You should know before setting out on a road trip to Virginia City that it is what is affectionately known as a “tourist trap.” There’s no getting around it—this is a Nevada town whose heyday is long gone, and past glories are what fuels the present. My knowledge of Virginia City history was zilch, so a recent travel assignment brought along a whiff of adventure; I wasn’t sure what to expect.

For me the drive was a big part of the adventure. Virginia City is a scenic 45-minute jaunt from Reno via U.S. 395 south to SR 341, also known as the Geiger Grade Road. Portions of this road used to be an old stagecoach route. Proceeding up a mountain slope in a series of switchbacks, it’s named for Dr. Davison M. Geiger, who financed construction of the original, perilous dirt road that led to a mining settlement back in the early 1860s. About a third of the way up there’s a designated roadside pull-off where you can walk to a rock promontory where there’s an embedded bronze plaque of Dr. Geiger. From this perch the view looking down was impressive, even on a gray, overcast morning.

The adventure was heightened when it started to snow. Even though it was mid-May, you’re ascending to an elevation of more than 6,000 feet, and the flurries were persistent enough to give the pine trees a nice dusting of white. By the time my friend and I rolled into town it was wet and gloomy enough—and the buildings looked just authentic enough—to make it seem like we had wandered onto the set of Robert Altman’s atmospheric Western McCabe & Mrs. Miller. 

Virginia City is built on a steep hillside, and it’s basically one main street (C Street) plus a couple of side streets.  Yes, there are plank sidewalks, swinging wood doors and narrow alleys plastered with picturesque old signs. These are the kinds of details that can produce photographs with an evocative old mining town feel, but I found it difficult to get a shot that didn’t include at least one reminder of contemporary life, whether it was vehicles, power lines or yellow curb striping.

An establishment that got my attention right away was the Bucket of Blood Saloon, identified by one of those aforementioned picturesque signs painted on the building’s brick wall. The original saloon was destroyed in an 1875 fire that burned down more than half of Virginia City’s buildings, but it was quickly rebuilt. The Bucket’s Tiffany-style ceiling lamps, mirrors and gilt-framed photos all conjure up a bygone era more or less and the bartenders and local folks kicking back with a Miller High Life seemed like a quirky bunch of characters.

Another place I ducked into was the Delta Saloon. It does have a bar, but the atmosphere is more like a small casino with lots of video slots and a handful of vintage machines. The main attraction here is the Suicide Table (the entrance into town is littered with roadside “See the Suicide Table!” billboards). Far from being some sort of ghastly contraption that assists people in engineering their own demise, the hexagonal table earned its notorious reputation because three owners allegedly killed themselves after suffering heavy gambling losses. The third unfortunate soul, so the story goes, committed suicide after an inebriated miner stumbled into his gambling house and proceeded to rack up winnings that included more than $86,000 in cash, a team of horses and an interest in a gold mine—basically everything the table’s owner had to his name.

The Old Red Garter was the most interesting of the scattered shops along the main drag; it has an awesome collection of Stetson hats, python-patterned leather boots and suede jackets. The Comstock Rock shop also had cool merchandise: fossils, pretty chunks of quartz, mood rings and silver jewelry.

As we left Virginia City, the on-and-off snow flurries were decidedly on. The landscape was remarkably wintry-looking as the road started to snake back down the mountainside. But within minutes the snow had stopped falling and by the time we reached the high desert valley floor Reno’s high-rise casino, hotels loomed in the distance and the sun was trying to peek through the clouds. I’d bet a couple of plug nickels we had just emerged from a bit of a time warp, Old West style.