I’m from New England, so I never even saw a desert in person until 2021. Once I did though, there was no looking back. While I eventually fell in love with Utah, where the night skies in an open tent cannot be equaled, Nevada was the first desert I encountered, and it was incredible.

As I’m sure I’ve previously mentioned, I love to travel. I don’t take pictures for Instagram or review food or anything, I just grab a tent and go. All my life all I ever wanted to do was see things and go places. When I lost my parents and fell into the grind, I assumed this would never happen.

I told this to my now wife in 2021, and the next thing you know, we would spend two months in a corolla with two dogs and too much shit.

To say I had never traveled would be disingenuous. I had been to Montreal before, but I wasted all my time drinking and being a menace.

I did, however, get invited to an after-hours speakeasy, complete with a back-alley door. The Canadian dude that brought me there got tossed within minutes for being a loud asshole. I was not participating, but I got swept up with this guy, Dan from Ontario was his name, and I had two suit wearing henchmen seeing me out. 

What happened next was so ludicrous that I need to share it. As I said, I spent all my time drinking, including in seedy secret clubs. I had recently received a few grand from my parent’s deaths, which became available to me when I reached a specific age, so I had a fat wad of cash in my pocket, and I was feeling loaded.

As the henchmen were seeing me out, and surprisingly gently, I pulled out a pile of Canadian bills and drunkenly said, “This is a shame, I don’t know where I am going to spend all this money,” with complete confidence. Just like that, I was back in. I never saw Dan from Ontario again. To this day, it is one of the ballsiest things I have ever done, and I couldn’t believe it worked when I woke up the next morning. 

Anyway, back to Nevada. There is something about the vibe that changes when you start driving through the desert. The road signs have bullet holes, the landscape is jaw-dropping, and it really is the middle of nowhere.

Like I said, I’m from New England, and I’ve come to realize that people in the region do not know what the middle of nowhere truly is, as we just don’t have the distances and space that the American West does.

Being surrounded by desert, hours away from anything, is the type of thing that made me feel so small, but at the same time, that helplessness was freeing. When you are out in the desert, there is not much to do but experience the landscape and the sky, and it made me get really deep in my head.

Nevada isn’t just a desert with nobody in it, however, there are little towns dotted around and most of them have individual charms that make a visit worth it. My personal favorite town in the desert is Goldfield, Nevada. One of the more interesting things to do in Goldfield is to visit the International Car Forest of the Last Church. I am not a guy that loves art installations, but this place is wild. 

While the car forest is interesting, and Goldfield has some touristy Wild West stuff, these aren’t the best reasons to go.

Much like the Cemetery in Historic Deerfield, Massachusetts, tells the town’s story despite being hidden away, Goldfield’s cemeteries also tell stories.

Where Deerfield has headstones that chronicle battles with the Native Americans, as well as death from disease and the Winter’s cold in the 17th century, Goldfield’s headstones tell an early 20th century tale that is equally captivating. A tale that I heard included a man who died eating library paste. 

The paste eater’s grave was an X on my map even before I hit the road, so this was going to be a real jewel in my crown. Getting to the grave requires some serious dirt-road driving and I had to park my car and walk at one point. The Corolla wasn’t feeling all the boulders scraping its undercarriage and if the car broke, I was boned.

As I walked down the road, I found a cemetery. I ran in and checked every grave, there was no paste eater, and I was completely heartbroken. Just when I was about to call it quits, some random lady came walking down the road. I ran to her yelling “have you seen the paste eater?!” Thankfully, she knew what I was talking about, and she directed me to a second cemetery in the back.

Here, there are headstones mentioning people being shot, hanged, killed by disease, and yes, there was one for a man who died eating library paste. This moment was at that point in my life, my zenith. 

While Goldfield is certainly unique, it isn’t alone. The Mojave has many hidden spots besides Goldfield, and I recommend going to explore them. It changed my life.

Until next time, stay crescent fresh,

Tommy Cassidy