2023-Marble, CO
Prologue
As I write this prologue, it dawns on me that I have never explained why I write a prologue, not even to myself. I guess in truth, I never thought about giving a reason. Every story needs a beginning, a middle, and an end. But, they also need context. The prologue, and it is not like I invented it, is designed for context. So here goes with the context.
On July 2, 2023, I will turn 60 years old. I asked myself what was one thing I could give myself for this milestone anniversary. For me the answer is obvious; tick off one of my life goals. Perusing through the list, looking for something that would not break the bank, #55-Visit the Crystal Mill and Marble, CO, jumped off the list.
Being #55 on a list of 89 is a bit deceiving. I have wanted to visit this Colorado landmark since I first heard about it decades ago. It is just sometimes I am slow to realize that something that I really want to do is a “life goal” and should be on Life Goal List.
2023 is also the year in which things started to slow down at work. I finally got my team built, with a single exception, and the chaos of the Pandemic and the MBM Merger had finally started to settle down. This trip was one in which I was really expecting to relax and enjoy, without the tap, tap, tap, of work on my shoulder, reminding me of a mess I would be coming back to. Of course, maybe I am being too simplistic. Coming back from vacation always seems to mean coming back to some mess. But, what are you going to do? For now, travel and deal with it.
On July 2, 2023, I will turn 60 years old. I asked myself what was one thing I could give myself for this milestone anniversary. For me the answer is obvious; tick off one of my life goals. Perusing through the list, looking for something that would not break the bank, #55-Visit the Crystal Mill and Marble, CO, jumped off the list.
Being #55 on a list of 89 is a bit deceiving. I have wanted to visit this Colorado landmark since I first heard about it decades ago. It is just sometimes I am slow to realize that something that I really want to do is a “life goal” and should be on Life Goal List.
2023 is also the year in which things started to slow down at work. I finally got my team built, with a single exception, and the chaos of the Pandemic and the MBM Merger had finally started to settle down. This trip was one in which I was really expecting to relax and enjoy, without the tap, tap, tap, of work on my shoulder, reminding me of a mess I would be coming back to. Of course, maybe I am being too simplistic. Coming back from vacation always seems to mean coming back to some mess. But, what are you going to do? For now, travel and deal with it.
Day One---Wednesday, June 28, 2023
I was up at 6:30 AM, with Margo, per her norm, up before me. The goal was to be on the road by 8:30 AM, and also be at Rifle Falls State Farm in time for a picnic lunch. 8:30 came around, and when I looked over the wheel, sure enough we were on the road. Yeah for us! Then traffic hit once we got on I-76, and it cost us 20 minutes, just crawling until we got past the I-25/US 36 interchange. But, I was in too good a mood to care.
Margo was not. Margo had her second ankle surgery in late April and is still recovering from it. This was to take out the screws that were put in to fuse her ankle back in Oct 2022. She had been limping around on the same ankle since at least this time last year when she started complaining about the ankle pain. Now in addition to a healing ankle, and the realignment of the joint, the doc had to break it when he fused it, to put it in the correct position, has been very uncomfortable if she has to sit for a long period of time. It is a 3 ½ hr drive to Rifle Falls.
But, we were not driving straight through. Knowing Margo’s aversion to eating while in the car, she hates trying to balance all the food, and the reasonably early start with no meal, I thought we would plan a stop for breakfast. I figured some café in one of the mountain towns would be ideal. I decided on The Main Street Restaurant in Idaho Springs. It had pretty good reviews, and was an hour’s driver. While not cutting our drive quite in half, it would still give her a break.
We parked on the lot that was on the next street over. They had an automated pay feature that required you to use your phone and download an app. I finished paying and something did not seem right. It had directed me to another site and had me approve a payment. I had thought I had already done that. I would check on my phone when we got to the restaurant, and there was the payment, and an email from the other website, thanking me for signing up for their service. I was not happy, but there was little I could do about it right now. I would figure out how to cancel when I could get access to my computer.
The food at the restaurant was just OK. The reviews had ranged from “Just OK” to “The Best Breakfast I Have Ever Had” They tended to lean towards pretty good food, which is why I chose it. But, the service was pretty good and the ambiance of the small mountain town helped make it a little special. Margo had the Cinnamon French Toast and I had the Western Omlet. We were back on the road less than an hour later, but back on schedule. It was about 10:30.
It was a 2 ½ hour drive from Idaho Springs to Rifle Falls State Park. We learned many years ago, that a good audiobook would shorten any drive. The scenery along I-70 through the mountains is several orders of magnitude better than the plains of Colorado, but it ends up being a lot of the same thing after a while. An audio distraction helps. Margo and I both like the Stephanie Plum series of books, that Janet Evanovich writes. She tells a good story and is funny, to boot.
But the story did not help Margo’s back. We had to pull over less than an hour into our second leg, so she could stretch out in the back. Margo had anticipated this problem, and had put a bedroll in the back, with the seats down, and luggage all on one side she could stretch out. I don’t think it was that comfortable, but she was better than sitting in the seat.
The drive to the state park was not filled with gorgeous scenery. Sure, we were in the mountains, but our area was more of a hilly park, than mountainous. You could certainly see the mountains, but it felt closer to the eastern plains at times than say, Clear Creek Canyon. There was plenty of dry land pasture, and various lakes, man-made and natural. If Margo had been driving, I could have paid more attention, but as it was I saw mostly a seemingly endless black band stretching out, disappearing over a hill or a bend, and reappearing as we came up on the terminus. The time passed easy enough, and by 12:30 PM, we were there. We were actually on schedule.
We did plan to spend a lot of time here at Rifle Falls State Park. There is not a lot to see and we didn’t have a lot of time. What we did have time for was a nice picnic lunch. Margo had packed all of the goodies for sandwiches, chips, and a dessert of cookies or other snacks. There were a few picnic tables, and we got one a little ways away from the actual falls, but of at least equal importance, it was in the shade.
The falls themselves are a true hidden Colorado gem. They are about 25 minutes north of Rifle, CO, which is a good 3 hours west of Denver. So, you it’s a drive to get there, and often people are trying hard to whatever their mountain destination is and a 1 ½ hour detour, there and back to I-70, is often not in the cards. We dealt ourselves in.
Back to the falls, there are three separate waterfalls each emanating from about the same 80-foot height, that splash down into the rocks below, which reforms into East Rifle Creek. That clinical description does nothing to describe it. It is both loud and relaxing at the same time. The sound of the water pulls you in, and you can’t help but lean on something and watch it cascade, tumble, and run away. I will make sure I post pictures and video first when I get these words up.
Margo went with me only to the point of discovering there were stairs leading to a higher vantage point. Margo does not do stairs. Margo does elevators, none of which had been installed. I can still do stairs and I did up to the next viewing point. I was able to get behind the falls, where there is a nice cave, and took more pictures. There were more stairs, leading to the top of the falls, but these were very rough cut, with no handrails, and I was very hesitant to risk the rest of the trip. So down I went. We were back on our way in about 15 minutes.
Margo was not. Margo had her second ankle surgery in late April and is still recovering from it. This was to take out the screws that were put in to fuse her ankle back in Oct 2022. She had been limping around on the same ankle since at least this time last year when she started complaining about the ankle pain. Now in addition to a healing ankle, and the realignment of the joint, the doc had to break it when he fused it, to put it in the correct position, has been very uncomfortable if she has to sit for a long period of time. It is a 3 ½ hr drive to Rifle Falls.
But, we were not driving straight through. Knowing Margo’s aversion to eating while in the car, she hates trying to balance all the food, and the reasonably early start with no meal, I thought we would plan a stop for breakfast. I figured some café in one of the mountain towns would be ideal. I decided on The Main Street Restaurant in Idaho Springs. It had pretty good reviews, and was an hour’s driver. While not cutting our drive quite in half, it would still give her a break.
We parked on the lot that was on the next street over. They had an automated pay feature that required you to use your phone and download an app. I finished paying and something did not seem right. It had directed me to another site and had me approve a payment. I had thought I had already done that. I would check on my phone when we got to the restaurant, and there was the payment, and an email from the other website, thanking me for signing up for their service. I was not happy, but there was little I could do about it right now. I would figure out how to cancel when I could get access to my computer.
The food at the restaurant was just OK. The reviews had ranged from “Just OK” to “The Best Breakfast I Have Ever Had” They tended to lean towards pretty good food, which is why I chose it. But, the service was pretty good and the ambiance of the small mountain town helped make it a little special. Margo had the Cinnamon French Toast and I had the Western Omlet. We were back on the road less than an hour later, but back on schedule. It was about 10:30.
It was a 2 ½ hour drive from Idaho Springs to Rifle Falls State Park. We learned many years ago, that a good audiobook would shorten any drive. The scenery along I-70 through the mountains is several orders of magnitude better than the plains of Colorado, but it ends up being a lot of the same thing after a while. An audio distraction helps. Margo and I both like the Stephanie Plum series of books, that Janet Evanovich writes. She tells a good story and is funny, to boot.
But the story did not help Margo’s back. We had to pull over less than an hour into our second leg, so she could stretch out in the back. Margo had anticipated this problem, and had put a bedroll in the back, with the seats down, and luggage all on one side she could stretch out. I don’t think it was that comfortable, but she was better than sitting in the seat.
The drive to the state park was not filled with gorgeous scenery. Sure, we were in the mountains, but our area was more of a hilly park, than mountainous. You could certainly see the mountains, but it felt closer to the eastern plains at times than say, Clear Creek Canyon. There was plenty of dry land pasture, and various lakes, man-made and natural. If Margo had been driving, I could have paid more attention, but as it was I saw mostly a seemingly endless black band stretching out, disappearing over a hill or a bend, and reappearing as we came up on the terminus. The time passed easy enough, and by 12:30 PM, we were there. We were actually on schedule.
We did plan to spend a lot of time here at Rifle Falls State Park. There is not a lot to see and we didn’t have a lot of time. What we did have time for was a nice picnic lunch. Margo had packed all of the goodies for sandwiches, chips, and a dessert of cookies or other snacks. There were a few picnic tables, and we got one a little ways away from the actual falls, but of at least equal importance, it was in the shade.
The falls themselves are a true hidden Colorado gem. They are about 25 minutes north of Rifle, CO, which is a good 3 hours west of Denver. So, you it’s a drive to get there, and often people are trying hard to whatever their mountain destination is and a 1 ½ hour detour, there and back to I-70, is often not in the cards. We dealt ourselves in.
Back to the falls, there are three separate waterfalls each emanating from about the same 80-foot height, that splash down into the rocks below, which reforms into East Rifle Creek. That clinical description does nothing to describe it. It is both loud and relaxing at the same time. The sound of the water pulls you in, and you can’t help but lean on something and watch it cascade, tumble, and run away. I will make sure I post pictures and video first when I get these words up.
Margo went with me only to the point of discovering there were stairs leading to a higher vantage point. Margo does not do stairs. Margo does elevators, none of which had been installed. I can still do stairs and I did up to the next viewing point. I was able to get behind the falls, where there is a nice cave, and took more pictures. There were more stairs, leading to the top of the falls, but these were very rough cut, with no handrails, and I was very hesitant to risk the rest of the trip. So down I went. We were back on our way in about 15 minutes.
It was a 40-minute drive to Glenwood Springs and our Best Western Hotel. We have been having very good luck with the chain recently, finding a good price decent location, and free breakfast in our trip to LA and Tennessee. We had a first-floor room, but there were still six steps to negotiate. Not a lot, but that is still about half a flight. We made due. It was still a nice place.
When in Glenwood Springs, you do the hot springs. We had done the springs over by Hotel Colorado at least twice before and wanted to try something different. Iron Mountain Hot Springs is much more manicured and laid back. They have 16 small swimming pool/hot tub type pools, each with a different temp. They ranged from 98 degrees to 108 degrees.
We were there for about 40 minutes and began our journey looking for something at 98 degrees or 100. Margo prefers the cooler temps. I like it hot. It just seems to melt the pains away, and the older I get the more pain ice there is to melt.
We would sit for 5-10 minutes and move to a hotter pool. By the time we got to one at 104 degrees Margo would only put her feet in it. At 108 degrees, their hottest, she wanted nothing to do with it. 108 degrees is hot and you ease into it, but once there it did feel good. It would feel much better if the outside temp was 40 degree cooler, but I was still happy we had taken the plunge, so to speak.
But, after a day of driving, our small adventure at Rifle Springs and a relaxing 40 minutes at the springs we were both very tired. We were back at the hotel by 4:40 PM and decided a nao was in order. I only have the very vaguest of memories when a nap was a punishment. Not today. We effectively made nearly two hours disappear and were up about 6:30 PM
When we got up our attention turned to dinner. There was a gas station nearby, so while we topped off the tank of the Trailblazer we decided on dinner at the Moonlight Restaurant, which was close. We had driven past it twice, and while we knew nothing about it, we were on vacation and having an adventure.
I can’t recall who ordered it, but we were served the second worst chili relleno in our culinary history. Only the one from Pepe’s in Temple City, CA exceeding it. Both were close to inedible. I had a glass of Pinot Noir, my first. It was OK, but as I am a heathen and only like sweet wines, it will probably be my last.
After dinner we stopped at the Kum & Go, the most suggestive name of any national chain in America, for supplies, which did not include condoms. We got to the hotel at about 8:30. Margo started getting ready for bed, and turned the TV on to Boomerang, a cartoon channel that I forgot existed. It was very distracting as I tried to write a couple of emails about our parking lot scam of the this AM. I went to bed about 10:30.
When in Glenwood Springs, you do the hot springs. We had done the springs over by Hotel Colorado at least twice before and wanted to try something different. Iron Mountain Hot Springs is much more manicured and laid back. They have 16 small swimming pool/hot tub type pools, each with a different temp. They ranged from 98 degrees to 108 degrees.
We were there for about 40 minutes and began our journey looking for something at 98 degrees or 100. Margo prefers the cooler temps. I like it hot. It just seems to melt the pains away, and the older I get the more pain ice there is to melt.
We would sit for 5-10 minutes and move to a hotter pool. By the time we got to one at 104 degrees Margo would only put her feet in it. At 108 degrees, their hottest, she wanted nothing to do with it. 108 degrees is hot and you ease into it, but once there it did feel good. It would feel much better if the outside temp was 40 degree cooler, but I was still happy we had taken the plunge, so to speak.
But, after a day of driving, our small adventure at Rifle Springs and a relaxing 40 minutes at the springs we were both very tired. We were back at the hotel by 4:40 PM and decided a nao was in order. I only have the very vaguest of memories when a nap was a punishment. Not today. We effectively made nearly two hours disappear and were up about 6:30 PM
When we got up our attention turned to dinner. There was a gas station nearby, so while we topped off the tank of the Trailblazer we decided on dinner at the Moonlight Restaurant, which was close. We had driven past it twice, and while we knew nothing about it, we were on vacation and having an adventure.
I can’t recall who ordered it, but we were served the second worst chili relleno in our culinary history. Only the one from Pepe’s in Temple City, CA exceeding it. Both were close to inedible. I had a glass of Pinot Noir, my first. It was OK, but as I am a heathen and only like sweet wines, it will probably be my last.
After dinner we stopped at the Kum & Go, the most suggestive name of any national chain in America, for supplies, which did not include condoms. We got to the hotel at about 8:30. Margo started getting ready for bed, and turned the TV on to Boomerang, a cartoon channel that I forgot existed. It was very distracting as I tried to write a couple of emails about our parking lot scam of the this AM. I went to bed about 10:30.
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Day Two---Thursday, June 29, 2023
I was up at 6:30 AM after a night of tossing and turning. Too much sleep, between then nap and night? I don’t know. We needed to be on the road by 8 AM to get to Marble by 9:30 AM. It was supposed to be about an hour drive, but we were warned to allow for half again, as much. I intended to heade the local advise.
We were at the breakfast room at about 7:30 AM. The breakfast was OK. Grading on the curve, because it was hotel food, it made it into the “good’ category. It was hot, with scrambled eggs, sausage, seasoned potatoes, and toast. The bread was too big for the toaster. I turned that over to Margo and she worked some sort of female breakfast magic and got it handled.
Today we would be driving down to Marble, CO to take a three hour jeep tour to the Crystal Mill. It is billed as the most photographed icon in Colorado. Which, when I heard that many years ago, made me want to see it and take a picture.
We were on the road by our 8 AM deadline, but Margo discovered she needed sunscreen. I have learned, it is much less stressful to just get these things over with, than get mad. We were on schedule, ahead even, so when we saw the Co-op at Carbondale, it looked like the place to be.
Margo used to work at the Co-op in Brighton, before it was bought out by Agland, and became Agfinity. She hung on long enough to reach 35 years and her pension. But, see the old Co-op sign and the feel of the small valley town, brough back pleasant memories. Walking inside it was like going back in time 30 years. This was not a bad thing. We didn’t look around much, no more time than it took to find the chapstick and we were back on our way.
We had taken Highway 82 from I-70 to Carbondale. Our traffic trouble started once we turned onto Highway 133 in Carbondale to go our final desitnation. Do to construction, that may or may not have been going on at the time, the road was closed down to one lane, three different times. We had to sit and wait at each one, as line of cars from the other direction went past us. The final time it occurred, there was not even flagmen. They must have used up the county supply at the other two stops. This one had an actual traffic signal, linked to another one down the road. At least it never calls in sick.
We pulled into Marble at 9:35 AM, only 5 minutes behind schedule, but still in plenty of time. We were checked in by Sam, who was the orginal owner’s daughter. Glen Smith who founded Crystal River Jeep Tours. He had passed away last year, and the family decide to keep the business going. I hope it continues for many more years.
A Jeep or other offroad vehicle is the only way to get to the mill, unless you walk. It is three hours round trip to the mill, by Jeep. Walking does not sound like fun. We were introduced to our driver, Jerry Begly, who has tons of experience with Jeeps, but only three with CRJT. He would turn out to be a gifted guide and storyteller.
We left for our tour at 9:50, ten minutes ahead of schedule. Our tour started in town. Marble, CO owes its existance and name to the nearby marble quarry. The marble from this quarry is unusally pure and of such high quality it was used for the Tomb of the Unknown soldier and parts of Lincoln Memorial. There are municipal buildings from coast to coast that have used the Yule marble from this quarry.
The first thing that Jerry showed us was the road leading to the quarry, which he advised we could take later, and a large block of marble that he says is to be used as the replacement for the current Tomb of the Unknown Solider. That block has cracked. But, further research shows that when/if that stone is replaced, the source of the new stone is not, shall we say, carved in stone. Still pretty cool.
Jerry took us past the Marble Fire station, the Marble Community church, which is non-demoninational, and the foundation for the Catholic church. This was very overgrown and obviously had had no work done in decades. I guess there were not enough Catholics in the area.
After your short tour around town we headed out on Daniel’s Road, which is also County Rd 3. Once you get to a certain point on County Road 3, a high clearance vehicle is mandatory. A Toyota Camry is not going up that road. Even a Toyota 4 Runner would be risky. But, a normal GPS, and even the special GPS truckers use, will calculate this as a short cut or alternate route, when I-70 is closed. Jerry said while it does not happen often, if a big rig does get stuck, it takes one of more two trucks, from Crested Butte, to get them pulled out. The cost is easily into five figures.
The trail/road was much busier than I was expected. We saw other four wheel drives, hikers, and UTVs (utlity task vehicle. Kinda of a cross between a golf cart and a dune buggy). We would rarely go 15 minutes without having to move over or stop to let someone pass. I think that was the thing that surprised me most about this trip. I thought we would be nearly alone on a Thursday morning.
The drive up had Jerry telling an occasional story, but usually pointing out flora, the occasional fauna, or a physical feature. We saw several waterfalls, with the two most prominent being named Milwaukee and Chicago. Jerry told us about a big storm that happened August of last year. It flooded and washed out the road. They all thought the road would be shut down for the season, as the county crews were not known for their speed in such situations.
However, some nameless politican had luncheon scheduled and the Gunnison County crews had the road cleared in three days. I am not sure I completely believe the story, as what venue could this luncheon been scheduled at, that was not accessible by another, better maintained road. But, I have learned that it is best not to let facts intrude upon a good story.
We were enjoying the day. It had turned out to be perfect. Blue skies, no wind, and temps in the 70s. That helped to make for very good photography conditions. Jerry warned us as we approached the mill, that we would drive by, turn around at the “town” of Crystal City, spend a few minutes there, and the come back and stop at the mill. Margo and I readied our cell phones and got shots of the mill coming into view.
It was less dramatic than I thought, but more real than my expectations. It was over in just seconds, and definittly left us wanting more. Maybe that was the intent, or maybe he just wanted some time for other tourists to clear out. As I mentioned, we were not alone on this trail.
Crystal or Crystal City is an old mining ghost town, that is owned by the grandson of a guy who bought in the 1930s, with the intent of getting ore out of the local mines there. Because of the remoteness of Crystal and those mines the place always had a hard time making money, and I don’t think this guy ever got anything out of it. But, he passed it along to a daughter, who passed along to her son, who loves the remoteness and the history. He also owns the Crystal Mill. Jerry said that the relationship between this guy and the public is a bit strained, because not all visitors are good guests, leaving litter, graffiti, and trespassing.
We got to go the bathroom and take a couple of pictures. All of the buildings were closed to the public, but Jerry told us that the General Store is no longer open and pointed out the saloon, where President Grant stayed when he visited the area. I can’t imagine a modern president venturing to this area, without closing down the entire region. After maybe 10 or 15 minutes we turned around and left.
Crystal Mill was everything that I hoped for. We were not there for very long. Both Margo and I got numerous pictures from several angles. The blue sky, the green foliage, and the browns of the mill made for nice composition, or at least what I could muster as far as composition. I’m a point and shoot kind of guy, but I try.
The mill was actually a power station, which harnessed the flow of the Crystal River to run air compressors, which in turned powered the air drills. It also eventually powered a stamping mill, to crush the ore brought out of the mines. The Sherman Silver Purchase Act of 1890 had driven up the price of silver, when the US government was legally obligated to purchase a 4 ½ million ounces each month. The mines here produced a lot of silver. When the Sherman Act was repealed three years later, silver crashed and the mines became unprofitable and closed. But, the mill is still here. I will always remember my trip to see it.
All too soon we were on our way back. Jerry had spent the drive up telling us about the natural wonders of the area. On the way back he told stories of the people who had lived here. He spend more than a little time telling us about Captain Jack, Captain Ellen Jack, co-owner of the Black Queen mine in Crystal.
One story was about a man who ran a jack train. A jack train is a long line of pack mules, in this case tasked with taking silver ore to be processed. Only this particular muleskinner did not feel obligated to pay a woman for the ore. The story goes that she took out a gun and shot seven of the mules and the guy’s checkbook out of hand. The incident went before a judge and Captain Jack was aquitted.
I couldn’t find anything about this incident when I went on line later. I did find out she ran many businesses, after the Black Queen, mostly devoted to tourism, with herself as the main attraction. She wrote her own biography, which likely has more than a dose of fiction. Never let the facts get in the way of a good story.
He segwayed into telling us about the Sherman Silver Act, of 1890. This was a way of propping up the price of silver by making the federal government legally obligated to buy a whole bunch of it, and turn it into silver certificates, which could be redeemed for actual silver or gold. The price of sliver, however kept dropping, instead of going up. People and governments would redeem their silver certifcates for actual gold. As we were on the gold standard, and our money actually backed by that asset (unlike today), by 1893 the US Gold Reserves were well below what was believed to be safe. The act was repealed and with the US government no longer making those big purchases, silver mines went out of business left and right. Including those in the Crystal area.
The three hours went faster than I though, and we were soon pulling back into the homebase in Marble. I tipped Jerry and Margo and decided to have lunch at Slow Groovin’ BBQ. Jerry had mentioned it, and in truth, our choices for lunch were pretty much take it or leave it. The food was good. We left feeling satisfied. Jerry had said we should ask for the dessert called Jeep Tour Scat, but neither of us were remotely hungry enough to satisfy our curiousity as to what exactly this dish was.
I had two more goals in town. I wanted a Crystal Mill magnet for both Margo and Mary. And I wanted at least a piece of the legendary marble from the mine whose stone comprised so many historic buildings and places.. The first was accomplished by going to the HUB. The HUB is kind of the Chamber of Commerce for the town. They sell some souviners and some drinks and snacks. It is housed in an old bank, complete with the still intact safe.
Goal #2 was satisified with a drive up Marble Quarry Rd, which unsurprisingly, leads the Marble Quarry. You can only drive so far, and you can’t actually see the quarry, but there were plenty of blocks of marble sitting out in the distance, and more importantly for my purposes, a marble refuse pile with a sign encouraging visitors to take home some of the stone. We did. I got one about the size of baseball hat, and several small pieces. When we got them home, they cleaned up to a nice white color. Yea!. We left for our hotel around 4 PM.
If we had had more time and energy we might have stopped at Redstone Castle, the 120-plus-year-old home of John Osgood, founder of Colorado Fuel and Iron. He was into railroads, coal, and when he discovered the coal deposits of Colorado were of high enough quality, coke. Coke is coal reduced to pure carbon. Steel is an ally of iron and coke, so as steel was becoming very big business, he saw this as an opportunity.
But, we did not have time to tour the Castle, but we did have time to stop at Osgood’s Coke Ovens, which were right off the highway. We, as in me, Margo had zero interest in trapsing around in the heat, with her bad ankle, were soon walking around. There were a few signs explaining the process, and at the ovens were complete enough to get the jest of them cooking the coal down to nothing but the pure carbon. I found it interesting. It only took about 20 minutes to take it all in.
We decided we needed a pitstop and pulled into a genuine Phillips 66 service station in Carbondale. It had four mechanics taking care of cars. There was no convenience store attached, and the place smelled like grease. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It smelled like service stations used to. They would pump gas and fix cars. They had a restroom we could use, and a small cooler, from which we could purchase some water. The guys were friendly, but they were a tad uncomfortable about dealing with travelers. There job was cars. It really felt like we had gone back in time. It made me very nostalgic for a time 30 or 40 years removed. I wondered if we had needed gas, if they would be pumping it, and checking the oil.
We arrived back to the hotel at about 5:30 PM. That left plenty of day light to drive to Linwood Cemetery, Glenwood Springs original cemetery. It is famous as the final resting place for Doc Holliday, of Tombstone fame. I have been there several times, but this time there were a couple of new things I wanted to see.
I have known for years, decades actually, that Linwood Cemetery was also the final resting place for Harvey Logan, aka Kid Curry. He was a member of the Wild Bunch, made famous by the move Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. In the movie there is a comical fight scene between Butch (Paul Newman) and Kid Curry (Ted Cassidy). The fight never happened, but the scene is cinematic gold. You will have to Google it.
Kid Curry, while not well known, was a definite badman, and killer. He met his death after robbing a train near Parachute, CO. A posse caught up to him and his two accomplices. There was a gunfight, and Curry was hit. Rather than be taken and face more jail time, he was on the run from breaking out of a Tennesee jail, he put a bullet in his own head. They buried him in the paupers section of Linwood.
Second on my list was to see the graves of the Bloody Benders of Kansas. Maybe. The story of the Bloody Benders is both long and full of holes. What is known is that the family consisted of four people, John Bender Sr, wife, Elmira Bender, son, John Bender Jr, and daughter or daughter-in-law Kate Bender. As their monicker implies they were not nice people. They stand accused, and the evidence is strong, of killing 12 to 20 travelers who stopped by or were lured to their rural home, in Labette County, KS. When their crimes started to come to light they fled just ahead of the law and were never heard from (officially) again.
True West Magazine, of which I am a lifetime subscriber, posted an article a few years back pondering if the Bloody Benders had been found in Glenwood Springs, CO. There are two graves there, one of Joesph J. Bender (1848-1888), and the other for Kate J. Bender (1846 to 1917). Kate Bender was supposed to be around 23, in 1871/1872, so that would have her born around 1848. The younger John was supposed to be about 25, so born in 1846. The dates are close enough for it to be possible that this Joseph J and Kate J are the two younger Benders.
Census records are of little help. I don’t find them, and I did not search long, in 1870 or 1880. The 1890 census was all but destroyed in a fire. In 1900, I find a Kate C. Bender, who is working in/running a restaurant. The census says she was born in Germany and arrived in the US in 1880. She is a widow, with no children, living or dead. If this is all true, she would not have been around 1871 to be the young Kate. She could also have lied to the census taker. She would not be the first.
That just left Doc Holliday, who may or may not be in Linwood Cemetery. One story has his body somehow being shipped back to Georgia, where he lies in an unmarked grave in the city of Griffin. Another story says that the ground was too frozen (he died in November 1887) to haul up the mountain to Linwood, so he was buried at the foot of the hill. Another twist to the winter story has him in the cemetery, but not where they originally planned, due to the snow and/or frozen ground.
His marker, which admittedly is unsure if he resides underneath, has long been a tourist attraction for those of us interested in the American West, post-Civil War. I have now made the pilgrimage four times, I think.
With photographic proof that I had paid respects to all, I made my way back down. Gravity worked in my favor so I made it down much faster. I got in the car and went back to the Best Western to see if Margo was ready for dinner. On this last evening in town, I had planned to take her to one of the downtown restaurants. But, after a short conversation, we decided that we were both too tired to fight the parking, uncertainty of where we were going, and what passed for a crowd on a Thursday summer night.
We settled on the nearby Village Inn, a place we were familiar with, but not really looking forward to. We eat there too often for it to be considered a vacation treat. But, to our surprise the meal was good. I don’t recall what I got, but Margo ordered strawberry crepes. The portion, fortunately for me, was huge, so I got to finish off about half. Winner. Winner Crepe dinner. We went back to the hotel, and packed up for out check out tomorrow.
We were at the breakfast room at about 7:30 AM. The breakfast was OK. Grading on the curve, because it was hotel food, it made it into the “good’ category. It was hot, with scrambled eggs, sausage, seasoned potatoes, and toast. The bread was too big for the toaster. I turned that over to Margo and she worked some sort of female breakfast magic and got it handled.
Today we would be driving down to Marble, CO to take a three hour jeep tour to the Crystal Mill. It is billed as the most photographed icon in Colorado. Which, when I heard that many years ago, made me want to see it and take a picture.
We were on the road by our 8 AM deadline, but Margo discovered she needed sunscreen. I have learned, it is much less stressful to just get these things over with, than get mad. We were on schedule, ahead even, so when we saw the Co-op at Carbondale, it looked like the place to be.
Margo used to work at the Co-op in Brighton, before it was bought out by Agland, and became Agfinity. She hung on long enough to reach 35 years and her pension. But, see the old Co-op sign and the feel of the small valley town, brough back pleasant memories. Walking inside it was like going back in time 30 years. This was not a bad thing. We didn’t look around much, no more time than it took to find the chapstick and we were back on our way.
We had taken Highway 82 from I-70 to Carbondale. Our traffic trouble started once we turned onto Highway 133 in Carbondale to go our final desitnation. Do to construction, that may or may not have been going on at the time, the road was closed down to one lane, three different times. We had to sit and wait at each one, as line of cars from the other direction went past us. The final time it occurred, there was not even flagmen. They must have used up the county supply at the other two stops. This one had an actual traffic signal, linked to another one down the road. At least it never calls in sick.
We pulled into Marble at 9:35 AM, only 5 minutes behind schedule, but still in plenty of time. We were checked in by Sam, who was the orginal owner’s daughter. Glen Smith who founded Crystal River Jeep Tours. He had passed away last year, and the family decide to keep the business going. I hope it continues for many more years.
A Jeep or other offroad vehicle is the only way to get to the mill, unless you walk. It is three hours round trip to the mill, by Jeep. Walking does not sound like fun. We were introduced to our driver, Jerry Begly, who has tons of experience with Jeeps, but only three with CRJT. He would turn out to be a gifted guide and storyteller.
We left for our tour at 9:50, ten minutes ahead of schedule. Our tour started in town. Marble, CO owes its existance and name to the nearby marble quarry. The marble from this quarry is unusally pure and of such high quality it was used for the Tomb of the Unknown soldier and parts of Lincoln Memorial. There are municipal buildings from coast to coast that have used the Yule marble from this quarry.
The first thing that Jerry showed us was the road leading to the quarry, which he advised we could take later, and a large block of marble that he says is to be used as the replacement for the current Tomb of the Unknown Solider. That block has cracked. But, further research shows that when/if that stone is replaced, the source of the new stone is not, shall we say, carved in stone. Still pretty cool.
Jerry took us past the Marble Fire station, the Marble Community church, which is non-demoninational, and the foundation for the Catholic church. This was very overgrown and obviously had had no work done in decades. I guess there were not enough Catholics in the area.
After your short tour around town we headed out on Daniel’s Road, which is also County Rd 3. Once you get to a certain point on County Road 3, a high clearance vehicle is mandatory. A Toyota Camry is not going up that road. Even a Toyota 4 Runner would be risky. But, a normal GPS, and even the special GPS truckers use, will calculate this as a short cut or alternate route, when I-70 is closed. Jerry said while it does not happen often, if a big rig does get stuck, it takes one of more two trucks, from Crested Butte, to get them pulled out. The cost is easily into five figures.
The trail/road was much busier than I was expected. We saw other four wheel drives, hikers, and UTVs (utlity task vehicle. Kinda of a cross between a golf cart and a dune buggy). We would rarely go 15 minutes without having to move over or stop to let someone pass. I think that was the thing that surprised me most about this trip. I thought we would be nearly alone on a Thursday morning.
The drive up had Jerry telling an occasional story, but usually pointing out flora, the occasional fauna, or a physical feature. We saw several waterfalls, with the two most prominent being named Milwaukee and Chicago. Jerry told us about a big storm that happened August of last year. It flooded and washed out the road. They all thought the road would be shut down for the season, as the county crews were not known for their speed in such situations.
However, some nameless politican had luncheon scheduled and the Gunnison County crews had the road cleared in three days. I am not sure I completely believe the story, as what venue could this luncheon been scheduled at, that was not accessible by another, better maintained road. But, I have learned that it is best not to let facts intrude upon a good story.
We were enjoying the day. It had turned out to be perfect. Blue skies, no wind, and temps in the 70s. That helped to make for very good photography conditions. Jerry warned us as we approached the mill, that we would drive by, turn around at the “town” of Crystal City, spend a few minutes there, and the come back and stop at the mill. Margo and I readied our cell phones and got shots of the mill coming into view.
It was less dramatic than I thought, but more real than my expectations. It was over in just seconds, and definittly left us wanting more. Maybe that was the intent, or maybe he just wanted some time for other tourists to clear out. As I mentioned, we were not alone on this trail.
Crystal or Crystal City is an old mining ghost town, that is owned by the grandson of a guy who bought in the 1930s, with the intent of getting ore out of the local mines there. Because of the remoteness of Crystal and those mines the place always had a hard time making money, and I don’t think this guy ever got anything out of it. But, he passed it along to a daughter, who passed along to her son, who loves the remoteness and the history. He also owns the Crystal Mill. Jerry said that the relationship between this guy and the public is a bit strained, because not all visitors are good guests, leaving litter, graffiti, and trespassing.
We got to go the bathroom and take a couple of pictures. All of the buildings were closed to the public, but Jerry told us that the General Store is no longer open and pointed out the saloon, where President Grant stayed when he visited the area. I can’t imagine a modern president venturing to this area, without closing down the entire region. After maybe 10 or 15 minutes we turned around and left.
Crystal Mill was everything that I hoped for. We were not there for very long. Both Margo and I got numerous pictures from several angles. The blue sky, the green foliage, and the browns of the mill made for nice composition, or at least what I could muster as far as composition. I’m a point and shoot kind of guy, but I try.
The mill was actually a power station, which harnessed the flow of the Crystal River to run air compressors, which in turned powered the air drills. It also eventually powered a stamping mill, to crush the ore brought out of the mines. The Sherman Silver Purchase Act of 1890 had driven up the price of silver, when the US government was legally obligated to purchase a 4 ½ million ounces each month. The mines here produced a lot of silver. When the Sherman Act was repealed three years later, silver crashed and the mines became unprofitable and closed. But, the mill is still here. I will always remember my trip to see it.
All too soon we were on our way back. Jerry had spent the drive up telling us about the natural wonders of the area. On the way back he told stories of the people who had lived here. He spend more than a little time telling us about Captain Jack, Captain Ellen Jack, co-owner of the Black Queen mine in Crystal.
One story was about a man who ran a jack train. A jack train is a long line of pack mules, in this case tasked with taking silver ore to be processed. Only this particular muleskinner did not feel obligated to pay a woman for the ore. The story goes that she took out a gun and shot seven of the mules and the guy’s checkbook out of hand. The incident went before a judge and Captain Jack was aquitted.
I couldn’t find anything about this incident when I went on line later. I did find out she ran many businesses, after the Black Queen, mostly devoted to tourism, with herself as the main attraction. She wrote her own biography, which likely has more than a dose of fiction. Never let the facts get in the way of a good story.
He segwayed into telling us about the Sherman Silver Act, of 1890. This was a way of propping up the price of silver by making the federal government legally obligated to buy a whole bunch of it, and turn it into silver certificates, which could be redeemed for actual silver or gold. The price of sliver, however kept dropping, instead of going up. People and governments would redeem their silver certifcates for actual gold. As we were on the gold standard, and our money actually backed by that asset (unlike today), by 1893 the US Gold Reserves were well below what was believed to be safe. The act was repealed and with the US government no longer making those big purchases, silver mines went out of business left and right. Including those in the Crystal area.
The three hours went faster than I though, and we were soon pulling back into the homebase in Marble. I tipped Jerry and Margo and decided to have lunch at Slow Groovin’ BBQ. Jerry had mentioned it, and in truth, our choices for lunch were pretty much take it or leave it. The food was good. We left feeling satisfied. Jerry had said we should ask for the dessert called Jeep Tour Scat, but neither of us were remotely hungry enough to satisfy our curiousity as to what exactly this dish was.
I had two more goals in town. I wanted a Crystal Mill magnet for both Margo and Mary. And I wanted at least a piece of the legendary marble from the mine whose stone comprised so many historic buildings and places.. The first was accomplished by going to the HUB. The HUB is kind of the Chamber of Commerce for the town. They sell some souviners and some drinks and snacks. It is housed in an old bank, complete with the still intact safe.
Goal #2 was satisified with a drive up Marble Quarry Rd, which unsurprisingly, leads the Marble Quarry. You can only drive so far, and you can’t actually see the quarry, but there were plenty of blocks of marble sitting out in the distance, and more importantly for my purposes, a marble refuse pile with a sign encouraging visitors to take home some of the stone. We did. I got one about the size of baseball hat, and several small pieces. When we got them home, they cleaned up to a nice white color. Yea!. We left for our hotel around 4 PM.
If we had had more time and energy we might have stopped at Redstone Castle, the 120-plus-year-old home of John Osgood, founder of Colorado Fuel and Iron. He was into railroads, coal, and when he discovered the coal deposits of Colorado were of high enough quality, coke. Coke is coal reduced to pure carbon. Steel is an ally of iron and coke, so as steel was becoming very big business, he saw this as an opportunity.
But, we did not have time to tour the Castle, but we did have time to stop at Osgood’s Coke Ovens, which were right off the highway. We, as in me, Margo had zero interest in trapsing around in the heat, with her bad ankle, were soon walking around. There were a few signs explaining the process, and at the ovens were complete enough to get the jest of them cooking the coal down to nothing but the pure carbon. I found it interesting. It only took about 20 minutes to take it all in.
We decided we needed a pitstop and pulled into a genuine Phillips 66 service station in Carbondale. It had four mechanics taking care of cars. There was no convenience store attached, and the place smelled like grease. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It smelled like service stations used to. They would pump gas and fix cars. They had a restroom we could use, and a small cooler, from which we could purchase some water. The guys were friendly, but they were a tad uncomfortable about dealing with travelers. There job was cars. It really felt like we had gone back in time. It made me very nostalgic for a time 30 or 40 years removed. I wondered if we had needed gas, if they would be pumping it, and checking the oil.
We arrived back to the hotel at about 5:30 PM. That left plenty of day light to drive to Linwood Cemetery, Glenwood Springs original cemetery. It is famous as the final resting place for Doc Holliday, of Tombstone fame. I have been there several times, but this time there were a couple of new things I wanted to see.
I have known for years, decades actually, that Linwood Cemetery was also the final resting place for Harvey Logan, aka Kid Curry. He was a member of the Wild Bunch, made famous by the move Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. In the movie there is a comical fight scene between Butch (Paul Newman) and Kid Curry (Ted Cassidy). The fight never happened, but the scene is cinematic gold. You will have to Google it.
Kid Curry, while not well known, was a definite badman, and killer. He met his death after robbing a train near Parachute, CO. A posse caught up to him and his two accomplices. There was a gunfight, and Curry was hit. Rather than be taken and face more jail time, he was on the run from breaking out of a Tennesee jail, he put a bullet in his own head. They buried him in the paupers section of Linwood.
Second on my list was to see the graves of the Bloody Benders of Kansas. Maybe. The story of the Bloody Benders is both long and full of holes. What is known is that the family consisted of four people, John Bender Sr, wife, Elmira Bender, son, John Bender Jr, and daughter or daughter-in-law Kate Bender. As their monicker implies they were not nice people. They stand accused, and the evidence is strong, of killing 12 to 20 travelers who stopped by or were lured to their rural home, in Labette County, KS. When their crimes started to come to light they fled just ahead of the law and were never heard from (officially) again.
True West Magazine, of which I am a lifetime subscriber, posted an article a few years back pondering if the Bloody Benders had been found in Glenwood Springs, CO. There are two graves there, one of Joesph J. Bender (1848-1888), and the other for Kate J. Bender (1846 to 1917). Kate Bender was supposed to be around 23, in 1871/1872, so that would have her born around 1848. The younger John was supposed to be about 25, so born in 1846. The dates are close enough for it to be possible that this Joseph J and Kate J are the two younger Benders.
Census records are of little help. I don’t find them, and I did not search long, in 1870 or 1880. The 1890 census was all but destroyed in a fire. In 1900, I find a Kate C. Bender, who is working in/running a restaurant. The census says she was born in Germany and arrived in the US in 1880. She is a widow, with no children, living or dead. If this is all true, she would not have been around 1871 to be the young Kate. She could also have lied to the census taker. She would not be the first.
That just left Doc Holliday, who may or may not be in Linwood Cemetery. One story has his body somehow being shipped back to Georgia, where he lies in an unmarked grave in the city of Griffin. Another story says that the ground was too frozen (he died in November 1887) to haul up the mountain to Linwood, so he was buried at the foot of the hill. Another twist to the winter story has him in the cemetery, but not where they originally planned, due to the snow and/or frozen ground.
His marker, which admittedly is unsure if he resides underneath, has long been a tourist attraction for those of us interested in the American West, post-Civil War. I have now made the pilgrimage four times, I think.
With photographic proof that I had paid respects to all, I made my way back down. Gravity worked in my favor so I made it down much faster. I got in the car and went back to the Best Western to see if Margo was ready for dinner. On this last evening in town, I had planned to take her to one of the downtown restaurants. But, after a short conversation, we decided that we were both too tired to fight the parking, uncertainty of where we were going, and what passed for a crowd on a Thursday summer night.
We settled on the nearby Village Inn, a place we were familiar with, but not really looking forward to. We eat there too often for it to be considered a vacation treat. But, to our surprise the meal was good. I don’t recall what I got, but Margo ordered strawberry crepes. The portion, fortunately for me, was huge, so I got to finish off about half. Winner. Winner Crepe dinner. We went back to the hotel, and packed up for out check out tomorrow.
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Day Three---Friday, June 30, 2023
I was up at 7:30 A, and Margo followed me a half hour later. Today our plan was to visit Glenwood Caverns Adventure Park, an amusement park on the top of a mountain. It has several thrill rides, at least one 4-D ride, and two different caves to tour. We had never been there before, and we were both looking forward to it.
The first order of business for the day was to fortify ourselves, and the Best Western’s hot breakfast was both nearby and free. That is an option hard to pass up, even if the food is only passable. With the time spend on the road, some of them dirt ones, Margo was not liking how her Trailblazer was looking. I think the dirt would have bothered her less, had not a carwash been right around the corner from where we were staying. So, after a five minute pitstop, we were all nice and shiny and ready for whatever adventure the Adventure Park was going to throw out at us.
It was a short drive, almost measured in seconds to get to the park. We pulled into the lot and tried to park close to the entrance, which should have been easier to find given the large towers, cables, and gondola carts overhead. The entrance was on the far left side of the building, but did not take us long to figure out.
I told you that Glenwood Adventure Park is on top of a mountain. You don’t get there by driving and parking. Flat land on a mountain is scarce and needed to used for the adventurous part of the park of adventure. Parking is down by the base of the mountain, and access granted via a series of red cable gondolas that were in constant state of motion.
The adventure (sick of the word, yet?) began with out ride. It offered very picturesque of Glenwood Springs and the Roaring Fork Valley, as least several minutes. It’s about an 8 ½ minute ride, and takes about 1 ½ minutes go gain some altititude, then around half way there the mountain itself gets in the way. But, for the few minutes you get a great view up and down the valley, gaining perspective on how large the valley is and dominate a feature the Roaring Fork River is for the area.
We began our day (see, I didn’t say adventure this time. You’re welcome.) with their 4-D ride Motion Theater. We had our first experience with 4-D rides at Disney’s Animal Kingdom back in 1999, when we took our family vacation to Orlando. We knew there was no way this small building was going to compare favorably to Disney’s multi-million dollar “It’s Tough to be a Bug”. It didn’t. It was cute and it was fun, though. But, to be honest, I don’t even remember the theme.
Margo was following my lead. There was nothing here that really screamed at her “We must do this!”. So, as it was nearby, I picked the Fairy Cave tour as out next adventure (Opps, I did it again). They have two cave tours, Fairy Cave and King’s Row. The King’s Row is probably the better tour, but it also requires more climbing and walking. Climbing and Walking are Margo’s arch enemies. So, Fairy Cave it was.
It turned out to be fun. Our guide, Shea, made all the difference. He started out by telling us the history of the cave, summing it up as “Acid eats rocks. Then you get caves”. He had us repeat this mantra throughout the tour. It was hokey and fun. As promised it was pretty flat, with a short detour to a viewing area outside, on the side of the mountain. Then it was back inside. Shea did the requisite of all cave tours, turning off the lights so you could experience real dark. No doubt. You literally cannot see your hand in front of your face. We left him a nice tip on the way out.
It had started to get very warm, even up on the mountain. I had read that they had storage lockers over at the General Store and Gift shop, so we walked over that direction. Margo dropped off her jacket and some other things she was carrying, and we made use of the restrooms. I knew we were going to be back here, not only to pick up Margo’s thing, but to make sure the gift shop did not have any of our stuff, that needed retrieving.
We saw the sign for their zipline, which they call the Soaring Eagle Zipline. Rather than zip from tree to tree, in a seat harness, this zip line has you sit a seat, ski lift style. The dual rider car faces backwards. This is because once you are strapped in, you are pulled 600 feet backwards, facing where you were just at, and where you will be in a hand full of seconds.
The pull backwards was quicker than we expected and a bit unnerving. We had done this type of zip lline before, and considered it pretty tame. We must have forgotten this part. There is a brief, acute sense of foreboding as we were left to wonder how long we would hand here. Like I said, brief. They pushed their button and we were zooming back to the start, where a large poll would hopefully not be the plan to stop our forward momentum.
The view was nice and I admired it for a the fifteen seconds it took to get back down. The ride was actually pretty slow and controlled. You picked up speed, but not like what you would expect if you were freefalling. As expected the poll was not the plan to stop us. But we did hit their motion arrestor with a bit of a jolt. It was probably the scariest part of the adventure (snuck another one in there).
I was looking forward to the next ride, their famous Alpine Coaster. I believe this was the first alpine coast in Colorado. An Alpine Coaster differs from an Alpine Slide in that the coaster if fixed to the rails and can’t come off. The Alpine slide runs in a concrete ditch, and if you go too fast, there is room for an accident.
The only part I was dreading was getting in and out of the conveyance. Luckily it was slightly elevated, so I got in with only moderate difficulty. You are already on an decline when you board, so you drift down to the starting line, while the operator waits for the previous person to be at a safe distance. They tell you not to use the brake, because A) it is not needed. You won’t fly off, and B) you will screw up the ride for the guy behind you. I was not going to touch the brake no matter what.
It takes about 90 seconds to get down the mountain, which seems like a long time when you are on this thing. It is completely gravity powered, so no engine driving you, and only the brake to slow you down. It was filled with twists and turns as it wound down the mountain-side. The least enjoyable part were the waves at the end, which were there to give you “air time”. I get all the air time I want when we fly. But, all and all it was fun. At the end, you stay in the coaster, as they need to drag you and it back up the hill to complete the loop. Gravity only works one way, so this one used an electric winch to power you to the top.
I was proud of myself in that I did not touch the brake. But, I will admit to being tempted a time or two. Margo had snapped a few pictures, but had zero interest in taking her own turn down the hill. Glenwood Adventure Park had taken their own picture of me, but we did not think it turned out well, so we did not buy it. We usually do. I must have been hideous.
We took a break from our adventure (not going to stop, am I?), for lunch. They have a few places to eat, but we thought that the Lookout Grille probably had the most options. Margo had Nachos and I had Chicken Tenders. They were both decent. Not great, but decent. The service was outstanding, however. People walking by asking if we needed anything or wanting to take our plates. It was kind of refreshing.
The park legitimately has several thrill rides; The Defiance Roller Coaster, a metal coaster with plenty of twists and turns. The Giant Canyon Swing, a pendulum ride that swings you over the edge of a cliff, so you are looking straight into a 1000 ft fall. The Cliffhanger Roller Coaster, another metal coaster, billed as the highest in North America. Finally, the Glenwood Canyon Flyer, a swing ride that get the swings the riders over the edge of a cliff.
Margo wanted no part of any of them. I would have tried whatever she wanted, but her idea of an adventure lay in Black Hawk, later this afternoon. We settled for riding the Mine Wheel, a small, tame Ferris wheel.
With no more adventures to be had, we settled for a few photographs. Glenwood Adventure Park has several photo spots. Among them is a friendly (he’s smiling) giant that appears to be made of tree branches. They call him Halvor Flowstone. We both got our pictures of him cupping us in his large hand.
We found a large rocking chair, and then rounded out our day of adventure with some shots from an overlook. It really is a pretty valley. Our final stop was a trip back to the gift shop where I scored a history book of the area.
Our ride back down was uneventful, which is just the way you want a gondola ride to be. Summers can mean thunderstorms, and if there is lightening in the area, the gondola is shut down under the storm passes. This can be most annoying when you are ready to go home. But, we had no storm clouds in the area, and soom we were headed east towards our final vacation spot.
It’s a two hour drive from Glenwood Springs to Black Hawk. We shortened the day by finishing the rest of the Stephanie Plum book we were listening to. Colorado mountain scenery is nice, but it does not take long before one nice mountain view looks like the last mountain view, but a good story passes the time almost as effectively as sleep, which is bad when operating a car. Write that down.
We checked in at the Lady Luck Hotel and Casino. Over the years Margo and I have stayed at all of the hotel-casinos in the Black Hawk/Central City area. I chose this one because it was reasonably priced for the weekend.
After checking in, we went looking for dinner. I hated all the options at the Lady Luck and we should have left and went elsewhere. But we settled on their taco stand thing, Taco Cantina. It was OK. Margo decided on a hot dog. That should give you an idea of what she thought of the Mexican food. I had the nachos. Like I said, they were OK.
We gambled there, Ballys (the old Mardi Gras0, The Lodge and the Ameristar. I was losing everywhere we went. At our last stop we sat down at these Zeus machines. We both hit free games on back to back spin. By the time Zeus was gracing us with largess I walked away with $120 and Margo $170. By the end of the day, I was down some, and Margo was up by nearly $400. She had more fun than I did.
Back to the Lady Luck we walked. Margo wanted to give away some more of her winnings. I was content to chronical the days events. She was back an hour later, having donated $60. We were in bed by 12:30 AM
The first order of business for the day was to fortify ourselves, and the Best Western’s hot breakfast was both nearby and free. That is an option hard to pass up, even if the food is only passable. With the time spend on the road, some of them dirt ones, Margo was not liking how her Trailblazer was looking. I think the dirt would have bothered her less, had not a carwash been right around the corner from where we were staying. So, after a five minute pitstop, we were all nice and shiny and ready for whatever adventure the Adventure Park was going to throw out at us.
It was a short drive, almost measured in seconds to get to the park. We pulled into the lot and tried to park close to the entrance, which should have been easier to find given the large towers, cables, and gondola carts overhead. The entrance was on the far left side of the building, but did not take us long to figure out.
I told you that Glenwood Adventure Park is on top of a mountain. You don’t get there by driving and parking. Flat land on a mountain is scarce and needed to used for the adventurous part of the park of adventure. Parking is down by the base of the mountain, and access granted via a series of red cable gondolas that were in constant state of motion.
The adventure (sick of the word, yet?) began with out ride. It offered very picturesque of Glenwood Springs and the Roaring Fork Valley, as least several minutes. It’s about an 8 ½ minute ride, and takes about 1 ½ minutes go gain some altititude, then around half way there the mountain itself gets in the way. But, for the few minutes you get a great view up and down the valley, gaining perspective on how large the valley is and dominate a feature the Roaring Fork River is for the area.
We began our day (see, I didn’t say adventure this time. You’re welcome.) with their 4-D ride Motion Theater. We had our first experience with 4-D rides at Disney’s Animal Kingdom back in 1999, when we took our family vacation to Orlando. We knew there was no way this small building was going to compare favorably to Disney’s multi-million dollar “It’s Tough to be a Bug”. It didn’t. It was cute and it was fun, though. But, to be honest, I don’t even remember the theme.
Margo was following my lead. There was nothing here that really screamed at her “We must do this!”. So, as it was nearby, I picked the Fairy Cave tour as out next adventure (Opps, I did it again). They have two cave tours, Fairy Cave and King’s Row. The King’s Row is probably the better tour, but it also requires more climbing and walking. Climbing and Walking are Margo’s arch enemies. So, Fairy Cave it was.
It turned out to be fun. Our guide, Shea, made all the difference. He started out by telling us the history of the cave, summing it up as “Acid eats rocks. Then you get caves”. He had us repeat this mantra throughout the tour. It was hokey and fun. As promised it was pretty flat, with a short detour to a viewing area outside, on the side of the mountain. Then it was back inside. Shea did the requisite of all cave tours, turning off the lights so you could experience real dark. No doubt. You literally cannot see your hand in front of your face. We left him a nice tip on the way out.
It had started to get very warm, even up on the mountain. I had read that they had storage lockers over at the General Store and Gift shop, so we walked over that direction. Margo dropped off her jacket and some other things she was carrying, and we made use of the restrooms. I knew we were going to be back here, not only to pick up Margo’s thing, but to make sure the gift shop did not have any of our stuff, that needed retrieving.
We saw the sign for their zipline, which they call the Soaring Eagle Zipline. Rather than zip from tree to tree, in a seat harness, this zip line has you sit a seat, ski lift style. The dual rider car faces backwards. This is because once you are strapped in, you are pulled 600 feet backwards, facing where you were just at, and where you will be in a hand full of seconds.
The pull backwards was quicker than we expected and a bit unnerving. We had done this type of zip lline before, and considered it pretty tame. We must have forgotten this part. There is a brief, acute sense of foreboding as we were left to wonder how long we would hand here. Like I said, brief. They pushed their button and we were zooming back to the start, where a large poll would hopefully not be the plan to stop our forward momentum.
The view was nice and I admired it for a the fifteen seconds it took to get back down. The ride was actually pretty slow and controlled. You picked up speed, but not like what you would expect if you were freefalling. As expected the poll was not the plan to stop us. But we did hit their motion arrestor with a bit of a jolt. It was probably the scariest part of the adventure (snuck another one in there).
I was looking forward to the next ride, their famous Alpine Coaster. I believe this was the first alpine coast in Colorado. An Alpine Coaster differs from an Alpine Slide in that the coaster if fixed to the rails and can’t come off. The Alpine slide runs in a concrete ditch, and if you go too fast, there is room for an accident.
The only part I was dreading was getting in and out of the conveyance. Luckily it was slightly elevated, so I got in with only moderate difficulty. You are already on an decline when you board, so you drift down to the starting line, while the operator waits for the previous person to be at a safe distance. They tell you not to use the brake, because A) it is not needed. You won’t fly off, and B) you will screw up the ride for the guy behind you. I was not going to touch the brake no matter what.
It takes about 90 seconds to get down the mountain, which seems like a long time when you are on this thing. It is completely gravity powered, so no engine driving you, and only the brake to slow you down. It was filled with twists and turns as it wound down the mountain-side. The least enjoyable part were the waves at the end, which were there to give you “air time”. I get all the air time I want when we fly. But, all and all it was fun. At the end, you stay in the coaster, as they need to drag you and it back up the hill to complete the loop. Gravity only works one way, so this one used an electric winch to power you to the top.
I was proud of myself in that I did not touch the brake. But, I will admit to being tempted a time or two. Margo had snapped a few pictures, but had zero interest in taking her own turn down the hill. Glenwood Adventure Park had taken their own picture of me, but we did not think it turned out well, so we did not buy it. We usually do. I must have been hideous.
We took a break from our adventure (not going to stop, am I?), for lunch. They have a few places to eat, but we thought that the Lookout Grille probably had the most options. Margo had Nachos and I had Chicken Tenders. They were both decent. Not great, but decent. The service was outstanding, however. People walking by asking if we needed anything or wanting to take our plates. It was kind of refreshing.
The park legitimately has several thrill rides; The Defiance Roller Coaster, a metal coaster with plenty of twists and turns. The Giant Canyon Swing, a pendulum ride that swings you over the edge of a cliff, so you are looking straight into a 1000 ft fall. The Cliffhanger Roller Coaster, another metal coaster, billed as the highest in North America. Finally, the Glenwood Canyon Flyer, a swing ride that get the swings the riders over the edge of a cliff.
Margo wanted no part of any of them. I would have tried whatever she wanted, but her idea of an adventure lay in Black Hawk, later this afternoon. We settled for riding the Mine Wheel, a small, tame Ferris wheel.
With no more adventures to be had, we settled for a few photographs. Glenwood Adventure Park has several photo spots. Among them is a friendly (he’s smiling) giant that appears to be made of tree branches. They call him Halvor Flowstone. We both got our pictures of him cupping us in his large hand.
We found a large rocking chair, and then rounded out our day of adventure with some shots from an overlook. It really is a pretty valley. Our final stop was a trip back to the gift shop where I scored a history book of the area.
Our ride back down was uneventful, which is just the way you want a gondola ride to be. Summers can mean thunderstorms, and if there is lightening in the area, the gondola is shut down under the storm passes. This can be most annoying when you are ready to go home. But, we had no storm clouds in the area, and soom we were headed east towards our final vacation spot.
It’s a two hour drive from Glenwood Springs to Black Hawk. We shortened the day by finishing the rest of the Stephanie Plum book we were listening to. Colorado mountain scenery is nice, but it does not take long before one nice mountain view looks like the last mountain view, but a good story passes the time almost as effectively as sleep, which is bad when operating a car. Write that down.
We checked in at the Lady Luck Hotel and Casino. Over the years Margo and I have stayed at all of the hotel-casinos in the Black Hawk/Central City area. I chose this one because it was reasonably priced for the weekend.
After checking in, we went looking for dinner. I hated all the options at the Lady Luck and we should have left and went elsewhere. But we settled on their taco stand thing, Taco Cantina. It was OK. Margo decided on a hot dog. That should give you an idea of what she thought of the Mexican food. I had the nachos. Like I said, they were OK.
We gambled there, Ballys (the old Mardi Gras0, The Lodge and the Ameristar. I was losing everywhere we went. At our last stop we sat down at these Zeus machines. We both hit free games on back to back spin. By the time Zeus was gracing us with largess I walked away with $120 and Margo $170. By the end of the day, I was down some, and Margo was up by nearly $400. She had more fun than I did.
Back to the Lady Luck we walked. Margo wanted to give away some more of her winnings. I was content to chronical the days events. She was back an hour later, having donated $60. We were in bed by 12:30 AM
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Day Four---Saturday, July 01, 2023
I was up at 7:30 AM, which is not what I intended. I did not sleep very well. Maybe it was too warm. I like a cool to cold room. We got dressed, packed, checked out and then went to figure out breakfast. There was not a lot to choose from at the Lady Luck. Margo wanted to wander down to the old section of Black Hawk. This is where the Saratoga and Gilpin are at. We broke with tradition and went a little further down and ate at the Sasquatch. This is a small place, that is really trying. Margo is hesitant to go there, because the machines are older and fewer. But, their breakfast ended up being good enough and cheap. I don’t even remember what we had.
We gambled a bit more, with Margo winning another $170 and me dropping another $60. These morning outings before we start for home always seem to end with me losing more money. One day, I’m just going to go to the car and read, sleep, or doom scroll. Has to be cheaper.
We were on the road a bit after noon, and home an hour later. It had been a great little trip. I not only got to get up into the Colorado mountains, but I got to take an item off my bucket list. Winner. Winner. Chicken Dinner.
Next year is Detroit and our very last state. I am very much looking forward to that.
We gambled a bit more, with Margo winning another $170 and me dropping another $60. These morning outings before we start for home always seem to end with me losing more money. One day, I’m just going to go to the car and read, sleep, or doom scroll. Has to be cheaper.
We were on the road a bit after noon, and home an hour later. It had been a great little trip. I not only got to get up into the Colorado mountains, but I got to take an item off my bucket list. Winner. Winner. Chicken Dinner.
Next year is Detroit and our very last state. I am very much looking forward to that.
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