Colorado's Abandoned Towns Ironton
Site Visit Date: August 19, 2026
Colorado's Abandoned Towns -- Better Known as Ghost Towns.
Today's Town: Ironton
In the late 1800's Red Mountain District, bustled with activity after the discovery of rich silver deposits in the area. Claims were made. Mines were drilled. People came, and towns developed. They lived in this beautiful yet rugged landscape of Colorado's San Juan Mountains.
Perched at 9,800 feet above sea level was Ironton, originally called Copper Glen.
Today my husband, our Miniature Schnauzer, Harley, and I are taking our Jeep along the Million Dollar Highway to visit Ironton--to see what remains and to answer Ironton's question:
What makes someone remain decades after everyone else has left?
Recap of the History of the Red Mountain District
As we discussed in last week's post, rich mineral discoveries beginning in the early 1880s created a sudden influx of prospectors and eastern capital, making the Red Mountain Mining District one of the richest mining regions in Colorado.
During the silver boom, several towns sprang up throughout this rugged, high-elevation terrain. Red Mountain Town, Ironton, Guston, and Congress were among the settlements that took root as miners, merchants, families and fortune seekers poured into the mountains.
Driving the Million Dollar Highway made me keenly aware of what travel must have been like when this route was an old toll road. Knowing that women in Victorian dresses and children once traveled that same cliffside route by stagecoach while freight wagons lumbered alongside them puts our Jeep ride into unimaginable perspective.
THE TOWN
Copper Glen exploded into existence in early 1883, but by April people were calling the new settlement Ironton. The name stuck.
More than 100 buildings constructed during its first year. By the mid-1880s, the population fluctuated dramatically with the mining season--from roughly 200 residents during the winter to nearly 1,000 during the summer.
Unlike the mining camps perched higher on Red Mountain, Ironton sat on relatively flat ground about 1,500 feet lower below Guston and Red Mountain Town. Its location made it an ideal supply, staging, and transportation center for the sounding mines.
Ironton was becoming more than a mining camp.
It was becoming a town.
When Otto Mear's Silverston Railroad reached Ironton in 1889, it drastically reduced the cost of shipping ore and tied Ironton to Silverton and the surrounding mines. Two trains arrived daily.
Ironton soon boasted graded streets, plank sidewalks, a schoolhouse, Catholic and Congregational churches, and a waterworks system. Hotels, restaurants, mercantile stores, and saloons served residents and travelers, and historical photographs even document an Ironton pawnbroker. The mining newspaper, the Review moved from Red Mountain to Ironton in 1884--another indication of the town's growning importance.
The town served mines of Red and Brown Mountains, including the Colorado Boy, Mountain King and numerous working around Red Mountain and Guston.
Daily Life in Ironton
Because Ironton had become an important staging area in the Red Mountain District, its graded streets must rarely have been quiet.
Imagine teamsters shouting, freight wagons rumbling through town and the whistles of the two daily trains arriving from Silverton. Add the sounds of Red Mountain Creek, horses, mules, construction and an emerging town, and the quiet valley we see today would have sounded remarkably different.
Pack trains of sturdy mules and burros carried supplies into the district. Everything from lumber and mining equipment to food and household necessities, and hauled ore out again.
Early residents often lived in canvas tents or a hastily constructed wooden cabins. Newspaper was sometimes used as insulation against the bitter mountain drafts.
Yet, despite Ironton's isolation, merchants supplied an impressive assortment of goods. Hotel, restaurants, stores, and that surprising bookstore gave residents access to conveniences we might not expect to find nearly 10,000 feet above sea level.
As more families arrived, another side of Ironton emerged.
Plank sidewalks appeared. A schoolhouse was built. Waterworks system was installed. Catholic and Congregational churches served the community.
I find that transformation fascintating.
Ironton wasn't simply a place where men came looking for ore.
People began building lives here.
And those lives weren't easy.
At nearly 10,000 feet, winters snow accumulated by the foot rather than the inch. Keeping paths cleared, fires burning, families fed, and homes warm would have been an everyday battle against the San Juan winter.
Mine workers faced another unusual problem--the highly acidic groundwater of the Red Mountain District. Water reacting with the areas' mineral-rick rock could become corrosive enough to damage pumps, pipes, rails, and other mining equipment, creating constant maintenance problems.
The Women of Ironton
What would it have been like to raise a family here?
Perhaps life was a little easier than in Red Mountain or Guston because more conveniences were available.
But easier is relative.
Making a home at 9,800 feet in the San Juan Mountains still would have required remarkable resilience.
Women throughout western mining communities operated boarding houses, laundries, restaurants, and other small businesses while others managed households that demanded tremendous physical labor. Meals had to be prepared, clothes washed and repaired, children cared for and wood stoves kept burning through the long winters.
In Ironton, the presence of a school, two churches, stores, and waterworks tells us something important.
Families were here.
Women and children helped turn what began as a rough mining settlement into a functioning community.
I imagine those women watching the sky when winter storms approached, wondering whether their husbands would return safely from the mines, trying to keep children warm and occupied while snow piled outside their doors.
It would have taken an indomitable spirit to make a home here.
The Children of Ironton
The existence of Ironton's schoolhouse reminds us that children were growing up in this mining town as well. Their world must have been extraordinary.
During the brief summers, they had forests, creeks and alpine meadows outside their doors. In winter, their playground disappeared beneath deep snow.
But Ironton was also an industrial town filled with dangers—moving freight wagons and trains, mine workings, tailings and heavy equipment.
For Ironton mothers, keeping children safe must have seemed a daunting task right alongside keeping them warm, clothed, and fed.
It is easy to study a mining town by counting mines, saloons, buildings, and tons of ore.
The schoolhouse reminds us to count the families, too.
The Decline
Daily life in Ironton, as in the other Red Mountain mining towns, was essentially a race for prosperity against the mountains themselves.
For a while, Ironton was an incredibly energetic, hopeful place.
For a while, prosperity won.
Then came 1893.
The collapse of the silver market, combined with the enormous cost of mining at high elevation, forced mines throughout the district to close. Ironton began its transformation from a bustling transportation hub to quiet mountain settlement.
Unlike some mining towns, however, Ironton didn't disappear overnight.
Gold discoveries brought renewed activity beginning in the late 1890s. The town's location, established infrastructure, and transportation connections allowed it to linger well into the twentieth century.
In 1904, work began on the Joker Tunnel, an ambitious project intended to drain water from several of the flooded Red Mountain maines. By 1907, the tunnel stretched nearly a mile into the mountain.
Mining continued, but Ironton's population steadily declined.
By 1910, only a few dozen residents remained.
Eventually, almost everyone left.
Almost.
Ironton's Last Resident
By the middle of the twentieth century, only one family had become particularly rooted to the valley--the Larsons.
Brothers Milton (Milt) Larson and Harry Larson continued living here long after Ironton's boom years had faded. After Harry died in 1959, Milt remained.
Alone.
Milton Larson became known as Ironton's last resident and was affectionately referred to as the town's "mayor."
Local accounts remember the Larson brothers for their hospitality. Visitors reportedly rarely left without being offered a bowl of soup. Milt was also remembered for entertaining visitors with mining stories and allowing children to take small pieces of galena from the mine as souvenirs.
Then America met the last resident of Ironton.
Milton appeared on the television program I've Got a Secret.
His secret?
"I am the entire population of Ironton, Colorado."
Milton Larson remained in the mountains until his death in 1964.
With his passing, Ironton became, in the truest sense, an unpopulated ghost town.
A link to a video Milton's appearance on I've Got a Secret is included at the end of this post.
TODAY'S SITE
Larson building with peak of Brown Mountain east across US Hwy 550. The Larson boarding house/office building sits west just off US Hwy 550 after the sign: Ironton Park
Larson boarding house/office building
The Larson mine entrance or the adit sits a bit further west of the Larson Building.
An adit--from the Latin word aditus, meaning "an approach"--is a horizontal or nearly horizontal tunnel that connects the earth's surface to an underground mine
The trailhead to the Beaver/Belfast mine begins at this location as well.
The most notable private owners of the patented claims were Kenneth Garard (frequently spelled Gerard) and the Larson Brothers--Milton and Harry Larson. The Larson brothers partnered with Garard to purchase the claims. They held onto the properties as part of their localized mining footprint.
In 2005, Ouray County purchased the patented claims directly from the Garard family. The acquisition was funded via a grant from Great Outdoors Colorado to protect the landscape from development and preserve the historic structures around Ironton Park.
While the county owns the surrounding surface land and historical claim remnants, the actual underground mine openings and broader surrounding lands are administered by the United States Forest Service (USFS) as part of the National Forest system.
Just a couple of miles we turned off US Hwy 550 onto County Road 20D, the old Ironton Main Street--a narrow dirt-and-gravel road lined with firs and tall aspens.
The drive is short before the trees open into a parking area beside an interpretive sign marking the town.
The sky threatened rain, and clouds had dimmed the bright afternoon sun.
We park and climbed out of the Jeep. As we walked toward the town marker, a light drizzle began.
Immediately, I felt as thought I were walking where people had walked more than a hundred years ago.
The remaining buildings stood like silent sentinels, as though waiting to tell their stories.
The rain wasn't enough to deter our adventure, so we continue through the trees. Soon the moisture made the aspen leaves greener, the weathered wood darker, and the mountain air crisper.
It was an unexpected treat.
The thick aspens shielded much of nearby U.S. Highway 550 from view and softened its sound, although the distant hum of traffic occasionally followed us through the townsite.
I loved peering into the old houses and wondering who had lived there.
Who cooked in that room?
Where did the children sleep?
Who stood at that window watching snow fall?
About a dozen historic structures and ruins remain around the southern portion of the Ironton Townsite, including three surviving two-story houses now protected through preservation efforts.
Tucked among the aspens, they seem to quietly prove they were here first.
So far, I think Ironton is my favorite of the ghost towns we've visited.
The surviving buildings make its history feel more personal. Standing among towering aspens, overgrown brush and abandoned structures, I tried to replace what I was seeing with what once existed here.
I imagined graded streets.
Wagons filled with supplies.
Mules moving through town.
Women walking along plank sidewalks.
Children hurrying toward the schoolhouse.
Two trains arriving every day.
A bookstore.
A town.
Then I followed the sound of Red Mountain Creek as its water moved over the rocks.
Nearby, a small cabin had collapsed only a short distance from the creek.
That's where I would have wanted to live.
During summer, the sound of flowing water would have been a perfect way to fall asleep. Even during winter, when mountain air becomes still and sounds seem amplified, I imagine the creek would have provided a constant, grounding presence.
WHAT SURPRISED ME MOST?
After seeing historical photographs of Ironton, I expected to find a broad, open townsite.
Instead, many of the remaining structures are tucked into a beautiful grove of aspen.
Of the recent mining towns we've explored, this was by far my favorite.
For a brief moment, walking among the trees and weathered buildings, I thought:
Maybe, I could have lived here.
Then I remembered that the peaceful Ironton I was enjoying bears little resemblance to the noisy crowded boomtown of the late 1800s.
Something else surprised me--the sophistication of the town.
A bookstore.
Churches.
A school.
Restaurants and stores where residents could obtain everyday necessities.
A waterworks system.
And then there is one of my favorite historical photographs from Ironton: The 1886 pawnbrokers B. Ware and I. Steele.
Yes, apparently even in a rugged Colorado mining town, someone still had a sense of humor and a cool dog.
Those small details make Ironton feel less like an abandoned collection of buildings and more like what it really was.
A community.
Standing there more than a century later, it was strange and wonderful to imagine it.
BEFORE YOU GO
Weather can change quickly at this elevation, so check conditions before leaving.
U.S. Highway 550 is paved. County Road 20D through the townsite is unpaved, and conditions can vary with weather, runoff and maintenance. We traveled it comfortably in our Jeep, but road conditions should always be checked before traveling into the high country..
At approximately 9,800 feet, visitors who are not accustomed to high elevation may find even walking more tiring than expected. The townsite itself is relatively flat, and several of the surviving structures can be seen without walking far from your vehicle.
Best time to visit: Generally mid-to late summer into early fall, depending on snow and road conditions.
Map your route before leaving because cell service is unreliable in the mountains.
Respect all private-property boundaries, posted restrictions and environmental restoration areas.
Do NOT remove artifacts or objects from historic sites.
For your safety and the preservation of the buildings, do not enter or climb on unstable structures.
Take only pictures . Leave only footprints.
THEN AND NOW
Not sure if this is the same house. It could be.
WHAT DID IRONTON LEAVE BEHIND?
Perhaps Ironton left only another chapter in Colorado's booming mining era and its devastating decline.
Maybe.
But Ironton left us more.
It left evidence of a community—streets, homes, churches, a school and a few buildings still standing among the aspens.
It left scars on the land as well, reminders that the wealth taken from these mountains came with an environmental cost that continues to be addressed today.
Most of all, Ironton proved that people could carve out a community and make a home in one of the most unforgiving landscapes imaginable.
Its location and infrastructure helped it survive long after the first silver boom ended.
And even when almost everyone else was gone, Ironton held onto one final resident.
What makes someone remain decades after everyone else has left?
The phrase I found to describe Milton and Harry Larson was that they were stubbornly rooted to the valley floor.
After visiting Ironton, I think I understand that a little better.
Milton had endured the brutal Red Mountain winters and watched the town around him slowly disappear. Yet, Ironton remained an integral part of his life.
Where else would he go? I can imagine him thinking:
This is my home. This is what I know. I like it here. Why should I leave?
He wasn't completely isolated. He traveled to surrounding towns for groceries and other necessities and welcomed the occasional visitors who found their way to Ironton.
But staying there alone required something.
Grit.
I'm reminded of movie, True Grit, filmed in the nearby Ridgway and Ouray area.
Mr. Larson must have possessed his own version of it to remain after everyone else had gone.
And after walking through Ironton myself, I confess that I'm a little envious of him.
Brown Mountain rises above the valley. Red Mountain dominates the landscape to the south. Aspens and evergreens cover the surrounding slopes, and Red Mountain Creek winds nearby.
He lived in an extraordinarily beautiful place.
More importantly, it was his place.
His home.
Perhaps that is the answer to Ironton's question.
Milton Larson wasn't stubbornly refusing to leave an abandoned town.
He was simply refusing to leave home.
LEARN MORE
NEXT STOP: CAMP BIRD
Where we will try to answer Camp Bird's question:
What happens when one man's gold strike changes more than his own fortune?
Thank you for reading.
May God abundantly bless you and may He always keep you.
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