October 16, 2019. Old Colorado City. We got a late start today, so we drove the twenty miles to Old Colorado City, which is on the west side of Colorado Springs, in the shadow of Pike's Peak. OCC began as a provisioning settlement during the 1859 Pike's Peak Gold Rush. It is now a shopping district featuring art galleries, boutiques, restaurants and tourist shops.
OCC was briefly the capitol of the Colorado Territory in 1862. The legislature met for five days in the old log cabin shown above. The accommodations were so inadequate that the legislators moved to Denver which, of course, became the territorial capitol and later the state capital.
Typical of a mining town, OCC was a pretty rough place to live in the late 1800s. It had saloons, gambling establishments, bordellos and opium dens. After being annexed by Colorado Springs, most of the sin parlors were wiped out, many by fires of suspicious origin.
In addition to gold mining, there were over 50 coal mines in the area. In the 1890s, there was another gold strike in Cripple Creek. OCC became prosperous again as a gold processing hub.
Today, OCC is both a community and a tourist attraction. Several of the homes we looked at while preparing for our stay here are in Old Colorado City. However, most of the homes there are remodeled relics more than 100 years old. Well, there is one tiny house shown above. I don't think I could turn around in it.
There are a couple of hidden images in the windows of the buildings in the pictures. See if you can find them. Hint: one is a lurker spying on his neighbors across the street. Another is a strikingly handsome couple crossing the street.
Tomorrow is another day under the crystal blue skies of Colorado. We've decided that October is a good month to spend time here.
Goodnight.
October 15, 2019. Dillon, Fairplay, Middleton Cabin and Colorado Springs. I know, I know, it has been several days since I've checked in with you. I can explain. We didn't do anything other than walking along the lake. You have seen most of the sights on that trail, although I have added a few more today not because they are novel or new. Rather, I have included them because they are interesting or depict beauty in nature. One shows aspen leaves without their golden hue after the snow last week.
We pulled out of Dillon this morning. The fastest route to Colorado Springs is via I-70 and I-25. I eschewed the interstates and took the blue highways to the Springs. Our oldest daughter suggested we spend some time in Fairplay. It is another of those quaint mining towns which has preserved much of its history. The legacy of independence exhibited by miners a century and a half ago continues today. One of the photos above shows teachers marching and protesting for higher pay.
On our first trip to Colorado in 1974 we spent several nights at the Middleton cabin near Divide. Our travels took us by there today. Fred and Anna will recognize it, although it has been enlarged. I wonder if the cabin is still in the Middleton family? A trailer has been added to the site. I didn't show you that. It detracts from the serenity of the cabin site. Look carefully and you'll spot the outhouse on the left side of the picture. In 1974 we carried buckets of water from the creek, used kerosene lanterns and meditated in the outhouse. I guess a lot can change in 45 years.
Goodnight.
October 11, 2019. Snow, Cold, Calamity and Beauty. We didn't receive the six inches of snow predicted by the weather lady. It began snowing yesterday afternoon, stopped, then restarted last night My guess is that there was 1-2 inches on the ground early this morning, not really enough to snowshoe in. That's good. We don't have snowshoes.
The temperature dipped to one degree overnight. It truly felt like skiing weather when I stepped onto the deck at dawn this morning to shoot some pictures of the lake. I took several as the day brightened. I like the one with steam rising from the lake. I'm not sure how that happens, but it makes an interesting picture.
As I settled in with a cup of coffee to check the morning news and emails, I found one from my auto insurance carrier telling me that my auto insurance had been cancelled for nonpayment of the premium. What! Here I am, 900 miles from home with no insurance on the car!! I can't even drive to the grocery store legally. I could imagine the condo owner dropping by the condo in 6-8 weeks, finding our starved, emaciated and skeletonal corpses. Worse, it would be several hours before the agent's office opened.
So, I waited, skipping breakfast to preserve the few humble bits of food we have left. At 8:00 AM, I called my office to see if the bill had come after we left home. No, there was no bill from the insurance company in my in-box. I then called the insurance agent. It turns out that the insurance company had sent the bill to our residence where we get no mail. All our mail comes to the office. Why, I asked. For 20 years, the bill came to me at the office. She wasn't sure. The company had made some recent changes in billing addresses and she didn't know why.
I asked her the amount of the bill and I asked her to send our current insurance cards to me electronically. She said she would and she did. I payed the bill online and woke Annie so we could go to the grocery store. Starvation was too real for me and I wanted to lay in food supplies in the event of another calamity, natural or the result of a mistake by one of my creditors.
We dressed to ward off the cold and went to Office Max to print the insurance card from my phone. We were near the Outlet Mall and thought it a good idea to take our daily walk there so we could duck into a store if the weather got too brutal. While walking I took several pictures of the snow-covered mountains surrounding Dillon.
There, you have it; Snow, cold, calamity and beauty. It has been a full day. And, now that I have told you about it, as press secretary C. J. Cregg used to say on The West Wing television show, it's a full lid.
Goodnight.
October 9, 2019. Aspen, Independence Pass and Leadville. We’ve been to Aspen several times over the years. Aspen was, of course, the home of John Denver, one of our favorite recording artists. Years ago, Annie and I tried to find his home for a drive-by photo. The home, Starwood in Aspen, his sweet Rocky Mountain Paradise, is in a gated residential area. We were turned back at the gate despite my humming Annie’s Song to the guard. The guard was obviously no respecter of talent.
In the heart of town is the John Denver Sanctuary. It is in a sheltered and secluded acreage along side the Roaring Fork River. The sanctuary is landscaped with boulders, flowers, grass and large stone carvings of his song lyrics along with quotes from other notables including Helen Keller, Albert Einstein and Jacques Cousteau. Walking paths take visitors through the sanctuary. We spent most of an hour reflecting on his poetry and thinking of the times we listened to his music on road trips. It was a moving experience.
There is a visitors center adjacent to the sanctuary. We stopped there for directions. The nice lady there walked us out the front door and pointed to a walking bridge over the river, no more than 100 yards distant. She told us that this is John Denver week in Aspen, that fans from all over the world were in Aspen in tribute to the singer. With that knowledge we were surprised that the sanctuary wasn’t teaming with people. There were, perhaps, twenty there. I saw one sixty-ish woman, attended by another younger woman, maybe a daughter, sobbing at the lyrics to Annie’s Song carved in a massive stone. I suggested to Annie that the area should be renamed “Trail of Tears.”
We drove around Aspen a bit. It was founded in 1879 as the town of Ute, named after native Americans who inhabited the area. It was another mining town, with huge silver deposits. It grew to 15,000 residents before the silver crash in the 1890s. The population is now 7300 and it is known as a favorite of celebrities which has driven real estate prices beyond the reach of many of the workers there.
Independence Pass is accessed by a narrow and winding Highway 82. Annie Farkley did not like the drive. The passenger side of our car was the one nearest the guard rails protecting her from the steep canyons. She was constantly raising and lowering her left hand signaling me to slow down. She was critical of my choice of routes, my driving and my constant chortling at her uneasiness.
We drove through Leadville without stopping. I like Leadville. I like the thin air, the history and the sturdiness of the people. I asked Annie if she wanted to live in Leadville. She said she did not. It is too close to Independence Pass and she has no desire to go that way again.
Snow tomorrow, maybe. I’ll let you know.
Goodnight.
