It was a bright sunny day, and I decided to take a trip down the road to Tombstone.
Tombstone is known for the gunfight at the O.K. Corral that took place in 1881, just three years after the town’s founding in 1879. The town’s mines produced between $40 million to $85 million in silver bullion by 1890. It’s population grew from around 100 to about 14,000 in fewer than seven years. Talk about a boom town!
Nowadays, the population is a little more than 1,300. The silver has run out, but they discovered something even more lucrative: tourism.
The town is just full of old west atmosphere. The wooden sidewalks now lead you right past all sorts of opportunities to participate in the local economy.
There are costumed folks up and down the street hawking shows, rides and tours.
I am not sure if there were two or three gun fight shows. I didn’t go to any of them. For one thing, I would have had to pay for the privilege. That’s only logical; this is how they earn their livings. But, I manage to live my rolling lifestyle by choosing my entertainment carefully – and watching people pretend to kill each other wasn’t my idea of entertainment.
I also opted not to take part in any of the tours.
Here’s one wagon ride.
And another.
And yet another. I photographed this one in front of the O.K. Corral. And I didn’t pay to go into the Corral, either.
Admissions to the gift shops were free, however.
There was a frenetic busker performing. I am not quite sure what his talent was. He had a boom box playing some music and he seemed to have bells and rattles tied on his arms and legs and he was jumping around like he had some strange malady. People were crossing the street to avoid him. I was lucky in that I was already on the other side of the street.
One barker was trying to drum up business for a tour of the Tough Nut Mine. I walked over to see what they offered. The clerk selling tickets told me that I’d go down 100 feet, walk about 500 feet along the mine, see some silver ore and other minerals. After my trip down the copper mine last summer, I figured that there wouldn’t be much that I hadn’t seen before. I thanked her and went back to the main street.
I passed Boothill on the way out of town and stopped to pay my respects.
The graves were mostly like this. They had wooden markers and the graves were mounded up with rocks.
Mrs. Stump must have been especially beloved, though.
And Geo. Atkins has someone who is keeping up his grave.
Down the hill, though, is a memorial to the Jewish Settlers and their Indian Friends.
Nestled in with the rocks left behind by visitors is a small blue and white pot. I lifted up the rock and looked inside. It looked like they might have been someone’s ashes.
That was unexpected.
On my way out of town, I decided to take a drive that was on a brochure I picked up in the tourism office in Benson. It was a drive through the Coronado National Forest. It said that it was a dirt road and they recommended a four-wheel-drive vehicle with high clearance.
Check and check.
I made the turn off the pavement. “This doesn’t look too bad,” I thought. I drove along on this gravel road for a few miles.
Uh…Maybe things were were going to change.
The road got narrower and rougher and kept climbing.
I wonder where the road is going?
Up, up, up.
And over the pass.
Wow! What a view!
I bounced my way down the mountain.
And I passed some cows. After all those signs warning me too look out for cows, I finally saw some.
This is a sign for the Coronado National Forest that I saw on my way out. “Forest” means different things in different people, I guess.
There was a one lane bridge just before I got back to the pavement. I didn’t have to wait to cross it.
I saw some structures but no people. Perhaps the population has dropped even further.
And then it was time to head back to the ranch.