Nevada and Aura Ghost Town

Nevada and Aura Ghost Town

September 4, 2004

A travel brochure for Northeast Nevada claimed that some of the cleanest air in the USA can be found in the area of the Independence Mountains north of Elko, Nevada.  It is certainly a sparsely inhabited area of mostly sagebrush, mountains, mines, ranches, and wild horses.  But, the valleys are often green pastures where native hay is harvested and stored in bales or haystacks.  Long wooden arms project from some of these hayfields to lift the hay onto the stacks.  Large herds of cattle and horses graze in these valleys that are framed by a background of 10,000-foot mountains – unencumbered by smoggy haze.  Here, there is a quiet and serene beauty that seeps clear down into my bone marrow.  From the mountain passes it seems that you can see forever.  And the sky -- oh yes, the sky -- exhibits the same rich blue color that gives Montana the name “Big Sky Country and also fits Nevada.  As I photograph the countryside, the beauty of these open skies is often a dominant part of the scene.  Although this country is far removed from my South Texas roots, I feel a sense of “home” here.

Haystack Building Machine

While quartered at an RV park in Elko, we had taken several daylong tours of this historic countryside that was opened to European and Asian emigrants by the first transcontinental railroad and the various 49er trails to California.  Most 250,000 fortune seekers chose the California Trail, the Hastings Cutoff, or the Overland Trail which converged on the Humboldt River at Elko.  Later, the Pony Express came through here too.  Here they all found badly needed fresh water, rest, and grazing for their hungry animals before continuing their journey down the Humboldt River to Reno, NV.  A map produced by the Western Emigrant Trails Research Center in Omaha, NE clearly depicts these trails from the Oregon Trail in the north to the Chihuahua Trail into Mexico and all other major trails in between.  The monetary, physical, and mental costs of taking this trip by horse, wagon, or foot are incomprehensible to me.  Many graves line these trails and often document the severe consequences of faulty decisions and bad luck.

For Pat and me, the threat of the harsh conditions found in this Great Basin was minimal.  We carried sandwiches, plenty of water, and an extra supply of peanuts and jerky.  We traveled on well-maintained paved, gravel, and some 4X4 roads in the comfort of our 4-wheel drive Honda CRV.  The emigrants could only have dreamed of traveling under such technologically advanced and comfortable conditions. 

Maybe our most memorable trip was through the Independence Mountains.  Our first stop was in Tuscarora, 54 miles north of Elko.  It is advertised as a “living ghost town” because about 30 hardy souls still live there.  But upon visiting the local cemetery, it became obvious that most of the town residents inhabit the underground.  A faded document posted to a weathered bulletin board explained the nature of the place.

Tuscarora Cemetery

 

“In 1883, there existed in Tuscarora a very loose organization known as the Ancient Medieval and Modern Order of Horribles, usually called the ‘Horribles.’  They were a rowdy bunch, generally dedicated to holding their own parades and ridiculing the official order of the day.  The Horribles existed to party and they did it with keen enjoyment.  Whoever they were and from whence they came, they did create a good deal of merriment. . . . Join us in remembering the Shotwell Guard, The Committee of Disarrangement, The Cowyard Invincibles, The Hoodlums and the Hoodlumesses and any of the other Horribles.”  Signed by the Grand Noble Chief of the Hoodlums.

Golden Eagle

 

After obtaining a great view of a Golden Eagle perched on an electric pole, we headed for even more remote parts of Nevada.  North through Chicken Pass, down Chicken Creek, then we turned northeast at a Y in the road onto a small gravel road heading toward Maggie Summit.  After traveling maybe 10 miles without seeing any sign of human habitation, we happened upon an old rock building whose roof had caved in and whose walls were in ruin.  As I was taking photos of the building and surrounding countryside, a dusty SUV stopped and the driver spoke to me through the window.  (We never know what to expect under such circumstances – maybe this will be the local rancher suspicious of our intentions or something.)  But, the woman driver – about our age – explained that the rock building was the old bar and the only building still recognizable where there was once a mining town named Aura.  I thanked the lady for the information and expected that she would leave – satisfied with her own friendliness.  But, no!  She went on to explain that she was headed for her family's gold and silver mining claim and would we be interested in visiting it.  I was beside myself!  “You bet,” was all I could manage to say.  

“OK, follow me,” she said.

We crossed a mountain stream and turned north up a rough, rocky road through the sage and brown remnants of spring wildflowers.  She drove slowly for a couple of miles, sometimes bouncing over small boulders, and then parked under a grove of large Aspen.  Beside their trailer home were a couple of parked ATVs.  Several fishing poles leaned against the trailer and a little Honda generator was purring out back.  

Ellen's Camp

 

Our volunteer guide introduced herself as Ellen Gilliam.  A man emerged from the trailer and Ellen introduced him as Trent.  A satellite dish placed in an open area of the yard focused at some distant spot in the sky, and the sound of a TV show gave evidence of Trent’s occupation before we arrived.  We had disrupted Trent’s TV show and he was somewhat irritable about the turn of events.  He – with some apparent reluctance -- shook our hands and without a smile quickly retired to his TV.  Ellen explained that he had also forgotten to bring clean clothing from their home in Halleck, 90 miles away, which may have helped explain his unfriendly demeanor.

Pat and Ellen

 

Ellen began introducing us to her environment by explaining that this was an old family gold claim that was clearly marked on each corner by a pile of rocks.  When the US forest service took over the area, families with such claims were still allowed to continue mining their claims and are also allowed to camp on the claim.  Ellen had grown up on this claim and knew firsthand of the demise of the town of Aura.  The town Post Office building had been moved from Aura to the Gilliam claim and now stood -- windowless and with faded paint – near the trailer.  Other piles of boards from a fallen building, timbers, and rusting mining equipment gave testimony to the history of the area. 

She explained that we were in Blue Jacket Canyon and further up the canyon was the Blue Jacket Mine.  After it was abandoned, the old mining equipment remained, but most have since been pilfered and may now stock some antique store somewhere.   She pointed to a pile of metal and explained that this was once a water-powered generator that provided electricity for the community. 

While explaining the local flora and fauna, she cautioned us to avoid the abundant stinging nettle.  “We applied black mud from the creek to draw out the pain when our grandson was stung,” she said.   She picked a large bunch of ripe Elderberries and explained that when in the flowering stage, they can be dipped into pancake batter, fried, and are quite good.  She makes Elderberry preserves with the fruit.  We sampled some of the tasty, ripe, wild Service Berries, Choke Cherries, and Currents that were plentiful in the area.

At the beautiful, clear, creek, she explained that she fishes every day for native trout, Rainbows, and Char.  “Unfortunately, Trent does not like to eat fish,” she explained.  “So whatever I don’t eat, I package and take them back to his mother in Elko.  We are allowed to catch six of these fish every day.  “We drink the water of this creek without concern for our health,” she said.

They sometimes still pan for gold in the creek, but do it just for fun because the small amount that they find is not profitable.  But, they mount their ATVs and search the mountains for a “mother lode” missed by the early miners.  “However, we are told to be very careful when searching under rocky ridges because Cougars may lie on the ridges waiting for some prey to pass below.  You will hear a loud scream and then the cougar will be on you.  We usually carry a gun just in case.”

But even in this small part of heaven, problems exist.  “We have seldom stayed here during the winter, but in the past, when we left in the fall, we provided a plentiful supply of canned food for hunters and others who might get lost in the winter cold.  We did not lock the door, so anyone could enter, build a fire, eat some food, and thaw out.  But in recent years, we have been vandalized so often that we no longer leave food and we lock the doors.  Even the wood stoves in three shacks in the area have been stolen.”

Also, in recent years the ranch through which the access road passes was purchased by a company named Agribeef.  “They immediately locked the entry gate and denied us access to our claim.  We took them to court and they relented.”  However, a sign at the gate now says “Permission to cross may be revoked at any time.”

Reluctantly, we decided that the trip back to Elko would take several hours, so we bid Ellen goodbye.  We drove back through the little town of Mountain City.  On the visitor’s center sign were the words “Open nine to five on weekdays.”  It was 3:30 P.M. on a weekday, but the center was closed.  However, the small town bar, casino, and motel were busy.  Maybe the receptionist got thirsty.

Mountain City Visitors Center

We wound our way up the Owyhee River, by Wild Horse Dam, through Wild Horse Pass, past Wild Horse State Park and Wild Horse Marina – but saw no wild horses.  Could we complain?  No!  It had been a glorious day filled with the kind of gentle adventures we seek in a beautiful part of the world.  We can only hope that our future is filled with many more gentle experiences similar to this one.

Blue Jacket Canyon

 

 

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