Cerro Gordo: A Ghost Town Reawakened by Silver, Solitude, and Social Media
Perched precariously on the steep, unforgiving slopes of the Inyo Mountains, overlooking the vast, desolate expanse of the Owens Valley, lies Cerro Gordo. Not merely a collection of decaying buildings, but a living, breathing testament to California’s brutal silver rush, a crucible of human ambition, greed, and ultimately, abandonment. Today, this remote ghost town, once the most productive silver mine in California, is experiencing an unexpected renaissance, not through the glint of new ore, but through the lens of modern media and the tireless dedication of a single, visionary owner.
To truly grasp Cerro Gordo, one must first understand its setting. This is a land of extremes. Summers scorch, winters bite with fierce blizzards, and the wind, an almost constant companion, howls through skeletal structures, carrying whispers of a bygone era. Below, the Owens Lake, now a dusty alkali flat, once shimmered with water, reflecting the towering peaks that cradle this forgotten world. It’s a place where the air itself feels heavy with history, a place that demands respect and offers little in the way of comfort.
The story of Cerro Gordo begins in 1865, when Mexican prospectors discovered rich silver ore veins high in the Inyo Mountains. The news, like wildfire, ignited a frantic rush. Within a few years, a bustling town of thousands had sprung up, complete with smelters, saloons, boarding houses, and a notorious reputation for lawlessness. "It was a wild, wild place," recounts Brent Underwood, the current owner and an urban explorer turned accidental historian, in one of his popular YouTube videos chronicling his life in the ghost town. "They say there were more than 50 murders in 1870 alone. The graveyard grew almost as fast as the population."
The silver and lead extracted from Cerro Gordo’s mines, particularly the infamous Yellow Jacket Mine, were so rich that they fueled a significant portion of California’s economy. But getting the ore out was a Herculean task. It had to be hauled by mule teams down a treacherous, narrow road, known as the Cerro Gordo Road, to the shores of Owens Lake, then ferried across the lake to the town of Cartago, and finally transported by freight wagons to Los Angeles. This grueling journey, fraught with danger from bandits and the unforgiving terrain, added legendary status to the town’s output. The mules, it is said, were sometimes so heavily laden that their knees would scrape the ground on the steep descents.
Life in Cerro Gordo was anything but glamorous. Miners, a motley crew of Cornish, Chinese, Irish, and Mexican immigrants, toiled in dark, dangerous tunnels, often for meager pay. Disease was rampant, and accidents were commonplace. Saloons provided the only solace, often leading to brawls and bloodshed. The notorious "shotgun stagecoach," laden with silver bullion, was a tempting target for outlaws, and the stories of shootouts and daring robberies are woven into the very fabric of Cerro Gordo’s lore.
One of the most compelling figures of Cerro Gordo’s boom years was Mortimer Belshaw, an English entrepreneur who arrived in 1868 and, through shrewd business acumen and sheer force of will, consolidated many of the disparate mining claims. He built the formidable Union Smelter and invested heavily in infrastructure, transforming Cerro Gordo from a chaotic mining camp into a more organized, albeit still rough-and-tumble, town. Belshaw’s vision and investment were critical to the town’s peak productivity.
However, like all mining booms, Cerro Gordo’s was destined for a bust. The Panic of 1873, a severe economic depression, caused silver prices to plummet. The high cost of extraction and transportation, coupled with diminishing returns from the mines, made operations increasingly unprofitable. By the late 1870s, the population began to dwindle. Miners moved on to other strikes, businesses shuttered, and the once-vibrant streets fell silent. A brief resurgence in the early 20th century saw the mining of zinc and lead, even leading to the construction of an incredible aerial tramway, the "Salt Tram," which transported ore 13 miles down the mountainside to a railroad spur. But this too was short-lived, and by the 1930s, Cerro Gordo was largely abandoned, a true ghost town swallowed by the vastness of the High Desert.
For decades, Cerro Gordo remained in a state of arrested decay, visited by hardy explorers, historians, and the occasional filmmaker. Its buildings, remarkably preserved by the dry desert air, stood as silent sentinels to a bygone era. The general store, the bunkhouse, the assay office, the superintendent’s house – each structure held echoes of the lives once lived within its walls. And, as with many such places, stories of resident ghosts began to circulate. Tales of spirits lingering in the hotel, objects moving inexplicably, and disembodied voices became part of the town’s mystique, drawing paranormal enthusiasts alongside history buffs.
Then, in 2018, a new chapter began. Brent Underwood, an entrepreneur and co-founder of the popular "Hostel World" brand, purchased the entire town for $1.4 million. It was an impulsive decision, a "leap of faith" as he describes it, driven by a fascination with history and a desire for a unique challenge. His initial vision was to restore the town and open it to the public for overnight stays, offering a truly immersive historical experience.
However, the reality of owning a ghost town proved far more challenging than anticipated. Cerro Gordo, even with its intact structures, lacked basic modern amenities. Water was scarce, electricity was non-existent (relying on generators), and the sheer isolation meant every repair, every delivery, every piece of equipment had to be painstakingly brought up the treacherous mountain road. Underwood himself moved into the town, becoming its sole resident for extended periods, immersing himself in the daily struggles and triumphs of its preservation.
His journey, initially documented on his personal blog, soon found a massive audience on YouTube through his channel "Ghost Town Living." In a series of engaging, often humorous, and always informative videos, Underwood shares the minutiae of his life in Cerro Gordo: fixing broken water pipes, battling fierce snowstorms that cut off access for weeks, discovering artifacts hidden in forgotten corners, and meticulously restoring buildings. He has unearthed everything from antique tools and old mining equipment to forgotten journals and personal effects, each discovery bringing the past a little closer to the present.
Underwood’s approach is one of respectful preservation rather than modernization. "The goal isn’t to make it a theme park," he often states, "but to preserve its authenticity. We want people to feel like they’re stepping back in time, to understand the grit and ingenuity of the people who lived here." This philosophy guides his restoration efforts, focusing on historical accuracy and using traditional methods where possible.
The challenges have been immense. In June 2020, a devastating fire, believed to have started in the old hotel, swept through a significant portion of the town, destroying several historic buildings, including the hotel, the bunkhouse, and the general store. It was a heartbreaking blow, a moment that could have easily led to abandonment. Yet, Underwood, with the support of his online community, vowed to rebuild. The fire, while tragic, ironically brought even more attention to Cerro Gordo, highlighting the fragility of these historical sites and galvanizing support for their preservation.
The rebuilding efforts have become a central theme of "Ghost Town Living," with viewers witnessing the painstaking process of clearing debris, sourcing historical materials, and reconstructing the lost structures. It’s a testament not only to Underwood’s determination but also to the power of community and the enduring fascination with history.
Cerro Gordo’s story is a microcosm of the American West: a boom fueled by natural resources and human toil, a bust dictated by economic shifts and resource depletion, and now, a surprising reawakening. It stands as a stark reminder of the impermanence of fortune and the relentless march of time. Yet, in its current incarnation, it also offers a powerful lesson in preservation, the value of history, and the unexpected ways in which the past can connect with the present.
Brent Underwood, living amidst the echoes of thousands of lives, is more than just an owner; he is a custodian, a storyteller, and a bridge between two vastly different eras. Through his efforts, and the millions who follow his journey online, Cerro Gordo is no longer just a forgotten relic. It is a vibrant, evolving narrative, a place where the ghosts of fortune seekers, outlaws, and hardworking miners still walk, and where a new generation is learning to appreciate the rugged beauty and profound history of California’s most remarkable ghost town. It is a place where the past, far from being buried, is being meticulously, lovingly, and publicly brought back to life, one video, one restoration, one solitary step at a time.
