Old West Paparazzi

The best way to appreciate the Old West is to drive there in an open vehicle, ideally in summer. That's the only way to appreciate the vastness and the harshness. There is something magical about the dry air and the vast landscapes of windswept desolation. When viewing such magnificent natural wonders as the Grand Canyon, Death Valley, and Valley of Fire one cannot help but feel small and insignificant. These are emotions that rarely make it onto my radar screen. Let's be honest.

A while back I opted for a side trip to the phenomenally unique Mono Lake in northern California, which is five times saltier than the Dead Sea. Along the way I felt inspired to see a nearby ghost town called Bodie. To my surprise, there something happened to make me feel as grand as my surroundings.

Bodie is an Old West ghost town in the most inhospitable high desert you can imagine. It only takes nine miles (14 km) of dirt road to reach it, but every mile reminds you how tough the old miners used to be. Actually, they guy who discovered gold here, a New Yorker named Bodey, froze to death here that winter.

Only five percent of the buildings remain, which says much considering there are over a hundred standing in a state of arrested decay. No one is allowed to fix or demolish them, letting the desert sun sere the wood dry. Yet the glass windows remain. I enjoyed peeking in to homes and read a calendar from 1934, one of the last years people were allowed to squat there.

It was warm, dry and windy. There is not much sand in the area, but the wind pushes the rocks around a lot. I reviewed the doctor’s office for a while, then noticed I was in the way of a lady with a tripod. I apologized and moved on. I moved over to the assayer’s office and read my guidebook. When I looked up, I discovered I was in the way of the same lady, and again apologized and moved on.

There are a handful of buildings the Park Rangers do maintain, and I spied a particularly attractive lady cleaning the windows of an old shop. I approached her, figuring if there was anyone I wanted to share this educational and historical moment with, it was surely the young, slender blonde over there.

So Cindy (coincidentally looking like a grown-up Cindy Brady, from the Brady Bunch) worked her squeegee and I regaled her with my immense knowledge about Bodie. Well, what I had learned from my guidebook, anyway. I know she was grateful for the education because she did not interrupt me. But then the very same tripod camera lady started snapping photos again. I realized, suddenly, that she was not taking pictures of the buildings at all.

She was taking pictures of me.

“Uh, can I help you?” I asked her.

“Oh, no, just keep doing what you’re doing,” she said. She was a 40-something woman with sunburned skin shining intense pink. She wore a hat that said SAC. I can only assume that meant Sacramento.

Having been ordered to continue my flirtations, I indeed resumed. I am sure Cindy was grateful for the attention. I observed how she had coyly moved to another building during my moment of distraction. Cindy noticed me following her and abandoned her squeegee to disappear into a building where I was not allowed to follow. She was so demure.

I turned around and saw the tripod lady yet again. She snapped off a few pictures, grabbed her tripod, and fled. I stared after her, blinking in confusion. Then I went into the gift shop and loaded up on all the literature I could, including 3 Bodie newspapers from the 1880s and a cool book on the use of cyanide to extract gold from ore. There she was again, talking to the clerk. She immediately squeezed off a few rounds of me browsing the prescription log from the pharmacist, circa 1885.

“Hey, Sac-lady,” I said irritably, “You’re freaking me out. What, did my girlfriend hire you to keep an eye on me?” Suddenly nervous, I strained my fragile memory for any potentially damning moments with Cindy. Upon reflection, I don’t think she had said a single word to me.

The photographer grinned, her nose now messy with white lotion. She had accidentally smeared some on her sunglasses in her haste to apply it. “I thought Bodie was pretty,” she replied, “but you’re the prettiest thing here!” She snapped another picture of me, undoubtedly with a deer in the headlights-look.

“Well, uh, I’m flattered and stuff, but—”

“Oh, I’ll stop if you want,” she hastily interrupted. “Can’t have anymore lawsuits, after all!”

Then she disappeared for good, leaving me with the matron of the counter. We shared a look of confusion.

“Well, that was weird,” I said as I paid for my items.

“If it makes you feel any better,” the lady said as she took my money, “I don’t know what she saw, either.”