Bodie is a desloate place, sitting 8,00 feet above sea level and subject to extremes of weather, summer & winter alike. It's dry, barren and inhospitable at best; murderously cold and competely cut off at worst.
Nature itself seems permanently at war with Bodie, to the point where even innocent cumulus clouds can look menacing.
Buildings, cars, trucks, troughs, pumps, carts and all manner of mining scrap is dotted seemingly at random across the town's plateau. The only common theme is one of decay that moves so slowly, it almost seems to have stopped.
Of course, Bodie existed for one reason alone: the mining of gold. First discovered in 1859, Bodie fast became the epitome of the phrase "gold rush".
Over the years and as Bodie grew, the buildings got larger, and transportation progressed from mules to motor cars, a number of which never left.
Abandoned car sits in front of two of the various houses dotted across the hillside in Bodie ghost town, CA.
As might be expected, one of the largest building in Bodie was the town church, complete with organ, lectern and inspirational verse.
Once the clouds clear, a strong & merciless sun emerges, bleaching everything it touches, indoors and out.
The undertaker occupied a prominent place on the main street running through this - once thriving - mining town. As indicated by the child's coffin leaning against the door frame, Bodie was no stranger to family tragedy.
For all too many residents, Bodie was their final resting place. They came; they saw; they worked; they died.
A marker post for Union Street, Bodie. The workers, the union and now the street itself have all gone, leaving behind just these few reminders of those who lived & worked here, all driven by a common dream of building a new life.
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