Trona is a tiny mining town in the Mojave Desert north of Los Angeles. It is the shadow of a bygone era, and of an industry in decline. It is hot and dry, the air smells of sulphur, and the landscape is largely devoid of color. There aren't many people, either.
The American Trona Company established the town in 1914 and named it for the substance it mined (along with many other valuable minerals) from the nearby Searles Lake. Construction boomed and Trona eventually boasted houses, schools, a movie theater and a golf course. It even had its own currency called Trona money. It didn't last, and the mine (and town) changed hands several times over the years. At one point, more than 6,000 people lived in Trona, but as its fortunes dwindled, so too did its population. Today there are fewer than 2,000 people there.
Scottish photographer Ewan Telford grew fascinated by the place wanted to photograph the people who still live in "the Siberia of the high desert." "The backdrop of that story was deepened interest for me,” he says.
Telford got wind of Trona a decade ago while working on a short film in the Mojave. The production moved on without shooting there, but Telford got to know some of the locals and came to love the stunning, remote landscape about 160 miles north of LA. "It was a striking place and I’ve always resolved to go back there,” he says.
That didn't happen until June, 2014, and he visited six times over the next year. Telford documented what is left of Trona---the Searles Valley Minerals plant, churches, the local lodge, and more. He used a film in a Pentax 67 and Mamiya 7 which perfectly capture the gritty, dusty landscape in and around the town.
Telford rose early to catch the best light and avoid the heat, which can top 100 degrees Fahrenheit. It isn't always so hot, though, and the temperature can swing 30 degrees between dawn and mid-day during more temperate times of year. "In the morning you’re all wrapped up in your scarf and hat and wooly gloves because it’s freezing cold and within a couple hours you're in a T-shirt," he says.
Beyond shooting landscapes, Telford wandered around looking for interesting people. He didn’t have much of a plan and often whiled away time sitting in a bar or café chatting up locals. He photographed a variety of Trona's folks aged 10 to 70. Most of them had an emotional attachment to the town and its desolate locale. You may see a wasteland. They see home. "They have affection for it," he says. "They feel comfortable and they don't have any particular judgment to make one way or another.”
