Towns out in the nothingness here are intriguing, remnants that hold stories of old if one stops to observe and listen.
There are still a few brave souls that make this place home in ramshackle houses and weather beaten trailers. One would imagine that although life may be hard, there is peace that also comes knowing that children can play in relative safety, run wild in the desert, use their imagination and creativity to pass the hours.
The deeper you go into Nevada’s wildness, you find the sun shining down on pristine beauty. The sagebrush covered in last night’s newly fallen snow blanket the area like a virgin’s white dress on her wedding day.
An archaeological site of the little known Fremont Indian from seven hundred years ago reveals a glimpse into a possible village, or perhaps a ceremonial graveyard. If you take the time, you can almost hear their Indian cry in the wind, feel them on your skin.
Driving past Baker, a town that almost has “Ghost town” status, except for a few old timers with trusty dogs at their side as they sit on broken down porches in the cold, watching me as I pass by. A chill runs down my spine as I make my way up the road to the cave, the final destination.
As luck would have it, the Park Ranger is just about to start a tour with only two people. I happily join them, and the four of us enter the Lehman Cave, first discovered in the late 1880’s by Arthur Lehman. As we walk the ranger gives us a fascinating history lesson, from a B movie filmed in the cave in the 1950’s, to the original tour price of one dollar to enter, with Mr. Lehman locking you in the cave by yourself for twenty four hours to explore, with only a tin can and wax candle for light.
If one didn’t emerge after that time frame, he would then come in to find you.
You get a sense of how old the cave is from the early graffiti left on the walls…..
To walk into the depths of the earth and see formations that take millions of years to form is mind boggling, at least to this mind.