I read that Kelso was a ghost town. I like ghost towns — though I have never met a ghost and, as I’ve mentioned before, the jury is still out for me as it relates to their purported existence.

Be that as it may, traveling the byways as I do, the prospect of stumbling across a real ghost town always thrills me — especially one from the late-1900s that may or may not let me see a ghost cowboy riding a ghost horse through the dusty streets of that ghost town.

"Howdy, partner. You ’fraida ghosts?”

I’d shake my head: “The jury is still out as it relates to your purported existence.”

“A jury found me guilty. Hung me and my horse.”

I saw that in a Mel Brooks film. Awkward moment. “Yeah, I bet they did. Can I take your photograph?”

“We’re what they call camera shy,” he would respond before riding off into the sunset. Not sure he’d ride exactly at sunset, but it sounds so cowboyish.

So, anyway, if Kelso — located about 35 miles southeast of Baker just off Kelbaker Road — is a ghost town, I knew there should be nothing there.

According to the Kelso entry on Atlas Obscura (what a truly cool name), “NOW LITTLE MORE THAN A ghost village, Kelso Depot is a historical oasis in the desert of the Mojave National Preserve.”

Not sure why Atlas Obscura went with all capital letters to open that statement, but it’s the reason I went to Kelso. Capital letters at the start of a description of a place must mean it’s worth visiting.

Would anyone travel to Italy to visit the Coliseum if the travel brochure read, “well, yeah, Rome is cool, if you like history and that kind of stuff”? I rest my case.

The history of Kelso is worth learning before your visit. The town was built in 1905 as a train depot. Soon after, people started arriving in droves.

Not being sure what a “drove” is, I did some research. One source stated that a person is drove when they are confused or mad, or if they just did something really stupid.

Another said a drove is when a number of animals, together, move to some place.

The latter is likely more accurate in this instance.

The bottom line is that people started moving to Kelso Depot, as it was known then, in large numbers. By the 1940s, over 2,000 called the town home.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that when those droves of humans moved in, borax and iron strikes were found locally, employing miners from everywhere. Then came the discovery of silver and gold in the nearby hills, and more droves of humans moved in.

“Follow the money” is an old saying, and the droves did just that. OK, I’m done with droves.

The mining area around Kelso was so successful that it actually became known as the Kelso mining district. An interesting point: The original name of the train stop was Siding 16 because of its location. It indicated that water was not far away.

Apparently Siding 16 sounded boring, so it was decided that a name needed to be chosen to give the place a true identity. Well, these were railway men, and they believed in doing things the engineering way. So, three names of local railroad workers were tossed into a hat and a name was drawn. The winner was John H. Kelso.

Rumor has it that John H. Kelso actually tossed in two dozen other slips of paper with his name on them, thus rigging the selection.

OK, I might have made that up. John H. Kelso was considered an upstanding community member. Check out that first name: Of course he was.

Kelso was the base of operations for the San Pedro, Los Angeles and Salt Lake Railroad, which connected with the Union Pacific Railroad tracks. It was also a great deal for the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway. The depot furnished water and provided helper locomotives that assisted the longer trains heading up the steep grade toward Cima Hill.

Train coming into Kelso Depot

The train trip from Los Angeles to Las Vegas was long. Naturally, passengers and railroad workers needed a respite during their travels. Kelso Depot, then served as the perfect fit.

In 1923, the actual depot building was built. It offered a restaurant, boarding rooms and a telegraph office. The restaurant was named the Beanery, which served supposedly home-cooked meals.

I say supposedly because I’m not sure which family’s home laid claim to that fame.

“Yep, my house smells like a beanery. Want to come over for dinner? It’s a gas!”

So as the town grew, the depot became the center of the community. Meeting rooms in the basement allowed townsfolk to hold townsfolky events year round.

The building was beautifully designed, in the likeness of a California mission. It was the centerpiece for the small but vibrant desert village.

Kelso grew so rapidly that an old-fashioned, strap-iron jail was brought in. It was used for detaining local drunks and those not adhering to mask-wearing guidelines.

John, happy to be leaving the strap iron jail of Kelso

As always along these routes, the population dwindled with the advent of the automobile and super highways inconveniently (for Kelso) constructed miles away.

By 1986, the no-longer-needed depot was abandoned. By the mid-1990s, the railroad opted to tear it down.

The depot wasn't the only thing left behind - post office too

So when I drove into what I believed to be a deserted and nothing-to-write about town, I was pleasantly surprised: Kelso is not a ghost town.

It’s not a happening place, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not a ghost town.

People were walking around houses and a very not-torn-down Kelso railroad depot. In fact, the depot looks much like it did when first built back in 1923. It is gorgeous — and I don’t use that term lightly.

In the early 2000s, a group of historians decided that the depot needed to be saved. By 2005, the renovation was complete. A great job by all involved in this effort, I must say.

Green grass, tall cooling palms and lush green bushes line the walkways and yards to the entrance of the Kelso Depot Visitors Center, housed in the depot. I couldn’t wait to walk inside, meander the aisles of touristy stuff and ask some questions of the docents.

Nice enough for a long nap or yummy picnic

But 2020 means visiting in the time of the coronavirus, which means the place was closed.

I looked inside the windows to no avail. It was devoid of humanity.

I snapped a few photographs of the surrounding area. Watching at least a dozen or more tourists arrive in the center’s parking lot saddened me a bit. Motorhomes, trucks loaded with camping gear, cars with roof racks stacked with suitcases — all with seemingly nowhere to go.

But that is not accurate.

The great outdoors always beckons. Near the town of Kelso are ample opportunities to enjoy nature.

The Mojave National Preserve, where Kelso is located, is over 1.5 million acres of desert. That is enough area for anyone to enjoy hiking, off-roading, exploring, or just sitting at a campsite and the stillness of a desert evening.

Also nearby: the Kelso Dunes (which I planned to visit but ran out of time on this trip), Cima Dome (which I also planned to visit but ran out of time on this trip), and other locales which... you get the idea. Expect a sequel to this blog.

There are only so many hours in a day, but there are other days for a return to those places we missed at first. Kelso is not so far away in space or time that one cannot return and see more deeply what one missed at first glance. Every great adventure is worth a second glance.