The quirky ghost town of Nelson, Nevada

 

Years ago, Laureen and I sat down to watch the 2001 film, 3,000 miles to Graceland one evening. Not sure why, but we are fans of Kevin Costner and Kurt Russell and decided to give it a shot.

We like doing that - watching a film on a shot.

Most end up as a 22 caliber plink but some end up as a full blown 44 caliber full-metal-jacket blast. While on the subject, may I mention Top Gun Maverick? That was, in my opinion, a macho-side-winder-missile of a film. But I digress.

The Graceland film was probably, in my ‘Beyer what round would this film rate’ opinion, would be a solid 40 caliber. Enough to do damage but not enough to awaken neighbors three doors down.

I am not sure why I am using such terms to determine the strength of a film but perhaps since I recently went to a legal shooting range with a few friends, the aroma of gunpowder is still circulating through my senses.

Anyway, Laureen and I drove to the film location for one of the scenes in the film - the ghost town of Nelson in Nevada.

This is where Costner, as nasty as his character is, flicks his lit cigarette out of the car and blows up the place, sending a couple of full sized planes right into the air.

Sections of the planes are still there, with one sticking right out of the ground as though it crashed nose first.

Destroyed aircraft from film 3,000 Miles to Graceland in Nelson, Nevada

Really cool.

Unlike most ghost towns I visit, Nelson is a bit different. Not the average ghost town where buildings are there but mostly not. Rumors of past lives are envisioned across desert landscapes or remote mountain valleys. No, Nelson is unique in that aspect.

As we drove through the eleven miles of desert toward Nelson off the 95 and on the 165, there were a lot of Joshua trees, creosote bushes, cacti, and other plants which I cannot possibly name.

“Beautiful area,” Laureen mentioned.

“Some folks think the desert is boring,” I replied. I had actually heard someone say that once, but then again they also did not believe Sasquatches existed.

“Then they have not traveled much,” Laureen said.

Besides being one of the settings for a movie about a bunch of Elvis impersonators about to rob a casino in Las Vegas, the town of Nelson has a fascinating history.

A long detailed history of exploration, riches, murder, and all the other ingredients that make visiting such a place a must.

We suddenly came into view a collection of modular homes, stick built homes and lots with no homes at all. In fact, some of the homes were large and beautiful. 

“Are we there?” I asked.

“We just passed a sign that indicated we had arrived in Nelson,” Laureen replied.

This was not a ghost town at all. Folks walking around, doggies prancing in front yards, people driving modern cars instead of horse and buggies, and not a ruin in sight.

“I think we’ve been bamboozled,” I uttered.

Nope, the ghost town was about another mile or so past the present and very much alive village of Nelson.

In 1775, a group of Spaniards were walking here and there about this locale when they discovered pockets of rich ore containing large amounts of gold.

Immediately they called the area, El Dorado, which in Spanish meant any place where riches, opportunity, or abundance of things can be found. And this, El Dorado, was such a place just west of the rushing Colorado River.

After the Spaniards left, the area was searched now and then, but in 1859 large lodes of both gold and silver were discovered and El Dorado came into full force, creating one of the largest mining booms in Nevada state history.

It seems that every time I conduct research about a mineral strike, it happens to be one of the largest in that particular state.

“We got us another boom,” one old miner may have said to another.

The other miner may have nodded his unkempt bearded head. “Yes, and last week I was at another boom over yonder.”  

Two years later the rush for riches was truly on and a steamboat landing was created at the mouth of Eldorado Canyon at the shore of the Colorado River to transport goods to the quickly forming town and to take the rich ore south along the river.

The ore would be transported nearby on the Colorado River

The first name for this mining bonanza along the Colorado River was Colorado City. Must have taken moments to come up with that name. Then it was changed to simply Eldorado.

It should be noted that this was before any man made dams were along the length of the Colorado River and thus supplies and riches could be transported nearly 350 miles from this location all the way to the Gulf of California.

Try that today. In fact don’t…unless you feel like dragging your boat out of the water in front of Hoover Dam, Davis Dam, and the Dam Dam.

With money rolling in from the various mines in the area, the town of Eldorado continued to grow and one of the richest was the Techatticup Mine which produced millions of dollars from gold, silver, copper, and lead.

One of the canyons leading to riches in Nelson, Nevada

And with all such boom towns, another element came to town - hooligans.

Yes, Tom Hooligan moved to Eldorado in 1897. Okay, I may have made that name up, but bad hombres and bad hombres showed up, making the mining camp a very dangerous place to reside.

Since Eldorado Canyon was so narrow and yet so rich in mineral deposits routine, arguments arose between miners, and murder became a way of life. And, add to that fact that the Civil War hadn’t ended that long ago, deserters from both the Union and Confederate armies migrated there believing the location in Nevada was so isolated they would not be hunted down by the authorities.

Of course, there were no animus feelings between those two factions at all. Did I mention that murder became a fact of life?

A town was eventually built further up the canyon away from the rushing river since that area had seen the building of a stamp mill and docks for the steamships that would visit Eldorado on a routine manner and had become too crowded. 

In 1897, a prospector and camp leader by the name of Charles Nelson was found murdered in his home, along with four other people. The killings were blamed on a Native American by the name of Avote. The town’s name was then changed to Nelson in his honor.

Nelson was a different sort of mining camp, in which the majority see their boom last a few years at most and then dry up. No, this locale produced rich minerals from its founding all the way until 1945.

Around 1901 to 1905, railroads were becoming more and more accessible for the citizens of Nelson to move products and soon there was no longer the need for the steamboats along the Colorado River. It was faster and cheaper to bring goods in or ship out the needs of the mining boomtown by rail.

In 1907, the post office closed in Eldorado and was moved to Nelson.

As we walked around the now eclectic ghost town of Nelson, we marveled at the displays of vintage automobiles and trucks scattered everywhere. Some were parked along the only paved road through town. Some were parked in dirt parking lots in front of original buildings from the heyday of Nelson. Some were just parked as though the owner had just exited the vehicle to carry on some business in a nearby structure.

Some strange looking vehicles in Nelson, Nevada

There are signs indicating that this isn’t just a ghost town but a town where people live. The wording on the signs are clear - ‘Leave before Dark.’ The residents do not want tourists trampling all over private property looking at this or that artifact.

John R Beyer standing in the doorway in Nelson, Nevada

It was a wonderful couple of hours we spent trampling around - it was early in the morning. The gift shop/visitor center was open and we chit-chatted with a woman running the place. She mentioned that mine tours are available and reservations can easily be made by visiting the Eldorado Canyon Mine Tours website. Not only can the guests visit the actual mines in the area which produced the boom, but the tour also incorporates visiting film sites, wedding venues, great photo opportunities, and overall explains the entire history of Nelson.

The main street in Nelson, Nevada

In fact, we watched as three or four small tour buses entered the small town and deposited tourists for their day of adventure.

It was windy, so we decided to pack it in and head west, knowing we would be back to explore much more of this Eldorado Canyon.

For more information: https://www.eldoradocanyonminetours.com/index.html

John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com

Searchlight Museum

Entrance to the Historical Museum in Searchlight, Nevada

As I have mentioned numerous times in my columns, museums have a special place in my heart and I try to visit as many as I can whilst out and about on traveling adventures.

Again, as I have also mentioned numerous times in my columns, our children used to roll their eyes, harrumph, or feign illness whenever I turned into the parking lot of some vault of historical value - namely a museum.

Laureen, my lovely traveling partner, and I tried to instill an appreciation of history and the stories of those who came before us and who made wherever we happened to be traveling what it is today.

It did not matter if it was Amboy, Bullhead City, Randsburg, London, or Paris - each place has a special story to be heard and appreciated. 

The iconic ghost town of Amboy, California

George Santayana, the philosopher is given credit for penning the immortal phrase: ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’

I am the perfect example of Santayana’s statement. How many times Laureen has reminded me that a small taste of Mrs. Renfro’s Carolina Reaper Salsa didn't sit well with me in the past? I generally remember while being rushed to the emergency room by a team of paramedics.

But I digress.

Recently, our daughter Kelly let us know that she was taking our grandson, Eli, to a children’s museum in their town of Meridian, Idaho.

We smiled over the video call but once disconnected, high-fived each other. “It worked,” we stated in unison.

According to Rebecca Carlsson in her article for MuseumNext, published on September 15, 2023, ‘Museums have the power to create unity of both a social and political level and a local one. Local museums can provide a sense of community and place by celebrating a collective heritage, offering a great way to learn about the history of a particular area.’

Carlsson ends her piece with ‘Museums are just as crucial to the future as the future is to museums. Not only can our museums bring history to life, but they can also shine a light on our present and future - a light which can be hard to find elsewhere.’

Great article and a must-read for parents - in addition to my own columns, obviously - to instill a sense of who we are not only as a country, state, or city, but who we are as a whole.

Sometimes those visits may conjure up images we may not want to recall.

It is hard for most right-minded people not to get teared up while visiting the Holocaust Museum in Los Angeles, or walking the acres of land containing Manzanar along Highway 395. Those are gut-wrenching places to wander but at the same time, as Santayana hoped, if we remember the past we may not let those things happen again.

Perhaps the philosopher was not as skeptical of the human condition as many are today.

But I digress.

With my admiration of museums, I visited the small but extremely informative historical center of Searchlight, Nevada.

Searchlight in the bygone days

I wrote about the once bustling mining town during the dark years of the pandemic when I was not able to enter the museum with the mask restrictions, social distancing, and COVID bugs flying non-stop creating havoc, so I made it a point to revisit.

The museum is located in Clark County within the Searchlight Community Center along Cottonwood Cove Road which ultimately leads to the Cottonwood Cove Recreation area on Lake Mohave.

In 1897 a miner by the name of George Frederick Colton was looking for gold in the area when he supposedly said, “It would take a searchlight to find gold ore here.”

Well, gold was found, and thus the name for find, Searchlight Mine, and in 1898 the name of the newly founded gold rush town.

Today, there is not much to view in the town, more of a crossing spot for those traveling to the blue waters at Cottonwood Cove or on their way to Las Vegas along Interstate 95. A casino or two, a gas station or two, and a few places to grab a meal - but the museum is a must-stop since it holds some very interesting pieces of information explaining why the town of Searchlight is a truly hidden treasure of history.

Let us put away the mining history, important as it may be for making a desolate desert landscape come alive with untold riches, but concentrate on who was once involved in this town of now only 278 humans that was once home to nearly 2,000 souls.

As I wandered around the well-displayed kiosks in the museum I was amazed at the photographs, newspaper clippings, tools, books, and other artifacts which made this stop so much worth anyone’s time.

I did not know that John Macready once lived in Searchlight where his father once owned a very rich ore-producing mine. Macready was a famous pilot in the early years of the 20th Century and helped make aviation a household word. He was one of the first pilots to fly non-stop across the United States and the only three-time winner of the Mackay Trophy. 

I did know that Edith Head, the very famous costume designer who still holds the record of receiving eight Academy Awards for Best Costume Design, lived in Searchlight as a young child. Her mother had been married to a mining engineer and called Searchlight home for many years. Edith is considered one of the most influential costume designers in the history of film, working for Paramount Pictures for over four decades.

The history of Edith Head while living in Searchlight, Nevada

I did not know that Clara Gordon Bow, the 1920s film star, used to visit Searchlight on a regular basis from her nearby abode, the Walking Box Ranch - named after a camera connected to a tripod for filming in the early days of Hollywood. The ranch was owned by Bow and her husband, actor Rex Bell, as a respite from the often craziness of the film crowd in Los Angeles. 

Clara Bow's personal trunk on display in Searchlight, Nevada

I did not know that Scot Joplin, the King of Ragtime, once wrote a song entitled Searchlight Rag in 1907, in honor of a couple of friends who had done some prospecting in Searchlight - Tom and Charles Turpin. The song was inspired by the tales the two brothers related to Joplin of their time spent in local bars in the area. Now, who would not like that song?

And, I did not know that a man by the name of William Harrell Nellis spent part of his youth in Searchlight before his family moved to Las Vegas when he was 13 years old. This man then went on to become a fighter pilot during World War II and flew in over 70 combat missions before being fatally shot down on  December 27, 1944, over Luxemburg. On April 30, 1950, the Las Vegas Air Force Base changed its name to Nellis Air Force Base.

Nellis's own story in Searchlight, Nevada

I did know that the late Senator Harry Mason Reid Jr. was born in Searchlight in 1939 but learned that he was one of four sons born to Harry Reid and Inez Orena Reid. The Senator’s father was a rock miner working various mines in the hills around Searchlight and his mother was a laundress for the local brothels in the area.

The things you learn while visiting museums!

Searchlight’s museum may be small but it is jam-packed with interesting tidbits about the history of the mining industry, and the famous folks who were either born there, visited there, or spent some time there during their lives.

There are quite of things to view at the museum in Searchlight, Nevada

I wandered a bit and marveled at the care taken in preserving the memory of this small town, really in the middle of nowhere but actually in the middle of some pretty big stories.

For more information: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obKkQ4U31VA

https://www.clarkcountynv.gov/government/departments/parks___recreation/cultural_division/musuems/searchlight_musuem.php

John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com

 

 

Tragedy at Charlestown Peak, Nevada

Looking toward the peak of Mount Charlestown, Nevada

“There was suddenly a clear space in the skies above Mount Charleston and the pilot took advantage of it,” Docent Arlene said. “He pulled back on the controls believing he could make it over the summit despite the terrible winter weather.”

Laureen, my lovely wife, and I were visiting the Spring Mountains Visitor Gateway near Mount Charleston a mere 40 miles northwest of Las Vegas.

The wind was blowing from the west down through the snow-covered valley of the Spring Mountains, leaving both Laureen and me wishing we had brought warmer clothes for this afternoon's venture. Hiking boots, shorts, and thin sweatshirts were no match for the sometimes 50-mile-an-hour gusts howling down upon us with a touch of freezing.

The three of us, Docent Arlene, Laureen and I were gazing at a large bent and misshapen airplane propeller on display outside of the Visitor Center.

That wintery day back on November 17, 1955, proved a bit too tricky for the pilot navigating the C-54 Cargo plane, registered as USAF 9068.

How Mount Charlestown may have appeared at time of crash

“I’ve heard that if he had gained less than fifty feet or so the plane would have made it over the peak and headed toward Las Vegas, their final destination,” Docent Arlene stated. “Unfortunately, that peak in the distance was their final destination, killing all fourteen men aboard.”

Memorial for those lost on Mount Charlestown, Nevada

It was two o’clock in the afternoon and we had just finished a yummy lunch at The Retreat on Charleston Peak a bit earlier - we shared a large burger with a patty made of a mixture of bison, Wagyu beef, elk, and wild boar cooked to perfection. Washing it down with a nice cold Stella, made the meal that much more satisfying.

The Retreat near Charlestown Peak, Nevada

We had stopped by the Visitor Center to learn what we could about this mountain situated less than an hour's drive from Las Vegas and yet worlds away from that hustle and glitter.

There was no way that I could have imagined that we were going to learn about an aircraft that had slammed into Mount Charleston carrying 14 men heading from Burbank, California on its way to the top-secret installation of Area 51.

Yes, the very base in the Nevada Desert that houses intergalactic flying saucers, little skinny gray space aliens, and probably a few Sasquatches for good measure.

All the folks who perished during that winter storm atop Mount Charleston in 1955 on flight USAF 9068 were secretly working on the U-2 project. The plane that would change the way the United States routinely spied on their adversaries around the world, and perhaps allies too - just speculating.

In fact, according to Docent Arlene, the mission was so secret that the military never told the families of those aboard anything about how they died, let alone why their loved ones happened to be flying over Mount Charleston in the first place during a terrible winter storm. The plane was supposed to keep a maximum height of 10 thousand feet to maintain invisibility from radar but with the nasty weather, the pilot got a bit off course and suddenly realized too late that he had to try to make it over the nearly 12,000-foot peak of Mount Charleston.

As history records, George Pappos did his best but those last feet were just out of reach for the seasoned pilot trying to ferry his cargo of scientists to Watertown - codename for the desert area where things were being constructed and tested out of the view of the general public.

When traveling, as I do quite often, there are times when you learn about stories that come as a surprise. This was one of those times.

Not about the shenanigans going on in Area 51 - nothing surprising there. No, that top-secret base is probably one of the best-known top-secret places on this planet. 

I’ve been on the outskirts of Area 51 numerous times and once nearly was detained when a white SUV came barreling toward me on a remote dirt road. I hightailed it, and just caught in the rearview mirror the driver in the truck waving at me with a skinny hand with only three fingers attached. The passenger leaned out of the window yelling something, and I swore he had antennas stuck to his rather large-eyed head.

But, I digress.

We happened to be in Las Vegas to see the band ZZ Top at the Palms when we decided to drive the short forty minutes to Mount Charleston. In all transparency, we have visited the beautiful small town a few times in the past but nearly six years had glided by so we thought it would be a nice outing away from the glitter and hubbub of Sin City.

Little did we know that we would learn so much about the Cold War while talking with Docent Arlene at the Spring Mountains Visitor Gateway.

“For decades the families never truly knew what had happened to their loved ones,” Docent Arlene said. “The government wanted to keep the facts of the incident close to their chest, and they succeeded.”

Laureen and I wandered about the visitor center a bit and picked up a few more details pertaining to the crash. It was sad looking at photographs of what remained of the C-54 on top of Mount Charleston after the horrific crash.

A large debris field showed that the plane had nearly made the peak but instead bellied into the hard snowpack and skidded for dozens of yards before erupting into fire. It took time for responders to reach the peak with the weather and rescue equipment available in 1955, but it would have made no difference. Experts determined later that in all probability those aboard perished almost instantly upon impact. 

When the plane crashed and the military had removed the remains of the 14 men killed, the plane rested in its last landing position for years. The peak is treacherous and not easy to hike to, though people do during the summer and early fall when it is not covered by snow.

Through the decades, souvenir scavengers would scale Mount Charleston for mementos of the tragic airplane crash. It was becoming more and more hazardous, not to mention disrespectful, to allow tourists to venture into the damaged fuselage which was moving a bit more down the mountainside with each winter snowfall, so the US Forest Service had the fuselage blown up for safety reasons.

Some of the original propellers and plane debris still lay twisted and abandoned on the peak today. The engines were removed by the military and later reused in other aircraft.

One propeller is at the Spring Mountains Visitor Gateway and proudly on display at the National Cold War Memorial located on the grounds of the Gateway as a reminder of the once unknown heroes of the nearly 50 year Cold War against the then Soviet Union. 

One engine propeller from atop Mt. Charlestown 

It is the only National Memorial site in the state of Nevada.

We were told that the wind gusts were going to be hitting higher soon and the electricity was being turned off on Mount Charleston at four due to fire hazards in case of a downed power pole.

One more gander around the Cold War Memorial set in the beautiful setting of Spring Mountains and we were on our way back to Las Vegas and the concert.

But, in the parking lot, I stood a moment or two gazing at the snow-covered peak of Mount Charleston in the distance and wondered what it had been like for those 14 men knowing that was indeed their last flight.

I hoped they had not known it was.

For more information: https://www.gomtcharleston.com/

https://retreatoncharlestonpeak.com/

A good read on the topic: Silent Heroes of the Cold War by Kyril D. Plaskon

John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com

Bonnie and Clyde's Death Car

The Death Car in Primm, Nevada

 “I know it had been parked in that spot,” I told Laureen.

“How do you lose a car?” She asked.

I didn’t know but I knew who would, the friendly bartender across the room.

No, I had not misplaced my own vehicle after imbibing in an adult beverage. We were looking for the bullet-riddled Bonnie and Clyde V8 Ford which had been last seen at Whiskey Pete’s in Primm, Nevada.

This couple of midwestern small-time thieves and killers met their fateful end while driving the stolen Ford on a country road on May 23, 1934. Law enforcement officers were waiting for the duo and greeted them with a barrage of lead. They were not about to take any chances with the pair wanted for the cold-blooded murders of at least 13 people and countless robberies. Nope, Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker met their end with at least 112 bullets fired at them.

“You want to know where the car is?” Frank, the bartender asked me. It was nine in the morning and even though we had stopped at the Casino, it was too early to belly up to the bar, even for me. We just needed some information and the smiling man was only too eager to supply it.

I nodded. “You guys do have all the answers and even know the question before it is even asked.”

Laureen, my lovely wife, merely shook her head. I’ve noticed she does that a lot lately when I talk.

“They moved it across the interstate to Buffalo Bill’s,” he told us. And he also informed us that the car may be haunted. “I’ve never seen anything spooky, but a friend of mine who works late once said he saw a shadowy figure in clothing from the thirties standing beside the rear bumper. When he went over, no one was there.”

And off we went to see the car and see if perhaps Clyde Barrow was actually wandering around wondering why his shirt had so many holes in it.

‘Bonnie had just laundered it by the old crick and I could swear there were no holes in it when she had me put it on,’ his specter may be wondering.

It should be noted that I am not a fan of the killers who were so famously shot up as they rode in their stolen car - quite the opposite. These murderers are unfortunately a slice of Americana during the time of the Great Depression. Unemployment was over 25 percent, food lines were a norm in large cities, folks leaving their homes in the East and heading West with hopes of finding work, and there were people like Bonnie and Clyde stealing and killing, sometimes just for fun.

It was also the era of gangsters like Pretty Boy Floyd, Machine Gun Kelly, John Dillinger, Toots Galore, and many more.

“Wonder why they moved it?” Laureen asked as we returned to our own non-shot-up car in the parking lot of Whiskey Pete’s.

“Perhaps it just appeared there,” I replied. “Like magic…or worse.”

Turns out that after the killing duo met their demise, there were a lot of shot-up ‘Bonnie and Clyde Death Cars’ making the rounds in the United States. People would plop down a nickel and then get a chance to ooh and aah counting the bullet holes that had torn through the metal of the V8.

“I counted fifty, ma,” Little Richtie may have told his ma.

“Man said there were over a hundred,” Ma may have replied. “Count 'em agin.”

But the one now located within Buffalo Bill’s is the real deal. The Ford had been put on display after the killings for nearly 30 years in carnivals, amusement parks, state fairs, and other such public places where people could get a glimpse of the last sitting spot of Bonnie and Clyde,

For a dollar, folks could sit in the front seat for a photo-op when the car turned up in Las Vegas in the 1970s. 

“Smile pretty,” the photographer may have said to a paying customer. “Don’t mind the blood spots.”

Over the next couple of decades, the death car moved from various locations until finally stopping at Whiskey Pete’s, and more recently, it was moved to an entire gangster-styled wing at Buffalo Bill’s.

It was easy to find as we wandered the rather eclectic Buffalo Bill’s casino interior.

“There it is,” I said, as in the short distance the death car - that is the name it goes by - I could make out the bullet-riddled remains of the V8 surrounded by tall and thick plexiglass.

The bullet riddled driver's door

Inside the enclosure are also two dummies made to look like the two dummies that met their untimely end within the car. Did I mention I was not a fan of Bonnie and Clyde?

The location of the car is rather unique and the lighting is a bit dim as to represent a darkness about the car and the people killed inside it, perhaps. But it had an interesting effect, on purpose or not.

Near the vehicle is a large kiosk with photographs showing the aftermath of the gunfight, along with newspaper articles from the period, and other artifacts including personal effects of the couple from when they were alive.

A mirror created by Clyde Barrow

From when they were dead is the blood-stained bullet-ridden shirt Clyde had been wearing while killed behind the wheel.

One sadly interesting artifact is a news clipping stating that over 20,000 people attended Bonnie’s funeral and over 15,000 attended Clyde’s. It is believed through the articles on display that many people in the country believed that the couple were more like a pair of Robin Hoods than just the plain thugs they were.

Crowds of people staring in at the death car

There is no evidence they gave away their stolen loot to the poor of the time.

Also, a place to sit for a few moments and watch a short video of the couple runs 24/7 for those wanting to remember Bonnie and Clyde and their life story.

We skipped the screening.

A short distance away, we found the 1931 black Lincoln bulletproof sedan once owned by New York gangster, Dutch Schultz, which, in turn, was then taken by Al Capone after Schultz’s murder in 1935. It was then rumored that the car was used by President Franklin D. Roosevelt after it had been confiscated by the federal government and Capone sent to Alcatraz.

The armored car owned by mobster Dutch Schultz

A little-known fact, Dutch Schultz was murdered while using a urinal at an upscale restaurant in Newark, New Jersey. The urinal is not on display at Buffalo Bill’s.

Having written a column about the Mob Museum in Las Vegas, it was interesting to find such a vehicle located in Primm, Nevada. A lot of history and violence tied to both cars on display but again another piece of Americana. Not the best part of the United States history but with all countries there is the good and bad - and we must be able to view it and perhaps learn from it.

Visitors were snapping selfies, taking group photos, and just taking in the scene of two vehicles that have been seen and portrayed in both docudramas and Hollywood films.

Speaking of Hollywood, the 1967 movie Bonnie and Clyde, starring Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway was a box office smash.

As we were leaving Buffalo Bill’s, I took another tour of the couple’s car and wondered how many lives these two ruthless killers changed for the worse. 

Too many, I imagined.

For more information: https://primmvalleyresorts.com/hotel/hotel-amenities/bonnie-clyde-exhibition/

Cottonwood Cove, a respite from the heat in Nevada

Entrance to Cottonwood Cove via the town of Searchlight, Nevada

One of the most memorable aspects of traveling is not the places visited, though that has a lot to do with the traveling, but the people you meet along the way.

I’ve been fortunate to meet famous folks, ordinary folks, and sometimes some unsavory folks along the byways. But all were wonderful in their own right.

Laureen, my lovely wife, and I decided recently to boat up to Cottonwood Cove Resort and Marina on Lake Mohave, approximately 35 miles north of Davis Dam on the Nevada side of the lake. We would leisurely cruise the blue waters of the Colorado River and spend the night at the Cottonwood Cove Motel along the shores of the marina.

Beautiful view of Lake Mohave from Cottonwood Cove

A wonderful way to spend a weekend. Sun, fun, and burning through a whole lot of fuel which made my wallet feel a lot lighter when we docked at the marina gas station.

“I bet we’re still a buck cheaper than Katherine Landing,” a young man said while pumping fuel into the tank on our boat.

“Yes, you are,” I replied not feeling any more chipper as I handed him a hundred and received no change back.

“Did you bring snacks?” I asked Laureen. “I don’t think we can afford the cafe for dinner.”

The winds had picked up about halfway along the trip and the lake often looked like a churning clothes washer. But we were out in the fresh air, tunes blasting away on the pontoon, and getting splashed by cold lake water was just part of the adventure.

Even with some pretty rough water, we made Cottonwood Cover in a little less than two hours and decided to chug further north to Nelson’s Landing on the Nevada side of the lake.

And this is where we encountered two young men who were in desperate need of help.

I wrote about the tragedy that had taken place on September 14th, 1974 when a monsoon west of the landing created a sudden flood which led to a 40-foot wave of water roaring through Nelson’s Landing, killing nine people.

Nelson Landing along the Colorado River

We had only seen the beach from the land and decided to take a gander at the site from the water's edge.

As we slowly pulled into the cove, which was packed with swimmers, Laureen noticed a young man frantically waving a white Frisbee at us.

I waved back.

“I believe he wants to talk to us,” Laureen said, with a slight shaking of her head in my direction.

Turns out two of their friends had paddled across the lake to the Arizona side, about a mile or more in distance, and had not returned. The choice of craft for the adventurers to cross some pretty rough water was a small inflatable raft with two short plastic paddles.

“It’s an orange raft and we lost sight of them,” the Frisbee-waving twenty-something yelled out to us from his perch on a high cliff.

A young woman beside him asked if we would mind going and looking for them. And off we went across the lake in search of a small orange raft.

Fast forward to the end.  We did locate the two boys on the Arizona side - Gavin and Westin - hefted the raft and them aboard our boat and drove them back across the lake to their very relieved friends on shore.

“I think I underestimated the river,” Gavin stated.

“Lots of folks do,” I replied, while Laureen draped a towel over Westin’s shivering shoulders. It may have been early May and the sun beaming from above but the water temperature is still in the mid-60s, which is pretty chilly when a person has been hanging onto the side of a flimsy raft for hours. 

We dropped the guys off and waved goodbye. Laureen laughed and asked if I had seen the t-shirt the girl had been wearing.

A white t-shirt with an arrow pointing to the left with the words, ‘I’m with stupid.’

“Probably should have made it plural,” I replied. Oh, the irony.

Actually, the two young men were just inexperienced. They were also very nice and appreciative. They wanted to know how they could repay us for saving them. Simple I advised, if they were ever out boating, return the favor and help someone else in need.

Good Karma is needed when on the water.

Nelson Landing, packed with sun worshipers

After doing our good deed for the day, we returned to Cottonwood Cove, tied off at a courtesy dock, and went to the store to see about a guest boat slip for the night.

And this is where we met a woman with an incredible sense of humor, by the name of Hope Full. “Yes, that’s my name.”

“Well, in that case, we are hopeful that a slip is available,” I replied.

“Never heard that one before,” Hope said, rolling her eyes just a bit. “Yes, Lisa called us this morning from Boulder Beach and reserved one for you.”

At this time, the manager came over and introduced himself. “I’m Mark Anthony, we exchanged emails about your trip here.”

Laureen turned her back to me. “Don’t say it.”

I smiled, “Is Cleopatra around?”

“Never heard that one before,” Mark said.

Mark is the manager at the resort and we did share some emails about Laureen’s and my plans for the weekend. He was awesome, as well as the entire team at Cottonwood Cove - helping us with anything we needed.

But this was not just a mini-vacation destination, there is a truly interesting history of this place.

Once long ago there, was a rather large island in the middle of the Colorado River named Cottonwood Island. This was before dams were built on the Colorado, forming Lake Mead, Lake Mohave, and Lake Havasu when steamboats navigated the wide river for nearly 500 miles. 

According to the-wandering.com, the island measured nearly ten miles long and three miles wide with a huge concentration of cottonwood trees. The river flowed around the island making access to it rather easy from either shore - Nevada or Arizona.

The Mohave people used the island for agriculture. Then mining began in the 1860s, and the cottonwood trees were felled to sell to the steamboats for fuel making their way to the local mining areas, bringing supplies and retrieving the ore for the smelters down south.

In 1867, the military placed a small outpost on the island to raise cattle, but in the same year, a flood wiped the camp out and drowned all the cattle. That experiment was not tried again, though miners would still graze their cattle from time to time on the island.

Eventually, with the construction of Davis Dam and the creation of Lake Mohave in 1951, the island disappeared for good under the blue waters. Nothing can be seen of this once popular and historic land mass.

We wandered a bit before our motel room was ready and saw families with and without boats enjoying the warm afternoon weather while taking dips in the cool waters along the two swimming areas near the marina.

The Cottonwood Cove Motel, plenty of room for guests

This resort within the Lake Mead National Recreation Area has something for everyone - though I still get confused with the name of the place, since we were on Lake Mohave. A large campground is available for those coming east from Searchlight, a cafe, general store, motel, houseboat rentals for long and short term, hiking trails galore and so much more.

Gorgeous beaches gazing over at the marinas

Cottonwood Cove was part of the Mission 66 project which was started by the National Park Service in 1955 as a way to enhance visitors' outdoor experience and originally followed Route 66 when more and more people hit the roads in their own jalopies. 

After checking into our room, we opted for an early dinner at the cafe, and as I sat looking out across the sandy beach, the softly blowing tall palm trees, the sparkling blue waters I knew what I was going to order.

“What are you having?” Laureen asked.

“No choice but to follow Jimmy Buffet’s advice,” I said. “A cheeseburger in paradise.”

And I did.

For more information: https://cottonwoodcoveresort.com/

Tragedy at Nelson Landing, Nevada

 “I remember coming here fishing as a young man in the early seventies,” the now older man said. “It was a wonderful location for families to camp, boat, and just have fun.”

Laureen, my lovely wife, and I had just met this fella along the shores of the Colorado River, not far south of the Hoover Dam.

South side of Hoover Dam

In all transparency, we were actually at Lake Mohave, but it is still all part of the Colorado River. In fact, gold ore used to be shipped along the river near the town of Nelson 350 miles to the Gulf of California. With the building of Hoover Dam, Davis Dam and others, the river was tamed and man-made lakes were created, but it is still all part of the Colorado River system.

We had been out exploring places we had not yet visited when we had found ourselves along the shore of crystal clear waters.

“Then in an instant it was all gone,” he concluded, and then drove off through the sandy wash westward.

All that is left of the once popular Nelson Landing

A sobering moment as we learned we were standing on the ground where Nelson’s Landing had once stood. A river resort that had been loved and shared by countless folks for decades.

Nelson’s Landing had been located on the western edge of Lake Mohave in El Dorado Canyon, roughly five miles east of the ghost town of Nelson - which is where Laureen and I had actually been heading. But, unbeknownst to us - there was another story at the end of the pavement when we had decided to travel past the ghost town.

“Let’s see if we can get to the river on this road before touring Nelson,” Laureen had said, and being the dutiful husband and traveler agreed.

“All roads lead somewhere interesting,” I replied.

At that moment the idea of interest had been an understatement. Turned out to be a black ribbon of asphalt that had a tale of horror and tragedy at the end of it.

Nelson’s Landing had been a small beach settlement enjoyed by locals and visitors alike. Mobile homes, RVs, campsites, boat docks, restaurants, and other amenities made this place a must go river spot.

Original photo of what Nelson Landing looked like before the tragedy

Looking for a choice for water activities, there is Lake Mead, north of Hoover Dam or Lake Mohave, south of Hoover Dam. Take your pick. Either would be a good choice on a hot day. It was an easy destination for people living in nearby Boulder City or even Las Vegas, a mere 50 miles away. 

One such summer day was September 14th, 1974 where people were boating, laying on the sandy beach, camping, and enjoying lunch in one of the restaurants at the landing when the unexpected reared its ugly head.

Miles away to the west a storm cloud showed up and poured a monsoonal amount of rain onto the dry desert soil in only a few minutes.

The torrent splattered the desert floor, but with the sun scorched hardened earth the ground was like a piece of tile and that rain simply did what gravity intended - flow downhill undeterred.

Narrow canyon walls allowed torrents of water to flow

Soon a forty foot wave of water channeled from five separate smaller canyons rushed through El Dorado Canyon toward the resort. In a matter of minutes the resort was completely wiped out.

Among the rubble, only memories were left by those who had survived.

Nine people died on that fateful day.

Rescue workers looking for survivors at Nelson Landing

According to a July 9, 2019 online news article from 8@NewsNow.com (Las Vegas) - local resident, Tony Werly stated: “That’s fifty-two square miles that all merged into that one canyon. As the cloud was coming down the mountain, they (the people who had been enjoying the day at Nelson Landing) were trying to get their boat docks out of the water before they got rained on. They never knew what was coming down the canyon with it.”

Werly also stated a teacher he had once had, Jack Dailey, had been one of the victims of the flooding disaster.

“Dailey was actually a school teacher of mine when I was in high school and he was one of the guys that died.”

Dailey’s friend, John Gellifent, was also interviewed.

“Jack was out boating,” Gellifent said. “He was coming back when the wall of water hit.”

Turns out the teacher and friend of Gellifent’s had been out enjoying the river and upon returning to the beach in his boat he was overtaken by the destructive path of the flood and killed just offshore.

Nelson’s Landing was never rebuilt. There are now signs warning visitors that the chance of a severe flood is a real and present danger.

We looked out across the area where one minute visitors were having the time of their lives and the next, there was no time left.

“How horrible,” Laureen said. “To be here with your family enjoying a wonderful day and then that happens.”

I did not reply. My gaze took in the blue waters of the river in front of me and I could almost hear the terrified screams of those watching from wherever they were at the moment as a tsunami barreled down on them.

And then the frantic search and rescue through the rubble that had been a popular beach resort must have been heart wrenching.

It did not take a vivid imagination to feel what those poor folks felt as they looked westward up El Dorado Canyon and saw nothing but a huge debris filled wave of water racing toward them.

I felt chills run down my spine. To be standing at a gorgeous location, as this place is, and then to realize you are standing on hallowed ground.

People had perished here. Their only fault, just enjoying a hot summer day by cool waters.

It was not something we had expected to experience as we had happily been driving north along US Route 93 toward Boulder City, Nevada when we took a short jaunt toward the ghost town of Nelson.

A few years ago, my buddy Paul and I had powered up the Colorado River from Katherine Landing aboard my pontoon boat. It was a casual camping excursion, where we took in gorgeous inlets, water canyons, hidden coves, witnessed families of Bighorn sheep, and wild donkeys. The final destination of cruising by Willow Beach, on the Arizona shore to the Hoover Dam 12 miles to the northwest.

The blue waters of Lake Mohave

The previous day, we had witnessed dozens of people laughing while they jumped from some pretty high natural cliffs alongside the Colorado River on the Nevada Shore.

All through the warm months, people flock to Nelson’s Landing to jump off the cliffs into Lake Mohave. Some spots along the steep walls are 50 feet high and caution as well as a little dose of common sense are needed here.

I wondered if those summer loving folks realized that less than half a century ago, folks had literally fought for their lives on that sunny September day, and some had fought in vain.

“I boated past this spot without realizing the tragedy which had taken place,” I said to Laureen. “When Paul and I made our way to the Hoover Dam and saw people jumping into the water. Never thought of where or how tragic this place was.”

Laureen nodded.

Though the temperature was in the high thirties when we visited in January, the sun was shining making the water sparkle and the sand crunch beneath our feet.

No sign of a past calamity was to be witnessed in this picturesque setting. Just quiet and beautiful.

According to the National Weather Service - ‘Flash floods can roll boulders, tear out trees, destroy buildings and bridges, and scour out new channels. Rapidly rising water can reach heights of 30 feet or more. Furthermore, flash flood-producing rains can also trigger catastrophic mudslides. You will not always have a warning that these deadly, sudden floods are coming. Most flood deaths are due to FLASH FLOODS.’

The strength of rushing waters can dislodge huge section of earth

The fun-loving people enjoying a hot September day in 1974 did not think twice about a dark cloud far away on the horizon - why should they? But, in a matter of a blink of an eye rain fell in huge amounts and turned that care-free event into a horrific and unforgettable catastrophe. 

The teacher, Jack Dailey, did not live to see a school named after him in Las Vegas - Dailey Elementary School. 

Though I often make light of being out in nature and possibly ignoring signs about this or that - driving out of El Dorado Canyon on that January morning reminded me that signs are there for a reason and must be taken seriously.

A Pass through Montgomery Pass

 

Montgomery Pass to Tonopah along US 6

As I made my way through a myriad pile of junk - old rusted slot machines, broken down chairs, tables, shattered glassware, I suddenly felt as though I was being watched.

“You don’t belong here,” a voice seemed to utter. “You should leave.”

Taking a gander about this wreck of a once vibrant welcoming center, I decided to take that unknown recommendation to heart.

Once bustling visitor center and hotel at Montgomery Pass

Stepping up and over a windowsill without panes of glass, I knew there was something about this place, Montgomery Pass, that was inviting but at the same time unnerving.

I don’t believe in Casper flying about doing this and that, even though I do write about visiting supposed haunted places for columns each October. 

Thus, as I was passing this locale with dark overcast skies and threatening clouds, I was not looking for any paranormal mumbo-jumbo. I had just been passing by and discovered this empty soul of a small town.

Sitting at nearly 7,200 feet above sea level, it was chilly and uninviting, but at the same time, the place called out to be visited.

I was making my way toward the town of Bishop along US 395 via US 6 after leaving the town of Mina in Nevada along US 95. There were a lot of US highways on this route, one of the most patriotic road systems running through the area.

Montgomery Pass is near Montgomery Peak, which is one of the tallest peaks in California with its twin, Boundary Peak, not far away. Both peaks are over 13,000 feet above sea level. Those are some mighty tall peaks along the White Mountains, just east of the Sierra Nevadas.

Beautiful vistas behind the remnants of Montgomery Pass

According to the Nevada Travel Bureau, US 6 is the real Loneliest Road around. There are 297 miles of open roadway with only three towns with more than 100 people residing - Baker, in California, and Ely and Tonopah, Nevada. The truth is, you will not be seeing many vehicles along US 6.

I recall roughly two summers ago, traveling between Tonopah and somewhere when it suddenly dawned on me that I had not seen another vehicle for at least 30 minutes. A bit peckish, I stopped in the middle of the road, lit up the bbq and within an hour was enjoying a rack of lamb, sided with Za’atar roasted carrots and grilled asparagus, followed with a delicious glass of Fiji Water in a crystal goblet.

It is a lonely highway - as I was driving off after my scrumptious luncheon, I believe I heard the asphalt crying.

Montgomery Pass was a totally unexpected delight on this simple travel day. According to one of my favorite ancient Greek philosophers, Heraclitus: ‘If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail.’

Heraclitus thinking hard about something

And of course, this goes with my own belief which is to find sights you would not expect, you must choose the byways when traveling to see what may have not been seen.

A railroad was constructed over the pass between 1880 and 1883 using primarily Chinese laborers, who spent exhausting and dangerous time digging track lines, leveling off steep inclines, and blasting a 247-foot tunnel through a portion of Montgomery Pass.

In fact, the tunnel was the highest constructed, even outdoing the Southern Pacific Railroad tunnels near Donner Pass.

With the creation of an avenue from Nevada to California, mining also picked up in the early 20th Century with claims of various minerals being clawed out of the earth in the White Mountains and further east into Nevada near Tonopah.

One grizzled miner may have reported, “My claim is the biggest claim of any claim anyone else may be claiming.”

It is also rumored he spent quite a bit of time at the Liberty Club in Eli ruminating over glasses of rum.

The small enclave of Montgomery Pass began to grow during and after the construction of the railroad as a camp for the workers. Soon, not just goods and products crested the pass, but passenger trains also joined in allowing folks traveling from Reno to have a more direct route to the west into California.

Then in the 1930s, a decent road was established, allowing those adventurous folks in automobiles to travel across the high mountain pass and into the Owens Valley and beyond toward the Pacific Coast.

Railroad traffic slowed as mining dwindled and merchandise was easily transferred by commercial trucks, but that did not mean the end of the complex at Montgomery Pass.

Nope, since Nevada allowed legal games of chance and legal meetings with a certain kind of woman, the town became a mecca as a selective tourist stop.

Soon there was a hotel, bungalows, a large gas station, gaming rooms, bars, a restaurant, and supposedly a few bordellos - everything a traveler may need or want.

Abandoned motel at Montgomery Pass

According to the Reno Evening Gazette of June 24th, 1959, ‘although the gaming control board is looking sharply at a slot machine license application for the Mt. Montgomery Service Station bar and restaurant, owned by Nevada vice figure Joe Conforte, it probably won’t recommend a denial strictly on the ground there are shady ladies about. Actually, several Nevada bordellos operate slot machines and have done so for 20 years or more.’

A pastime of ours is to watch the warm and cozy family togetherness films in ‘The Godfather’ series on Thanksgiving.

So, in honor of Mario Puzo, I wonder if Joe Conforte offered the gaming control board an offer they could not refuse?

The somewhat bawdy history of the pass is quite interesting. In 1960, both Conforte and his bartender, Robert Paolo, were in court pleading not guilty to selling liquor at the pass without a permit. In the meantime, the liquor license issued to Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Campo was revoked, and not long after, Mrs. Campo decided to become a widow and murdered her husband, Joseph.

Dark deeds may have taken place at Montgomery Pass

Somewhere along the way, Conforte found himself in a lock-up in the Storey County jail and was offered $47,500 from a farmer out of Visalia, California for the property at the summit in 1960. The purchase was approved by the gaming control board given the provision that no prostitution or vice-guy Conforte would ever be near the property again.The farmer swore that would be the case, though in later years a bailiff may have mentioned that the farmer had his fingers crossed behind his back at the time.

In 1962, another sale for the property to the tune of $85,000, was denied by the Nevada Gaming Control Board on the grounds of the buyers utilizing questionable finances.

The businesses remained and thrived with tourists coming in from Nevada and California to enjoy the quietness and beauty of Montgomery Pass.

As I wandered the rather extensive grounds, I understood the draw.

Even deserted, there is a draw to Montgomery Pass

Rolling up out of the deserts of Nevada during the summer months must have been a wonderful reprieve from the often scorching heat. Bishop, only an hour's drive away, is often bustling and hustling with tourists year-round, so escaping up to the summit may have been a great place for a little solitude among the pines while dealing with a one-armed bandit.

In 1985, during an interview, a woman from Bishop mentioned why she loved visiting the summit. “I don’t like the big city casinos. I prefer this place because they get to know you, and always ask how you are. Plus the drive is marvelous and it’s a chance to get away from town for a while.”

The drive through the Montgomery Mountains is spectacular. Tall peaks covered in green trees and shrubs allow the driver to relax, hoping to see deer, elk, or a cryptid cross the road.

Tourists finally dried up for the businesses on the pass in the late 1990s, when gambling at numerous casinos operated by Native American tribes near Bishop and other areas along US 395 opened.

The gambling finally stopped in 2001. In 2010 many of the structures burned down, leaving Montgomery Pass just a reminder of a time when folks gambled on their future.

As I walked through the remnants of a burned-out building or two I could almost hear people laughing at a joke, screaming when they beat the house, and overall having a good time.

Empty chairs just waiting for the next unexpected traveler

Good times! The past and present when one ventures to the byways and finds the unexpected.

There you go, my man Heraclitus!