But once I caught my first sweeping view of Bodie State Historic Park βthe largest, best-preserved ghost town in the United Statesβhe was my new best friend. We all have mental images of the Wild West, largely evoked by such names as Annie Oakley, Billy the Kid, Wyatt Earp, Calamity Jane, and Butch Cassidy, and framed by Hollywood blockbusters, second-rate oaters, and spaghetti westernsβthe lawlessness, the shootouts at high noon, the saloon brawls, a player piano somewhere in the background.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was enthralled by what lay before me. The vast expanse of this barren, unforgiving, treeless landscape near the Nevada border struck me as the most inhospitable location to establish a city.
At its peak in , 10, people were living in this rowdy gold-mining city, one of the largest in California; now, the only residents are some skittish chipmunks. As I began to explore this vast ruin on its dusty streets, I was instantly transported back to more than a century ago, to a life and time that I found nearly impossible to imagine.
But I tried. Bodie even had a baseball league, horse racetrack, and magnificent county courthouse. There was elegance and grace here, too, with a social season of charity events and genteel balls, and with hotels that served superior meals on white linen tablecloths, with fine china and etched crystal drinking glasses.
The romanticism of this site could be overwhelming, but I allowed the reality to temper it. Trips to the outhouse must have been hellacious. The next town was 14 miles away, and the sense of isolation must have been taxing.
