in the earth and rusted craps of metal.
From Tuscarora we headed out to the road that led us to the Mountain City highway and our first pavement in over a hundred miles. We went to Elko to get back to I-80, but only for a few miles this time, as we exited at Halleck to drive through the Ruby Mountains. This route was short and sweet. As most of the state broiled in near 100-degree temps, The Ruby’s were topping out under 70, much to our enjoyment. It seemed as soon as we got used to this reprieve from reality, we popped out on highway 93 and headed towards our next site.
On the way to the Jailhouse
I know, I know, the two sites previously mentioned are not true ghost towns because a few residents remain and you are probably more interested in “true ghosts,” than “semi ghosts.” Therefore, the remaining sites mentioned shall be ghost towns long abandoned.
Sprucemont, about 8 miles off highway 93 was never a large town, with its peak population at 200 by 1870. The camp folded but revived again in the 1930’s and lasted until the government shut down all the gold mines in 1942. As the road begins to ascend into the Junipers, toward the more desirable Spruces trees, we came across our first remaining structure, a log house. Seriously dilapidated with a caving in roof, it still had a rusted stove and numerous indications of the hardscrabble life the people of Sprucemont endured. From there, it was onward to downtown.
Downtown consists of two busted up frame buildings that are obviously from the latter revival. I had been here 10 years before and remember more than three structures, but much can disappear in a decade in such places. There is also the slight possibility after visiting hundreds of ghost town sites in the west, I may have confused Sprucemont with another place.
Old writings indicate there was plenty more a few miles up the canyon. A cookhouse, the mill and several other structures were said to be still standing. The road went immediately from somewhat fair to awfully unpredictable. My Rav4 has an excellent set of beefy all terrain tires. However, the tires cannot do the job if the car cannot clear the obstacles. Luckily, I am a road engineer. This means I stop when necessary to throw or roll large rocks from the roadway. This works wonderfully to a point. But then, when the road is made exclusively of boulders, we have to simply press on and see how far we can get, which was not very far at all on this road. After high centering on shifting rocks, I made the reluctant decision to save the car. Trish did not wave me onward. I was able to back out without getting wedged again.
We went to Ely and spent the night in jail. The Jailhouse Casino and Motel are one of the best bets when staying in Ely- https://www.jailhousecasino.com/ In the restaurant we were escorted to a personal cell, where we enjoyed a luscious prime rib meal. We were up at dawn and on the road again.
Lane City, about 3 miles to the west of Ely, was next on my hit list. Although I had poked about there on several occasions, Trish had never been. It is just off Hwy 50 and there are several roads into various surviving structures. Most noticeable, especially from the road, is the schoolhouse, a sturdy relic from the early 1900’s. The rest of Lane City is not so sound. Collapsing wood buildings and crumbling stone homes dot the hillside.
Originally called Mineral City, this is yet another town that prospered in the 1800’s, temporarily died, and was revived later. The revival was spurred on by Charles Lane in 1896, who had been told by spirits that great wealth would be found here. He renamed the town Lane City and spent five years and hundreds of thousands of dollars on machinery and manpower. Either the spirits were enjoying an expensive prank, or Mr. Lane had misunderstood, as the place went belly up. But it did leave us ghost town hunters with plenty of ruins to explore.
Westward to Eureka we ventured. Eureka is fascinating in itself, but we were more interested in a place two miles up the hill from there. The hill and the old mining camp are of the same name, Ruby Hill.
Ruby Hill: Several of them
Ruby Hill has had not one, but several rebirths. The most recent is a goliath open pit monstrosity on the northern side of the hill that has been active in recent years. Trish and I went to the south side of the hill, where several older operations dominated the area. Beginning in the 1870’s and lasting nearly a century, the rise and fall of Ruby Hill , several times, can be seen; the wreckage of which littler the canyon. For people like me, this is called a playground.
Interestingly enough, there is an order to the ruins. The further up the canyon one goes, the older the remains. At the lower end, close to the road to the new operations, are the buildings and machinery of the last century.
The time had come for some hiking, something we had not done in a couple hours. Not far up a path loomed a large ore bin. Upon reaching it we found the chutes, wheels, gears, and chains still in place. I believed this may have been something under a hundred years old due to its lack of decay. But after returning home I found a photo of it in a ghost town book from the 1880’s. Either its excellent condition was due to its location in a protected canyon and lack of visitors, or it had been rebuilt at some point. Either way it is one of the most intact and preserved ore bins I have seen.
The old assay office, just up another road, is equally amazing. Although the door to the brick building is long gone, stacked on sagging wooden shelves are still hundreds of soil, core and ore samples in paper cups and canvas bags. This bit of history, though, is a little more traceable, as I found one sample with a date as late as 1956. That is still older than me, which makes it ancient antiquity.
Time has not been as kind to the mill itself. Collapsed wooden platforms, partially missing roofs and piles of debris litter the area. Exposed at the mouth of the canyon, wind, no doubt, has been one of the biggest culprits. Still, at the cost of a small amount of imagination, one can put together the process and see how it ran. Other buildings still upright include the mine bosses house, several cabins, and in the near distance the metal buildings and water tower from the mid 1900’s manifestation of Ruby Hill.
The most miraculous thing about Ruby Hill, to me, is a lack of damage by time and humans. Obviously, Old Ruby Hill belongs to the modern mining company that works the other side of the mountain. But there are no fences, no private property, or no trespassing signs and no blocked off roads. This, by far, makes Ruby Hill not only both remarkably accessible and mysteriously intact, but also one of my favorite ghost towns and/or mining areas.
The five ghost towns above were not the only places we visited on this trip, but as this blog climbs past 2000 words, it is prudent to save other places for a different post. My general feeling is there will be more Nevada ghost town trips later this summer. If you cannot wait that long you can always visit an older Outerrealmz Nevada ghost town post, such as https://outerrealmz.com/10-nevada-ghost-towns-worth-the-journey/ You can find others sprinkled about the blog as well.
I am the very last person that wants to get preachy about anything, however, please remember to adhere to the golden rule when visiting ghost towns, or any other historic site; take only pictures and leave only footprints. This helps to leave history intact for the next visitor to enjoy.
Stay tuned to the blog for an exciting summer. Remember, Outerrealms is also on Instagram and Pinterest. Also, we will be adding more to the YouTube channel at https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUumrhT7Gtcb-dKyx67yE3w/videos.
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