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We rolled down the endless highway, Debbie and I, into the bright New Mexico day. Clouds hung low in the blue morning sky like poly fiber torn from an over stuffed pillow. As we rolled along we knew that the soft clouds could gather into a storm, we watched the sky with wary eye.
Mile after mile passed beneath our wheels as we headed east along Highway 60 towards Ft. Sumner. I watched the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe tracks running along side the road, rail keeping pace with asphalt.
The clouds had congealed into a soft gray mass and I prayed that if they opened it would be a quick desert rain and not a deluge of biblical proportions.
I was thinking about the last 22 miles we had to travel to our destination when we topped a rise in the highway and there it was… A Ghost Town!
We grabbed brake, instinctively, pulling onto the dusty shoulder in front of, what was once, the dead towns post office. We did not have to ask each other if we should stop, we both knew the answer. Our artists eyes had seen this treasure and we knew Yeso, New Mexico was ours for the taking.
Yeso means “gypsum” in Spanish; the town was established in 1906, when the AT&SF RR came to the area, and it became a trading center for ranchers (and the very few farmers) in the area.
Its post office began operations in 1909, and is now the towns only business servicing the nearby ranch’s from a small metal building. The postmaster lives behind the small office in a 5th wheel trailer.
Yeso was spelled Yesso during the years 1912-1913, for unknown reasons. When it became clear that the land was not suited for farming, and only useful for sheepherding and cattle grazing, many of the original settlers moved away. Only a hand full of people still call Yeso home. On this day we were Yeso’s only tourists.
Yeso is a true ghost town in every sense of the word. It’s abandoned red adobe brick buildings are slowly returning to the earth from which they arose.
Open doorways beckon you into passages dimly lit by the ambient light of the desert sky. Sage and course grass cover areas of collapsed flooring like a rolling carpet of dusty green and dark sienna. Empty windows stare out at the world while tumble weed residents roll along long forgotten sidewalks.
Here and there you can hear the residents of this once thriving town talking to each other. The desert finch warns the curious Kangaroo rat that the red tail hawk is nearby while the crows gossip about what the diamondback did last evening. If you listen even closer you can still hear echos of the human voices that once filled the vacant structure’s.
We moved around the town, photo after photo capturing what one day would be no more than a dusty pile along a busy road. Foundations that served as planters for prickly pear and cholla cactus today would tomorrow be nothing more than a mound from which creosote arose.
My camera’s shutters click, click, click was answered by the whistling wind that played through missing roofs and broken rafters. We speculated on belongings left behind and what the town must have been like when it was populated with humans instead of desert willows.
We returned to the highway and continued on towards Ft. Sumner. The thick gray clouds were started to thin out as we rolled on. I looked in my rearview mirror one more time for a final look at Yeso. The desert ghost town disappeared from my view as it would one day disappear from the world. It will be forever lost to the ages but captured, at least for a brief time upon our film to one day be brought back to a tenuous life upon our canvas’s resurrected by an artists brush.
“Art must evoke an emotion in order to be art. If it only creates indifference then it is not art, it is garbage!”