Frisco Ghost Town (Page 1 of 2)
Beaver County, Utah
Jim Drysdale / Gerhard von Müehle

Some afternoon, if you like solitude, take the road from Beaver, Utah west, through pastoral valleys of Mormon fields and grazing cattle. Pass by Minersville and cross the multiple Union Pacific tracks at the old mining, railroad, and ranching town of Milford, once described as the “perfection of desolation.” This is, after all, what we’re seeking, is it not? Isolation, seclusion, desolation, call it what you will, as long as it’s empty and forlorn, too rough to live on, and too unforgiving and depressing for the motor home touring visitor.

Milford is the last town on the edge of the solitude we seek. It got its start in mining, but quickly became a center for cattle ranching and agriculture. At an altitude of almost 5,000’, Milford is a quiet, out of the way little town of around 1,500 souls. Strike west on Utah 21 toward the historic mining town of Old Frisco, once a ‘city’ of 6,000. The mines in the area produced tens of millions of dollars worth of silver, zinc and gold. Now played out, all that remains are a ghost town of houseless foundations, a couple of ramshackle shacks, some interesting, stone built, beehive shaped charcoal ovens, and a lonely, wind swept cemetery.

Take a walk inside the Gate of Doom, if you dare to confront your mortality, and stoop to read the headstones, some still standing as erected, others broken, fallen, and neglected. Pain and sorrow stalk this hallowed ground: The self same Hand whence ‘t was given, Has taken back our babe to Heaven. Jan. 19,1884.

Sense the raw anguish of parents who buried a son aged 18 months, 14 days: How much of light. How much of joy. Is buried with our darling boy. Dec. 27, 1906. As you leave this mostly uncared for, forlorn place of eternal rest, note the loose, roughly inscribed broken block of limestone laying in the mud near the gate. It attempts to leave those buried here with some sense of meaning: Gone, but not forgotten. Oh, how vain they lie! ---Gerhard von Müehle

I Raise My Mortal Eyes,
To Scenes Immortal,
Beyond Hellish Realms,
Thru Torment’s Portal.
--von Müehle

I got off to my typical late procrastinating start figuring that with an extra day off (Presidents Day) there was no need to hurry. That was a good decision because upon arriving in Frisco I was dismayed to see no decent areas to pitch a tent. It wasn't the terrain that was the problem. It's just that where there wasn't wet snow, there was cold mud on the ground… so this would be a long day trip. Just too early in the season. One can easily spend a weekend in the area, as there are many good areas to camp, soon as it dries out.

The first area I explored was the famous charcoal kilns. These to my surprise had been fenced off on account of vandals. I found a way inside (its fairly easy) and took these first shots. The kilns are sort of primal in their own way - reminding me of Puebloan kiva ovens. They are quite spectacular.

On my way back to the truck I shot several of these images that are of various homes, sheds, implements, etc. There are some strange pieces of heavy equipment strewn about (pictured), and if anyone knows what they are then by all means do tell.

I then drove a short ways down to the roadside historical marker and parked. The dirt roads were a bit too muddy and snowy for my lightweight dinosaur of a Toyota pick-up, so I just left her there. I recalled there being a cemetery in the area so after a bit of poking around on my way to the neighboring mines I got up on the old RR grade and scanned the brush. There it was. While checking out the graves I met The Coles…a mother, her two boys, a friend of the family, and a dog. They were good folks from Milford, Utah, just down the road a ways. It was then that I got the grand tour. She explained to me that the majority of the graves are of children who were lost from a bad strain of flu in 1881-82. Several of the deceased were not much more than a year old but some were in their mid teens.

It was getting late in the afternoon and time nonetheless to check out the Horned Silver Mine. This is actually not considered Frisco, as was explained to me. That was the town that I first visited just less than a mile away.

The mine area was amazing! First, the surrounding structures were very well preserved compared to the ones I had seen in other ghostowns. There were several buildings associated with the mines. To me this seemed just as much a part of Frisco. There were ruins that looked like an old store, a saloon, a school, etc. I just needed more time to explore these but we were losing daylight and in a hurry to venture up to the mine. This will occur next time around.

The mine was amazingly intact. Next to it is a huge pit that had been filled in, with several buried shafts in the area. This was more of a complex rather than a singular mine per say. The older boy, Adam, pointed out an opening that he had described by saying, "You gotta smell this." Right then I figured, 'uh-oh'. Sure enough this vertical shaft had an alarmingly warm (almost hot) gaseous odor…not very far off from the smell of rotten eggs. That was what I had expected.

Note: There are perhaps a dozen or so different ways that you can end up dead from exploring old mining areas including (but not limited to) obvious things such as steep drops, hidden vertical shafts, collapse, or the less obvious CO2 buildup, oxygen depletion from ammonia build-up (read:bat pooh), getting lost, bumping your head only to pass out and wake up with no battery juice and then really getting lost, animal attack, Hanta Virus, cyanide, lead or arsenic exposure, etc. So not surprisingly, a good solid whiff or two of hydrogen sulfide (a.k.a., sour gas) is just as effective as any of these above-mentioned ways.

(Dave's fave...great photo, Jim!)

It was now time to head down the mountain and make the 3.5 hr drive home. I stopped in Milford and ate what may be the greasiest hamburger in Utah, or the entire US for that matter. I feel like about five years were removed from my lifespan on account of that meal. Next time I make it out to Frisco I'll be staying longer and cookin' over the coals.

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