2008--Cripple Creek, Co
Day One--Friday, June 13, 2008
If you read my Rockies Rock blog under Denver Diversions, you know that I recently painted the outside of my house. It was desperately needed, but I was a bit resentful that I had to spend so much of my “vacation” working on something I really didn’t want to do. Yeah, I know. Whaaaaaaaaa. But for a multitude of reasons I wanted to do something, go somewhere. I suppose it worked out for the best, because if we would have went somewhere for a week. I would have spent a couple of thousand, at least.
But, we finished everything up on Thursday. I had been telling Margo since about Tuesday that I wanted to go somewhere for the weekend. She was a bit reluctant, based on the money we had to just spend, but she was suffering from cabin fever, too. So I didn’t have to fight too hard to convince her.
I gave her four choices, all in state; Estes Park, the Alamosa area, Leadville, or Cripple Creek. I went through the features of each.
Estes Park is the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park. It is a great town to wander around. We haven’t driven through the park in many years. But, we do generally get up there at least once a year.
Alamosa has a couple of things nearby, neither of which you would think you could find in Colorado.
First, there is Great Sand Dunes National Monument. This is exactly what it sounds like. It’s like a piece of the Sahara desert in the Colorado mountains. The other is Colorado Gators, which is an alligator farm and reptile garden in Colorado. As gators are sub-tropical animals, I was interested in hearing how this place came to be.
Leadville is a town filled with mining and old west history. Personalities such as the Unsinkable Molly Brown (Margaret Brown Tobin), Horace and Baby Doe Tabor, and Doc Holliday all called Leadville home at one point or another.
Cripple Creek is an old gold mining town, and one of three cities in Colorado where gambling is legal.
There were at least two attractions in Cripple Creek that caught my attention; a working gold mine that you could tour (1000 ft underground) and the Cripple Creek and Victor Narrow Gauge Railroad. I love riding one old steam powered trains, and doing it the Colorado mountains makes it more special. Plus, in Cripple Creek is the Hotel St Nicholas. Saint Nick is an old Catholic run hospital that has been turned in to a very nice hotel. Rumor has it, it is haunted. Sounds like fun!
When I asked Margo about it a day or so later, the only additional input she had was she thought we should use distance as a tie breaker. Fewer miles driven is less fuel burned and less wear and tear on the car.
Alamosa was the most distant and we go the Estes all the time I wanted it voted off the island. That left Leadville and Cripple Creek. Cripple Creek had more to do, but Leadville was half an hour closer. In the end, what was an extra hour of driving, $12 in gas? So Cripple Creek it was.
Margo had made previous plans to take her mother to the doctor at 10 AM on Friday. There were still plenty of things I wanted to get done around the house, so while I wanted to get a move on, I could still appease my conscience some and get some of those things done. But, as things usually do, one thing led to another, and rather than get started around Noon, we actually headed out at about 2:00 PM.
I wasn’t upset or anything. I was just thrill that we were actually doing this. I usually plan these trips to death, and I always have a hotel reservation done in advance. Not this trip, we knew what city we were going to. I printed out the directions the night before we left. I had only basic info on what to do, and where that stuff was at, and we had no hotel reservation. Living on the edge, huh?
The drive was to take 2 ½ hours and that is about what it took. We didn’t actually enter the Colorado Mountains until we headed west at Colorado Springs, 90 minutes into the trip. The Colorado mountains are beautiful in this middle area of the state. The wide sweeping valleys have a more diverse range of tree species than in the northern area.
I’ll bet it is very beautiful in the fall. I’ve only been in the area during the summer. We only stopped once at a look out. But, my real reason was that my bladder was insisting. It sucks getting old. But, we got a couple of pictures and headed on.
We pulled into Cripple Creek about 15 minutes later. I knew where I wanted to stay, the aforementioned Hotel St. Nicholas. I had done quite a bit of research on the hotel several years ago when I was planning a trip. Plans changed and we didn’t go. But, the research still came in handy. I knew about the amenities (outdoor hot tub with a view of the mountains, Boiler Tavern, continental breakfast, & free shuttle to town) and the location. What I didn’t know, was if there was a room open. Even if there was a room, I was hoping for a nice one. I think they are nice, but I didn’t want the cheapest one. As it turned out, there were two or three open.
We got a nice one, Room #7. It was the old nursery in the hospital. Attached to it was an enclosed sitting room that overlooked the city. In the old hospital it had been the sun room, where the nurses would put the jaundiced babies. We were later told that some past patrons had heard a baby crying, when there were no babies staying at the hotel. Margo never heard anything, but I head some sort of metal on metal squeak that I couldn’t explain. I doubt it was anything supernatural, and it certainly wasn’t weird enough to make me want to get out of bed, or even wake up all the way. But, it makes for an interesting story.
We checked in, got settled, and then went into town to see what was going on. We had the desk manager call the shuttle for us, and headed down the very steep hill into Cripple Creek. We were a bit disappointed in that the town seemed pretty dead. But it was late afternoon and still a bit early in the summer.
But, it was Friday. We wandered into a couple of the casinos and lost a few bucks in the slot machines. Gambling in Colorado is limited. I already mentioned that there are only three cities where it is legal. The other two are Black Hawk and Central City. The “limited” also refers to the games that are allowed (just slots, poker, and blackjack), and the stakes. You can’t place a bet more than $5. Pretty pathetic. 17 years ago when it was legalized, the $5 limit didn’t seem unreasonable, and you could actual bet a hand of blackjack with a $1 bet. No more, almost all tables are $5 minimum. In Cripple Creek we never saw an open blackjack table. We saw signs for poker games, but I never saw anyone playing. The slot machines were everywhere, and that is where we donated a little of our money.
We walked around some. Visited a shop or two, and then stopped in one of the casinos for a bite to eat. When we were done, about 7 PM, I wanted some ice cream. We had passed a couple of places that sold ice cream, but both were closed. That sucked. But, we came across a place called The Black Cow. The Black Cow, while not claiming to be the actual location, does tell the story of how the Root Beer Float was invented right here in Cripple Creek.
The story goes something like this. A Chicago man with various (failing) mining interests in the Cripple Creek area ran a shop to support his claims. One of his mines was on Black Cow Mountain. He got the idea of putting a scoop of ice cream on top of his root beer (Myers Avenue Red), because it, the ice cream, reminded him of snow on the mountain top.
He called his new creation “Ice Cream Capped Black Cow Mountain Root Beer Float”. It became very popular with “miners, madams, and ministers” alike. Kids liked it too, but weren’t about to call it by such a convoluted name. They would just come in and order a Black Cow.
I’m not a root beer guy so I skipped it. Margo is, but was not very hungry. But, my quest had been for ice cream. One the menu was an ice cream cookie sandwich that took 15 minutes to make. My curiosity was piqued, so I ordered one. It takes 15 minutes because the cookie dough is cooked as soon as it is ordered. The two warm cookies (chocolate fudge chip, but they only have one kind for the whole day, and it changes) form the outside, while a vanilla soft serve makes up the middle. I was more than happy. MMMMMMM…Warm cookies and cold, melting ice cream! And they were smart enough to stay open for a couple of the early evening hours.
After our snack it was time to head back to the hotel. We found the shuttle and it dropped us off right at our door. As we were only staying one night, this was going to be our best opportunity to hit the hot tub. It was a smidgen cooler than I would have liked, but I think they had had the cover off all day. Still we weren’t complaining. We lounged around admiring the lights of Cripple Creek. When wrinkling started to set it, we figured on giving the Vapor Room a shot. The Vapor Room is a steam room. It takes about 20 minutes for it to heat up, and I got awful comfortable lying on the top bench seat. Margo and I had it to ourselves. It never did get terrible hot, but I got terribly sleepy. It had been a long day. With that, I (Margo had already decided she was tired) headed back to the room, and got ready for bed.
But, we finished everything up on Thursday. I had been telling Margo since about Tuesday that I wanted to go somewhere for the weekend. She was a bit reluctant, based on the money we had to just spend, but she was suffering from cabin fever, too. So I didn’t have to fight too hard to convince her.
I gave her four choices, all in state; Estes Park, the Alamosa area, Leadville, or Cripple Creek. I went through the features of each.
Estes Park is the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park. It is a great town to wander around. We haven’t driven through the park in many years. But, we do generally get up there at least once a year.
Alamosa has a couple of things nearby, neither of which you would think you could find in Colorado.
First, there is Great Sand Dunes National Monument. This is exactly what it sounds like. It’s like a piece of the Sahara desert in the Colorado mountains. The other is Colorado Gators, which is an alligator farm and reptile garden in Colorado. As gators are sub-tropical animals, I was interested in hearing how this place came to be.
Leadville is a town filled with mining and old west history. Personalities such as the Unsinkable Molly Brown (Margaret Brown Tobin), Horace and Baby Doe Tabor, and Doc Holliday all called Leadville home at one point or another.
Cripple Creek is an old gold mining town, and one of three cities in Colorado where gambling is legal.
There were at least two attractions in Cripple Creek that caught my attention; a working gold mine that you could tour (1000 ft underground) and the Cripple Creek and Victor Narrow Gauge Railroad. I love riding one old steam powered trains, and doing it the Colorado mountains makes it more special. Plus, in Cripple Creek is the Hotel St Nicholas. Saint Nick is an old Catholic run hospital that has been turned in to a very nice hotel. Rumor has it, it is haunted. Sounds like fun!
When I asked Margo about it a day or so later, the only additional input she had was she thought we should use distance as a tie breaker. Fewer miles driven is less fuel burned and less wear and tear on the car.
Alamosa was the most distant and we go the Estes all the time I wanted it voted off the island. That left Leadville and Cripple Creek. Cripple Creek had more to do, but Leadville was half an hour closer. In the end, what was an extra hour of driving, $12 in gas? So Cripple Creek it was.
Margo had made previous plans to take her mother to the doctor at 10 AM on Friday. There were still plenty of things I wanted to get done around the house, so while I wanted to get a move on, I could still appease my conscience some and get some of those things done. But, as things usually do, one thing led to another, and rather than get started around Noon, we actually headed out at about 2:00 PM.
I wasn’t upset or anything. I was just thrill that we were actually doing this. I usually plan these trips to death, and I always have a hotel reservation done in advance. Not this trip, we knew what city we were going to. I printed out the directions the night before we left. I had only basic info on what to do, and where that stuff was at, and we had no hotel reservation. Living on the edge, huh?
The drive was to take 2 ½ hours and that is about what it took. We didn’t actually enter the Colorado Mountains until we headed west at Colorado Springs, 90 minutes into the trip. The Colorado mountains are beautiful in this middle area of the state. The wide sweeping valleys have a more diverse range of tree species than in the northern area.
I’ll bet it is very beautiful in the fall. I’ve only been in the area during the summer. We only stopped once at a look out. But, my real reason was that my bladder was insisting. It sucks getting old. But, we got a couple of pictures and headed on.
We pulled into Cripple Creek about 15 minutes later. I knew where I wanted to stay, the aforementioned Hotel St. Nicholas. I had done quite a bit of research on the hotel several years ago when I was planning a trip. Plans changed and we didn’t go. But, the research still came in handy. I knew about the amenities (outdoor hot tub with a view of the mountains, Boiler Tavern, continental breakfast, & free shuttle to town) and the location. What I didn’t know, was if there was a room open. Even if there was a room, I was hoping for a nice one. I think they are nice, but I didn’t want the cheapest one. As it turned out, there were two or three open.
We got a nice one, Room #7. It was the old nursery in the hospital. Attached to it was an enclosed sitting room that overlooked the city. In the old hospital it had been the sun room, where the nurses would put the jaundiced babies. We were later told that some past patrons had heard a baby crying, when there were no babies staying at the hotel. Margo never heard anything, but I head some sort of metal on metal squeak that I couldn’t explain. I doubt it was anything supernatural, and it certainly wasn’t weird enough to make me want to get out of bed, or even wake up all the way. But, it makes for an interesting story.
We checked in, got settled, and then went into town to see what was going on. We had the desk manager call the shuttle for us, and headed down the very steep hill into Cripple Creek. We were a bit disappointed in that the town seemed pretty dead. But it was late afternoon and still a bit early in the summer.
But, it was Friday. We wandered into a couple of the casinos and lost a few bucks in the slot machines. Gambling in Colorado is limited. I already mentioned that there are only three cities where it is legal. The other two are Black Hawk and Central City. The “limited” also refers to the games that are allowed (just slots, poker, and blackjack), and the stakes. You can’t place a bet more than $5. Pretty pathetic. 17 years ago when it was legalized, the $5 limit didn’t seem unreasonable, and you could actual bet a hand of blackjack with a $1 bet. No more, almost all tables are $5 minimum. In Cripple Creek we never saw an open blackjack table. We saw signs for poker games, but I never saw anyone playing. The slot machines were everywhere, and that is where we donated a little of our money.
We walked around some. Visited a shop or two, and then stopped in one of the casinos for a bite to eat. When we were done, about 7 PM, I wanted some ice cream. We had passed a couple of places that sold ice cream, but both were closed. That sucked. But, we came across a place called The Black Cow. The Black Cow, while not claiming to be the actual location, does tell the story of how the Root Beer Float was invented right here in Cripple Creek.
The story goes something like this. A Chicago man with various (failing) mining interests in the Cripple Creek area ran a shop to support his claims. One of his mines was on Black Cow Mountain. He got the idea of putting a scoop of ice cream on top of his root beer (Myers Avenue Red), because it, the ice cream, reminded him of snow on the mountain top.
He called his new creation “Ice Cream Capped Black Cow Mountain Root Beer Float”. It became very popular with “miners, madams, and ministers” alike. Kids liked it too, but weren’t about to call it by such a convoluted name. They would just come in and order a Black Cow.
I’m not a root beer guy so I skipped it. Margo is, but was not very hungry. But, my quest had been for ice cream. One the menu was an ice cream cookie sandwich that took 15 minutes to make. My curiosity was piqued, so I ordered one. It takes 15 minutes because the cookie dough is cooked as soon as it is ordered. The two warm cookies (chocolate fudge chip, but they only have one kind for the whole day, and it changes) form the outside, while a vanilla soft serve makes up the middle. I was more than happy. MMMMMMM…Warm cookies and cold, melting ice cream! And they were smart enough to stay open for a couple of the early evening hours.
After our snack it was time to head back to the hotel. We found the shuttle and it dropped us off right at our door. As we were only staying one night, this was going to be our best opportunity to hit the hot tub. It was a smidgen cooler than I would have liked, but I think they had had the cover off all day. Still we weren’t complaining. We lounged around admiring the lights of Cripple Creek. When wrinkling started to set it, we figured on giving the Vapor Room a shot. The Vapor Room is a steam room. It takes about 20 minutes for it to heat up, and I got awful comfortable lying on the top bench seat. Margo and I had it to ourselves. It never did get terrible hot, but I got terribly sleepy. It had been a long day. With that, I (Margo had already decided she was tired) headed back to the room, and got ready for bed.
|
|
Day Two--Saturday, June 14, 2008
If I had given any thought the day before that I was sleeping in a supposedly haunted hotel on Friday the 13th, I might have been predisposed to turn innocent sounds in the wanderings of Casper’s cousin. But, it never crossed my mind. Besides I fear Monday the 13th, as I know bad things occur then. They start with the alarm signaling the start of the work week.
But, I digress.
Margo said she slept fine with no apparitions or sounds interrupting her slumber. I, on the other hand, did hear some sort of metal on metal scraping. I could not place the sound, and it did briefly enter into my mind that it could be something supernatural. On the other hand, I was half asleep in a 110 year old building. The part of my brain that put up the argument “It’s nothing. Roll over and go to sleep” won. Even as I write this now, I’m unconvinced that I heard anything that would have been unexplained if I had gotten up to investigate. But, you never know. When we got up the next morning, nothing had appeared to have been moved or rearranged. So I put it out of mind, and got ready to start the day.
We were out of bed early enough to enjoy the free continental breakfast, just off the lobby.
We were joined by another couple, from Littleton CO, and we all talked a bit with the AM Hotel Manager. She told us a few stories about the hotel and a few ghost stories. This is when we learned about our room being the old nursery and the tales of crying babies heard by current guests. After we ate we decided to first walk around the hotel and take in some of the charm and a few pictures. We discovered the billiard room and The Boiler Room, which is the house tavern. It is named because for the large brass boiler door that hangs behind the bar. This came off of the furnace that used to serve the hotel. The room that contains the Boiler Room, used to be the hospital laundry. The real boiler room was in the basement, and not open to the public. There wouldn’t be anything to see anyway.
As we were checking out, there was no reason to use the shuttle for sightseeing today.
We just got in our car and drove to the east end of town to start out day. I had a list of things I wanted to see and do today. They included; Ride the Cripple Creek and Victor Narrow Gauge Railroad, tour the Mollie Kathleen Mine, take the ghost tour that I had read about, and visit the Mt Pisgah cemetery. Upon check out we discovered that the town of Cripple Creek was conducting a kind of scavenger hunt. They had a list of about 15(?) places they want you to visit. If you visited ten (by the end of the year) you were put in a drawing for something. As our hotel was one of the places, and so were several others on our potential to-see list, we decided to play along. We were issued a map and an entry sheet. It was to be stamped when we visited a designated place.
As I only had the scantest information about the Ghost Tour I decided to head to the area where it I thought it started and ask around.
Coincidently one of the places on The List was the Carr Manor, another historic hotel. It was right at the intersection where I thought the tours began. So we headed up there. We soon discovered that the Carr Manor was the old Cripple Creek High School. It had been converted into a boutique Bed and Breakfast. Margo and I were very impressed as we were taken on the tour. It was impeccably decorated and renovated. There were only two real signs that this used to be a school. One was the words “High School” directly above the entrance. The other was that the blackboards had been left in. I’m not sure how they did it, but the blackboards “worked”. They stood out, without dominating. Margo and I both had our cameras with us, and neither of us took any pictures inside. Maybe that would have shown you what I can’t explain. We got to see the two best suites; The Ralph Carr suite and the Sheriff Boynton Suite. Both were very impressive. You can go to www.
Prospector's Pit
carrmanor.com and see for yourself. I could go on about this place a bit, but it only makes me mad. I still can’t believe we didn’t take any pictures. Next time inCripple Creek, we just might have to stay here.
There was some bad news associated with this hotel visit. We found out that the guy who used to conduct the Ghost Tour operated the inn across the street. But, he had sold out and moved away. Too bad. I was looking forward to that. We got our stamp from the Manor and moved on, a bit disappointed, but very impressed with the hotel.
There was a celebration going on to commemorate the 55th anniversary of the Cripple CreekDistrict Museum.
The epicenter, not unsurprisingly was in parking lot of that museum. The CCDM was right beside the Cripple Creek & Victor RR. So to kill two birds with one stone we decided to make that our next stop. The celebration began at 10 AM and we were there about a half hour late. By big city standards this was a lightweight affair. But Margo and I, instead of being put off by its size, felt more like a close friend had invited us to their family reunion. There was plenty of beer and food. I have nothing against either, but I was more interested in the train, and seeing a bit of the Cripple Creek area. So the museum was going to have to stand in line for my attention
For those not familiar with the term “narrow gauge” it pertains to the distance between the two rails.
Standard Gauge is 4’ 8 ½”. Narrow gauge is anything less than that, and could be in a variety of sizes. Narrow Gauge was used commonly in the ColoradoMountains in the 1880s for a couple of reasons. One, it required less right of way to be purchased or leased. Second, it was possible to make tighter turns. But, it presented problems as a train set up for narrow gauge could not run on standard width rails. While interesting, I was just excited to ride or another real coal-fired, steam-driven train. I had taken the family to Durango and rode the famous Durango-Silverton, another narrow gauge railroad, about ten years ago. That scenery there was unrivaled. I was curious to see how this would compare.
We had two choices, and inside car and an outside car.
The temperature at 9500 feet, in July, at 11 AM, was in the 70s. So I figured outside would be great. It turned out to be just this side of perfect. The train moved at a pretty leisurely pace and the subsequent breeze was refreshing without being cold. We had clear blue skies and were close enough to the intercom to hear most of the running commentary educating us on the history of the area. The ride was only about 45 minutes, but we past many old mines (The Cripple Creek area was home to over 500), and a ghost town or two. We saw Poverty Gulch were gold we first discovered in the area, and saw a tiny segment of the Cripple Creek. But, in this 21st century incarnation, it looked like an irrigation ditch. We saw numerous holes in the ground that we learned were Prospector’s Holes. These were sample holes dug so as to obtain a rock sample. When assayed to determine the amount of gold, that told the potential miner if it was worth his time or not.
All an all it was everything I hoped for, except it could have lasted longer.
Back at the depot we shopped some, and then decided to head next door to both the celebration and Cripple Creek District Museum. There was no admission charge as this was a special day for them. The museum had three levels, and we spent some time in all three. I first noticed a pair of real ball and chains. These were put on prisoners to make running difficult. I had only seen these sorts of things in the Saturday morning cartoons of my youth. They were always drawn as to be the size of a basketball. With these real ones the ball was the size of a baseball or softball. There were plenty of other things to see; the original, wooden, headstone of the city’s most famous madam, Pearl DeVere, a display about heavyweight boxer Jack Dempsey (Jack, known as the Manassa {CO} Mauler, got his start fighting in the mining camps of Colorado); the old telephone switchboard, lots of mining artifacts, and mannequins dressed in period cloths.
The last thing we did before leaving the museum was to visit the gift shop. I bought a small bag of equine candy. One of the things that Cripple Creek is known for is their herd of wild burros. They have roamed the town and countryside for the last 80-90 years. They are the descendants of burros that had worked in the mines, but basically turned loose when technology put them in the unemployment line. They have been known to stop traffic looking for a handout. I was looking forward to seeing them.
We had heard about another museum in town, from the other St Nick guests, called the Old Homestead. This is the last “parlour house” still standing inCripple Creek. It was owned and operated by the aforementioned, Pearl DeVere. The idea of visiting this particular museum was cemented in our minds by our morning breakfast companions.
While giving their recommendation for the museum, we were told of the elderly lady who gave tours. She was a bit of a character and at one point issued the proclamation “I’m 80 years old, and I work in a whorehouse.” Who wouldn’t want to be led by a tour guide like that?
We made our way to the museum and paid our admission. The tour was split up between two ladies, the second of which was the self proclaimed bawdy house worker. I confess to being disappointed. She must not have been in top form, as we didn’t get any character out of her. But we did get a lot of information about Pearl and her girls.
The Old Homestead is the last standing Parlour House because two fires in 1895 burned most of the town to the ground.
Pearl rebuilt her house out of brick. The two most interesting part of Pearl’s house were it’s brevity and it’s opulence. Pearl arrived in 1893 and died of a morphine overdose, in1897. What I have subsequently read is that it was accidental, but the two ladies giving the tours say it was suicide brought on by a jilted lover.Pearl’s fee for a night with one of her girls was $250 per night. $20 per week was a pretty good wage in those days, so you had to have some means to afford the Homestead. Just money wasn’t enough. You had to both be recommended, and then submit to an interview.
The house itself had indoor plumbing, a telephone, an intercom system, imported wallpaper, chandeliers, and wall paper.
The Homestead House
The girls were the most beautiful that could be found. Our tour took us to several rooms, and we heard a few stories of the girls who lived there. It’s hard to compare opulence of the late 19th century to that of the early 21st century, but it was easy to see that this place had been something in it’s day. Strangely, one of the things that I most remember about the tour is seeing a curling iron. These look similar to the ones of today, but to heat them you used the heat of a lamp, stove, or even a specially designed device for the purpose.
And once again, Margo and I took almost no pictures. I guess these cameras are just to identify us to the locals as tourists. We thanked our guides, got our scavenger stamps (Third one. We be jammin’!) and decided to head into town for some lunch.
After lunch, at one of the casinos, we headed to the far west end of town to visit The Outlaws andLawmen Jail Museum.
I had planned to visit it when I heard about it, and it was on your scavenger list, but in truth I had only modest expectations. But, I was immediately blown away when we walked through the door. There before us stood an ancient, two-tiered, iron prison. I genuinely felt like I had just stepped back in time by about 75 years. Margo and I did finally figure out how to open our camera cases, so we did a decent job of documenting this attraction. But, the pictures don’t do it justice. You are decidedly impressed about the absolute sparseness and what must have been mind numbing boredom that the residents must have had to deal with. I did feel a bit sorry for them, but I got over it quickly. These residents earned there stay here and if the accommodations were not to their liking they could either change their ways or move on. Still one particular cell really drove home what it must have been like. One inmate had spent hundreds of hours decorating his cell to make it look like it was home. He did this with a pencil. He drew bricks, a window, a fireplace, and even a dog.
Everywhere you looked he had covered all four walls with something to make it seem less dreary. Should you ever make it Cripple Creek, put this on your must see list. On the walls were large murals with accompanying stories telling of Cripple Creek’s most famous villains. Few if any are known outside the general area, but are interesting none the less. This building and cells served as the Teller County Jail until the 1970s when it was shut down. It was deemed to be too cruel an existence for the inmates.
By now it was getting to be midafternoon and I really wanted to see the Mollie Kathleen mine. The tour is supposed to be something, and the last one was at 5:00. I wanted to go now and then we could wing the rest our stay here in the mountains.
Margo was enjoying it so far, so she had no objections. To get to the mine we would need out car. The mine was just outside of town and the shuttle did not go that far. So we flagged down the shuttle and told the man we wanted to go to the other end of town, back to the railroad. About two blocks into the trip, it crossed my mind to ask the driver if he had seen the donkeys today. He had, but wasn't sure where they were now. Almost immediately they came into sight. They were grazing at the side of the Cripple Creek. I told the driver he could just drop us off right here, and he was happy to do it. I gave him a quick tip, and Margo and I went out to meet the donkeys.
As soon as the donkeys saw us coming towards them, they lifted their heads and started walking towards us. We were evidently not the first tourists they had seen. It took less than a minute for Margo and I to distibute the small bag of horse candy.
Once we were treat-free the burros lost interest in us, and headed back to grass. But, I was happy. I got to feed and pet the donkeys. Margo was less thrilled. She got donkey spit on her hand, and they smelled. Oh, well. Such is the price of living.
We were only about two blocks from our car so we walked over. Soon were on our way out of town, heading back out of town the same way we had come the day before. It only took about five minutes. We purchased our tickets and were told we had about 20 minutes until the next tour. They had a nice gift shop so we wandered around a bit. Margo noticed the jewelry display (Uh-Oh), and I found the books. But we didn’t linger long.
It was still plenty warm, but when we bought our tickets we were warned the temp at the bottom of the mine was about 55 degrees, so Margo and I went to the car and got our jackets.
You always bring jackets when you go to the mountains. It can get chilly, anytime of the year, at night.
We didn’t have to wait long for our tour to start. Our group consisted of 11 people. To get into the mine they would have to load us in the skip. This is a kind of elevator or cage which is lowered down to the mine, by the man in the hoist house. I was surprised to learn that the skip is a dual level contraption. They divided us into a group of 5 and a group of 6. Margo and I were a third of the larger group. We got squeezed into the first half of the skip. Then the hoist house man raised the elevator up, and exposed the bottom half of the conveyance. The other group, plus the guide was loaded up, and down we went.
The bottom of the mine, at least our area was 1000 ft below the surface.
It took us only about two minutes. 500 feet per minutes was not quite fast enough to make my ears pop, but it was moving at a good clip. I was happy the trip went quick. Loading six people, even factoring in that two were kids was a tight squeeze. Think Tokyo subway. When we got to the bottom and me, Margo, and our four newest friends stepped out, we joined the rest of the group who got our first. Our guide was a grizzled, bearded, 60ish, Alaskan miner. We were told he had been a miner for 30 years. Throughout our tour I learned more about mining in that hour, than I had known cumulative in my whole life. Given that I live in Colorado and my grandfather was a coal miner that should give you an idea of this guy’s knowledge.
I mentioned that the tour lasted an hour, but it really didn’t feel like it.
He moved us from place to place and filled every minute with something interesting and informative. I’m not going to go into great detail, but things like when blasting all the explosions don’t go off at once. When mining you start at a point down and mine upward. And that hard rock mines, like this one, don’t need any structural support. No timbers to prevent the ceiling from caving in are needed.
We saw mining equipment that covered the last 100 years, and learned about its evolution and effects on the miners. We learned that the donkeys that pulled the ore carts in the early days spent their whole lives in the mines. They never saw the surface. We even got to see their old stalls. The stalls had been converted to be used as a kind of break area for the miners once technology had make donkey power obsolete. Our guide joked that this break area was thus, the very first Hard Rock Café.
Our guide about to demonstate "single jacking" Which is one man drilling. Strike the hammer on the bit, quarter turn, repeat a few thousand times.
I immediately was hoping for a T-shirt.
At the end of the tour we were all given a real piece of gold ore. He warned us not to get too excited. The sample likely contained about $2 worth of gold, but would take about $25 in refining to extract it. Oh, well. Our tour ended there, and we loaded back up for the return trip. Up top we hit the gift shop. Margo bought herself a ring. I got a booklet on Cripple Creek history.
The afternoon was rapidly slipping away and we wanted to be home by 10 PM, as we both had to work on Monday. That did not give us a lot of time.
We were hungry so we went back into town and ate at a Mexican restaurant inside the Bronco Billy’s Casino. It was supposed to be the best Mexican food in Cripple Creek. But that is not exactly a glowing testimonial. That might be roughly equivalent to being the best oboe player in Big River, Iowa. It was pretty good. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Most businesses in Cripple Creek close up around 5 PM. It was past that by now, so we were pretty much done with any shopping or such for the day. But, there was one more place we could visit, Mt. PisgahCemetery.
I enjoy visiting cemeteries that contain someone famous or at least of note. It’s as close to meeting them and fixing their “reality” as you can get. In this cemetery there were a couple of local characters. One was the aforementioned, Pearl DeVere, the madam you ran Homestead House. The other was Dr. Susan Anderson. You’ve never heard of Doc Susie? That’s not surprising. She was a frontier doctor in the late 1800s and early 1900s in Grand County, CO. This was a time when you could count the lady doctors in Colorado on one hand, and be in no danger of using your thumb. Some Hollywood writer heard about her, embellished her story, more than a little, moved her out of Grand County and in to El Paso County (Colorado Springs, to be specific), and gave her a new name. She became Michaela Quinn. Her television show was called Dr Quinn: Medicine Woman, starring Jane Seymour. I always liked the show.
We found the cemetery with just a smattering of trouble.
But now for the hard part. This cemetery, while not large still covered about 10-15 acres of land. I had no idea where the graves where at. But, this was not my first cemetery and there were two of us. I also knew when they died. Cemeteries generally fill up in sections. So most everyone in a given section will have died in the same general time. That is not absolute, but a good rule of thumb. Surprisingly, I found Pearl’s grave in less than 10 minutes. We took a few pictures and went back to seaching. Less than 10 minutes later I found Dr Susie’s grave. But, as soon as I saw it, it triggered a memory. When I read her biography several years back, I recall that she ended up with two different monuments, in two different parts of the cemetery. I seem to recall it had something to do with her brother, who she was or was supposed to be buried with. (She never married). That was also the reason she ended up being buried in Teller County, when she lived her live a 100 miles to the north in Grand County.
Anyway, it seemed that we would be pressing our luck to find the other stone. Margo tolerates these cemetery walks with me. She is interested, but she isn’t crazy about searching for the headstones. At least not when we had no idea where it was. So I decided since we would just work our way back towards the entrance and hope for the best. I stuck gold again! Again, in less than 10 minutes time, I had found her second headstone. We had found three different graves, in three different parts of the cemetery, in less than half an hour!
With this mission accomplished and the sun starting to make our shadows long we headed back into town. We had had a great time. I expected to enjoy the hotel, the railroad, and the mine. But all three greatly exceeded my expectations. The Lawman/Outlaw museum was an added bonus! In a final celebration, and because I really didn’t want to leave, I talked Margo into going back to the Black Cow (I didn’t have to twist her arm too much.
She enjoyed it, too) and I got another of those delicious ice cream cookie sandwiches! What a great, quick, trip. I can’t wait to go back!
But, I digress.
Margo said she slept fine with no apparitions or sounds interrupting her slumber. I, on the other hand, did hear some sort of metal on metal scraping. I could not place the sound, and it did briefly enter into my mind that it could be something supernatural. On the other hand, I was half asleep in a 110 year old building. The part of my brain that put up the argument “It’s nothing. Roll over and go to sleep” won. Even as I write this now, I’m unconvinced that I heard anything that would have been unexplained if I had gotten up to investigate. But, you never know. When we got up the next morning, nothing had appeared to have been moved or rearranged. So I put it out of mind, and got ready to start the day.
We were out of bed early enough to enjoy the free continental breakfast, just off the lobby.
We were joined by another couple, from Littleton CO, and we all talked a bit with the AM Hotel Manager. She told us a few stories about the hotel and a few ghost stories. This is when we learned about our room being the old nursery and the tales of crying babies heard by current guests. After we ate we decided to first walk around the hotel and take in some of the charm and a few pictures. We discovered the billiard room and The Boiler Room, which is the house tavern. It is named because for the large brass boiler door that hangs behind the bar. This came off of the furnace that used to serve the hotel. The room that contains the Boiler Room, used to be the hospital laundry. The real boiler room was in the basement, and not open to the public. There wouldn’t be anything to see anyway.
As we were checking out, there was no reason to use the shuttle for sightseeing today.
We just got in our car and drove to the east end of town to start out day. I had a list of things I wanted to see and do today. They included; Ride the Cripple Creek and Victor Narrow Gauge Railroad, tour the Mollie Kathleen Mine, take the ghost tour that I had read about, and visit the Mt Pisgah cemetery. Upon check out we discovered that the town of Cripple Creek was conducting a kind of scavenger hunt. They had a list of about 15(?) places they want you to visit. If you visited ten (by the end of the year) you were put in a drawing for something. As our hotel was one of the places, and so were several others on our potential to-see list, we decided to play along. We were issued a map and an entry sheet. It was to be stamped when we visited a designated place.
As I only had the scantest information about the Ghost Tour I decided to head to the area where it I thought it started and ask around.
Coincidently one of the places on The List was the Carr Manor, another historic hotel. It was right at the intersection where I thought the tours began. So we headed up there. We soon discovered that the Carr Manor was the old Cripple Creek High School. It had been converted into a boutique Bed and Breakfast. Margo and I were very impressed as we were taken on the tour. It was impeccably decorated and renovated. There were only two real signs that this used to be a school. One was the words “High School” directly above the entrance. The other was that the blackboards had been left in. I’m not sure how they did it, but the blackboards “worked”. They stood out, without dominating. Margo and I both had our cameras with us, and neither of us took any pictures inside. Maybe that would have shown you what I can’t explain. We got to see the two best suites; The Ralph Carr suite and the Sheriff Boynton Suite. Both were very impressive. You can go to www.
Prospector's Pit
carrmanor.com and see for yourself. I could go on about this place a bit, but it only makes me mad. I still can’t believe we didn’t take any pictures. Next time inCripple Creek, we just might have to stay here.
There was some bad news associated with this hotel visit. We found out that the guy who used to conduct the Ghost Tour operated the inn across the street. But, he had sold out and moved away. Too bad. I was looking forward to that. We got our stamp from the Manor and moved on, a bit disappointed, but very impressed with the hotel.
There was a celebration going on to commemorate the 55th anniversary of the Cripple CreekDistrict Museum.
The epicenter, not unsurprisingly was in parking lot of that museum. The CCDM was right beside the Cripple Creek & Victor RR. So to kill two birds with one stone we decided to make that our next stop. The celebration began at 10 AM and we were there about a half hour late. By big city standards this was a lightweight affair. But Margo and I, instead of being put off by its size, felt more like a close friend had invited us to their family reunion. There was plenty of beer and food. I have nothing against either, but I was more interested in the train, and seeing a bit of the Cripple Creek area. So the museum was going to have to stand in line for my attention
For those not familiar with the term “narrow gauge” it pertains to the distance between the two rails.
Standard Gauge is 4’ 8 ½”. Narrow gauge is anything less than that, and could be in a variety of sizes. Narrow Gauge was used commonly in the ColoradoMountains in the 1880s for a couple of reasons. One, it required less right of way to be purchased or leased. Second, it was possible to make tighter turns. But, it presented problems as a train set up for narrow gauge could not run on standard width rails. While interesting, I was just excited to ride or another real coal-fired, steam-driven train. I had taken the family to Durango and rode the famous Durango-Silverton, another narrow gauge railroad, about ten years ago. That scenery there was unrivaled. I was curious to see how this would compare.
We had two choices, and inside car and an outside car.
The temperature at 9500 feet, in July, at 11 AM, was in the 70s. So I figured outside would be great. It turned out to be just this side of perfect. The train moved at a pretty leisurely pace and the subsequent breeze was refreshing without being cold. We had clear blue skies and were close enough to the intercom to hear most of the running commentary educating us on the history of the area. The ride was only about 45 minutes, but we past many old mines (The Cripple Creek area was home to over 500), and a ghost town or two. We saw Poverty Gulch were gold we first discovered in the area, and saw a tiny segment of the Cripple Creek. But, in this 21st century incarnation, it looked like an irrigation ditch. We saw numerous holes in the ground that we learned were Prospector’s Holes. These were sample holes dug so as to obtain a rock sample. When assayed to determine the amount of gold, that told the potential miner if it was worth his time or not.
All an all it was everything I hoped for, except it could have lasted longer.
Back at the depot we shopped some, and then decided to head next door to both the celebration and Cripple Creek District Museum. There was no admission charge as this was a special day for them. The museum had three levels, and we spent some time in all three. I first noticed a pair of real ball and chains. These were put on prisoners to make running difficult. I had only seen these sorts of things in the Saturday morning cartoons of my youth. They were always drawn as to be the size of a basketball. With these real ones the ball was the size of a baseball or softball. There were plenty of other things to see; the original, wooden, headstone of the city’s most famous madam, Pearl DeVere, a display about heavyweight boxer Jack Dempsey (Jack, known as the Manassa {CO} Mauler, got his start fighting in the mining camps of Colorado); the old telephone switchboard, lots of mining artifacts, and mannequins dressed in period cloths.
The last thing we did before leaving the museum was to visit the gift shop. I bought a small bag of equine candy. One of the things that Cripple Creek is known for is their herd of wild burros. They have roamed the town and countryside for the last 80-90 years. They are the descendants of burros that had worked in the mines, but basically turned loose when technology put them in the unemployment line. They have been known to stop traffic looking for a handout. I was looking forward to seeing them.
We had heard about another museum in town, from the other St Nick guests, called the Old Homestead. This is the last “parlour house” still standing inCripple Creek. It was owned and operated by the aforementioned, Pearl DeVere. The idea of visiting this particular museum was cemented in our minds by our morning breakfast companions.
While giving their recommendation for the museum, we were told of the elderly lady who gave tours. She was a bit of a character and at one point issued the proclamation “I’m 80 years old, and I work in a whorehouse.” Who wouldn’t want to be led by a tour guide like that?
We made our way to the museum and paid our admission. The tour was split up between two ladies, the second of which was the self proclaimed bawdy house worker. I confess to being disappointed. She must not have been in top form, as we didn’t get any character out of her. But we did get a lot of information about Pearl and her girls.
The Old Homestead is the last standing Parlour House because two fires in 1895 burned most of the town to the ground.
Pearl rebuilt her house out of brick. The two most interesting part of Pearl’s house were it’s brevity and it’s opulence. Pearl arrived in 1893 and died of a morphine overdose, in1897. What I have subsequently read is that it was accidental, but the two ladies giving the tours say it was suicide brought on by a jilted lover.Pearl’s fee for a night with one of her girls was $250 per night. $20 per week was a pretty good wage in those days, so you had to have some means to afford the Homestead. Just money wasn’t enough. You had to both be recommended, and then submit to an interview.
The house itself had indoor plumbing, a telephone, an intercom system, imported wallpaper, chandeliers, and wall paper.
The Homestead House
The girls were the most beautiful that could be found. Our tour took us to several rooms, and we heard a few stories of the girls who lived there. It’s hard to compare opulence of the late 19th century to that of the early 21st century, but it was easy to see that this place had been something in it’s day. Strangely, one of the things that I most remember about the tour is seeing a curling iron. These look similar to the ones of today, but to heat them you used the heat of a lamp, stove, or even a specially designed device for the purpose.
And once again, Margo and I took almost no pictures. I guess these cameras are just to identify us to the locals as tourists. We thanked our guides, got our scavenger stamps (Third one. We be jammin’!) and decided to head into town for some lunch.
After lunch, at one of the casinos, we headed to the far west end of town to visit The Outlaws andLawmen Jail Museum.
I had planned to visit it when I heard about it, and it was on your scavenger list, but in truth I had only modest expectations. But, I was immediately blown away when we walked through the door. There before us stood an ancient, two-tiered, iron prison. I genuinely felt like I had just stepped back in time by about 75 years. Margo and I did finally figure out how to open our camera cases, so we did a decent job of documenting this attraction. But, the pictures don’t do it justice. You are decidedly impressed about the absolute sparseness and what must have been mind numbing boredom that the residents must have had to deal with. I did feel a bit sorry for them, but I got over it quickly. These residents earned there stay here and if the accommodations were not to their liking they could either change their ways or move on. Still one particular cell really drove home what it must have been like. One inmate had spent hundreds of hours decorating his cell to make it look like it was home. He did this with a pencil. He drew bricks, a window, a fireplace, and even a dog.
Everywhere you looked he had covered all four walls with something to make it seem less dreary. Should you ever make it Cripple Creek, put this on your must see list. On the walls were large murals with accompanying stories telling of Cripple Creek’s most famous villains. Few if any are known outside the general area, but are interesting none the less. This building and cells served as the Teller County Jail until the 1970s when it was shut down. It was deemed to be too cruel an existence for the inmates.
By now it was getting to be midafternoon and I really wanted to see the Mollie Kathleen mine. The tour is supposed to be something, and the last one was at 5:00. I wanted to go now and then we could wing the rest our stay here in the mountains.
Margo was enjoying it so far, so she had no objections. To get to the mine we would need out car. The mine was just outside of town and the shuttle did not go that far. So we flagged down the shuttle and told the man we wanted to go to the other end of town, back to the railroad. About two blocks into the trip, it crossed my mind to ask the driver if he had seen the donkeys today. He had, but wasn't sure where they were now. Almost immediately they came into sight. They were grazing at the side of the Cripple Creek. I told the driver he could just drop us off right here, and he was happy to do it. I gave him a quick tip, and Margo and I went out to meet the donkeys.
As soon as the donkeys saw us coming towards them, they lifted their heads and started walking towards us. We were evidently not the first tourists they had seen. It took less than a minute for Margo and I to distibute the small bag of horse candy.
Once we were treat-free the burros lost interest in us, and headed back to grass. But, I was happy. I got to feed and pet the donkeys. Margo was less thrilled. She got donkey spit on her hand, and they smelled. Oh, well. Such is the price of living.
We were only about two blocks from our car so we walked over. Soon were on our way out of town, heading back out of town the same way we had come the day before. It only took about five minutes. We purchased our tickets and were told we had about 20 minutes until the next tour. They had a nice gift shop so we wandered around a bit. Margo noticed the jewelry display (Uh-Oh), and I found the books. But we didn’t linger long.
It was still plenty warm, but when we bought our tickets we were warned the temp at the bottom of the mine was about 55 degrees, so Margo and I went to the car and got our jackets.
You always bring jackets when you go to the mountains. It can get chilly, anytime of the year, at night.
We didn’t have to wait long for our tour to start. Our group consisted of 11 people. To get into the mine they would have to load us in the skip. This is a kind of elevator or cage which is lowered down to the mine, by the man in the hoist house. I was surprised to learn that the skip is a dual level contraption. They divided us into a group of 5 and a group of 6. Margo and I were a third of the larger group. We got squeezed into the first half of the skip. Then the hoist house man raised the elevator up, and exposed the bottom half of the conveyance. The other group, plus the guide was loaded up, and down we went.
The bottom of the mine, at least our area was 1000 ft below the surface.
It took us only about two minutes. 500 feet per minutes was not quite fast enough to make my ears pop, but it was moving at a good clip. I was happy the trip went quick. Loading six people, even factoring in that two were kids was a tight squeeze. Think Tokyo subway. When we got to the bottom and me, Margo, and our four newest friends stepped out, we joined the rest of the group who got our first. Our guide was a grizzled, bearded, 60ish, Alaskan miner. We were told he had been a miner for 30 years. Throughout our tour I learned more about mining in that hour, than I had known cumulative in my whole life. Given that I live in Colorado and my grandfather was a coal miner that should give you an idea of this guy’s knowledge.
I mentioned that the tour lasted an hour, but it really didn’t feel like it.
He moved us from place to place and filled every minute with something interesting and informative. I’m not going to go into great detail, but things like when blasting all the explosions don’t go off at once. When mining you start at a point down and mine upward. And that hard rock mines, like this one, don’t need any structural support. No timbers to prevent the ceiling from caving in are needed.
We saw mining equipment that covered the last 100 years, and learned about its evolution and effects on the miners. We learned that the donkeys that pulled the ore carts in the early days spent their whole lives in the mines. They never saw the surface. We even got to see their old stalls. The stalls had been converted to be used as a kind of break area for the miners once technology had make donkey power obsolete. Our guide joked that this break area was thus, the very first Hard Rock Café.
Our guide about to demonstate "single jacking" Which is one man drilling. Strike the hammer on the bit, quarter turn, repeat a few thousand times.
I immediately was hoping for a T-shirt.
At the end of the tour we were all given a real piece of gold ore. He warned us not to get too excited. The sample likely contained about $2 worth of gold, but would take about $25 in refining to extract it. Oh, well. Our tour ended there, and we loaded back up for the return trip. Up top we hit the gift shop. Margo bought herself a ring. I got a booklet on Cripple Creek history.
The afternoon was rapidly slipping away and we wanted to be home by 10 PM, as we both had to work on Monday. That did not give us a lot of time.
We were hungry so we went back into town and ate at a Mexican restaurant inside the Bronco Billy’s Casino. It was supposed to be the best Mexican food in Cripple Creek. But that is not exactly a glowing testimonial. That might be roughly equivalent to being the best oboe player in Big River, Iowa. It was pretty good. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Most businesses in Cripple Creek close up around 5 PM. It was past that by now, so we were pretty much done with any shopping or such for the day. But, there was one more place we could visit, Mt. PisgahCemetery.
I enjoy visiting cemeteries that contain someone famous or at least of note. It’s as close to meeting them and fixing their “reality” as you can get. In this cemetery there were a couple of local characters. One was the aforementioned, Pearl DeVere, the madam you ran Homestead House. The other was Dr. Susan Anderson. You’ve never heard of Doc Susie? That’s not surprising. She was a frontier doctor in the late 1800s and early 1900s in Grand County, CO. This was a time when you could count the lady doctors in Colorado on one hand, and be in no danger of using your thumb. Some Hollywood writer heard about her, embellished her story, more than a little, moved her out of Grand County and in to El Paso County (Colorado Springs, to be specific), and gave her a new name. She became Michaela Quinn. Her television show was called Dr Quinn: Medicine Woman, starring Jane Seymour. I always liked the show.
We found the cemetery with just a smattering of trouble.
But now for the hard part. This cemetery, while not large still covered about 10-15 acres of land. I had no idea where the graves where at. But, this was not my first cemetery and there were two of us. I also knew when they died. Cemeteries generally fill up in sections. So most everyone in a given section will have died in the same general time. That is not absolute, but a good rule of thumb. Surprisingly, I found Pearl’s grave in less than 10 minutes. We took a few pictures and went back to seaching. Less than 10 minutes later I found Dr Susie’s grave. But, as soon as I saw it, it triggered a memory. When I read her biography several years back, I recall that she ended up with two different monuments, in two different parts of the cemetery. I seem to recall it had something to do with her brother, who she was or was supposed to be buried with. (She never married). That was also the reason she ended up being buried in Teller County, when she lived her live a 100 miles to the north in Grand County.
Anyway, it seemed that we would be pressing our luck to find the other stone. Margo tolerates these cemetery walks with me. She is interested, but she isn’t crazy about searching for the headstones. At least not when we had no idea where it was. So I decided since we would just work our way back towards the entrance and hope for the best. I stuck gold again! Again, in less than 10 minutes time, I had found her second headstone. We had found three different graves, in three different parts of the cemetery, in less than half an hour!
With this mission accomplished and the sun starting to make our shadows long we headed back into town. We had had a great time. I expected to enjoy the hotel, the railroad, and the mine. But all three greatly exceeded my expectations. The Lawman/Outlaw museum was an added bonus! In a final celebration, and because I really didn’t want to leave, I talked Margo into going back to the Black Cow (I didn’t have to twist her arm too much.
She enjoyed it, too) and I got another of those delicious ice cream cookie sandwiches! What a great, quick, trip. I can’t wait to go back!
|
|
|
Day Three-
|
|
|
|
|
|
Day Four-
|
|
|
|
|
|
Day Five
|
|
|
|
|
|