There is a place in the Nevada desert, far from the blazing lights of Las Vegas and the sprawling, traffic-clogged freeways and drama of Los Angeles that is peaceful. Silent. A place that time has forgotten, and where the remnants of history are scattered on the ground like an outdoor museum.
It’s a ghost town that is owned by two men. The population is 8.
A photographer friend of mine sent me a message during my last trip to Death Valley, telling me that I really should take a side trip to see this place. So I veered off of my plans in Death Valley, packed up my car with water and my Nikon and headed out into the vast expanse of Nevada, in gale force winds, to find the ghost town.
It’s down a long, lonely highway where the signs read “Open Range” and where I nearly ran into…
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