A long descent into Jordan Creek drainage gave us a rushing stream and attendant foliage to make our journey more pleasant but also promised a hot climb on the return. The boulevard became one lane as we passed a sandwich board sign in the middle of the road.
The sign didn’t exactly say “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” but it did say “Road Closed” and warned those who ventured beyond would have to pay the cost of their rescue.
Traffic began to pick up despite the sign. Never more than one lane and subject to runoff rivulets and puddles, encountering cars, pickup, and four-wheelers here usually meant heading for the ditch. One car passed us both directions as we climbed stopping to ask directions.
At Silver City half a dozen or more four-wheelers greeted us. The town is all private property and a sign specifically warned four-wheelers not to tear up anything. The hotel is a working establishment but doesn’t open until Memorial Day. Steve said the other buildings were homes that also housed small businesses when the owners came back from wintering in Boise.
Silver city Hotel
Old one room shacks, light shining through broken windows and missing wall board, appeared along Jordan Creek. Over one hundred years ago hard men came here to pan and dig enough metal so, they hoped, they might not have to live like this. They built Silver City on steep banks. Long abandoned, people began to return to Silver city in the 60s, formed convenants to preserve and prevent modern encroachment. Doug wanted to open a McDonalds. While the hotel looked about to collapse, Steve insisted it was well appointed inside.
Although Silver City was closed today, the customers were all about any way. We’d have gladly bought a burger or just bottled water. Doug was already nearly out. He, Scott, and Jen all used snow from a bank along the road to refill. Why’d we not bring a filter?
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