Diary of a Residency, Day 16, March 3, 2009

Today we went to Gold Point,  north and west of Beatty, past Scotty’s Junction (which leads into Death Valley and Scotty’s Castle). You turn at the Lida Road, west, and then turn again to the left at the Gold Point Ghost Town Road. This takes you to an amazing place, up on a side hill, looking out over the playa to the mountains beyond.

Above is one kind of scene in Gold Point, the kind of thing that takes a while to even make any sense of — old and new, totally mixed, without the grid layout and town zoning that makes us think we know where we are. It’s more a compound than a town. It’s also the most inhabited area we found in Gold Point.

Gold Point is at about 5000 feet (beatty is 3300), the sun was blazing but it was cold with the wind was howling around our ears the whole time, and the town is felt very strange indeed.

The place is full of wooden shacks, some intact, some being worked on, nothing laid out in much order. Unlike Rhyolite (the ghost town both near Beatty and featured in Death Valley literature) Gold Point isn’t near any other town or tourist attraction. That may be the reason the shacks weren’t carted off to the nextboom town.  Or it may be because Gold Point had several booms and busts (and now has a population of 27, according to one sign in town) .

Gold Point was originally called Lime Point. It started in 1880 and was abandoned in 1882. In 1908 there was a silver strike and the name was changed to Hornsilver. There is still a building with an old painted sign from Hornsilver. Hornsilver garnered 800 residents and lasted about a year, with 11 saloons, a post office, telephones, and a newspaper. After a series of small mining booms, the town was renamed Gold  Point in 1932. The post office was closed in 1968. Herb Robbins and his wife have been working on stabilization of the town since 1979, which accounts for the renovation of some of the remaining structures.

Robbins also seems to collect old vehicles, particularly trucks and more particularly fire engines. I sat on the rear bumper of one from Reno to paint.

There seemed to be a tiny bit of industrial operation of some sort at the edge of town. I say “seemed” because we didn’t see any action out of there. The “compound” was clearly contemporary. And a lot of buildings appeared renovated with the exteriors kept fairly authentic and new roofs and new wood put on some sidings. But the whole time we were there, we saw absolutely no one — not a soul. One building had a TV or something that we could hear but no sign of life. No dogs and no other wild life but a single crow was observed. Some newer vans were parked here and there and trailers on outskirts that looked occupied. There were 4 vacant RV set-ups (next to the fire truck that I painted from) so apparently during some times of the year, someone is in the area.

We saw at least 3 beautifully preserved wooden head frames from old mines. “Head frames” are the hoists that took the miners and the ore and the tailings up and down.

And of course the whole place has been dug up and dumped on and is at the edge of an enormous playa ( a valley into which water runs with no outlet), with hills and then mountains in the distance, and one dirt road leading straight across the Lida Valley to the mountains (and to a mine, I’m sure).

I actually painted, sitting on the rear bumper of a discarded Reno firetruck with the Honda (Jer inside reading) providing some protection from the wind. I did a landscape; there were some wonderful structures to paint, but I couldn’t find anywhere to hide from the wind to get to them. The view from the firetruck was across the playa, the distance framed by a couple of shacks. I was so happy when I could fold up my paintbox and quit.

Here’s the scene I painted:

And here’s the painting:

Gold Point, across the Lida Valley to Lida Canyon, first draft, 12 x 16″, oil on board,

There were a lot of things I could have painted, if I could have kept a board upright and the brush from flying out of my hand. But again, I am impressed by what people do to bring some order and sense of decoration into their lives. The careful placement of pots and pans against the weathered boards of the house on the left must have taken care and thought. I saw similar signs, although with different elements, all around the town; a cactus garden framed with glass from utility poles; a beautiful pile of rocks in front of a marvelous old trailer:

Now there’s a scene I would have liked to paint.

However, getting back to Beatty felt so good that after lunch at KC’s  (and a brownie to boot) I set up the easel in the painting area here in the Goldwell House and painted another one and 1/2 scenes from the windows.  And man, am I glad to be inside and out of the sun and wind. Even the hat didn’t save me today.

Here’s the one painting I finished the first draft of after we returned — it’s the sight out of one of the painting room windows in the Goldwell House in Beatty. The “painting room” is a kind of sun porch, which really functions as the front door as well as the door to the patio and back yard.

View of Beatty Mountain from Goldwell House, early March, 12 x 16, oil on board, 2009

The other painting was more urban but not ready to be shown publicly.

Reported from the Goldwell House, Beatty Nevada, where the wind doesn’t seem to howl as loud nor the sun burn so brightly, but the coffee smells wonderful and the internet connects us to the world.

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