We had set out from Las Vegas on Easter weekend in an attempt to seek out some of the strange sights of the desert we'd read briefly about. Also, I wanted to see some of the old cars that lie bleached and rusty in the desert sun, riddled with bullet holes.
Darwin is one of many abandoned mining communities that dot the desert's landscape. It was founded by a man named Darwin French whose expedition had set out to find the fabled 'Lost Gunsight Mine' and discovered a silver mother lode in the nearby hills in the late 19th century. By the 1950's the mines had shut and only ghosts were left behind... kind of.
The town still boasts a stronghold
of 43 residents who live in ramshackle buildings, fall-out
shelters, and the supremely sleek Airstreams from a generation past.
As we alit on the gravel streets, the stones crunched under our boots as we walked and we could hear nothing save sporadic quiet chattering and laughing of the residents. It raised the hairs on the back of our necks as it seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere.
The landscape was a mixture of derelict wooden structures harkening back to the wild, wild west -- perfectly symmetrical with false flat-wall fronts -- and corrugated metal-sheet shacks decorated with found objects.
Other than Darwin being a semi-ghost town, I knew nothing about the area. Since returning home, the more I've researched the more I'm pulled into the surprising, and uniquely American, lore surrounding the former and current residents.
The 43 residents are artists, eccentrics and recluses who ended up in Darwin. Some by accident, and some on purpose -- and, as I learned with a quick sweep of internet databases, one registered sex offender.
The only resident we managed to meet was old pup, who we assumed must be the mayor himself, greeting us with a few friendly barks on his owner's property.
He followed us while we explored each plot of land scattered with old cars that finally found the end of the road, makeshift sculptures and found-object art.
Darwin is incredibly photogenic, but the thought of treading on private property for a great shot filled us with hesitation. So, we reluctantly explored from afar.
The bulk of Darwin is clustered around the crux of the town's two roads -- Market St. and Main St. -- and is quiet as only the desert can be.
Mid-century relics such as the hurricane gas pumps that sit chipped and sun-bleached tell a silent story of a far more prosperous time.
Behind the gas pumps was a building that touted itself as 'The Outpost'. The windows were boarded up but, there were signs that someone had made it their home.
Across the street is the Darwin Dance Hall, and again the only face that met ours wasn't real, but an Elvis cut-out peeking through the window.
The building inspired the organ-pounding, whiskey-loving band Voodoo Organist to write a very Tom Waites-esque album based on tales of the town's dance hall.
The dances were frequented by miners and was said to be a rough place where you had to fight your way in, and fight your way out.
Further down the road, the former residents of Darwin lie on the town's outskirts in the cemetery.
There they rest, as they did in life, marked by a showy array of found objects marking their territory and displaying their individual personalities.
The graves stretched back to the original residents such as Nancy Williams aka "Feather Legs". A monument was built to the well-loved madam who, later in life, turned to the ministry. Her life took a grisly turn when her throat was slit at the age of 45. Local stories report of a curse on her gravestone which many a grave robber has tried to steal, but returned when their luck took a turn for the worse.
The former residents of Darwin not only had to endure otherworldly heat and harsh conditions, but the town was also mired in violence. Of the 124 old graves in the cemetery, 122 of those deaths were by knife or gun.
Over a fence and across a dusty lane is the only building in town that boasts an employee.
The postmistress is the only gainfully employed resident. However, the town's main channel to the outside world is slated for closure in the very near future.
As you leave, the buildings off in the distance of the Defiance mine -- where scenes from the movie Kalifornia were shot -- lie in a time capsule.
The lot is private property, and frankly is lying in wait for my return. The 70-odd company houses sit totally abandoned, peeling in the sun, just itching to be photographed!
Darwin is a lengthening afternoon of its former self nestled in the desert as a well-kept secret... I will be back!
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