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From boom to
bust to abandon, the town of Elkhorn hangs on to existence by a thread.
You are 5,500 feet above sea level just below the timberline of Elkhorn Mountain. After 12 miles of dirt road, you are about to enter arguably the best ghost town in the west.
The ride has not been a rough one. At 5 mph you and your wife were able to enjoy deep forest scenery. On your right is a small but fast running stream. You notice a young couple panning for either gold or silver. They watch you as you watch them.
Across the stream is a huge silver mine made from an incalulable number of wood rails. The mine is surprisingly complete. Perhaps this is Elkhorn? But it can't be. Its nothing like the picture in the book.
After another 6 miles, the trees part and the road widens. In front of you is a mix of buildings. There is absolute silence as you stop the car and get out. Your eyes have now acquired a zoom feature. There are buildings large and small. You see rooftops and false fronts. Little homes, sheds and outhouses bending low in a suspended state of collapse. The wood is old. A hundred years old! You are entering Elkhorn.
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