June 3, 2012, Leadville and Molly Brown Campground.

June 3, 2012, Leadville and Molly Brown Campground. We have struggled with deciding whether to stay in the west or drive back to Lake Michigan, particularly Door County. We didn’t quite get enough while we were there and were forced to leave so I could get to a meeting in Estes Park. The meeting in Estes was cancelled, but I had told Judge Wright I would bring him pictures from Haigler, so we felt committed to come west. Annie is afraid that she will grow tired of the mountains. When we come back in July, it will be our third trip in three months.

I was ambivalent about staying or going east. She was, too. So, we vacillated one way, then the other. We even flipped a coin. The coin toss came up in favor of gong back east. However, this morning, we left our camp site in loop A and drove through loop B. We found a perfect camp site on the lake. From the back window of Harvey, we see Turquoise Lake, shrouded by snow covered mountains on three sides. It is a perfect camp site. So, we reserved it for the next two nights and abandoned any thought of force-marching 1100 miles back to Door County. But, it was a close call.

From here, we will probably move north to the west side of Rocky Mountain National Park, near Grand Lake. After that, who knows. Annie is beginning to believe we need some structure to our lives, that we need someone to take charge and tell us what to do and where to go. That someone is usually me, but listen, I am on senior status. Besides, I have mellowed in my seniority.

We had lunch in town at the Tennessee Pass Café. It is in a purple and green building. The server was in her twenties, with a full sleeve of tattoos and a tongue stud. The food was delicious. Annie asked about the soup of the day. The server said the chef decided not to have soup today. Not a bad gig, opined Annie, “If you want to make soup, you do. If you don’t want to make soup, you don’t.” It was reminiscent of the all-powerful Soup Nazi on the Seinfeld television show.

We wandered about Leadville after lunch, taking pictures of the colorful buildings and homes. The locals are unusual. They march to the beat of a different drum. Beards, hats, overalls, jeans, long hair, body ornaments all abound. Leadville, once a rich mining town, struggles to survive as a tourist attraction. The colorfully decorated homes and buildings feed the desire to see something different.

Fortunes were made and lost here. Molly Brown, once wealthy, lived comfortably in her last years, but certainly not lavishly. Baby Doe Tabor, fifteen years younger than her wealthy, but married, lover later married him after his wife finally consented to a divorce. He lost his fortune because of poor investments, became a postmaster and died a year later. Baby Doe lost the Matchless Mine because of unpaid debts. The new owners graciously allowed her to live in the shack at the mine. There, in 1935, she died of exposure and her remains were found frozen to the dirt floor of the shack.

One of the reasons I like Leadville is that it is one of the highest communities in the country. At 10,200 feet above sea level, it is a mile higher than the Mile-High City. There isn’t a lot of oxygen at this altitude. We walked along the lake tonight along a level trail. I was happy that it didn’t have a lot of hills along the way. I am afraid I would have been huffing and puffing.