The Sixth Boom - Part Two of High Altitude Tales

Credit: Caitlin Tan

Take a bike ride into a tiny forgotten historic mining town that sits at the intersection of two beloved through trails. For hardcore bikers and hikers, this town is an oasis. And for a community used to cycles of boom and bust, there's hope this boom could last.

A couple summers ago I trained for a 131-mile bike race. It was one of those life-defining summers where you prove to yourself what you’re made of. My riding partners and I were constantly looking for places to do really long training rides. We mapped one out on some gravel roads near the southern end of Wyoming’s Wind River range but on long rides like that, it’s nice to be able to stop somewhere to refill water or get some food. So we planned to go through a little place called Atlantic City. Now, I know you’re thinking, “Is this the gambling mecca out east?” 

No, this Atlantic City is nestled in between the Wind River’s and the vast Red Desert in southwest Wyoming. It’s truly off the beaten path on a hilly, gravel road. And let me tell you, biking into town is a task. The hills are pretty steep topping out around 8,000 feet above sea level but finally, you get to a nice, long descent into Atlantic City. Coming in, you’re surrounded by sagebrush and there’s tattered wooden mine buildings that are now relics of the area’s gold mining past. Once in town, you feel like you stepped way back in time. The population sign says “About 57.” Little wooden cabins dot the area. And a gravel road takes you right through town, which just has a few businesses. So on that training ride day we refilled our water bottles and ate a much needed burger at the local restaurant, the Mercantile. 

At the time I didn’t know much about the area or its significance. But as I was sitting there in complete exhaustion, something clicked. Here I was in this restaurant and bar that looked like an old western saloon. On the wall were framed pictures of Butch Cassidy and the Hole in the Wall Gang and even one of actor Robert Redford in a cowboy hat sitting at that exact same bar. Old gold mining memorabilia hung on the walls, straight out of tales from the wild west. And those tales were something I was totally fascinated with growing up.

But the actual customers didn’t match this vibe. Rather, most of the people sitting around me were in tight spandex biking shorts or hikers with giant backpacking packs. It turns out most of these people are hiking or biking some version of the continental divide which passes right by Atlantic City. The continental divide technically goes from the most northern point in Alaska down through Mexico. All the water systems to the west of the divide flow to the Pacific Ocean and everything to the east flows to the Atlantic Ocean. And there’s a 3,000 mile hiking trail known as the C-D-T, the Continental Divide Trail, that follows the divide from Canada to Mexico that attracts hundreds of hikers every year. Similarly, there’s a biking route made up mostly of gravel roads that loosely follows the divide that is known as the Tour Divide and it attracts thousands of cyclists every summer. And Atlantic City is right next to all of that action. 

So here’s this town that’s truly off the beaten path, it feels like it could easily disintegrate into a ghost town if not for this unexpected outdoor economy. All these hikers and cyclists are keeping things going. And so sitting there in Atlantic City, breaking from my own bike ride, I knew there was a story there, so I put it on my reporting to-do list for the next summer.

ANTOINE and LAURELINE

I roll into Atlantic City,  this time in a truck, on a mid-August morning. The sun is out, birds are chirping, people are mowing lawns.

I pull up to the Miner’s Grubsteak, a little place to get a hearty meal and maybe a hot coffee or cold beer. 

As soon as I walk in, the first people I meet are Antoine Evrard and Laurelin Ciesielski. They’re hikers who came from France. 

“We are traveling since Patagonia and Chile and we're going to Alaska,” says Antoine,” says Antoine.

They’ve been hiking for almost a year now. T. They’re both scientists and are actually working on a documentary about rivers and lakes along their hike. 

ANTOINE: So I have like here 20 pounds of camera gear, tripod, mic.

The young couple looks straight out of an outdoor magazine, kissed by the sun, sporty, blue microfiber shirts on, towering backpacks with fly rods and extra hiking shoes strapped on.

“Your shoes – they have holes!” I say to Antonie.

“Yeah, this is one of the major problems for the hikers I think. The shoes don't stand more than 600-700 kilometers. So for the entire trail you have to buy five, six pairs,” Antonie says. 

They’re following the 550 miles of C-D-T trail that goes through the Cowboy State. This portion of the trail is described online as having “deep gorges, craggy ice carved peaks, wide meadows and open desert plains.”

The beginning of Wyoming was without trees for a long time. It's beautiful but it was harder because there is not a lot of water, not a lot of shade,” says Antoine. 

They’re talking about their trek through the Red Desert, which is one of the last high elevation deserts in the country. It’s a sea of sagebrush that has sand dunes, petroglyphs, iconic big game migrations, and it pretty much ends right at Atlantic City. 

“We really like Atlantic City and this part of Wyoming because it is, maybe, more true than some other cities in Colorado and we have a really different vision of what is America,” Antonie says.

Wyoming is just a little more rugged than much of America. It’s the least populated state in the nation and has some of the largest big game migrations in the world. 

So, Antoine and Laureline made it to Atlantic City the night before.

They spent about $20 at the nearby campground where they pitched their tent and did some laundry. And this morning, Antoine and Laureline feasted.

“We had a classic breakfast, and special burrito breakfast that is really nice for the hikers,” say Anotnie and Laureline.

They spent about $30 at the Miner’s Grubsteak and now they’ll carry on hiking through the Wind River range where they’ll see very few people, which is part of why they’re on this journey.

“You really disconnect from the routine, and really start to just live in the present and think nothing at all about your duties, your work. So yeah, it's quite a big change, and also a cultural shock,” says Antonie.

And I agree. That’s why I’ve gone on really long bike rides. The stress of work, personal life – none of it matters out there. You just have to get from point A to point B and survive, show yourself what you’re made of.

But you’ve got to come to towns now and then on these types of adventures, mainly to get more food. So that’s what makes Atlantic City so crucial. There’s not another town for about 100 miles in either direction of the trail so Atlantic city is almost an essential place to stop for hikers or cyclists. 

DAYLE

Although there isn’t a grocery store here, the couple of businesses offer some to-go snacks, but mostly it’s hot meals from the two restaurants, like the Miner’s Grubsteak. And Owner Dayle Anderson has come to depend on this business. 

“Well, they start the second week of June, the independent bikers that come through. And then in July, mid-July or so, you start seeing the hikers come through, and they're staggered throughout July and August,” says Dayle.

Dayle has a bushy salt and pepper beard, he’s wearing a t-shirt with a roaring grizzly bear on it. He says the name of the Miner’s Grubsteak alludes to the history of the area.

“Well, there's a mining history. You know, they first discovered gold in 1868,” Dayle says.

Cow skulls and wildlife bones look back from the walls. A map of the continental divide hangs in one corner. In the middle of the room is a beautiful 20-foot-long red cedar bar.

“Supposedly, this was the longest red cedar bar in Wyoming,” says Dayle.

I can just imagine gold miners sitting in here drinking a beer after a long day of hard, sweaty work, but that’s long gone with the past. Now, it’s mostly hikers and cyclists. And Dayle really likes them. He even keeps a log book for everyone hiking or biking through.

“They kind of keep track of their friends, if they're ahead of them or behind them. Or you know who's done what,” says Dayle.

Dayle reads a cyclist’s entry from November 2014, it’s the one that’s stuck out the most to him:

“Cycling the divide in winter -25 degrees Celsius yesterday through the storm. Thank you for the hot water. Hopefully it won't freeze too fast. Alaska to Argentina,” the entry says.

In the photo attached to this entry, a biker looks like a black blob, bundled up in so many layers. He stands with his bike on an icy road, with a white, winter fog around him. 

“And he made it. Came back the next year and said he made it,” says Dayle.

Dayle says these folks keep his business going. If it weren’t for the busy summer months it’d be hard to turn a profit, which is important to him and to the town. It helps bring in money, but also keeps that rich history of mining and the early days of Wyoming alive, it can be shared and passed down to newcomers passing through, rather than be lost to time. 

I knew that this mining history was only the tip of the iceberg in regards to the history of the area. So I went in search of the town’s historians. 

MARJANE AND SUSAN

I take a stroll up the main gravel road for a few minutes, then take a left up a steep driveway to Marjane Ambler’s. 

Marjane has short, gray hair with bangs. She wears blue jeans and a tan Atlantic City Historical Society shirt, a group that helped put together a lot of the local history of the area. 

“So did you get the walking tour brochure yet?” Marjane asks.

“Nope,” I say.

“Let me get you one of those. Be right back,” Marjane says.

Marjane leaves and comes back with a brochure and says, “So, this has background on the whole town, but we are site number three. So you can read about that.”

“The Dexter Mill,” I say.

Which is where Marjane’s house actually is. It’s lined with a sandy colored rock hillside. When you go through the wooden door entrance, you take a few steps down.

“Well, my husband built it in ‘77,” Marjane says.

“It's literally into the earth. That's incredible,” I say.

“It's into the old Dexter Mill foundation,” says Marjane.  

The Dexter Mill was built in 1904. Mills are used to separate gold from the rest of the rock.

“Italian stone masons built this wall, which is three feet thick and so when my husband bought the property in ‘71, he saw this foundation and visualized the house and built it on top,” Marjane says.

Marjane first came to the area in the 70s. She was working as a journalist in another nearby town and came to Atlantic City to see a local band play. Atlantic city was a little more bustling at that time, and on that night the bar was full, music was playing, people were dancing, her future husband was bartending.

“And so it took me about five minutes to fall in love with Atlantic City,” Marjane says. 

These days, Marjane summers in town and leaves for the winter, but Atlantic City is home. She helps with the local historical society and has also noticed the uptick in outdoor recreators coming to the area.

“Atlantic City had five booms prior to the Continental Divide Trail, which is our sixth,” says Marjane.

“So we're we're in the sixth boom,” I say. Marjane nods in agreement. 

The five booms before were all energy related until now. For more on all this history and how things have changed, Marjane suggests we meet up with her neighbor Susan Layman, the former president of the historical society. Marjane and I walk up that main gravel road.

We all sit on Susan’s back porch. Even though elsewhere in town is more of a dryer, sagebrush, desert type climate, her area is like a green, secret garden oasis. It’s right by the creek, and it has history too. 

“We are right here in the beer garden gulch where a lot of breweries were. There was no gold in this area. So they put breweries and this is called brew garden Gulch,” says Susan.

The miners needed beer of course, this was the era of the gold rush. Several decades full of hard work and broken dreams. 

After the discovery of gold in California in the mid 1800s, tens of thousands of people came out West hoping to make out rich. Now, when I hear that, I envision a prospector hiking through the mountains with a pack mule, strapped down with gold panning supplies, maybe even following the continental divide, just like today’s hikers or me on my bike. I imagine the prospector feeling free of all his woes, just focused on finding little gold nuggets. But that romanticized version I have isn’t total reality. 

Very few got rich, and most ended up working for poor wages at company-owned gold mines. But still, little boom towns popped up all over the West, like Atlantic City and neighboring South Pass City, just a few miles up the road. 

“The Buckeye, which would be over those ridges over that way, would have been the first strike here,” Susan says.

That was 1867. 

“First couple of years there wasn't a whole lot of buildings yet. A lot of the miners stayed in tents. But as it got cold, they could roll out their sleeping bags on saloon floors and spend the evening there until they got something built,” says Susan.

Over the next few years, people came in droves by railroad. The closest stop was 70 miles away. So there were two, daily stagecoaches that traversed the Red Desert, the same one the French couple hiked across. The stagecoaches brought miners and families to both Atlantic City and South Pass City.

The area was bustling with more than 3,000 people, and it was all hard work and a lot of sleepless nights of music and dancing at the saloon. 

“They were working really hard. There was a fair amount of saloons in both places. And it was mostly a male dominated society. There were saloons, there were brothels, things of that nature. Then in the evening, they you know, that was their entertainment,” says Susan.

In fact, the area was such a hot spot that people with deep pockets and politicians were rolling into the area. It even brought in Esther Hobart Morris, a leader of women’s suffrage. She, her husband, and three sons also came for the promise of gold. They lived in a 24-foot by 26-foot sod roofed log cabin in South Pass City. Now, Esther’s husband had a reputation of being a lazy drunk, but she was onto bigger and better things. By 1870 she was appointed the justice of peace of South Pass City, making her the first woman in that role in the entire country.  At the time, that was a big deal. Apparently, people around the country looked in awe at the fact that a woman oversaw one of the richest areas.

“South Pass was the county seat for a long time. We were almost the capital. You read your history. Because at the boom time we had so many influential people that were in South Path that they were considering making that the capital,” Susan says.

But, with a boom always came a bust, only about eight years later.  

“Once it bust, they didn't talk about us being the capital anymore,” says Susan.

More booms came but they were never on the same magnitude. In the early 1900s the Dexter mill opened where Marjane’s house is. Then in the 30s it was the era of the dredge, a vacuum cleaner like device that sucks up water and gravel in a river and sifts it out for gold. After that, in the 40s and 50s was the closest the town has been to a ghost town. Susan says it really was one family keeping the town alive.

“Those were probably, those 20 years in there, were as close to a ghost town as they came,” Susan says. 

“At one point, there were like four people in town during the 40s and 50s. The Carpenters were always a fixture until they passed away. But other than that, there wouldn't have been a whole lot of people here,” Marjane says. 

And then in the 60s was the last energy-related boom. An iron mine opened for about 20 years. 

But as for the gold rush era, it was just a lot of pipedreams.

“This was the biggest gold strike in Wyoming and Wyoming doesn't have that much gold,” Susan says, laughing. “They would play out really fast. There wasn’t that much gold ever to be found, despite what some people, my friends will even tell you. If there was a big boom here, we would still have mining active in this area, and we don't,” says Susan.

So the people that have stayed in Atlantic City are the die-hards, like Marjane and Susan. They just have a deep, profound love for the area. And they like having their independence. There isn’t even law enforcement, medical clinic, or even a mayor in town.

“What we like to say is that, no way could we agree on a mayor that would boss us around.” says Marjane. 

But they’ve often worried about what will keep the area alive. There’s always that threat of becoming a ghost town. 

Susan used to work at one of the restaurants in town and says, “Some days if two of us locals walk in, they've had a busy day. if you made five bucks that day. You made a lot of money.”

But starting a few decades ago, they started to see hikers trickling through, then cyclists. And over the years, the popularity has grown. Thousands come through every summer. 

“This is the first boom that is not mineral or energy. Now there's nothing's working. It's all tourists and and most of it is hikers and bikers,” says Susan.

They don’t think this boom will go away like it did with the gold. They think this one is here to stay. 

“Right now, Wyoming is a tourist service economy. And that's what's reflected here,” says Susan.

“Probably the individuals who own these businesses will give out before the customer base,” Marjane says.

And there’s data to back that up too. Trends over the last couple decades show that more and more people are hiking and biking routes along the C-D-T. But it’s not even just this trail. Outdoor recreation in general is booming in both Wyoming and across the nation. In fact, the outdoor industry contributes more to the U-S’s economy these days than, well, mining.

And for Marjane and Susan, seeing all the hikers and bikers from across the country, across the globe, is exciting.

“It gives you something to talk about, somebody new to look at, you know, they're very nice,” says Susan.

LUCY and FRED

One business that’s also really benefited is the local R-V park. Like everything in this town, it’s just a couple minute walk down that gravel road.

Credit: Caitlin Tan

I walk up to Lucy Milham sitting on the front porch of her A-frame cabin. She’s wearing bright, shimmery eyeshadow and is smoking a cigarette. To her left is a wooden sign engraved with a gun and the words, ‘We don’t dial 9-1-1,’ a nod to the lack of a police department here.

“We had a wolf this spring, mountain lions. Last year, we had a bear, that night we were doing karaoke and having liver and onions. There was a bear right up there in front of our storage units,” Lucy says.

This is just part of life for Lucy and her husband Fred, who pulls up in an A-T-V.

“Fred, hi I’m Caitlin. I’m doing a story on Atlantic City and how outdoor tourism helps the economy here,” I say to Fred.

“We’ve had a lot of hikers from other countries this year, France and Germany,” Fred says.

Lucy and Fred retired here five years ago and opened this small R-V park, first just for R-V campers, but over the last few years more and more hikers and cyclists are coming through who need laundromats, tent campsites and public showers. 

“There's no place out there on the trail to take a shower. So that's pretty much what they want. They don't even set their tents up. They go right to the shower,” says Lucy.

And Lucy and Fred plan  to expand more, adding more camping spots, some more washers and dryers. Lucy says it’s a great financial cushion for their retirement.

“Living on Social Security isn't exactly special. So we came up with the idea to put all this in to give us some extra income,” Lucy says.

But, they also live here because of the peace and solitude. Fred worries a little bit about the hand that feeds them.

“Yeah, you need the people for your business, but you hate seeing it. Too much coming in, you know,” says Fred.

Looking around the town it’s still a long way from that. It really feels like a relic of the 1800s. But, sure enough, rolling down the hill toward Lucy and Fred’s place, come a few cyclists.

PAM and TIM

Pamela and Tim Fennel ride in on a tandem bike. It has two seats, two handlebars, two sets of pedals, all connected. 

Credit: Caitlin Tan

“Yesterday, we rode 78 miles. This is our longest day and almost 4,000 feet of elevation,” Pam and Tim say. 

The bike and all their gear, food and water weighs about 100 pounds. This includes their tiny Yorkie, named Brooklyn, her little head pokes out of a black basket.  

“I have a rain cover I made so that I could put it over her, and we may get soaking wet, but she won't get a drop of rain on her,” says Pam.

They came here from Indiana, and are about halfway through their 3,000-mile cycle. It’s been a dream for Pamela ever since she was 17, when she saw some people pedaling across the country. 

“We had to retire first before we had the time because it's gonna take about four months. How many times can a husband make his wife's dreams come true?” says Tim.

And that’s why a lot of people make this journey, or even just go on a long, outdoor journey, like my own bike ride. I felt like over the summer training for that 131-mile bike ride that took me through Atlantic City, well, it changed me. It changed how I think, not only in what I think my body is capable of, but also what really matters, you know? Because at the end of the day, it’s not about how many likes we get on social media or if the house is perfectly clean, but instead, what did we accomplish? Were we present with ourselves? Were we in-tune with nature? These kinds of grounding things can come from really long bike rides like mine, and definitely like the Fennels. 

“When you travel slow, you get to see more things. But the thing that has been, as far as for me anyway, is you have a renewed faith in humanity. People are kind. People want to help you,” says Tim.

The trio are camping in Atlantic City for the night. 

“This is the last stop before the base of the Great Basin,” Tim says. 

They’re taking the divide south, from Canada to Mexico. And the great basin they're talking about is the Red Desert.

“So this is your last stop for real food. You know, real food to fill up with water to kind of get yourself geared up, ready for 133 miles of beautifulness, but nothingness, you know. It could be four days for us,” Tim and Pam say.

They expect to spend about $150 in Atlantic City – on some laundry, showers, camp site…and most importantly, calories.

“We both have bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and pie, apple pie. But we already had an ice cream,” says Pam.

“You can't eat enough calories on this trip,” Tim says.

And that’s what Atlantic City is for a lot of people. A quirky, kind of legendary stop over to get a super hearty meal after a really tiresome journey. 

DAVE

Pretty soon, I wander over to the Mercantile, or the ‘Merc’ as locals call it. That’s where my idea for this story started. That’s where Marjane Ambler fell in love with Atlantic City and it’s where she met her bartender husband. 

Imagine you’re stepping into a saloon out of an old western. A long bar to your right, old, dark wooden tables to your left. 

Even the waiter looks from another era, long and lanky with a blue, plaid button up, and a bit of a twang. His name is Dave Griffin, he’s lived here 20 years. He doesn’t say much.

“What’s your title here?” I ask Dave.

“A little bit of everything,” Dave says.

Dave chuckles and looks around. It’s just him seating, waiting, bartending and even cooking a little bit for the hikers and cyclists.

“Is that a big deal for business like the Merc throughout the summer, getting cyclists, hikers, and motorcyclists?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Dave says.

“Big deal for the economy?” I ask Dave.

“Yeah. We’ve got the bed and breakfast over there and that’s where we send people because it’s the only place in town,” says Dave.

“Well, even just looking around. There’s two cyclists and hiker right now,” I say.

Dave says, “They come in here all day long.”

GARY

Garry Connett traveled here from Minnesota. Against the old battered, wooden bar, you can tell he’s not local, in his skin-tight spandex-shorts and clompy cycling shoes. 

“I wanted to see the place. I’ve always heard about it, so I was really looking forward to just seeing this,” says Gary. 

Gary points to the eclectic site. One hiker drinks a beer at the bar, her backpack is almost as big as her. There’s a couple cyclists, also all in spandex, eating juicy burgers. All of them in a restaurant that was originally built for gold miners. 

“It’s really a historic place and has a lot of character and all the bikers stop here. They don’ bike by, they stop here, take in its ambiance, it’s flavor. Get something to eat or drink,” Gary says.

So all these travelers, the french couple, the tandem bikers, Gary from Minnesota, heck, even myself, we’re all just a few of the thousands that come through Atlantic City every summer, most of us on foot or bike. We might go in there not knowing about the town, just looking for water or sustenance. But leaving is different. You come away a little bit different of a person. Sure, you’re more hydrated, maybe have a full belly, ready to tackle the large hills getting out of town back onto the trail, but you also leave with some history. The people of Atlantic City are really proud of its history and have worked hard to preserve it in books, on roadway signs, in memorabilia on the walls at the Mercantile, but it’s important there is someone to pass that knowledge and history onto. So maybe these big hikes and bike rides are more than just about finding yourself. Maybe they’re also about discovering these off-the-beaten-path kind of places, and breathing a little life into them. Learning about their history, and in turn, becoming a little piece of their history.

Gary spends about &10 on some Lays potato chips and chocolate milk. It’ll help get him through the next few miles of biking. He can’t stay because he’s on a strict schedule, but he says he’ll definitely be back. 

Next time on the show, I’ll bring you home with me to North Park in Colorado where wolves migrated in a few years back. The rhetoric we’ve heard about their arrival has been very “us vs. them.” But actually, North Parkers have complicated feelings about their wolves.

Editing by me, Melodie Edwards.  Our assistant producer McKenna Lipson was the sound designer for this episode. Our digital producer is Ryan Kelley. Our theme song is by Screen Door Porch. 

We always love hearing from our listeners…reach out to us at themodernwestpod@gmail.com. We’re also on social media at modern west pod. If you love the show and care about this kind of storytelling, share it with a friend…or leave us a review. The Modern West is a production of PRX and Wyoming Public Media.

Music Credits:
“Old River Boat” by Lobo Loco is licensed under a CC BY-NC-SA. “Fingerlympics” by Doctor Turtle is licensed under a CC-BY “Coming Home” by Stefano Vita is licensed under a CC BY-NC-SA. “Which That is This” by Doctor Turtle is licensed under a CC BY. “All Night Long” by Lobo Loco is licensed under a CC BY-NC-SA. “Mountain Lion” by Tannis Grove is licensed under a CC BY-NC. “Sweet Springs” by Sour Mash is licensed under a CC BY-NC.