I grew up in Fairfield, watched it go away and become a memory. Today, boaters slither to and fro, perhaps knowing a town once was there. Perhaps not. In any event, they don't care. Maybe none of us should care.

My mother and step-dad took these photos a few years before they left the valley. They were the last to go. Why they took these pictures may strike you as odd. Knowing them, however, they may have sensed that someday, somebody would want to see Fairfield.

Open a door to the past and step into a town that died and left no obituary.

Until now. So, click on the bridge and visit some old friends. (Toot your horn once.)