I had never been to this little town before trying out to be a movie extra.   And it is an interesting place in a land-that-time-forgot sort of way.   It seems that the heyday of this place was from about 1890 to 1930, and they have the lovely architecture to prove it.  This town is not on the main highway, but it’s off to the side, so you have to want to go there.   As the main industry is Supermax, the federal maximum security prison,  you really don’t want to be sent there.

Me and Miss P did wander around a bit on the day before our movie shooting started just to have a look around.

There is this lovely brick train station, I followed the tracks to find it and to see what sort it was. Trains no longer stop here, instead it’s been re-purposed as a Senior Center.

I’m not sure why banks used to have pillars on the front, perhaps to denote a fortress-like security for your money.

The faded paint on the side of the building proclaims that this building once housed a dry goods store.

This building was most likely a small department store, but now it sells bits of the flotsam of the past.   The main street was a collection of these shops catering to the tourist trade.   The residents must go to the larger nearby town to do their shopping.

Celebrating the movie crew working there, this former theater is now a community building.   The front windows had a display of vintage film projectors, possibly original to the building (1923).   Or perhaps as they were rather monstrous contraptions, they were from when films converted to sound.

I loved this sign “Tipping, it’s not just for cows anymore.”   This is what I was reminded of the first time I saw a sign that said “no flytipping.”   And as the thought of flytipping did not make any sense,  it made me laugh at the absurdity of it.