Located just barely inside Mineral County, just North of the Esmeralda county line, this berg was an important trade center with a location within just a few miles of the Carson and Colorado Railroad. And there are many stone reminders of this town's important place in Nevada history (albeit mostly ancillary to other great boomtowns). From the façades of the business district...
...to the stone mill foundations...
...to the remnants of houses, shanties, and huts.
The casual visitor, driving through and taking a few snaps to show off to their friends back home, will be struck by this relative rarity - a genuine Nevada ghost town, more than just another abandoned mining camp, with beguiling ruins standing testament to their single, unique place in Western American history. Those that stop and explore the remains, however will quickly notice a new history, having encroached and nearly set asunder. Like a 1918 "Flying Jenny" inverted image postage stamp mailed and postmarked over, the stamp of 20th century mining has overlaid itself over much of the site. That first photo, up there at the top, shows the massive pit on Mt. Diablo that consumed the historic townsite of Metallic City and left its indelible mark on our hamlet of Candelaria.
The pit is unmistakable when driving up to the site. So, too, is the massive dump to the immediate North. Less visible, until closer inspection, is the senseless carnage begot for no foreseeable purpose. The bulldozed piles of rocks, for instance, once sites within sites of their own accord...
...as well as how clearly near to the site that dump encroaches obliterating most of the North side of town aside from those bits most immediately roadside or far enough to the East to avoid the nearly perpetual blanket of digested earth...
My intent is not to lambaste this mining operation per se, and definitely not the industry in general. Certainly it is impossible to ascertain whether that senseless bulldozing of ruins was sanctioned or the actions of a thoughtless clown (although that dump is another matter). Far from it; the actions of the mine ultimately helped preserve what remains are left. But it serves as a reminder just how fragile our precious history is, and brings a certain circumspection to the visitor.
The visitor may also note the uniqueness of the building stone: basalt. In mining areas it is most rare to see basalt in such quantities, and the black blocks add a color and a flavor to this town so different from the ruins of other Nevada camps. Even Aurora, within a stone's throw of the andesite shields of Aurora Crater and Mud Springs Volcano, shows no volcanic stone remains from construction. These dense, thick blocks form the vast, vast majority of masonry in Candelaria.
But also striking is the amount of wood left among the ruined structures, wood and stone often still cohabitating together in a marriage of stark yet brilliant awe.
Other structures retain a striking level of (relative) preservation.
Some...not quite so much.
And some harbor little gems awaiting the less casual explorer, like the remains of a box of ice cream from Louisiana, reapportioned as ceiling material.
And some are just passively neat.
Candelaria is well worth the visit, a short, well marked jaunt off of U.S. 95 between Mina and Tonopah (much closer to Mina), and while the sad degradation is readily apparent, so to is the historical value, the picturesque beauty, and the remote serenity of the site.
Not far from Reno, this biotch is.
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