Battle Born: Growing Up Nevada
The Silver State is More Than Just a Desert
Growing up in rural Nevada, the thing I remember most is space. I didn’t know how lucky a kid I was to have so much room to grow, to play—freedom in its purest form.
I lived in an old railroad town, surrounded by rocky mountains and expansive desert. My home was a pretty RV park near the edge of town. Rich with green meadows, tall elms, and friendly neighbors.
“You certainly will agree with me, It’s the place of a thousand thrills.” — Home Means Nevada, Bertha Rafetto
I spent my childhood on the mountainside, surveying the neighborhood like it was my kingdom. Or, lying in the cool, dewy grass and musing at stars on clear, summer nights. Dazzling.
My curiosity was constantly peeked by glass-like obsidian, colorful lizards, and a seemingly endless mountainscape. I found Jerusalem Crickets, children of the Earth, hidden in damp, dark places.
Pioche, a “living ghost town,” is home to Godbe Mill, a remnant of its mining past, used for Ore-precessing. Once booming with prospectors, the peaceful town is filled with quiet people and dilapidated buildings.
Here, there are two things every child must keep in mind:
- Listen for trains when walking near the railroad; give them plenty of room as they pass. “You don’t want to get hit by debris the rail wheels kick up.”
- Watch your step. In some areas, the mines have destabilized the ground, which may collapse. Never go into an abandoned mine. Not only are they unstable, but they could be home to toxic gases.
The soil isn’t the richest, and water is scarce, but that hasn’t stopped Nevada from becoming home to industrious farmers, ranchers, and cowboys. It’s not unusual to see cows loitering in creekbeds or along roads in the expansive basins.
This rusted tractor rests among tumbleweeds and dunes near an old horse corral.
“Here is the land which I love the best, Fairer than all I can see. Deep in the heart of the golden west” — Home Means Nevada, Bertha Rafetto
The rising Sierra Nevadas trap moisture from the pacific winds on the California border, making the Silver State the driest in the nation. However, that doesn’t mean we’ve never seen snow.
Already quiet, snow in the desert creates a silence unlike any other. It’s just you, your crunching footsteps, and the vast wilderness before you. In the sandy expanses outside of Las Vegas, snowfall blankets prickly, Joshua trees, as wispy clouds caressed distant peaks.
Alien in appearance, Joshua trees are a unique and vital component of this arid environment. It’s a home and source of nutrition for many local creatures, who are simultaneously resilient and vulnerable. Miners, pioneers, and native peoples utilized these spiky oddities for food, as material for fencing or baskets, and fuel for steam engines.
“All the livelong night until morning light, Is the loveliest place I know.” — Home Means Nevada, Bertha Rafetto
Cottonwoods and Elms also grow strong in this challenging and extraordinary state. From the cool shelter of this cave, sculpted in red stone, I admire the green leaves of the trees below—an oasis.
Nearby is a dirt road, ready to take me to places I’ve never been, to see things I never expected. I’m home in Nevada, a place of sage and pine. I’m home in the golden west. The snow-capped sierras serenade me from a distance, reminding me that I’ll always be Battle Born: a desert dweller from the Silver State.
“Where the wind blows wild and free.” — Home Means Nevada, Bertha Rafetto
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