1996--Colorado Mountains
Prologue----Wednesday, July 17, 1996
It has been two years since we took our cross-country vacation to Kentucky. That vacation was supposed to have included my Dad. We were going to spend several days in his boyhood home (Ashland, KY), and visit all the family there. But, Dad could not be talked into going. Ever since he had retired from the Air Force he claimed he had done all the traveling he wanted, and then some. He was not going to go for any reason. Period. Stop asking. But once we returned from his hometown and Mom had filled him in on all of the sights we had seen, he softened a bit. I have no recollection of how it happened, or who even broached the subject. But, somehow Mom, Dad, and my family are all going on a Colorado vacation for 1996.
I think the biggest reasons we were able to convince Dad was that we weren’t leaving the state and that this trip would only be a long weekend. The next two reasons had to do with guilt and what the state of Colorado had to offer. Because Dad doesn’t like to travel, he and Mom rarely take a vacation. Unless you want to count going back to Kentucky when his sister passed away. Not exactly an invitation for fun. But, maybe the deciding factor was the itinerary I had planned.
On our first day, we would drive to Glenwood Springs, which is the home not only to the most well-known hot springs in the state but also to the final resting place of the western icon, Doc Holliday. Day one would conclude with a long, but scenic drive to Durango, CO. Day Two would be spent in Durango riding an old steam train to Silverton, CO. Day Three has us driving to the Canon City area to visit an Old West theme town called Buckskin Joe, and the Royal Gorge. Our final day has us in Colorado Springs visiting a museum, the Rodeo Hall of Fame, and then a chuckwagon dinner at the Flying W Ranch.
Dad and I share similar interests concerning the Old West and all things cowboy. I was looking forward to not only showing him these things he had never experienced, but to show him how well his son could plan a trip. I couldn’t wait.
I think the biggest reasons we were able to convince Dad was that we weren’t leaving the state and that this trip would only be a long weekend. The next two reasons had to do with guilt and what the state of Colorado had to offer. Because Dad doesn’t like to travel, he and Mom rarely take a vacation. Unless you want to count going back to Kentucky when his sister passed away. Not exactly an invitation for fun. But, maybe the deciding factor was the itinerary I had planned.
On our first day, we would drive to Glenwood Springs, which is the home not only to the most well-known hot springs in the state but also to the final resting place of the western icon, Doc Holliday. Day one would conclude with a long, but scenic drive to Durango, CO. Day Two would be spent in Durango riding an old steam train to Silverton, CO. Day Three has us driving to the Canon City area to visit an Old West theme town called Buckskin Joe, and the Royal Gorge. Our final day has us in Colorado Springs visiting a museum, the Rodeo Hall of Fame, and then a chuckwagon dinner at the Flying W Ranch.
Dad and I share similar interests concerning the Old West and all things cowboy. I was looking forward to not only showing him these things he had never experienced, but to show him how well his son could plan a trip. I couldn’t wait.
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Day Two
Today was going to be a long day. I had eight hours worth of driving time, and five hours worth of time outside the car planned for today. Colorado is the 8th biggest state in the union at over 107,000 square miles. That’s a bit more than half the size of Spain. The nice part of this drive is nearly all of it would be in the mountains and valleys of my home state.
We were loaded up and on the road by 7 AM. It’s a little over three hours from Brighton to Glenwood Springs, so after a scenic drive in beautiful weather, we pulled into town at about 10:30 PM. We were going to spend 5 hours in Glenwood and had three things to see and do. Number one our list was to visit Doc Holliday.
Linwood Cemetery is located on the top of a mountain in the eastern part of town. The trailhead that starts the half-mile-long trail up to the top is located in a residential part of town. There is no parking lot, but there also isn’t much traffic or demand, most of the time. So we parked in front of someone’s house and started our upward trek. Dad had retired a couple of years ago and had recently been diagnosed with emphysema. It was in the early stages, but we were still a bit concerned about him making the trip up. He rested a few times, but my wife nearly discovered the hard way that one of those rest stops, was also to rescue a full bladder. She backtracked some yards after noticing Dad had fallen behind the pace. But careful shielding and quickness with the zipper that would have made Bill Clinton proud resulted in only the hint of what was going on. The rest of the walk-up was uneventful but offered some great views of the city and Glenwood Canyon.
Once we got to the top it wasn’t hard to find Doc Holiday’s grave. That statement comes with a caveat. Finding where his headstone is was pretty easy. Linwood Cemetery is pretty small and there were a couple of people already up top. It was a fair bet they were up on the mountain for the same reason. But, Holliday’s actual grave is a mystery. When Doc Holliday died of tuberculosis in the winter of 1887, the ground was frozen solid. So most accounts say he was buried at the foot of the mountain, with the promise to exhume and bury him up top in the spring. No one is sure if that happened. Again most accounts suggest it didn’t. One account I have read says that his family arranged to have his remains taken back to Georgia (Doc’s home state) for burial with his family. I found that account unconvincing and forced, so I figure he is buried under someone’s lawn, or at least somewhere in Glenwood.
Once we found the grave we took pictures and read the inscriptions. I then wandered around the graveyard, reading the various names and dates. Linwood has another semi-famous resident, Kid Curry. Kid Curry (real name Harvey Logan) was a member of the Wild Bunch, from Butch Cassidy/Sundance Kid fame. If you have seen the movie, his character was played by Ted Cassidy (Lurch from The Addams Family). He and Paul Newman (Butch) fought at the beginning. The on-screen discussion on the rules of that fight is very funny and sets the tone of the whole movie. Anyway, the real Logan was killed (actually shot himself when cornered) after robbing a train near Parachute, CO. He was buried in Linwood, but I wasn’t going to find that grave either. His grave was never marked.
While I was doing my wandering the others had found an old, rustic-looking tree, and a new, vaudeville-looking hat. The hat belonged to my youngest daughter, Jessi. With boredom leading them to silliness, Mom, Margo, Jolene, and Jessi all took turns vamping with the hat, leaning on the tree, with Doc Holliday’s stone in the background. With a camera nearby to preserve at least some of that for posterity, they kept themselves much more entertained than I was a few dozen feet away.
With frivolity documented and cemetery curiosity satisfied we were all more than ready for lunch. So we hiked back down the trail and got in our car. Our next stop was Doc Holliday’s Saloon, in downtown Glenwood. We were very hungry after a 3-hour drive and an hour walking up and down a mountain. I had web-scouted a likely place to eat called Doc Holliday’s Saloon and Restaurant. The combination restaurant with a very impressive antique bar was not around during Doc Holliday’s stay in Glenwood. But the building was. It was a mercantile store back then. The antique bar is over 125 years old and came from a bar in Leadville. Inside is kind of dark, with lots of dark wood and pictures of Doc and his contemporaries. We settled in and ordered. I remember ordering a hamburger and fries, my favorite vacation food (sue me), and recall it was very good. I believe they had buffalo on the menu as well. We all enjoyed both the food and the ambiance. After finishing up at the restaurant we promptly violated the Mother’s Prime Directive on Swimming.
We went directly to the Glenwood Hot Springs and completely neglected to wait an hour before we began to enjoy the water. Surely thunderbolts or cramps would come to claim us, but we relaxed in the water without negative consequences. There are two pools at the hot springs. Both are filled with water from the Yampah Hot Springs on site. Water comes out of the ground at 122 degrees and they add fresh water to bring the big (400 ft by 100 ft!) down to about 90 degrees. We saw people swimming laps and using the diving boards. They even had a water slide. It cost extra, but I think the girls had a few passed on that. We mostly just soaked, splashed, and floated in the big pool The small, therapy pool, is only cooled down to 104 degrees. I enjoyed this one. They have a filtration system and add chlorine, but you couldn’t tell. The water was clear but looked somewhat green (not algae). But there was no chlorine smell. The smell was definitely sulfurous. But, I suppose that is what gives it its magical healing powers. Yampah means “big medicine”. It was named by the Ute Indians who had used it for 100s of years. We only had time for about an hour. But, that was OK. An hour was plenty. We were fed, relaxed, and ready for our final five hours on the road.
I really wasn’t looking forward to this part of the trip. I just hate being cooped up in a car for long periods, no matter how pretty the scenery is. Actually, I have been very deficient in my description of our beautiful drive in the mountains to this point. Let’s press rewind, for a few seconds here. LaLaLaLa…Talk amongst yourselves for a second……Click. Stop. OK, here we are, back home and just getting ready to leave.
Brighton and Denver do not lie in the Colorado Mountains. Colorado is divided first into two halves; The Great Plains in the eastern third and the mountainous western make up the other two-thirds.
So for the first 45 minutes of our trip this early morning, we spent it watching the imposing Colorado western horizon rise to the sky. The city of Golden, home of Coors beer and the Colorado School of Mines marks the first place at which I felt I was definitely “in the mountains”. We had gotten onto I-70 in the heart of Denver and would continue on it until late this afternoon.
The wide-open spaces at either side have disappeared and now we were surrounded by peaks and valleys, with only the highway’s presence there to interrupt the pattern. The contrast of five minutes ago, with buildings and roads everywhere, to trees, plants, and the ever-present mountains is striking.
During this time we were treated to signs telling us that Buffalo Bill’s grave is up on Lookout Mountain, then a nice waterfall appears near Idaho Springs.
Soon I settled into a pattern of wondering what the next twist of the highway, crest of the hill, or descent into the valley would bring. Sometimes I was rewarded with a new perspective or sight. Often I would start to think that the view was starting to look more and more the same. Beautiful, but the same. But, I felt compelled to keep looking, because just as I was lulled to complacency, something would jump into view that had me staring until it was out of sight.
Sometime in our second hour on the road, we came upon the Eisenhower Tunnel. The Eisenhower Tunnel is two tunnels that carry four lanes of traffic through the Continental Divide. The Continental Divide is effectively the top of the mountains. From this point we would be mostly losing overall elevation as we traveled. At least until we got to Grand Junction late this afternoon. The Eisenhower Tunnel is at an average elevation of 11,112 feet. That makes it the highest tunnel in the world that vehicles travel through.
And as I-70, the major east-west interstate in Colorado passes through it, that means about 25,000 cars a day, on average, go through it.
Driving through a 1.7-mile tunnel is slightly unnerving. Most tunnels are over in just a two-Mississippi count. But, you are in the Eisenhower tunnel for about two minutes. I knew it was perfectly safe and had ventilation vents for exhaust, and walkways that would take you in, out, or between the tunnels. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder “What if something happens?” Of course, competing with this thought was the “How in the hell did they build this thing? It just goes on forever!” But about the time both of those thoughts had gotten in a few mental jabs, we exited into bright Colorado sunshine.
Once on the west side of the tunnel, we found ourselves in the heart of the Colorado ski country.
Ski areas with the names Loveland Basin, Keystone, Breckenridge, and Copper Mountain were marked one after another, although miles apart. Of course, during the summer, they just look like a mountain with trees strategically removed. After about 40 miles post-tunnel, we came upon the sign directing us to one of the two most famous Colorado ski areas; Vail. We wouldn’t be detouring here, but it did mark the two-thirds point of our journey to Glenwood Springs.
Another half hour of traveling saw us enter Glenwood Canyon. Named for our destination at the other end, it has some of the prettiest views of our I-70 journey. The ever-changing landscapes, and seemingly endless valleys, are breathtaking. About halfway into the canyon the Colorado River joined us, and began to run along the side of the highway.
It would be our companion until we left I-70.
This gets me all caught up. We cannot return to our regularly scheduled program.
Leaving Glenwood we passed Storm King Mountain. It is a few miles off the interstate and to be honest I was not positive which mountain it was. But, I knew about where it was. I knew this because the tragic fire of two years earlier was on my mind when planning this trip. The South Canyon fire, which killed 14 men, was the subject of a book and movie; Fire on the Mountain. To this day I can remember hearing the news on 850KOA. It happened around the Fourth of July holidays, and I remember wondering what could have possibly happened to have killed so many, so quickly. That turned out to be a very complicated story.
There is a monument there now, but we wouldn’t be stopping to see it. Next time
The mountains soon receded as we descended out of the canyon and into the Colorado River Valley. The valley here was very wide, with mountains all around, but at a fair distance. We passed the towns of Rifle and Parachute in the next 40 minutes. I discovered that in addition to being Kid Curry’s Waterloo, Parachute is the heart of the oil shale region of Colorado. I’d always wondered where that was. After 1 ½ hour of driving we pulled into Grand Junction, CO.
Grand Junction is the largest city on the western slope of Colorado and sits about 30 miles from the Utah border. This was going to be a good place to stretch our legs and get a quick bite to eat. It was already about 4:30 PM, and we still had about 3 ½ hours of driving to go. We grabbed a sandwich at a Subway station off the highway and then headed south on Highway 50.
With our south, more southeasterly, change of direction we were now climbing back into the mountains. Over the next hour, we passed through the towns of Whitewater, Delta, and Montrose. Forty minutes or so later we made it to the town of Ouray. Up until now, which was now after 6:30 PM, our drive had been scenic, but not challenging. But now we were about to climb up to Red Mountain Pass, using Highway 550.
Highway 550, from this point, and until we hit Silverton, is known as the Million Dollar Highway. This is a reflection on its cost; a million dollars per mile. Small change in today’s dollars, but when it was built 85 years ago, that was serious cash.
Many people have challenged that the “million dollar” moniker refers to its views. It’s hard to dispute that, but the driver, my dear wife, in our case, had better watch the road and not the view. The climb to Red Mountain Pass is marked by hairpin and “S” turns, cut right in the side of the mountain. The road is narrow and in some places, without guard rails. My mother does not like this at all. She says she always feels like the car is going to go off the side and tumble down the mountain. To compensate, she sits farther away from the car window and intrudes on the space in the middle. But, we had rented a minivan, so room was not a problem.
By the time we had cleared Red Mountain Pass and started down towards Silverton, we were starting to lose the sun. It can get dark sooner in the mountains, with those massive peaks blotting out the descending sun. This didn’t really make us anxious to drive, but it sucked not being able to see the view. It was still another hour until Durango. So by the time we pulled in, after 8:00 PM, it was dark. We were all very tired when we reached our hotel, The Budget Inn of Durango. We arrived, checked in, unloaded, and settled in for the night. Tomorrow we will ride The Silverton!
We were loaded up and on the road by 7 AM. It’s a little over three hours from Brighton to Glenwood Springs, so after a scenic drive in beautiful weather, we pulled into town at about 10:30 PM. We were going to spend 5 hours in Glenwood and had three things to see and do. Number one our list was to visit Doc Holliday.
Linwood Cemetery is located on the top of a mountain in the eastern part of town. The trailhead that starts the half-mile-long trail up to the top is located in a residential part of town. There is no parking lot, but there also isn’t much traffic or demand, most of the time. So we parked in front of someone’s house and started our upward trek. Dad had retired a couple of years ago and had recently been diagnosed with emphysema. It was in the early stages, but we were still a bit concerned about him making the trip up. He rested a few times, but my wife nearly discovered the hard way that one of those rest stops, was also to rescue a full bladder. She backtracked some yards after noticing Dad had fallen behind the pace. But careful shielding and quickness with the zipper that would have made Bill Clinton proud resulted in only the hint of what was going on. The rest of the walk-up was uneventful but offered some great views of the city and Glenwood Canyon.
Once we got to the top it wasn’t hard to find Doc Holiday’s grave. That statement comes with a caveat. Finding where his headstone is was pretty easy. Linwood Cemetery is pretty small and there were a couple of people already up top. It was a fair bet they were up on the mountain for the same reason. But, Holliday’s actual grave is a mystery. When Doc Holliday died of tuberculosis in the winter of 1887, the ground was frozen solid. So most accounts say he was buried at the foot of the mountain, with the promise to exhume and bury him up top in the spring. No one is sure if that happened. Again most accounts suggest it didn’t. One account I have read says that his family arranged to have his remains taken back to Georgia (Doc’s home state) for burial with his family. I found that account unconvincing and forced, so I figure he is buried under someone’s lawn, or at least somewhere in Glenwood.
Once we found the grave we took pictures and read the inscriptions. I then wandered around the graveyard, reading the various names and dates. Linwood has another semi-famous resident, Kid Curry. Kid Curry (real name Harvey Logan) was a member of the Wild Bunch, from Butch Cassidy/Sundance Kid fame. If you have seen the movie, his character was played by Ted Cassidy (Lurch from The Addams Family). He and Paul Newman (Butch) fought at the beginning. The on-screen discussion on the rules of that fight is very funny and sets the tone of the whole movie. Anyway, the real Logan was killed (actually shot himself when cornered) after robbing a train near Parachute, CO. He was buried in Linwood, but I wasn’t going to find that grave either. His grave was never marked.
While I was doing my wandering the others had found an old, rustic-looking tree, and a new, vaudeville-looking hat. The hat belonged to my youngest daughter, Jessi. With boredom leading them to silliness, Mom, Margo, Jolene, and Jessi all took turns vamping with the hat, leaning on the tree, with Doc Holliday’s stone in the background. With a camera nearby to preserve at least some of that for posterity, they kept themselves much more entertained than I was a few dozen feet away.
With frivolity documented and cemetery curiosity satisfied we were all more than ready for lunch. So we hiked back down the trail and got in our car. Our next stop was Doc Holliday’s Saloon, in downtown Glenwood. We were very hungry after a 3-hour drive and an hour walking up and down a mountain. I had web-scouted a likely place to eat called Doc Holliday’s Saloon and Restaurant. The combination restaurant with a very impressive antique bar was not around during Doc Holliday’s stay in Glenwood. But the building was. It was a mercantile store back then. The antique bar is over 125 years old and came from a bar in Leadville. Inside is kind of dark, with lots of dark wood and pictures of Doc and his contemporaries. We settled in and ordered. I remember ordering a hamburger and fries, my favorite vacation food (sue me), and recall it was very good. I believe they had buffalo on the menu as well. We all enjoyed both the food and the ambiance. After finishing up at the restaurant we promptly violated the Mother’s Prime Directive on Swimming.
We went directly to the Glenwood Hot Springs and completely neglected to wait an hour before we began to enjoy the water. Surely thunderbolts or cramps would come to claim us, but we relaxed in the water without negative consequences. There are two pools at the hot springs. Both are filled with water from the Yampah Hot Springs on site. Water comes out of the ground at 122 degrees and they add fresh water to bring the big (400 ft by 100 ft!) down to about 90 degrees. We saw people swimming laps and using the diving boards. They even had a water slide. It cost extra, but I think the girls had a few passed on that. We mostly just soaked, splashed, and floated in the big pool The small, therapy pool, is only cooled down to 104 degrees. I enjoyed this one. They have a filtration system and add chlorine, but you couldn’t tell. The water was clear but looked somewhat green (not algae). But there was no chlorine smell. The smell was definitely sulfurous. But, I suppose that is what gives it its magical healing powers. Yampah means “big medicine”. It was named by the Ute Indians who had used it for 100s of years. We only had time for about an hour. But, that was OK. An hour was plenty. We were fed, relaxed, and ready for our final five hours on the road.
I really wasn’t looking forward to this part of the trip. I just hate being cooped up in a car for long periods, no matter how pretty the scenery is. Actually, I have been very deficient in my description of our beautiful drive in the mountains to this point. Let’s press rewind, for a few seconds here. LaLaLaLa…Talk amongst yourselves for a second……Click. Stop. OK, here we are, back home and just getting ready to leave.
Brighton and Denver do not lie in the Colorado Mountains. Colorado is divided first into two halves; The Great Plains in the eastern third and the mountainous western make up the other two-thirds.
So for the first 45 minutes of our trip this early morning, we spent it watching the imposing Colorado western horizon rise to the sky. The city of Golden, home of Coors beer and the Colorado School of Mines marks the first place at which I felt I was definitely “in the mountains”. We had gotten onto I-70 in the heart of Denver and would continue on it until late this afternoon.
The wide-open spaces at either side have disappeared and now we were surrounded by peaks and valleys, with only the highway’s presence there to interrupt the pattern. The contrast of five minutes ago, with buildings and roads everywhere, to trees, plants, and the ever-present mountains is striking.
During this time we were treated to signs telling us that Buffalo Bill’s grave is up on Lookout Mountain, then a nice waterfall appears near Idaho Springs.
Soon I settled into a pattern of wondering what the next twist of the highway, crest of the hill, or descent into the valley would bring. Sometimes I was rewarded with a new perspective or sight. Often I would start to think that the view was starting to look more and more the same. Beautiful, but the same. But, I felt compelled to keep looking, because just as I was lulled to complacency, something would jump into view that had me staring until it was out of sight.
Sometime in our second hour on the road, we came upon the Eisenhower Tunnel. The Eisenhower Tunnel is two tunnels that carry four lanes of traffic through the Continental Divide. The Continental Divide is effectively the top of the mountains. From this point we would be mostly losing overall elevation as we traveled. At least until we got to Grand Junction late this afternoon. The Eisenhower Tunnel is at an average elevation of 11,112 feet. That makes it the highest tunnel in the world that vehicles travel through.
And as I-70, the major east-west interstate in Colorado passes through it, that means about 25,000 cars a day, on average, go through it.
Driving through a 1.7-mile tunnel is slightly unnerving. Most tunnels are over in just a two-Mississippi count. But, you are in the Eisenhower tunnel for about two minutes. I knew it was perfectly safe and had ventilation vents for exhaust, and walkways that would take you in, out, or between the tunnels. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder “What if something happens?” Of course, competing with this thought was the “How in the hell did they build this thing? It just goes on forever!” But about the time both of those thoughts had gotten in a few mental jabs, we exited into bright Colorado sunshine.
Once on the west side of the tunnel, we found ourselves in the heart of the Colorado ski country.
Ski areas with the names Loveland Basin, Keystone, Breckenridge, and Copper Mountain were marked one after another, although miles apart. Of course, during the summer, they just look like a mountain with trees strategically removed. After about 40 miles post-tunnel, we came upon the sign directing us to one of the two most famous Colorado ski areas; Vail. We wouldn’t be detouring here, but it did mark the two-thirds point of our journey to Glenwood Springs.
Another half hour of traveling saw us enter Glenwood Canyon. Named for our destination at the other end, it has some of the prettiest views of our I-70 journey. The ever-changing landscapes, and seemingly endless valleys, are breathtaking. About halfway into the canyon the Colorado River joined us, and began to run along the side of the highway.
It would be our companion until we left I-70.
This gets me all caught up. We cannot return to our regularly scheduled program.
Leaving Glenwood we passed Storm King Mountain. It is a few miles off the interstate and to be honest I was not positive which mountain it was. But, I knew about where it was. I knew this because the tragic fire of two years earlier was on my mind when planning this trip. The South Canyon fire, which killed 14 men, was the subject of a book and movie; Fire on the Mountain. To this day I can remember hearing the news on 850KOA. It happened around the Fourth of July holidays, and I remember wondering what could have possibly happened to have killed so many, so quickly. That turned out to be a very complicated story.
There is a monument there now, but we wouldn’t be stopping to see it. Next time
The mountains soon receded as we descended out of the canyon and into the Colorado River Valley. The valley here was very wide, with mountains all around, but at a fair distance. We passed the towns of Rifle and Parachute in the next 40 minutes. I discovered that in addition to being Kid Curry’s Waterloo, Parachute is the heart of the oil shale region of Colorado. I’d always wondered where that was. After 1 ½ hour of driving we pulled into Grand Junction, CO.
Grand Junction is the largest city on the western slope of Colorado and sits about 30 miles from the Utah border. This was going to be a good place to stretch our legs and get a quick bite to eat. It was already about 4:30 PM, and we still had about 3 ½ hours of driving to go. We grabbed a sandwich at a Subway station off the highway and then headed south on Highway 50.
With our south, more southeasterly, change of direction we were now climbing back into the mountains. Over the next hour, we passed through the towns of Whitewater, Delta, and Montrose. Forty minutes or so later we made it to the town of Ouray. Up until now, which was now after 6:30 PM, our drive had been scenic, but not challenging. But now we were about to climb up to Red Mountain Pass, using Highway 550.
Highway 550, from this point, and until we hit Silverton, is known as the Million Dollar Highway. This is a reflection on its cost; a million dollars per mile. Small change in today’s dollars, but when it was built 85 years ago, that was serious cash.
Many people have challenged that the “million dollar” moniker refers to its views. It’s hard to dispute that, but the driver, my dear wife, in our case, had better watch the road and not the view. The climb to Red Mountain Pass is marked by hairpin and “S” turns, cut right in the side of the mountain. The road is narrow and in some places, without guard rails. My mother does not like this at all. She says she always feels like the car is going to go off the side and tumble down the mountain. To compensate, she sits farther away from the car window and intrudes on the space in the middle. But, we had rented a minivan, so room was not a problem.
By the time we had cleared Red Mountain Pass and started down towards Silverton, we were starting to lose the sun. It can get dark sooner in the mountains, with those massive peaks blotting out the descending sun. This didn’t really make us anxious to drive, but it sucked not being able to see the view. It was still another hour until Durango. So by the time we pulled in, after 8:00 PM, it was dark. We were all very tired when we reached our hotel, The Budget Inn of Durango. We arrived, checked in, unloaded, and settled in for the night. Tomorrow we will ride The Silverton!
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Day Three-
Today, only our second of four days was supposed to be the highlight of our trip. And, it was. We would be taking the famous (at least here in Colorado) Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. It is also known as “The Silverton”. CW McCall, a country singer (his biggest hit was Convoy in the mid-1970s) and transplanted Coloradan wrote a song (aptly titled “The Silverton) about a ride on this train.
Gold was discovered in the Silverton area in 1860. It wasn’t known as Silverton then, it was just a spot in the very rugged San Juan Mountains of Colorado. But the area was part of the Ute Indian Reservation, and could not be mined legally. The Civil War took focus off the area for a time, but the whole region was rich with minerals so it was inevitable that the land would be mined at some point. A series of treaties, culminating with the Brunot Treaty in 1873 opened up Silverton for mineral mining. (gold, silver, zinc, and lead).
Finding gold and silver ore is one thing. Getting it out of the ground, turning it into useable metal, and getting it to market is another. A train is far and away the best way to move heavy equipment, supplies, and ore from one point to another. With the promise of gold and silver in the San Juans plans were made to build a route from Denver to Silverton.
That is where Durango (named for the Mexican city) comes in. Durango came into being because of the railroad. Its place in a flat valley, south of Silverton was the ideal place to begin a rail spur that would eventually join the two cities. That rail spur was what we would be riding today.
It was decided to build this mountainous spur as a narrow gauge. “Gauge” refers to the width between the track rails. The standard gauge is 56 1/2". Narrow gauge is anything less than that. The advantage of a narrow gauge is that it can make sharper turns. That means less track and less expensive digging and blasting in the mountain to make a flat place to lay the track.
Our train was to depart at 8:30 AM. We had gotten to the depot in plenty of time. So we admired the massive steam engine that would be hauling us to Silverton, took a few pictures, and searched the gift shop. I found a book called “Cinders and Smoke”. It was a combination history book and mile-by-mile guide of our trip. On the front cover, it had a listing of what the blasts of the train whistle meant. It would be fun to see if they used these in this modern age. I had no idea. I only knew that the big diesel locomotives blew their horn when they went through town. An obvious alert to cars and pedestrians to get out of the way.
We boarded and got our seats. When we bought our seats I had the option of getting a seat in an enclosed car or one that was covered but with open sides. I had sent away a brochure and it warned and reminded me that The Silverton is a genuine honest-to-goodness coal-fired steam-powered train. That means that there will be smoke and ciders to get in your eyes.
Having closable windows seemed like a good idea. After boarding I thought it would be a good picture to get everyone at the window of our car, so I went back out and with the family in three windows, and my two girls sticking their tongues out I got the picture.
At 8:30, two long whistles, just like the book said, signaled our departure. Very quickly I heard two long whistles, a short one, and then another long. The book said that meant we were approaching a road. And sure enough in a few moments, our car passed through an intersection. The orderly part of my brain was very pleased.
We settled in and began to take in the sights as they passed. The first was the Animas River, which cut through the canyon we would be traveling. We would get various views of the river as we made our trip today. It took several more miles before we were out of town. Before each intersection our engineer made the Long-Long-Short-Long cry with the whistle. About 10 miles into our 45-mile trip we crossed Highway 550, which had brought us into Durango. This also began our pronounced climb. We had been gaining elevation the whole trip, but not the angle of climb was evident.
We were fully enveloped by the San Juans by now, and everywhere we looked we saw something to grab our attention. There might be an occasional small animal or bird, a particularly gripping view, or even a deer. Our conductor mentioned that bear and mountain lion sightings are not uncommon. He also said that the Grizzly Bear was believed to be extinct in Colorado, but there have been uncorroborated sightings in these mountains. We paid particularly close attention to the woods.
I had been diligent in following our trip with my book, keeping track of where we were at, so I could provide info to Margo, my folks, and the girls. I was really looking forward to a place called the High Line cut. A cut is the result of all that expensive blasting and digging I mentioned earlier. They “cut” into the side of the mountain to create a place for the tracks to be laid. The High Line cut was the most difficult and expensive of the whole route. It was said to cost $100,000 per mile, in 1882 dollars to make. But, even more important to us riders the views of the canyon and train were spectacular. CW McCall’s song spoke of.
“And you’re gonna get a shiver when you check out the river which is 400 feet straight down”
This was the part of the route he was talking about. When we looked out our windows we were right on the edge, and the river looked waaaaaay down there. Mom was very happy to have the aisle seat. At one point we could look forward out our window and see the front of our train, as it came out of one turn and would soon make another.
We made a couple of stops to take on water on the way up to Silverton. To make the steam that powers our train you need water and coal to make that water boil. We are traveling on 2.5% grade, which means that we gain for every 100 feet we travel forward; we have gained 2.5 feet in elevation. That does seem like much, but anyone who has ever ridden a bike knows how much effort it takes to climb this. The last of these stops was at Needleton. This stop was strategically placed because just three miles up the steepest part of the climb happens. The grade increases to 3% and even to 4% for a stretch. The fireman, the guy who has to shovel coal into the firebox, hates this stretch. This is because he has to shovel furiously to keep the engine running at full throttle.
Our trip was three-quarters over at this point. The remainder of the trip was as before. Each bend had something new to show us. We crossed the Animas River twice during these last 10 miles. Each time was something special as we would look down to see the river well below us. While this had been a scenic trip, it was also slow. The whole trip is 45 miles, but with stops, it takes 3 ½ hours. That’s an average speed of about 13 miles per hour. Factoring out the stops, that is still only about 15 miles per hour. So by the time we pulled into Silverton, about noon, we were ready for a break. It was going to be nice to get up and walk around some.
We were now in Silverton. I heard one story that said the town got its name when someone quoted a local when asked about gold in the area. He was said to have replied “We ain’t got no gold, but we got silver by the ton” It sounds contrived to me, but sometimes I can get cynical.
Anyway, it didn’t take long at all for us to disembark the train. We had snacked on the train, with refreshments purchased onboard. But, now we wanted a real meal. Almost directly in front of where we were let off was a place called “The Shady Lady”. Now who could pass up a place with a name like that?
I was guessing that the name had something to do with prostitution.
Once we were seated, and given our menus, we soon determined that to be the case. The menu told a bit about the history of the building. Stay tuned for your history lesson of the day.
The Shady Lady was indeed a former house of ill repute. It was actually the last of Silverton’s whorehouses to close. It did so in 1947. Its last madam was Jew Fanny Wright. No word on how she got her sobriquet. She was likely just Jewish. Fanny was supposed to have remarked to “Deacon” Salfisberg, the postmaster in 1947, that “I can’t sell what high school girls are giving away” Again, a good story, but I don’t think high school girls of the 1940s were so promiscuous as to have taken away enough business to close down a brothel. I think the local authorities and the fact that Fanny had been plying her trade for at least 40 years might have had something to do with it.
In addition to Fanny’s missionary work (I think I’m funny), in 1918 when the Great Spanish Flu epidemic visited Silverton, Fanny helped as a nurse, gaining a measure of respect from the town folk. The epidemic hit Silverton hard. It killed 10% of the population in six weeks. Anyone willing to face that, as a nurse, earned respect.
The final Jew Fanny story is from the 1930s when Silverton served as a movie location for several “B” Westerns. As the Shady Lady was still open for business then, it became a popular stop for the cast and crew. Not insinuating anything, or attempting to soil the reputation of a man I admire, but displayed prominently near our table was a signed picture of the Duke, to Jew Fanny, by John Wayne. Maybe it’s real. Maybe it’s not, but I do think he was in Silverton to film on at least one occasion.
We now return to our regularly scheduled program. Margo thought it was a hoot to be eating in an old whorehouse. When she noticed that the establishment sold bright pink tee shirts with the restaurant’s logo, she had to have one. Three. There were a couple of friends back home who would be happy to hoot along with her.
We finished our meal and checked the time. We had only a two-hour layover before the train left. They made it clear to us that they stay on schedule and that should we miss the train, we were on our own getting back to Durango. We had used up about 40 minutes of that, so we didn’t stay too far. Nothing that we saw in any of the shops stuck with me. I don’t think we spent much time at all in Silverton after the Shady Lady. Dad isn’t much for window shopping.
We were on the train early, and true to their word we left within five minutes of our scheduled departure. The trip back was a little bit slower than the trip up, but not much. I think they take it easy, as police are not required to enforce the laws of gravity.
We were a little tired, and the girls nodded off at one point. The natural rocking of the train has a very soothing effect. It’s not hard at all to fall asleep if you are willing. We got back to Durango at about 5:30 PM. We spent a few minutes in the gift shop again and then decided to grab dinner before we went back to the hotel. Our choice was Lori’s Family Restaurant.
The food was good, but the high altitude and long drive of the day before was taking its toll. We were all pretty tired. But, my two girls were not to be denied. It is a fact of traveling with them. We could be spending the day at the Grand Canyon, and the night being wowed by the lights of Las Vegas, but the most important thing in their itinerary is the hotel pool. Margo almost always draws this duty. She isn’t crazy about the water, but she enjoys playing with girls. By the time they were done, the girls were spent. They were in bed shortly thereafter, and Margo and I weren’t far behind them.
Tomorrow we were heading to the Canon City area. We were going to see the Royal Gorge and Buckskin Joe’s.
Gold was discovered in the Silverton area in 1860. It wasn’t known as Silverton then, it was just a spot in the very rugged San Juan Mountains of Colorado. But the area was part of the Ute Indian Reservation, and could not be mined legally. The Civil War took focus off the area for a time, but the whole region was rich with minerals so it was inevitable that the land would be mined at some point. A series of treaties, culminating with the Brunot Treaty in 1873 opened up Silverton for mineral mining. (gold, silver, zinc, and lead).
Finding gold and silver ore is one thing. Getting it out of the ground, turning it into useable metal, and getting it to market is another. A train is far and away the best way to move heavy equipment, supplies, and ore from one point to another. With the promise of gold and silver in the San Juans plans were made to build a route from Denver to Silverton.
That is where Durango (named for the Mexican city) comes in. Durango came into being because of the railroad. Its place in a flat valley, south of Silverton was the ideal place to begin a rail spur that would eventually join the two cities. That rail spur was what we would be riding today.
It was decided to build this mountainous spur as a narrow gauge. “Gauge” refers to the width between the track rails. The standard gauge is 56 1/2". Narrow gauge is anything less than that. The advantage of a narrow gauge is that it can make sharper turns. That means less track and less expensive digging and blasting in the mountain to make a flat place to lay the track.
Our train was to depart at 8:30 AM. We had gotten to the depot in plenty of time. So we admired the massive steam engine that would be hauling us to Silverton, took a few pictures, and searched the gift shop. I found a book called “Cinders and Smoke”. It was a combination history book and mile-by-mile guide of our trip. On the front cover, it had a listing of what the blasts of the train whistle meant. It would be fun to see if they used these in this modern age. I had no idea. I only knew that the big diesel locomotives blew their horn when they went through town. An obvious alert to cars and pedestrians to get out of the way.
We boarded and got our seats. When we bought our seats I had the option of getting a seat in an enclosed car or one that was covered but with open sides. I had sent away a brochure and it warned and reminded me that The Silverton is a genuine honest-to-goodness coal-fired steam-powered train. That means that there will be smoke and ciders to get in your eyes.
Having closable windows seemed like a good idea. After boarding I thought it would be a good picture to get everyone at the window of our car, so I went back out and with the family in three windows, and my two girls sticking their tongues out I got the picture.
At 8:30, two long whistles, just like the book said, signaled our departure. Very quickly I heard two long whistles, a short one, and then another long. The book said that meant we were approaching a road. And sure enough in a few moments, our car passed through an intersection. The orderly part of my brain was very pleased.
We settled in and began to take in the sights as they passed. The first was the Animas River, which cut through the canyon we would be traveling. We would get various views of the river as we made our trip today. It took several more miles before we were out of town. Before each intersection our engineer made the Long-Long-Short-Long cry with the whistle. About 10 miles into our 45-mile trip we crossed Highway 550, which had brought us into Durango. This also began our pronounced climb. We had been gaining elevation the whole trip, but not the angle of climb was evident.
We were fully enveloped by the San Juans by now, and everywhere we looked we saw something to grab our attention. There might be an occasional small animal or bird, a particularly gripping view, or even a deer. Our conductor mentioned that bear and mountain lion sightings are not uncommon. He also said that the Grizzly Bear was believed to be extinct in Colorado, but there have been uncorroborated sightings in these mountains. We paid particularly close attention to the woods.
I had been diligent in following our trip with my book, keeping track of where we were at, so I could provide info to Margo, my folks, and the girls. I was really looking forward to a place called the High Line cut. A cut is the result of all that expensive blasting and digging I mentioned earlier. They “cut” into the side of the mountain to create a place for the tracks to be laid. The High Line cut was the most difficult and expensive of the whole route. It was said to cost $100,000 per mile, in 1882 dollars to make. But, even more important to us riders the views of the canyon and train were spectacular. CW McCall’s song spoke of.
“And you’re gonna get a shiver when you check out the river which is 400 feet straight down”
This was the part of the route he was talking about. When we looked out our windows we were right on the edge, and the river looked waaaaaay down there. Mom was very happy to have the aisle seat. At one point we could look forward out our window and see the front of our train, as it came out of one turn and would soon make another.
We made a couple of stops to take on water on the way up to Silverton. To make the steam that powers our train you need water and coal to make that water boil. We are traveling on 2.5% grade, which means that we gain for every 100 feet we travel forward; we have gained 2.5 feet in elevation. That does seem like much, but anyone who has ever ridden a bike knows how much effort it takes to climb this. The last of these stops was at Needleton. This stop was strategically placed because just three miles up the steepest part of the climb happens. The grade increases to 3% and even to 4% for a stretch. The fireman, the guy who has to shovel coal into the firebox, hates this stretch. This is because he has to shovel furiously to keep the engine running at full throttle.
Our trip was three-quarters over at this point. The remainder of the trip was as before. Each bend had something new to show us. We crossed the Animas River twice during these last 10 miles. Each time was something special as we would look down to see the river well below us. While this had been a scenic trip, it was also slow. The whole trip is 45 miles, but with stops, it takes 3 ½ hours. That’s an average speed of about 13 miles per hour. Factoring out the stops, that is still only about 15 miles per hour. So by the time we pulled into Silverton, about noon, we were ready for a break. It was going to be nice to get up and walk around some.
We were now in Silverton. I heard one story that said the town got its name when someone quoted a local when asked about gold in the area. He was said to have replied “We ain’t got no gold, but we got silver by the ton” It sounds contrived to me, but sometimes I can get cynical.
Anyway, it didn’t take long at all for us to disembark the train. We had snacked on the train, with refreshments purchased onboard. But, now we wanted a real meal. Almost directly in front of where we were let off was a place called “The Shady Lady”. Now who could pass up a place with a name like that?
I was guessing that the name had something to do with prostitution.
Once we were seated, and given our menus, we soon determined that to be the case. The menu told a bit about the history of the building. Stay tuned for your history lesson of the day.
The Shady Lady was indeed a former house of ill repute. It was actually the last of Silverton’s whorehouses to close. It did so in 1947. Its last madam was Jew Fanny Wright. No word on how she got her sobriquet. She was likely just Jewish. Fanny was supposed to have remarked to “Deacon” Salfisberg, the postmaster in 1947, that “I can’t sell what high school girls are giving away” Again, a good story, but I don’t think high school girls of the 1940s were so promiscuous as to have taken away enough business to close down a brothel. I think the local authorities and the fact that Fanny had been plying her trade for at least 40 years might have had something to do with it.
In addition to Fanny’s missionary work (I think I’m funny), in 1918 when the Great Spanish Flu epidemic visited Silverton, Fanny helped as a nurse, gaining a measure of respect from the town folk. The epidemic hit Silverton hard. It killed 10% of the population in six weeks. Anyone willing to face that, as a nurse, earned respect.
The final Jew Fanny story is from the 1930s when Silverton served as a movie location for several “B” Westerns. As the Shady Lady was still open for business then, it became a popular stop for the cast and crew. Not insinuating anything, or attempting to soil the reputation of a man I admire, but displayed prominently near our table was a signed picture of the Duke, to Jew Fanny, by John Wayne. Maybe it’s real. Maybe it’s not, but I do think he was in Silverton to film on at least one occasion.
We now return to our regularly scheduled program. Margo thought it was a hoot to be eating in an old whorehouse. When she noticed that the establishment sold bright pink tee shirts with the restaurant’s logo, she had to have one. Three. There were a couple of friends back home who would be happy to hoot along with her.
We finished our meal and checked the time. We had only a two-hour layover before the train left. They made it clear to us that they stay on schedule and that should we miss the train, we were on our own getting back to Durango. We had used up about 40 minutes of that, so we didn’t stay too far. Nothing that we saw in any of the shops stuck with me. I don’t think we spent much time at all in Silverton after the Shady Lady. Dad isn’t much for window shopping.
We were on the train early, and true to their word we left within five minutes of our scheduled departure. The trip back was a little bit slower than the trip up, but not much. I think they take it easy, as police are not required to enforce the laws of gravity.
We were a little tired, and the girls nodded off at one point. The natural rocking of the train has a very soothing effect. It’s not hard at all to fall asleep if you are willing. We got back to Durango at about 5:30 PM. We spent a few minutes in the gift shop again and then decided to grab dinner before we went back to the hotel. Our choice was Lori’s Family Restaurant.
The food was good, but the high altitude and long drive of the day before was taking its toll. We were all pretty tired. But, my two girls were not to be denied. It is a fact of traveling with them. We could be spending the day at the Grand Canyon, and the night being wowed by the lights of Las Vegas, but the most important thing in their itinerary is the hotel pool. Margo almost always draws this duty. She isn’t crazy about the water, but she enjoys playing with girls. By the time they were done, the girls were spent. They were in bed shortly thereafter, and Margo and I weren’t far behind them.
Tomorrow we were heading to the Canon City area. We were going to see the Royal Gorge and Buckskin Joe’s.
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Day Four-
Today we head back towards home. We won’t be home tonight, because we are going to spend most of the day in the Canon City area. We had to get an early start, because there was a lot we wanted to see and do, and it was a 5 ½ hour drive to get there. About half of that drive would be in the beautiful Colorado mountains. The rest is in the less beautiful, but still interesting San Luis Valley.
After checking out of our hotel, and getting a drive-thru breakfast from Burger King, we jumped on Highway 160 and headed east.
We would be taking this through the San Juan Mountains, into the San Luis Valley. Highway 286 would take us north along the western boundary of the valley. Then finally, Highway 50 East following the Arkansas River to The Royal Gorge, would complete our day’s drive.
The trip through the San Juans continued the landscape overload we had been experiencing for the last 48 hours. For about 1 ½ hours we drove admiring the blue sky, green valleys, grandiose mountains, and the occasional animal spotting. That picturesque drive ended with us pulling into Pagosa Springs.
My last entry mentioned singer, CW McCall. He had another tune called “Wolf Creek Pass”. This song told the tale of a pair of truck drivers who were taking a load of chickens over Wolf Creek Pass. The truck turned into a runaway when gravity on the downhill side got the better of them. There was an encounter with a tunnel and, ultimately, the predictable crash into a “feed store in downtown Pagosa Springs”.
I didn’t see a feed store, but I did think of the song as we started our ascent up to the pass. It’s not as treacherous as CW makes it out to be, but I’ll bet it’s a real bitch in the winter. The grades are 7% and 8% on both sides. Very steep. The tunnel in the song is a snow shed. This is a cover built over the highway to prevent the frequent avalanches from blocking the highway in this area. It did seem like a tunnel, though. The whole area is just stunning, with every curve bringing a new perspective on our mountain view.
Once over the pass, we started our descent into the San Luis Valley. But, there was plenty of mountain scenery left to wow us. After another 1 ½ hours we were out of the San Juans. The change was striking. Instead of having mountains bearing down on us from all sides, they rapidly receded to be nothing but distant background. The San Luis Valley is about 8000 square miles in area. It felt like we were back in Brighton, except instead of just seeing mountains to the west, they were on all sides of us.
This part of the drive was a bit boring. Lots of flat open space, with various shades of brown and grey. It took another 1 1/2 hours at highway speeds, on flat terrain to get from the lower end to the upper end of the valley. But, the turn onto US 50 meant we were almost there! Another hour or so and we would be at the gorge. I couldn’t wait.
We turned onto US 50 near the town of Salida, Colorado. Not long after the highway began to parallel both the Denver and Rio Grande railroad tracks and the Arkansas River. Both of these cut through the Arkansas River Valley making a natural place to put the highway. It also made for some pretty landscapes. The river would run close and the dance away from the highway, only to return a few miles later.
This dance continued for most of the next hour when the river wandered far out of sight to the north.
Then it attacked at a right angle just a mile or so from our turn-off, and we crossed the river. It continued out of sight. We expected to see it again later in the day.
About a mile and a half later we passed the turn-off to the Royal Gorge. We were planning to visit, but our first stop of the day was going to be Buckskin Joe.
Buckskin Joe Frontier Town and Railway is a recreated Old West town complete with gunfights and a (mini) railroad. The railroad is just to get you closer to the Gorge. But, the town gets you closer to the Old West.
It has been used as a movie set for 21 different Hollywood films including; True Grit, Cat Ballou, The Cowboys, How the West was Won, The Sacketts, and Lightning Jack. The likes of John Wayne, James Arness, Sam Elliot, and Charles Bronson walked the dusty streets of Buckskin Joe.
I had been here before, when Jolene was a toddler and then again two years ago. I was looking forward to showing Dad this place. He is a big Western fan, with John Wayne topping his list of favorite actors. But, first, we needed to eat. Our breakfast had worn off and everyone was hungry. So we all made a beeline for the Golden Nugget Restaurant. This was about the only place to get a meal here, but you could do a lot worse. The food is decent, and the atmosphere is old western. Plus, they have buffalo on the menu. Dad and I each had a buffalo burger.
It was soon time for one of the two gunfights we would see today. They gave us some background on this particular fight, telling us it was based on a real one that happened in New Mexico (I think, maybe Lordsburg or Shakespeare?). The just of it was a rough character didn’t care for the sheriff, and the sheriff didn’t care for said rough character. Of course, they were going to meet in gunplay, or else it would be pretty boring to watch. There ended up being several men with guns blazing away, one of which was a shotgun. That got your attention when it was fired off. The whole reenactment lasted about 10 minutes and was well received.
Later, and I think this was after the second gunfight there was a hanging! You don’t see this every day. As volunteers would be hard to come by for real hanging, there had to have been some sort of harness involved that would support the actor’s weight, instead of his neck. But, you could not tell, and it looked very real when the trapdoor dropped! Afterward, they invited the crowd to come up a take pictures. I wasn’t going to miss that.
We wandered around the various shops, old buildings, and displays. There was a place set up to pan for gold and girls spent some time sloshing the dirt and water. No gold though. They had places set up to take gag pictures, and we all took turns poking our heads through the cutouts. We found the undertaker's office, with a coffin outside, standing on end. So of course, pictures had to be taken there as well.
When all was said and done, we spent far more time here than I had planned. If we wanted to see any of the Royal Gorge we needed to get a move on.
But, as it turned out, Dad had decided that he had had enough fun for one day. He didn’t want to tour anymore, so as we were all tired we decided to just take a ride on Royal Gorge Scenic Railway. This is a pint-size passenger railroad that takes you to a viewing area to see a panoramic view of the Royal Gorge. The trip lasts about a half hour each way and travels 3 miles one way. Along the way, which traverses dry, cacti-filled land; they have various displays set up. One was a toy T-Rex, in which the engineer had just spent the last several minutes telling you about the monster coming up. It was corny, but it passed the time. Being out in the open air was fun and it was a nice experience.
Once we got there the view was impressive. We got a real perspective on how deep the canon is. We could see the people on the bridge and the aerial tram that spans the Gorge. I don’t think we could see the incline railway that takes people to the bottom, but it was there. We were quite ways from the canon, so all of this was fairly small, but still impressive. We took in the view from the viewing platform for around 15 minutes, and then it was time to go back. 30 minutes later we were on our way back to the car, getting ready to drive to Colorado Springs, where we would be spending the night. Tomorrow we planned to visit the Rodeo Hall of Fame, a museum, and chuck wagon dinner at the Flying W Ranch.
After checking out of our hotel, and getting a drive-thru breakfast from Burger King, we jumped on Highway 160 and headed east.
We would be taking this through the San Juan Mountains, into the San Luis Valley. Highway 286 would take us north along the western boundary of the valley. Then finally, Highway 50 East following the Arkansas River to The Royal Gorge, would complete our day’s drive.
The trip through the San Juans continued the landscape overload we had been experiencing for the last 48 hours. For about 1 ½ hours we drove admiring the blue sky, green valleys, grandiose mountains, and the occasional animal spotting. That picturesque drive ended with us pulling into Pagosa Springs.
My last entry mentioned singer, CW McCall. He had another tune called “Wolf Creek Pass”. This song told the tale of a pair of truck drivers who were taking a load of chickens over Wolf Creek Pass. The truck turned into a runaway when gravity on the downhill side got the better of them. There was an encounter with a tunnel and, ultimately, the predictable crash into a “feed store in downtown Pagosa Springs”.
I didn’t see a feed store, but I did think of the song as we started our ascent up to the pass. It’s not as treacherous as CW makes it out to be, but I’ll bet it’s a real bitch in the winter. The grades are 7% and 8% on both sides. Very steep. The tunnel in the song is a snow shed. This is a cover built over the highway to prevent the frequent avalanches from blocking the highway in this area. It did seem like a tunnel, though. The whole area is just stunning, with every curve bringing a new perspective on our mountain view.
Once over the pass, we started our descent into the San Luis Valley. But, there was plenty of mountain scenery left to wow us. After another 1 ½ hours we were out of the San Juans. The change was striking. Instead of having mountains bearing down on us from all sides, they rapidly receded to be nothing but distant background. The San Luis Valley is about 8000 square miles in area. It felt like we were back in Brighton, except instead of just seeing mountains to the west, they were on all sides of us.
This part of the drive was a bit boring. Lots of flat open space, with various shades of brown and grey. It took another 1 1/2 hours at highway speeds, on flat terrain to get from the lower end to the upper end of the valley. But, the turn onto US 50 meant we were almost there! Another hour or so and we would be at the gorge. I couldn’t wait.
We turned onto US 50 near the town of Salida, Colorado. Not long after the highway began to parallel both the Denver and Rio Grande railroad tracks and the Arkansas River. Both of these cut through the Arkansas River Valley making a natural place to put the highway. It also made for some pretty landscapes. The river would run close and the dance away from the highway, only to return a few miles later.
This dance continued for most of the next hour when the river wandered far out of sight to the north.
Then it attacked at a right angle just a mile or so from our turn-off, and we crossed the river. It continued out of sight. We expected to see it again later in the day.
About a mile and a half later we passed the turn-off to the Royal Gorge. We were planning to visit, but our first stop of the day was going to be Buckskin Joe.
Buckskin Joe Frontier Town and Railway is a recreated Old West town complete with gunfights and a (mini) railroad. The railroad is just to get you closer to the Gorge. But, the town gets you closer to the Old West.
It has been used as a movie set for 21 different Hollywood films including; True Grit, Cat Ballou, The Cowboys, How the West was Won, The Sacketts, and Lightning Jack. The likes of John Wayne, James Arness, Sam Elliot, and Charles Bronson walked the dusty streets of Buckskin Joe.
I had been here before, when Jolene was a toddler and then again two years ago. I was looking forward to showing Dad this place. He is a big Western fan, with John Wayne topping his list of favorite actors. But, first, we needed to eat. Our breakfast had worn off and everyone was hungry. So we all made a beeline for the Golden Nugget Restaurant. This was about the only place to get a meal here, but you could do a lot worse. The food is decent, and the atmosphere is old western. Plus, they have buffalo on the menu. Dad and I each had a buffalo burger.
It was soon time for one of the two gunfights we would see today. They gave us some background on this particular fight, telling us it was based on a real one that happened in New Mexico (I think, maybe Lordsburg or Shakespeare?). The just of it was a rough character didn’t care for the sheriff, and the sheriff didn’t care for said rough character. Of course, they were going to meet in gunplay, or else it would be pretty boring to watch. There ended up being several men with guns blazing away, one of which was a shotgun. That got your attention when it was fired off. The whole reenactment lasted about 10 minutes and was well received.
Later, and I think this was after the second gunfight there was a hanging! You don’t see this every day. As volunteers would be hard to come by for real hanging, there had to have been some sort of harness involved that would support the actor’s weight, instead of his neck. But, you could not tell, and it looked very real when the trapdoor dropped! Afterward, they invited the crowd to come up a take pictures. I wasn’t going to miss that.
We wandered around the various shops, old buildings, and displays. There was a place set up to pan for gold and girls spent some time sloshing the dirt and water. No gold though. They had places set up to take gag pictures, and we all took turns poking our heads through the cutouts. We found the undertaker's office, with a coffin outside, standing on end. So of course, pictures had to be taken there as well.
When all was said and done, we spent far more time here than I had planned. If we wanted to see any of the Royal Gorge we needed to get a move on.
But, as it turned out, Dad had decided that he had had enough fun for one day. He didn’t want to tour anymore, so as we were all tired we decided to just take a ride on Royal Gorge Scenic Railway. This is a pint-size passenger railroad that takes you to a viewing area to see a panoramic view of the Royal Gorge. The trip lasts about a half hour each way and travels 3 miles one way. Along the way, which traverses dry, cacti-filled land; they have various displays set up. One was a toy T-Rex, in which the engineer had just spent the last several minutes telling you about the monster coming up. It was corny, but it passed the time. Being out in the open air was fun and it was a nice experience.
Once we got there the view was impressive. We got a real perspective on how deep the canon is. We could see the people on the bridge and the aerial tram that spans the Gorge. I don’t think we could see the incline railway that takes people to the bottom, but it was there. We were quite ways from the canon, so all of this was fairly small, but still impressive. We took in the view from the viewing platform for around 15 minutes, and then it was time to go back. 30 minutes later we were on our way back to the car, getting ready to drive to Colorado Springs, where we would be spending the night. Tomorrow we planned to visit the Rodeo Hall of Fame, a museum, and chuck wagon dinner at the Flying W Ranch.
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Day Five
It was about an hour’s drive from Buckskin Joe to the La Fon Motel in Manitou Springs. We had stayed at the LaFon a few years ago before Jessi was born. That occasion was indelibly impressed upon me when I discovered a Colorado SWAT team cordoning off a different section of the motel.
On that occasion, after a good night’s sleep, I was up and ready to travel. But first, I walked out of our room, intent on going to the lobby to get a postcard. As I turned the corner I saw, ten feet away, directly in front of me, facing to my left, a fully armored SWAT officer holding a very impressive looking automatic rifle. No postcard for me. I’ll have to cover that story, in detail, when I write about our 1986 trip to the area. This year there were no such surprises.
We had gotten in around 7 PM, checked into the hotel, and had dinner at the Mason Jar, which was about 1 ½ miles from our motel. Again, we had visited this place before as well, and while not memorable for the same reason as the La Fon, the food and service were good. I remember it being kid-friendly, and we all enjoyed a good meal.
Back to the hotel, and as it was a warm summer night, Margo got roped into a trip to the outdoor pool. I believe it is an undeniable truth of traveling with kids. It doesn’t matter if your plans include a helicopter trip around Mount Rushmore and dinner with Mickey Mouse, their agenda will always include a dip in the hotel pool.
With that taken care of, we all got ready for bed. We had another full day to get ready for, tomorrow.
We had three things on our agenda for today; The Rodeo Hall of Fame, The Pioneer Museum, and a chuckwagon dinner at the Flying W Ranch. But our first order of business was breakfast. As the only thing that had a specific deadline to it today was the chuckwagon dinner, we decided on a leisurely, sit-down breakfast at the Manitou Pancake and Steakhouse. The name sounds redneck, but the food was great. We had our fill, took our time, and then made our way to the Pro Rodeo Hall of Fame.
I have been to a few rodeos, but as they were mostly county fair types, my only experience with the men that were honored here came from the movies or TV. The movie 8 Seconds, a biopic about bull rider Lane Frost, came out a couple of years ago. It was one of Margo’s favorite movies. We knew that Lane was a member of the Hall of Fame so it seemed natural to visit since we were in town.
I was a bit disappointed with the inside of the museum. It didn’t seem to have “enough”. I thought it was a little on the sparse side. But, it was still OK. That had displays outside as well. Our favorite was a hands-on display with a lariat and a roping practice steer. The girls and I each took a turn trying to rope the plastic cow. No luck. I only tried a couple of times and then gave it up before I embarrassed myself.
Deciding we had seen all that we were interested in we decided to head over to the Colorado Springs Pioneers Museum. The Pioneer’s Museum is located in the old (1903) El Paso County Courthouse.
It’s an impressive looking building on beautiful grounds. The museum is dedicated to Pike’s Peak region, whose shadow Colorado Springs was built under. The admission was free and we spent an hour or so wandering around looking at the various exhibits. Both Dad and I like their weapons collection. Prominently featured in the display case was a vintage Colt 45 Peacemaker.
I did a terrible job of taking pictures inside the museum. I don’t recall if they were prohibited or not. But the only shots I got were from the outside. It was around 1:30 by the time we finished up at the Pioneer Museum. We had gotten a late start this morning and ate a good breakfast. So instead of lunch, we stopped at a Colorado Springs institution called Michelle’s.
They specialized in ice cream and chocolate candy. Truffles, bonbons, and toffee, to be exact. We didn’t try any of the candy, but the ice cream was great. Of course, almost any ice cream is pretty good on a hot day.
Our final stop of the day was the Flying W Ranch. The Flying W is a real working cattle ranch that about 40 years prior had decided to branch out into the entertainment business. They dedicated a portion of their gorgeous foothill ranch to construct an old west-style village, plus a stage, and outdoor dining area. Visitors spend the mid and late afternoon wandering around the village and visiting the various buildings. Then they close the village down at 7:15 and start serving a chuckwagon-style dinner promptly at 7:30 PM. That is exactly what we did.
The ranch has a real church, used for weddings and Sunday service, a blacksmith shop, a funeral home, a dry goods shop, teepees, a mine, and on and on. There was even a small playground where the girls had some fun. We wandered around for several hours to see what there was to see. Then, as advertised, they announced it was dinner time and got us all over to the dining area. It was time for our chuckwagon dinner and show.
A Chuckwagon dinner is a western-themed meal based on what an old West cowboy would have/might have eaten while on a cattle drive. Traditionally it would have beef, beans, and some sort of bread for certain. Other additions might be coleslaw, corn on the cob, baked potato, lemonade, coffee, and some sort of dessert. It varies from place to place. But, in my experience, the food is usually decent, and the atmosphere great. The Flying W was no exception. They had recently added chicken to their menu, as not everyone likes or eats beef.
Once the meal was going strong, the entertainment started. It was a perfect mix of Western music and comedy. Dad really enjoyed this. I am sure this was far and away his favorite part of the trip. The music was what he grew up with, containing a healthy dose of Sons of the Pioneers and such. Everyone else liked it, too. Sometimes we would sing along. Most of the time we just listened and laughed. It was a good time.
The show went on until sometime after 9 PM. Colorado Springs is only 90 minutes from home, so even though we knew it was going to be a little on the late side, we decided to drive home after the show. We knew we would be tired, but Dad had enjoyed the show so much, that he bought a couple of the cassette tapes of the music, and we listened and basked in the afterglow on the drive home. By the time we got home, both girls were deep into sleep. After dropping Mom and Dad off, Margo and I headed home and put the girls to sleep. It had been a great trip, but it is always nice to be home.
On that occasion, after a good night’s sleep, I was up and ready to travel. But first, I walked out of our room, intent on going to the lobby to get a postcard. As I turned the corner I saw, ten feet away, directly in front of me, facing to my left, a fully armored SWAT officer holding a very impressive looking automatic rifle. No postcard for me. I’ll have to cover that story, in detail, when I write about our 1986 trip to the area. This year there were no such surprises.
We had gotten in around 7 PM, checked into the hotel, and had dinner at the Mason Jar, which was about 1 ½ miles from our motel. Again, we had visited this place before as well, and while not memorable for the same reason as the La Fon, the food and service were good. I remember it being kid-friendly, and we all enjoyed a good meal.
Back to the hotel, and as it was a warm summer night, Margo got roped into a trip to the outdoor pool. I believe it is an undeniable truth of traveling with kids. It doesn’t matter if your plans include a helicopter trip around Mount Rushmore and dinner with Mickey Mouse, their agenda will always include a dip in the hotel pool.
With that taken care of, we all got ready for bed. We had another full day to get ready for, tomorrow.
We had three things on our agenda for today; The Rodeo Hall of Fame, The Pioneer Museum, and a chuckwagon dinner at the Flying W Ranch. But our first order of business was breakfast. As the only thing that had a specific deadline to it today was the chuckwagon dinner, we decided on a leisurely, sit-down breakfast at the Manitou Pancake and Steakhouse. The name sounds redneck, but the food was great. We had our fill, took our time, and then made our way to the Pro Rodeo Hall of Fame.
I have been to a few rodeos, but as they were mostly county fair types, my only experience with the men that were honored here came from the movies or TV. The movie 8 Seconds, a biopic about bull rider Lane Frost, came out a couple of years ago. It was one of Margo’s favorite movies. We knew that Lane was a member of the Hall of Fame so it seemed natural to visit since we were in town.
I was a bit disappointed with the inside of the museum. It didn’t seem to have “enough”. I thought it was a little on the sparse side. But, it was still OK. That had displays outside as well. Our favorite was a hands-on display with a lariat and a roping practice steer. The girls and I each took a turn trying to rope the plastic cow. No luck. I only tried a couple of times and then gave it up before I embarrassed myself.
Deciding we had seen all that we were interested in we decided to head over to the Colorado Springs Pioneers Museum. The Pioneer’s Museum is located in the old (1903) El Paso County Courthouse.
It’s an impressive looking building on beautiful grounds. The museum is dedicated to Pike’s Peak region, whose shadow Colorado Springs was built under. The admission was free and we spent an hour or so wandering around looking at the various exhibits. Both Dad and I like their weapons collection. Prominently featured in the display case was a vintage Colt 45 Peacemaker.
I did a terrible job of taking pictures inside the museum. I don’t recall if they were prohibited or not. But the only shots I got were from the outside. It was around 1:30 by the time we finished up at the Pioneer Museum. We had gotten a late start this morning and ate a good breakfast. So instead of lunch, we stopped at a Colorado Springs institution called Michelle’s.
They specialized in ice cream and chocolate candy. Truffles, bonbons, and toffee, to be exact. We didn’t try any of the candy, but the ice cream was great. Of course, almost any ice cream is pretty good on a hot day.
Our final stop of the day was the Flying W Ranch. The Flying W is a real working cattle ranch that about 40 years prior had decided to branch out into the entertainment business. They dedicated a portion of their gorgeous foothill ranch to construct an old west-style village, plus a stage, and outdoor dining area. Visitors spend the mid and late afternoon wandering around the village and visiting the various buildings. Then they close the village down at 7:15 and start serving a chuckwagon-style dinner promptly at 7:30 PM. That is exactly what we did.
The ranch has a real church, used for weddings and Sunday service, a blacksmith shop, a funeral home, a dry goods shop, teepees, a mine, and on and on. There was even a small playground where the girls had some fun. We wandered around for several hours to see what there was to see. Then, as advertised, they announced it was dinner time and got us all over to the dining area. It was time for our chuckwagon dinner and show.
A Chuckwagon dinner is a western-themed meal based on what an old West cowboy would have/might have eaten while on a cattle drive. Traditionally it would have beef, beans, and some sort of bread for certain. Other additions might be coleslaw, corn on the cob, baked potato, lemonade, coffee, and some sort of dessert. It varies from place to place. But, in my experience, the food is usually decent, and the atmosphere great. The Flying W was no exception. They had recently added chicken to their menu, as not everyone likes or eats beef.
Once the meal was going strong, the entertainment started. It was a perfect mix of Western music and comedy. Dad really enjoyed this. I am sure this was far and away his favorite part of the trip. The music was what he grew up with, containing a healthy dose of Sons of the Pioneers and such. Everyone else liked it, too. Sometimes we would sing along. Most of the time we just listened and laughed. It was a good time.
The show went on until sometime after 9 PM. Colorado Springs is only 90 minutes from home, so even though we knew it was going to be a little on the late side, we decided to drive home after the show. We knew we would be tired, but Dad had enjoyed the show so much, that he bought a couple of the cassette tapes of the music, and we listened and basked in the afterglow on the drive home. By the time we got home, both girls were deep into sleep. After dropping Mom and Dad off, Margo and I headed home and put the girls to sleep. It had been a great trip, but it is always nice to be home.
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