One of the saddest, most intense ghost town experience I've ever had happened there in Frisco. I found myself on my knees, crying over a little boy who'd died over a century before. I'm still trying to figure out his first name, because I can obsess like that. I really enjoyed your shots here--it makes me happy that folks are still enjoying Frisco.
Kris
April 2, 2013 at 6:48 PM
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A few weeks ago we decided to stop at Frisco, a ghost town with a lot of mining history, since the friends we were traveling with had never visited. I wrote about Frisco's history in this post from 2008. (It was good for me to reread, as I had forgotten a lot of it. Which is one of the reasons I started a blog in the first place, so I could help myself remember all these fun little things that I learn!)
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Five charcoal ovens are at the site, and a couple of them are still in really good condition.
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The kids. I like the sepia--almost makes it look old-fashioned. If you just ignore the fleece, puffy jackets, character t-shirts, velcro shoes, zip off pants, embroidered jeans, etc. These kids are probably a little too clean to be kids living in a mining village.
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The charcoal ovens are a lot of fun to photograph.
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However, the kids didn't want to stay there. They wanted to explore some of the old buildings.
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This roof looks out of place on the ground. What happened to the rest of the building?
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Here's the group peeking in.
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Turns out there's a cellar underneath the roof, with some fun light on the wall from holes in the roof.
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Here Evan, Desert Boy, Desert Girl, and Anna check out a foundation, with the ovens in the background. There's so much more to explore in this area! The old railroad bed looks like it could be a fun hike. Every time I visit a ghost town, I try to imagine what life was like. My overwhelming feeling is that it was a lot harder than today.
posted by Desert Survivor at 7:58 PM on Apr 8, 2012
2 Comments
Close this window Jump to comment formI love ghost towns! There were charcoal kilns in Death Valley near our campsite. I was amazed at how strong the smoke smell was after all that time!
April 9, 2012 at 7:40 AM
One of the saddest, most intense ghost town experience I've ever had happened there in Frisco. I found myself on my knees, crying over a little boy who'd died over a century before. I'm still trying to figure out his first name, because I can obsess like that. I really enjoyed your shots here--it makes me happy that folks are still enjoying Frisco.
Kris
April 2, 2013 at 6:48 PM