When I was a kid the town of Washout was a thriving commercial place. The forestry used the railway as a means of transporting the logs to the mills on the coast.
But with the forests decimated over the years the town had died along with the industry that sustained it for so long.
Years later I came back on a cycling tour with mixed feelings as to what I might find.
Apart its dilapidated appearance it was exactly as I remembered it. The shops behind the warehouses were still there, the facades still visible despite the ravages of time.
The little cottage seen in the photo housed the stationmaster and was also a boarding house for the drivers and guards who drove the trains up the mountain to Washout, the end of the line.
I wandered around the old town, memories flooding back of the characters, the mates I had, the games we played all now consigned to history.
Written for: http://caveofscribes.starvingactivist.com/2015/09/14/scribes-cave-picture-prompt-83/
Morpethroad 
A simple yet excellent take on the prompt, Michael.
Thank you Lyn you are very kind….
A nice story Michael going down memory lane.
Thank you Jenny, yes the good old days.
Very good response, Michael. Nostalgia should carry with it a hint of sadness, if the memories were fond.
Thanks Keith, I appreciate you stopping by.
Happened to so many places and towns..great post.
Thank you so much, glad to see you stop by.
Great to see the beauty in time’s past, Michael. Loved it!