When we were in Montana last month, we ventured up a steep and windy mountain road to Granite Ghost Town. Silver was discovered, and the town boomed in the late 1800s--quickly topping out around 3000 people. There was a library, a school, a hospital, churches, saloons, and houses--all atop the mountain.
And now.....well, now....it's ruins. Piles of brick, lumber, and scraps of metal. Broken bottles and pieces of pottery line the streets. An old can, the sole of a shoe, rusty nails. There are a few structures that refuse to give in--scattered around in the trees--so we took some time to explore.
And look for ghosts.
The kids were so excited at the chance of seeing a real, live, ghost. After all......that's what ghost towns are all about, right? As they looked and looked and listened and looked for happy white ghosts, peering around corners, waiting to jump out and say "BOO!".....I was also on the lookout for ghosts.....of another kind.
I stood on what must have been Main Street. I tried to imagine the once hustling bustling road it would have been. The miners coming home after work. The children headed to and from school. Sunday afternoons, families headed to church.
I stood in a little house. Most of the floor had given out, the roof was sagging, and board by board, piece by piece, it was falling apart. But I could see where the fire place was, the back door, and a few little rooms. I wondered where they slept? What they ate for dinner? How many children had once roamed throughout these tiny walls? Did they decorate for Christmas? How many families had lived in this little home over the years? How many people had been through that door?
I left without seeing any ghosts (the kids thought there might have been one in the bank), but with my imagination running wild with stories--stories that could have been--from this tiny mountain town.
Have you explored any ghost towns?
We would love to visit more......we will never tire of looking for ghosts.