Clair's Camp, California

This story is true, but it is based on memories so old that it may be more fiction than fact. So perhaps it should be considered one more of those ghost town legends that can never quite be pinned down ...

Long ago, in the vicinity of Death Valley, we came to the almost-deserted town of Ballarat. The folks living there pointed to a canyon in the Panamint Mountains to the east. Follow the rough dirt track into Pleasant Canyon, as it was called, continue high enough up, and you will find a true ghost town called Clair's Camp. Well worth seeing; several buildings still standing, they said. They also told us of the old man who used to live there. In recent years he had actually lived there all by himself and didn't exactly welcome visitors. Something about the harsh conditions here in the desert can turn a person inward; self-reliance can turn to self-exile. But the old man also had a tender side, and a plan: one day he would drive down the canyon from his camp and deliver toys to all the local children, like some kind of desert Santa Claus. Sadly, they told us, the old man died before his dream could be fulfilled.

We found Clair's Camp where they said it was, high in the rugged canyon, after miles of steep and rocky road that tested the capability of our four-wheel-drive vehicle. The town was just as they said, a collection of buildings in very good condition by ghost town standards. It was obvious that the extensive mining machinery had not run for several years, but it was also obvious that someone had lived here recently. In one building I found a bed, magazines, jars still containing food and drink ... unmistakable signs of recent habitation. We spent hours roaming the site, photographing the buildings, and pondering what life must have been like in such a remote and rugged location. Finally, I entered one building that appeared to be a garage. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light within, I saw that on the floor was a large sack. Spilling from the open sack, scattered across the floor, were dozens of small stuffed toys.

Clair's Camp was one of the most interesting and picturesque ghost towns that I have ever visited. But as a veteran of countless trips over several decades, I know the sad fate that awaits unoccupied buildings: weather, collectors, and vandals gradually but inexorably reduce them to mere foundations. Decay is the destiny of all things -- dust to dust, as they say. But sometimes I cannot bear to watch the process. After my visit, I labeled this slide "Clair's Camp as it was in November 1987. I will never return."

And I never have.