Goldfield joins the modern era.
Although the International Car Forest (last post) may be a highlight of Goldfield, NV, the town also boasts about it’s history. “From 1906 to 1910, Goldfield was the largest city in Nevada,” says the Goldfield Historical Society, claiming a population of over 20,000. Wyatt and Virgil Earp moved to Goldfield in 1904, and Virgil became a deputy sheriff for Esmeralda County in 1905. Virgil died of pneumonia later in 1905, and Wyatt moved on. Continue reading
Only in Nevada can a rough and ready small-town eccentric (Michael (Mark) Rippie), team up with a known artist, stick a bunch of old cars in the ground, paint them, and thereby create a work of art. Then they give it a flamboyant name. Then they split up. Finally, Michael gets convicted of federal weapons violations and goes to jail. Continue reading
We took up residence at our condo near Lake Tahoe on April 15 after eight days on the road. We spent much of the next week learning about Incline Village, its grocery stores, post office, and gym. We moved slowly because we’re now at about 6,500 feet above sea level, and we didn’t have our customary energy. Continue reading
In the Painted Desert of Arizona, April 2018
From east to west, our country presents a beautiful array of landforms and ecosystems. After crossing the Mississippi River, travelers head gradually uphill until the Continental Divide. Through the High Plains the world gets dryer, and soon travelers are rolling across vast expanses of desert. Along I40-west the country turns dry in the Texas Panhandle, then dryer still through New Mexico and Arizona. On a first crossing, the biggest impression may be poverty, especially if poverty means lacking. There is little of everything except dirt, brush, rocks, and views of landforms. After a few crossings, however, the deserts offer an enchantment that grows with each visit. Continue reading
Front Range of the Rockies, south of Denver. Residential and commercial property crowd into the Front Range.
On the pages of many outdoor or hunting magazines, photos of the West show mostly places in the Rocky Mountains. As a boy in western New York, I spent hours reading those magazines and came to believe that the West and the Rockies were one in the same. I was 24 years old when I made my first trip west. At that time, I taught high school math, and when school ended in June, I packed some essentials on a motorcycle and headed out. Among other things, I learned that the West was more than the Rockies. Continue reading