Tombstone’s Helldorado Days
The way to Tombstone, AZ can feel like a wagon trail that happens to be paved. Passing through small, dusty towns that aren’t much more than stage coach stops, a place to get some grub, put up your boots, feed your steel horse and get back on the trail. For those of us who watched too many westerns, this is the way of the west. Whether you’re pushing cattle, prospecting for precious metals, running from the law, endlessly searching for a homestead or riding to the next cold beer, we are always trying to get somewhere else. Just passing through, gone before the dust settles. The West is less a place and more a state of mind. It embodies wanderlust, adventure, independence. Not much more needed than our ride, big black boots, and shoulders covered in well-worn leather. It is freedom. And for three days and nights in the third weekend of October for the last 96 years, it is Helldorado Days.
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