(mysterious music) - You just like, clap. Okay, three, two, one. So take me back to how this all began. Like, what inspired this? - I asked myself that a lot. (mysterious music) - I feel like every man at one point in his life, 

fantasizes about giving everything up, heading into the wilderness and trying to survive with nothing but his wits and his own two hands. But it's rare that you actually get to meet a man who has done just that. In 2019, Brent Underwood took his entire life savings 

and bought an abandoned ghost town called Cerro Gordo in the deserts of California. He's been living there ever since. I drove out to his ghost town because I wanted to know how does living alone for years affect you? Has he found peace, purpose, 

or has he just lost his mind? (exhilarating music) Come on, come on. Come and get it. - I'll entertain myself for hours trying to catch the chicken 'cause one of the white ones likes to be caught. 

When they run out of food, they start eating clothes. - Uh-oh. Take it. You're a hungry girl, come on. (bright music) - I remember I was at the bottom of the hill and the realtor just handed me this set of keys 

that had like 45 keys on it and he was just like, "Good luck." (both laugh) And so I was still living in Austin. I would come out here for the weekend, try to do whatever I could and that really wasn't doing anything. 

It was kinda like a fun hobby
almost to be like, oh yeah, let's go to the ghost town for the week. But it was, nothing was really happening. It wasn't progressing. All right, welcome to my crib. And then March, 2020, you know, pandemic.

Everybody's looking to where they're gonna socially distance. So I thought, what better
place than, you know, an abandoned mining town
in the middle of nowhere? And so I moved out here in
March of 2020 thinking I'll stay a week, I'll
stay two weeks, you know?

And then now 4 1/2
years later, still here. - What was your original expectation for the experience here? - I wanted something like different that I think like
challenged me a little bit. There was always this like
kind of inkling feeling

that I could be doing something more, which is probably something
that a lot of people feel. You know, like there
must be more out there. You know, that type of feeling. I see my objective as bringing
a dead town back to life.

And you know, things that
are dead, like to stay dead. It's pretty hard to bring them back. It's like way harder than
I ever thought it could be. It's way more challenging,
like mentally, physically, even existing up here is hard.

Spiritually, every category
you wanna put it in has been harder than I
thought it was going to be. But I think it's like a worthy cause. - I mean, it seems like
you're kind of a steward now of this town's story and its history

and all the people who lived here. Do you feel responsibility for that? Does that feel very meaningful? - Yeah, it feels really meaningful. Like there's nowhere else I would rather be. You know, I could be other places, but I just really enjoy being up here.

I like the things that I've grown into loving, if that makes sense. Like the new skills, the hobbies, the different things that I've been doing up here. (gentle music) - [Host] There is a long American tradition

of young men leaving the constraints of society in venturing into the unknown. Throughout US history, this impulse had both practical and romantic components to it. Practically, there was wealth and opportunity across the American continent. Cerro Gordo itself was founded in 1865

after silver was discovered in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Thousands of people flooded into this small valley hoping to find their fortune. Around the same time that this was happening, a young author named Henry David Thoreau

ventured into the woods near Walden Pond in Massachusetts. For two years, he lived in isolation in nature. His book "Walden" extolled the virtues of removing oneself from society, claiming that freedom can only truly be known when one is free

of social constraints. But as I spent time with Brent, neither of these two explanations seemed to really apply to him. On the one hand, he had lost a small fortune on Cerro Gordo. On the other, I detected no romanticism in his isolation.

On the contrary, it just
kind of made him seem a little bit weird. - The minds are really
important to understand and the more that I understand them, the more I can kind of
like walk in the shadows of where the miner used to be.

I feel like the more connected to something larger than just my time. And I think that like that connection to something larger is something that I was probably looking
for without knowing it. I think coming into the project, - [Host] How the hell did
you get this out here?

- Slowly, slowly, slowly. Just dragged it inch by inch. This is one of the first things I did. - [Host] You got your snow. - I celebrated Christmas
back here one year, which is terribly sad when
I say it out loud, you know?

(both laugh) - Do you ever like reach the point where you feel like you're
going to crazy town when you start talking to
people who aren't there and? - Yeah, there was a time,
this was early in my time here

that I got real into the two crows that live here called Heckle
and Jeckle in my mind. I got real into like dumping on them whatever I was going through. And so it's like, and then
at that point in time,

I was like really letting the
beer grow out too, you know? So it was like full beer
talking to crows, you know? And a friend of mine actually called me and I was like, "Oh, I haven't seen
Heckle and Jeckle today."

He's like, "What are you talking about?" And I kind of like zoomed it out, you know, where it's like my days had revolved around conversations with birds. (country music) - So I'm curious, like how has your relationship

with like loneliness and isolation changed? - I mean, it's changed even a lot since the four years I was here. You know, when I first got here I was very much by myself. You know, trying to figure it out.

But I think I felt less lonely because again, this was during the pandemic, March 2020, and so I felt like all of my friends aren't hanging out with anybody, so I'm not missing out on much. I think as the world opened up a little bit,

I was more aware of that loneliness. - [Host] And has your threshold for loneliness expanded? - Yeah. Loneliness, it's a dangerous feeling 'cause it can be addictive, you know. It's almost like there's nobody else bothering you,

I guess is the right word to describe it. And so it's just like I have the freedom of my days to do whatever I want to think about whatever I want. - You get like intoxicated by that privilege? - Yeah.

- Just like never having to deal with anybody's shit. - It's a bit of a selfish feeling, but it's like it's intoxicating. (country music) - A lot of people like romanticize getting out, going out

to the desert or the
woods or the mountains and just leaving everything behind. - It's escapism. I think that's like a
big appeal of the idea of like a lone man in the wilderness. Is that like all of my
problems will be left

behind wherever I leave them
and I'll go to the woods and they won't follow me. Maybe for the first day you're like, "Wow, you know, like my
phone's not ringing." The same anxiety, the same stress,

the same issues still exist. Running to any mountaintop is not gonna necessarily
solve your problem. - [Host] Brent took me deep
into the old silver mines. He had filled it with
furniture, books, beds, even a putting green.

- Yeah, this might not seem like much, but this took a decent amount of time. - This is... - To create back here. It's the rocks. - Rocks. - Totally, the rocks.
- The rocks. - He went on to tell me that he spent most

of the first year in Cerro Gordo exploring the nearly 30 miles worth of
tunnels underneath the town. Like a proverbial monk in a cave, he often sat alone in his mind
reading books by flashlight. Something about the darkness

and simplicity seemed to calm him. As for me, by the end of the
first day at Cerro Gordo. I could feel the boredom setting in. Aside from shooting this video, there was, well, not a
whole lot to do, woo.

- [Both] Oh. - [Host] The entire town consists of maybe half a dozen buildings and a couple of shacks. You can walk it end-to-end in less than two minutes. And I did walk it multiple times.

Sure, the mines are really cool and the views are stunning, and you can kind of zen out in the desert for a while. But I'm sad to report that my dopamine-fueled monkey brain did not find peace or solace among the rocks and the dirt.

I mostly just found boredom. So I don't know about you, but sleeping in a 150-year-old abandoned ghost town gives me the creeps. There's a lot of sounds going on, creaking, weird stuff outside.

Fortunately, this video is sponsored by Ozlo Sleepbuds. And these guys are perfect for the situation. These sleepbuds are super high quality, really comfortable. You don't even notice that they're in your ear while you sleep.

And the coolest thing is that you can play all sorts of different background noises. You can play white noise, you can have raindrops, wind blowing, nature sounds, or you can play music while you sleep. People don't realize that there is a massive amount

of research behind sleep quality and just general quality of life. It's one of the easiest things you can do to improve both your physical health and your mental health. That's why I always make sure to sleep with an eye mask and some form of earplug.

These things are super high quality. They come in a beautiful case and they were crowdfunded by their own customers on Indiegogo. So I'm super grateful they sent me a case. They're really cool. I enjoy sleeping with them.

Check them out. Link is in the description. Time for me to go to bed. (gentle music) The next morning, Brent told me that he wanted to show me something. He said he thought that I would appreciate it.

So what is this exactly? - This is one of my favorite places in the desert. This is Burro Schmidt Tunnel, a tunnel that he dug by hand over the course of 38 years to go through the mountain that we just came around.

- In 1906, William Burro Schmidt began digging a tunnel through the El Paso Mountains by hand. His goal was to provide an easier route for the mines to reach the coast through the mountains. After digging for 14 years, in 1920, a road was built

around the mountains immediately rendering Schmidt's Tunnel useless. Yet, he continued digging. 38 years after beginning, Schmidt finally finished his tunnel. The tunnel was 760 meters long and all he had moved over 5,000 tons of rock with nothing

but a pick, a shovel, and a wheelbarrow. Did he ever say why? - No, I guess pretty much the day after he finished, he kinda just packed up his stuff and left after 38 years of work, or was ever sent through the mountain.

- [Host] There's like a weird
admiration for the principle of like, "I started digging this tunnel, I'm gonna finish it
even if it has no use." - In my opinion, it wasn't
really about the transportation, 

it was about finding a purpose. - As I stood there staring into the void of Schmidt's Tunnel,
I thought of Sisyphus. In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was an evil king
who the gods condemned to roll a boulder up a
hill for all of eternity. 

Each time the boulder got
to the top of the hill, it would roll back down to the bottom and he would have to start over. In his classic essay,
the Myth of Sisyphus, the existential philosopher Camus argued that in effect, we are all
rolling our proverbial boulders 

up meaningless hills. That all human action is
ultimately empty in the face of an indifferent universe. That there is no predetermined
point to existence only what we make of it. Instead, Camus encouraged
us to create our own meaning by engaging passionately
with our boulders, 

embracing experiences and
struggles for their own sake and not any ultimate goal. Purpose was not found. Rather, it was invented. I couldn't help but see Burro Schmidt as a modern day Sisyphus. Despite spending his entire life 

digging a useless tunnel to nowhere, that tunnel gave his
life a sense of purpose, and ironically, 100 years later, he's still remembered for it. (gentle music) After you, sir. (gentle music) When was the moment you realized 

that this was a lifelong commitment? - Probably a couple of days
after we lost the hotel. The hotel was kind of central
to plans for the whole town. It was like my hopes, dreams, life savings literally all
encompassed in one building.

and it burned down in an electrical
fire in the summer of 2020. (somber music) It's a town that means a
lot to a lot of people. We're gonna need a lot of help. (somber music)

It's kinda like one of those moments where I was on that path
towards this could be it, and then, it disappeared in some ways. And so then it was either
abandon ship, you know, which probably would've
been the easier mode

or like double down and commit that like,
this definitely is it. - The philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard wrote in his seminal book, "Fear and Trembling" that
we are all confronted with a moment in our lives where we must give ourselves
over completely to something.

This surrender to some greater
cause or movement or person or religion or place, it's not only necessary
to give our lives a sense of meaning and purpose, but deep down we all crave
to surrender ourselves. Kierkegaard wrote that surrendering

to something will always appear
irrational on the surface and often it will initially feel wrong. As a result, finding meaning or purpose requires a leap of faith, a willingness to give
yourself over to the absurdity of something without knowing
if it will ever be worth it.

This leap of faith, because it's inherently irrational, brings buckets of anxiety along with it. In fact, this anxiety is usually what prevents people from finding meaning in their lives as they are always too skeptical or afraid to wholly give themselves over to something.

In many ways, the more irrational and absurd the commitment, the better because the more irreversible it becomes once you make it. In this sense, dramatic gestures like dropping everything and moving to the desert, attempting to build a ghost town and then dedicating one's life savings

to the work is not only emotionally necessary, but actually helpful in the sense that there's no way back. (somber music) Do you think that no way back moment is necessary to feel that sense of purpose? - For me it was.

I think it's too comfortable otherwise. Like for me, I had a comfortable life living in Austin, Texas. I had a nice apartment and a lot of good friends. And I think I needed that like burn the boats moment to like fully commit to it.

Just kind of accepting it that this was going to be it. And so finally kind of committing to it. It was nice. It was just like, okay, I don't have to worry about that part of the equation now. I'll have plenty of other worries.

And so yeah, I think whatever it took for me to get to that leap, and in this case, it was a pretty traumatic experience. I'm glad that I kind of eventually got there. - What Brent is referring to is the freedom found in commitment.

Another way to think about it is that freedom is not the
freedom to do whatever you want. It's actually the ability
to not be distracted by the things you don't want. So is the lesson of Cerro Gordo, the freedom in giving up alternatives?

- I think that's a big part of it. There's comfort that comes with
the commitment to something, and so I think that like for me at least, it's been probably the
most rewarding four years of my life, finally
committing to something

and feeling like, "Hey, this is it." - [Host] The more time I spent with him, the more I couldn't shake the feeling that Brent was in a way,
kind of like Burro Schmidt. Here was a man who sat out

upon a seemingly impossible
and borderline absurd task. Revitalize a ghost town
in the middle of nowhere. The project would likely
take decades and for what? For what gain? On the one hand, it
was kind of impressive. Brent had developed a dizzying level

of arcane knowledge about silver mining, 19th century Californian history, and even the chemistry of
dynamite and smelting ore. - It's all zinc that's been
pulled out of the solution. That dial is how deep
they are underground.

Pools were air powered. And they would just stack
them out of the way. They would look for what's called float. They stopped using
square nails around 1900. 200, 400, 500, 700. Dynamite legally had to
be behind two latch doors.

Blue smithsonite is almost
like a gemstone these days. - [Host] But on the other
hand, this knowledge served no real utility or purpose in 2024. It was like digging a tunnel that a road had already been built around.

But I can't knock Brent because after all, am I so different? Most of the things I spend my time on probably won't matter decades from now. Yet, I still love doing them anyway. In the end, Brent found the
boulder that he's happy pushing.

Have you? (exhilarating music) (wind blowing)

Life Lessons from Living Alone in a Ghost Town

#1 NY Times Bestselling Author. World Champion Non-Fuck-Giver.

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Life Lessons from Living Alone in a Ghost Town

Life Lessons from Living Alone in a Ghost Town

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