Belmont, Nevada

I stood in the middle, right smack in the middle, of the main street of town.  No traffic.  No shoppers.  No sounds.  Once 4,000 people called it home.  Once the mountains teemed with barrel-chested miners blasting and gouging for silver ore.  Once children played amongst the sage.  Once kerosene lanterns burned in the many cabin windows.  Once it was the county seat.  Now, all that remains are a few hardy souls, and the wind whistling through the sage in Belmont, Nevada.

    I had left Tonopah early that morning and ambled my way along U.S. Hwy. 6, passing the back entrance to Nellis Air Force Range, then making a left turn onto State Highway 376, and then several more miles, a right turn onto a small no name road, which eventually became a dirt washboard.  There are two ways to travel washboards, either very slowly feeling every bump, or quickly riding the tops of them, which actually smoothes them out somewhat.  As I sped along, a staccato of knives, cups, and plates rattled in the cupboards.  The road winds its way between two ranges of mountains, the Monitors on the right and the Toquimas on the left.  I traveled alone for the entire seventeen miles, no oncoming cars in sight, just my brown Vanagon kicking up a dusty “contrail” in the desert.  But I noticed in my rearview mirror that there was another dust cloud moving down the roadway way back there.

    I pulled into Belmont and had barely begun my investigation when that other dust cloud arrived.  Darned if it wasn’t the UPS.  I asked the driver, “What’s UPS doing driving so far into nowhere?  There can’t be enough people out here to make it worthwhile.”  His answer was classic and should be a company slogan, “You got an address, we deliver.”

    I left “The Big Brown Machine” to do its job, while I went off to do mine. 

    I couldn’t help but notice the tall cottonwoods growing alongside a spring fed channel, which flowed in front of several houses. The cottonwoods are a sharp contrast to the sage and scrub pine, which dot the surrounding landscape.  Nearby was what must have been the main street, a collection of brick and wood ruins...Belmont’s past glory.  Beyond the cottonwoods stood a building left reasonably intact from those early days.  It’s the imposing two-story brick courthouse now preserved and safeguarded from “ghost town raiders.”  I spent several hours just roaming around making pictures.  I enjoyed this first visit so much so that I’ve gone back there several times.

    Go there today and you’ll find that the road has been paved...darn!  You’ll also find a handful of people still living in this not-quite-a-ghost town. There are few amenities, no phones, no stores, and no gas.  A few new houses and some old ones sit alongside some of the abandoned ones.  At the end of the main street, sits a B&B.  It is opened all year round. 

    A word of caution, be careful poking around the skeletons of the old town, because the residents protect them with a passion.  Look, but don’t touch.  And there is plenty to look at in this picturesque hidden gem with a silver history.

Q