I’ve developed a fascination for Cisco, a collapsing town in near-middle-of-nowhere Utah. This modern ghost town sits along Utah’s State Route 128, not too far off of I-70—but along a route that people in a hurry wouldn’t bother traveling. I’ve watched Cisco become more ramshackle over the past few years since I started taking frequent trips to southwest Utah from Colorado. The first time I passed Cisco, I remember being alarmed at its buildings collapsing so near the road. I slowed down as I passed by so that I could stare at its remains, but I didn’t get out of my car. I’ve since stopped a few times and walked around the ruins closest to the road, but I get a spooky feeling when I do—as if people are still there, somewhere. I’ve rooted around for more information about this place and still have not met anyone or confirmed whether or not real-live people live in Cisco year round. A person I know in Moab told me that some folks may live there in the summer and sell supplies to river runners. But on my recent late-autumn visit, the town looked pretty abandoned to me:
I read that the town’s demise came after steam locomotives stopped making regular stops there. The railroad tracks are right across the road, and evidently Union Pacific still uses a rail siding there.
I couldn’t resist taking this photo in November just after the elections. Evidently there are a few Obama supporters hanging out in the area, though the rest of the state is overwhelmingly Republican:
And even though I drove the Subaru on this last visit, I stopped in Cisco last autumn on a van trip:
One of the reasons why I love taking the Old Lady—my 1970 VW van—out on the road is that she pretty much sputters along. Slowly. And this is the best way to take in places like Cisco that you’d otherwise miss with the blink of an eye.