Visiting a ghost town on Route 66

After experiencing the living ghost town of Lordsburg, Adam and I were almost convinced that Shakespeare––a bygone mining town and occasional lynching pad for outlaws–– would feel like a cartoonish tourist trap by comparison. But once we arrived, our skepticism was quickly replaced by the hairs rising on the back of our necks. Shakespeare emerged so quietly from between the hills and stretches of rolling plains, that we could almost hear the tumbleweeds rolling. The place was completely deserted.

Adam and I looked around for someone, anyone to let us in. We were happy to gain entrance the rightful way, as paying attendees. But same as El Morro and the ice caves, we’d come during the winter and no one was around. For a moment, we lingered at the entrance. The “NO TRESPASSING” signs looked forebodingly back at us. But we’d come so far to not get a peek… So we glanced at each other as two guilty kids would… and hopped the fence.

Inside we darted from fixture to fixture, unsure what to expect from a place where we had just seen “buy one get one free!" ammunition rounds advertised on the drive over. While the bandwagon, farm tools did feel like they were consciously gathered for tourists for a photo ops, we couldn’t deny the fact that this did indeed feel like a fabled tale of bygone legends in the wild, wild west.