We started out around 10AM on a lovely Saturday morning in a bright red GMC SUV, heading east on Sunset. Around noon we stopped in Barstow to get a hamburger and fries at McDonald’s (me) and coffee at Starbucks (everyone else). At McDonald’s a very strange old man was complaining about their decaf loudly to anyone who would listen (not me).

Roughly an hour later we got to Daggett, and Peggy Sue’s Fifties diner, where everyone else had lunch but I just had a lovely banana split cream pie (and boy it was really good; sort of like banana pudding with bananas in it surrounded by crust and cream). In the back was a sort of play park with lots of large metal animals, mostly diner-saurs (get it؟).

Then it was north to Calico, which is easy to find because at the top of a mountain is a large white ‘Calico’ written on the earth. Calico is a sort of faux ghost town—it really was a ghost town, but the people from Knott’s Berry Farm (I kid you not) turned it into a tourist attraction, so everything’s been fixed up, and they offer popcorn, funnel cakes, hot dogs, and even a beer garden.

Here is some history on Daggett/Calico (BTW, does anyone else remember that a dagget was a pet on the original Battlestar Galactica, sort of a robot cross between a dog and a bear? A quick googling reminds me that there was actually a chimp inside the dagget suit):

This town was founded as a mining supply center to support the silver mines in Calico. A narrow gauge railroad hauled the silver ore to Calico Station which had the stamp mills for processing the ore. In 1883 the name of the town was changed to Daggett in honor of the new California Lt. Governor. In its early days it was a major shipping center for the silver and borax industries. Some of the old buildings are still standing in the old downtown section of Daggett.  The old Stone Hotel built in 1883 was once the "office" of Death Valley Scotty, and Wyatt Earp is said to have stayed here on his way to mining claims in Parker, Arizona.

The old California Inspection Station mentioned in John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath was located in Daggett. The Inspection Station featured in the 1939 move version of his book was built in 1930 and used until 1953 when this newer Inspection Station replaced it. This was the third Inspection Station built in Daggett. When the Interstate came the Inspection Station was moved east on I-40 to Needles. Today it provides shade for numerous trucks, machinery and engine blocks.

Daggett's beloved landmark on the southwest corner of Main Street is a quaint and unique structure that was once a cafe from the 1930s. It served travelers on the Mother Road for many years and is still a traffic stopper today. With its delightful curved-roof design and steep roof it reminds me of a Russian home built for the snow country; strangely out of place in the Mojave Desert. Perhaps the original builder came from Siberia (California that is).

Ludlow At Last

We arrived in Ludlow about 4:30, just before sunset (so we started at Sunset and ended at sunset). It really was as empty as we’d thought. There was the Chevron station (which appears to be the hub of everything that goes on in the town), the Motel, and the Cafe. Everything else was abandoned buildings. We got rooms 6 & 7, but sadly room 7 had a strange odor which turned out to be dog urine. Guess we’re not at the Hilton. Anyway, they moved us into rooms 2 & 3, which were just as glamourous but not as smelly. It really is reminiscent of the Bates motel, and I warned people to watch out for a guy in a wig as they showered. Yikes, I haven’t showered, yet. Now I’m creeped out.

Here is some history on Ludlow:

Ludlow is a town that refuses to die. I could have included this town in my Ghost Town web also. Located along the railroad tracks of the 35th parallel, it became a water stop for the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad in 1882 (now the Santa Fe RR). The discovery of ore in the nearby hills assured the town of growth in the late 1880's. The decline of mining and rail traffic in the 1940's spelled Ludlow's decline. Ludlow is a ghost town of two eras; it was also a stop on old Route 66. When Interstate 40 was built Ludlow died a second time. Businesses moved once more to meet the demand of travelers on the new Interstate leaving another collection of highway memories baking in the intense Mojave heat. Trains just pass through Ludlow these days.

A short block from the railroad tracks and the old 1882 town of Ludlow the ghosts of a newer Ludlow still stand to offer mute testimony of another failed dream. During the heyday of Route 66 Ludlow was a welcome stop for the tired and thirsty traveler, a place to rest and get away from the heat of the Mojave Desert. This second more modern ghost town tells a tale of the glory days of Route 66 when travelers would stop for a bite to eat or get repairs on their cars. If they were heading west they knew that the next day they would be on the golden shores of the Pacific Ocean.

The Ludlow Cafe served its last ice cream malt years ago, and the mechanic on duty at the Ludlow Garage went home some time ago. Across the street from the Cafe a weathered building slowly returns to the desert. What was it once? A hotel, maybe a small store, perhaps a bar that once served ice cold beer to dusty desert wanderers?

 

After dinner we drove up to the train tracks. There being no crossing we had to park and walk across them. To what, you ask? The old graveyard, that’s what. There were a few headstones, but mostly wooden crosses, which leads me to believe it’s less a ghost town graveyard (I think that’s redundant) and more a paupers’ graveyard. Sad. A few of us brave individuals walked around, and I have to say it was anti-climactic—no hands reaching up from the newly turned earth, no skulls starting up at us emptily.

Then we drove out east on Route 66 until we were far away from the light of population centers and the noise of the highways (although we were disturbed several times by some very long freight trains). Once our eyes adjusted, the night sky was beautiful. We lay on the road (not as brave dumb as you think—only two cars came by in two hours). Rami saw the Milky Way for the first time, and all of us (except Ben. Poor Ben) saw quite a few shooting stars (also known as falling meteors). The air was perfect, dry, about 65, with a great wind rolling in off the desert.