Just finished a Utility Vehicle ride through the desert with seven fellow desert rats, all great friends. What a day.

We met up at Bumble Bee, Arizona, where I actually got stung by a bee. Not a honey be but yellow jacket. The little bugger got me from behind, right in the back while I was driving. Quite a way to start the journey.

Bumble Bee, established in 1863 as a stagecoach stop, is now a ghost town. Its population never topped 25 people. We didn’t spend much time there.

The road out of Bumble Bee was better than most trails we ride, but we brought our wives along and figured they might not appreciate getting bounced around like loose cargo on the rougher trails. Still, dust was a constant battle.

We headed north about fifteen miles and climbed roughly 500 feet to Cleator, Arizona. Nestled in the Bradshaw Mountains, Cleator is home to the semi-famous Cleator Bar and Yacht Club.

Yes, a yacht club. In the desert.

There were even boats and a dock. Not a drop of water for miles.

Cleator started as a gold mining site in 1864, originally called Turkey Creek. The Prescott & Eastern Railroad hauled ore out of there until 1932. James Cleator bought and renamed the town after himself, no shortage of confidence there. At its peak, about sixty people lived there.

The town went up for sale in 1949. It never sold. Today it’s still around and if you’ve got $1.25 million lying around, you can own the whole thing. Population: eight. Yacht club included.

Webberville… has a nice ring to it.

We had a beer to wash the dust down and moved on.

We climbed another 1,500 feet toward Crown King. The drive got serious – hairpin turns, narrow one-lane roads, cattle guards, and rock formations that made you pay attention.

The Bradshaw Mountains don’t mess around. Steep, rugged, and spectacular.

Crown King, my favorite stop, sits at the top with about 133 people calling it home. It got its name from a gold mine that produced roughly $2 million before shutting down in the 1950s.

At one time, the town had nearly 500 buildings. Today, maybe ten.

Still, back in its day, Crown King had it all; company stores, boarding houses, a post office, even two Chinese restaurants. Not bad for a mountain town in the middle of nowhere. Today, it even has a fire department.

Rail service arrived in 1904 via Murphy’s Impossible Railroad, which took nine years to build and shut down in 1926. Frank Murphy didn’t do so well on that venture. As it turns out, much of the road we traveled was the old railroad bed.

Unfortunately, the Crown King Saloon, the main attraction, was closed. Built in 1910 (after being moved piece by piece from another town), it once served as both bar and brothel. These days it’s a hotel, café, and watering hole.

We ducked into the general store. As I walked in, the woman behind the counter told me if I didn’t shut the door, anything I bought would be double the price.

Fair enough.

The post office is inside the store, which tells you about all you need to know about Crown King.

We grabbed lunch, took a quick walk around town, quick because there isn’t a whole lot to see. and then headed back.

By the time we got home, we were covered in dust from head to toe and worn out from the ride.

But it was one of those days you don’t forget. A whole world outside of civilization.