Ghost Hunting: Cornucopia
At first, we weren't sure if we'd be able to explore Cornucopia. As we drove in, we passed a brand-new mining facility--a very unfriendly place, surrounded by barbed wire and orange NO TRESSPASSING signs. We also stopped to talk to an old-timer in a truck who was looking to do some fishing on the Pine Creek. He was a little grumpy, though not at us; someone had gated his favorite fishing access, and he was going to pull down that damn gate tomorrow if it wasn't open. Then, when we got to Cornucopia proper, we saw the usual damning mix of old and new stuff and also a very large sign proclaiming absolutely everything to be private property and strictly verboten.
There was a little house next to the sign with a car in front of it. It looked occupied. Jerry and I figured we had nothing to lose, so we knocked on the door and were greeted by a fellow who looked kinda like an older biker; he had long grey hair and was dressed mostly in denim. We explained to this guy that we were writers on a research trip, and he was very accomodating. "Go ahead and look around, we're very user-friendly here," he told us, and then he cautioned us to be careful and gave us a quick rundown of all the ruins.
(It's amazing how far the "we're writers, sir" thing will get you. Everyone who found out we were writers became astonishingly friendly.)
 Welcome to Cornucopia |
 Main Street. I have a postcard showing this road as it looked in 1914, which I'll scan and post sometime. Our helper's cabin is the red one on the right. |
 The prize ruin--an old miners' bunkhouse. The yellow sign in the foreground cautions against digging on account of telephone wires. The Pine Telephone Company has lines all through Cornucopia |
 The north side of the bunkhouse, from the road. |
 The back of the bunkhouse. |
 It looked solid enough... |
 The front door is behind Victoria here. |
 The main floor. Notice the "STORMTROOPERS" graffito. Cornucopia had remarkably little graffiti. |
 Victoria examines what we think is the cellar of the old hotel. Didn't find any artifacts, although we didn't look especially hard. |
 We think this was the jail. |
 An old car behind the jail. Its unrusted parts showed that it had once been a nice mild green. We did not find a steering wheel. |
 While striking my best Hank Hill pose, I inform Victoria that, given the odd shape of its rear wheels, obviously this car was fitted to travel on rails rather than mere roads. |
 We think this was the post office. |
 The foundation of the old company store. No artifacts here, either. |
 A nondescript cabin. |
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Then we found the Tightie-Whitie cabin. In here, we found more graffiti: the word SLAYER, written in heavy-metal script with magic marker. On the floor underneath, we saw an old pair of tightie-whities, which we did not investigate.
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 The TW-cabin was made for smaller people than us. The doorway's only about five feet tall, and the attic's even more cramped. |
 Like I said, very cramped. |
 Eric steps carefully around the back of the TW-cabin. |
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We explored Cornucopia for a couple of hours, and then the sun started to set. On the way out, we met the guy who'd given us permission to poke around, and he told us that, back in the day, one of the mining magnates had built a mansion a few miles up the mining road that ran west from Cornucopia. "You can hike up to it," he said, "in about an hour and a half." He also told us that the museum in nearby Half.com Oregon, was a good place to visit to see Cornucopia stuff. This sounded good to us, so we scrubbed our plans for Saturday--we were going to go up north of the Wallowas to see the remnants of Flora and Paradise--and decided to see the museum in Halfway and then hike up the mining road instead. |
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 We saw some a deer on the way out. You can barely see her; she's the little brown splotch in the gap between the pines. Wish I'd had a better camera--hell, I wish I knew how to use the one I had. |
 A landslide here dammed up the Powder River. |
 It had been a long day. We were very tired. |
On the way out, we ran into our fisherman friend. We told him about our plans for the hike, and he mentioned that his dad had helped tear down the mansion, but that, as far as he knew, there was still a good foundation up there. We did not ask what he'd did with that offensive gate.
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