Midway along our journey from Las Vegas to Reno, my family and I wandered off the highway into a savage and stubborn wilderness to find a rest stop to let the kids take care of business.
What we discovered though was a strange piece of history that compelled us to explore and photograph an old mining town.
Goldfield sits in the middle of the Nevada desert recollecting shattered Ozymandias’ half-sunk, sneering visage.
With nothing now but vultures and sagebrush littering the lonely sands that stretch far from the doleful town in every direction, one half-expects to be greeted by a sign warning visitors: ABANDON EVERY HOPE, ALL YOU WHO ENTER.
Dusty and dilapidated, the bitter town was replete with rolling tumble weeds, haunted saloons, and boarded-up brothels.
It was the kind of place where it would have been a sin not to explore the graveyard, so after the kids finished their business, we set out in search of the eerie necropolis and soon located a small forest of white headstones, parked the truck, and stepped out into the windy inferno…