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DAN LEETHIn the late 1800s, the state attracted prospectors in search of gold and silver. Today its riches are its summits.
Second in a series.
Beyond the sleepy hamlet of Lake City, pavement ends and the forest road I follow turns to dirt. Beaver meadows and a willow-banked stream parallel the right of way. I pass anglers hip-deep in water, campers warming beside morning fires and city dogs barking at country squirrels. It's a typical summer weekend in Colorado.
Mountains define our state and provide its identity. Within Colorado's rectangular borders, the Rockies thrust their highest summits. Peaks form backdrops for our cities, provide venues for our recreation, control our weather, capture our water and furnish scenes for our beer label logos. Architects even designed the Denver airport's tentlike roof to mimic the mounts.
Granted, Colorado offers more than heights. Canyon-carved deserts lie in the west, and the eastern third of the state is a continuation of the Great Plains. This region, from the Kansas border to the crest of the Rockies, was Colorado's share of the Louisiana Purchase. Lewis and Clark, however, never ventured here from their more northerly route.
The first remembered American in this portion of the purchase was Army officer Zebulon Pike, who in 1806 failed to scale the peak that bears his name. Trappers and other explorers soon followed, leaving scattered trading posts in their wake. Mexico ceded the western portion of our state in 1848, but the territory remained largely ignored by settlers.
Minerals changed that.
Prospectors discovered gold, a rush ensued, and soon narrow-gauge train tracks connected myriad hill-hugging boomtowns with transcontinental mainlines. Fortunes were made and lost. Communities were founded and folded. Roads were cut and abandoned.
What the prospectors, shopkeepers, miners, barkeeps, dance-hall girls and road builders left behind has become an outdoor museum of hard-rock history.
I follow the Alpine Loop Back Country Byway, a bygone mining route that winds across southwestern Colorado's silver-rich San Juan Mountains. It crests a pair of lofty passes, linking the onetime mining hubs of Ouray, Silverton and Lake City. Navigating the course generally requires four-wheel drive and a lack of acrophobia.
"The first year we had it designated, people tried to take their Buicks up," says Sally Pearce, Colorado Scenic Byway coordinator. "I suspect a few left mangled mufflers and more along the way."
Altitude is our passion
The Loop passes the town site of Sherman where only dilapidated cabins and foundations remain. Beyond, it clings to a ledge 300 feet above a river. Through one side window I see rock. Out the other, I look down on treetops. My flatland stepmother would be white-knuckled through here.
The gorge diminishes, and the route enters a valley bounded by naked mountains. Across from two abandoned cabins lies the trailhead for Redcloud and Sunshine Peaks, two of Colorado's 54 summits towering more than 14,000 feet.
Fewer than 1,200 people have scaled them all. A father and daughter prepare for their ascent.
"These will be my 33rd and 34th "fourteeners'!" the teenager tells me excitedly. "Only 20 more to go."
Whether it's motorized or muscle-powered recreation, mountains are our playground and a prime reason many of us live in Colorado. At seemingly every chance we get, we head for high ground, and that creates problems.
On weekend mornings, the highways out of Denver become clogged with stop-and-go traffic, and on Sunday afternoons, cars and trucks often creep back, bumper to bumper, for 30 miles or more. We call it a "mountain jam."
At least here in the hinterlands, the only traffic problem I encounter is meeting an occasional oncoming vehicle at a narrow spot.
At a sign marking the end of the road for conventional cars, I engage four-wheel drive and begin climbing the steep grade toward timberline - the highest altitude at which trees still grow.
An abandoned three-room cabin poses at slope's edge. Behind rise the skeletal remains of the Tabasco Mill, once owned by the Louisiana hot-sauce company. Ore arrived here by tramway, and the timeworn towers lead to Cinnamon Pass.
On top, drivers and passengers stop to photograph each other standing beside the sign marking the 12,640-foot elevation. Here in Colorado, altitude is our passion.
City-limit markers for nearly every community tell how many feet they lie above sea level, and the towns of Leadville and Alma battle over which is Colorado's highest community. In Mile High Denver, a step at the state capitol indicates the 5,280-foot point, and a band of purple seats identifies the 1-mile level at baseball's Coors Field.
Up here, well over 2 miles high, towering summits now appear at eye level. Overhead, a puffy cloud looks like a bleach spot in a denim-blue sky. Wildflowers carpet the alpine lawn, and snow fields drape from nearby knobs. Some fields bear carved, S-shaped tracks.
"I can't believe someone skied up here," a woman in a Jeep bearing Texas plates remarks when we meet at an overlook. "Don't these Colorado people ever give up?"
The answer is no.
Among the state's most popular pastimes, skiing and snowboarding are big industries and tourism leaders. Last year, Colorado ski resorts hosted about 11.6-million visits, more than any other region in the country.
Growth, but controversy
The sport has transformed towns such as Aspen, Telluride, Breckenridge and Crested Butte from mining camps to snow meccas, and new communities such as Vail and Beaver Creek have been bulldozed from wild lands.
The growth of the industry has not come without controversy. While other areas tender bids and offer bribes to host the Winter Olympics, Colorado voters decided not to seek the Games in 1976.
No new ski areas have been built since the '80s, environmentalists continue to fight terrain expansions, and mountain town residents often oppose growth, citing the horror of what has happened to their counterparts.
When I first visited Telluride more than a quarter century ago, it was a hippie haven where the rich were rare and showers at the local coin-op laundry were often coed.
Telluride's new upscale residents, the ones who drove away the longhairs, now hope their community does not become another glitzy Aspen - while those in Crested Butte pray theirs doesn't become another Telluride.
No one, of course, wants to become another Animas Forks.
What is now the Alpine Loop's best-preserved ghost town, Animas Forks began in 1873 with the construction of a prospector's log cabin. Within a decade, the community grew large enough to become the county seat. It boasted general stores, saloons, assay offices, shops, a hotel, post office and a newspaper.
Prosperity ended when the mines played out, and by the 1920s only spirits called this place home. A scattering of structures still stand.
Skiing is not the only route to mountain-town survival. Twelve miles down the road, Silverton still prospers from the same rails that originally gave it life.
In the late 1800s, the current San Juan county seat was a rowdy town that attracted Bat Masterson, Doc Holiday and Wyatt Earp. It's much tamer now, with the former bars and brothels of Blair Street now sporting gift shops and restaurants. The town lies calm and empty in the morning, but as soon as the first Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge locomotive delivers its cargo of hungry tourists, the demeanor will change.
"Silverton provides us with the best of two worlds," merchant Dave Yates says. "Mornings and evenings offer mountain serenity. Midday trains bring customers."
Too late to close the door
From Silverton, I follow U.S. 550 toward Ouray, a former mining town in a box-canyon amphitheater. The place still fancies itself the "Switzerland of America," even though its layered rocks and Victorian-era buildings bear scant resemblance to the Alps. The boast comes from a time when the state had to pretend it was something it is not.
The northwestern leg of the Alpine Loop begins about 3 miles before town. A van sits beside the highway, its owner displaying boxes of gems, crystals and silver ore.
"I once worked for E.F. Hutton," vendor John Reardon says. "You could say I've gone from selling stocks to peddling rocks."
Colorado is filled with transplants. Californians have flocked to mountain towns and Midwesterners fill cities along the Front Range. The population inflows have led to overused highways, overextended services and overtaxed infrastructures.
Like most of us, I wish the state's residential gateway would have been locked behind me, after I relocated here two decades ago.
Reardon warns that the road ahead contains the Loop's most hair-raising section. The path is rocky, narrow and in places hugs the brim of a plunging precipice. I creep upward and after topping timberline, turn toward Engineer Pass.
In three directions, grassy hillsides tumble toward emerald valleys, their slopes freckled with sunflowers. Snow lingers in gullies and along shady ridges. Across the void, cliff-terraced peaks bulge against the horizon. Two men aim binoculars into the distance.
"There they are!" shouts one. "Elk!"
The herd feeds far below. Even enlarged through the optics, the huge animals appear tiny, underscoring the landscape's immensity.
Turning down the Loop's final leg, I re-enter the forest and stop at Capitol City, founded in 1877.
George Lee thought this location would be ideal for Colorado's seat of government. He even built a luxurious "Governor's Mansion" on the site. In spite of his urgings, the legislature never moved here, and the silver crash of 1893 ended his political fantasy.
Now, the mansion is gone, and only two log structures stand amid a smattering of summer homes. It's a far cry from the sprawling density found in the state's current capital.
Of Colorado's 4.5-million people, 81 percent live on the eastern edge of the Rockies' Front Range, which stretches from Fort Collins to the north through Pueblo to the south. Nearly half of that population lives in the Denver metropolitan area.
Queen City of the Plains, Denver has grown from a sleepy cow town to a major urban center. It ranks as the second-largest city in its time zone (to Phoenix), and while it may not rival Eastern metropolises in terms of culture and refinement, it holds its own in the West.
Like many cities in the West, Denver suffers from sprawl and the accompanying traffic woes. A multibillion-dollar project, nicknamed T-Rex for Transportation Expansion, will attempt to relieve gridlock through pavement widening. Partly completed, the city's freeways now look like Godzilla took a bite out of them, further exacerbating commutes.
But I don't worry about that now. From high in the hills, city woe seems a world away.
The road widens, pavement reappears, and I re-enter Lake City. After a cup of coffee at a small cafe 156 miles from the nearest Starbucks, I turn toward home. At least for the next few hours, I will still be comfortably ensconced in Colorado's mountains.
- Dan Leeth is a freelance writer who has lived in Colorado for more than 20 years.
If you go
WHEN TO GO: Depending on winter's snow, the Alpine Loop usually opens by early June and closes sometime in late October. Wildflowers peak from late July through early August. Autumn brings hillsides of aspen gold, starting in September at the higher elevations and lasting through October down lower.
THE ROUTE: Lake City to Animas Forks by Cinnamon Pass is 28 miles and takes about two hours. The first 22 miles are suitable for conventional cars, but the last 6 miles over Cinnamon Pass require high-clearance, four-wheel-drive vehicles.
Silverton to Animas Forks is 12 miles and takes about 40 minutes. The last 4 miles are rocky, and although four-wheel drive is not required, drivers with higher ground clearance vehicles will certainly be happier.
Ouray to Animas Forks is 11 miles and takes about 11/2 hours. The first 3 miles from Ouray are paved (U.S. 550), but the last 8 are steep, narrow, rocky and winding, making four-wheel drive necessary.
Animas Forks to Lake City by Engineer Pass is 26 miles and takes about two hours. The first 8 miles from Animas Forks require four-wheel drive, but the last 18 miles to Lake City are suitable for conventional cars.
THE LOOP TOWNS
Lake City lies along Colorado Highway 149, about 55 miles southwest of Gunnison and 120 miles northwest of Alamosa. Jeeps can be rented from Castle Lakes Campground and Resort (970-944-2622) or Highlander R.V. Campground (toll-free 1-888-580-4636).
For more information, call the Lake City/Hinsdale County Chamber of Commerce toll-free 1-800-569-1874; www.lakecityco.com
Silverton is off U.S. 550, 49 miles north of Durango. For tours, check with San Juan Backcountry toll-free 1-800-494-8687; www.sanjuanbackcountry.com For four-wheel-drive vehicles, contact Red Mountain (toll-free 1-888-970-5512; www.redmtmotelrvpk.com) or Triangle Jeep Rentals (toll-free 1-877-522-2354; www.trianglejeeprental.com)
For additional information, call the Silverton Chamber of Commerce toll-free 1-800-752-4494; www.silvertoncolorado.com
Ouray sits along U.S. 550, 36 miles south of Montrose. For guided tours or individual Jeep rentals, contact Canyon Creek Jeep 970-325-7271; www.canyoncreekjeep.com Colorado West (toll-free 1-800-648-5337; www.coloradowesttours.com) Ouray Mountain Adventures (toll-free 1-800-207-2700), San Juan Adventure Jeep (toll-free 1-877-752-8687) or Switzerland of America (toll-free 1-800-432-5337; www.soajeep.com)
For further information, call the Ouray Chamber of Commerce toll-free 1-800-228-1876; www.ouraycolorado.com
BACK ROAD ETIQUETTE AND SAFETY: On one-lane mountain roads, uphill traffic has the right of way, but courtesy dictates that the driver who can most easily get to a pullout does so.
If faster traffic approaches from behind, find a place to get out of the way. Never leave established roadways.
Mountain weather changes frequently, so pack warm clothing. Because of the propensity for afternoon thunderstorms, rain wear and the knowledge of how to put up a Jeep top are essential. If a storm rolls in, stay in the vehicle and head for lower ground, away from streams.
FOR MORE INFORMATION: The Colorado Tourism Office toll-free 1-800-265-6723; www.colorado.com can provide information about visiting the state. To learn more about the Alpine Loop, contact the Bureau of Land Management (970-641-0471; www.co.blm.gov/gra/gra-al.htm)
Did you know this about Colorado?
Two top annual festivals:
* Telluride Blue Grass Festival: This weekend of strummin' and pickin' draws 10,000 music lovers to the box-canyon community of Telluride toll-free 1-888-605-2578; www.visittelluride.com in southwestern Colorado in mid June. For fans of other musical genres, the town also hosts annual blues-and-brews, chamber music and jazz festivals along with weekends celebrating wines, films, mushrooms and more. There's even a Nothing Festival, during which folks can revel without a cause.
* Great American Beer Festival: Denver, a city where the newly elected mayor owns a brew pub, hosts one of the top beer festivals in the country each September. The three-day event (toll-free 1-888-822-6273; www.beertown.org) features more than 300 breweries pouring more than 1,400 beers for public tasting and 2,000 for competition. Book a hotel within walking distance of the Convention Center and spend a weekend sampling suds.
The best legend - true or not
In the winter of 1874, Alferd Packer and five fellow prospectors became marooned in the San Juan Mountains near Lake City. When the snows melted, Packer returned to civilization, looking none the worse for wear. It turned out he survived the ordeal by dining on his buddies.
Packer was tried for murder and condemned to death by a judge who complained, "There were only seven Democrats in this county and you . . . ate five of them!" The sentence was later reduced by a Republican judge. Today, the main dining hall at the University of Colorado Memorial Center is named the Alferd Packer Grill.
Three must-see places
Rocky Mountain National Park: Experience the grandeur of America's backbone in this national park 90 minutes north of Denver. The highlight is Trail Ridge Road open summer only, which crosses the treeless crest of the Continental Divide. For park information, call (970) 586-1206 or visit www.nps.gov/romo Lodging available in Estes Park (www.estesparkresort.com)
Downtown Denver: The downtown heart of the largest city between St. Louis and San Francisco offers the chance to enjoy views from the Capitol, paintings in the Denver Art Museum, artifacts at the Colorado History Museum, high tea at the 111-year-old Brown Palace Hotel, shopping on the 16th Street Mall, book-browsing at the Tattered Cover and baseball and brews in LoDo Lower Downtown. Call toll-free 1-800-233-6837 or visit www.denver.org
Aspen: Colorado's famous mountain town provides the best example of what happens when wealth meets snow in a bygone silver-mining town. Beyond town, rivers brim with fat trout, hikes lead to timberline hot springs, peaks reflect in mountain lakes, ghost towns whisper tales from the past and narrow roads wind to some of the state's grandest scenery. Call toll-free 1-800-670-0792 or visit www.aspenchamber.org
Three places to avoid
Interstates at rush hour: The freeways through Denver become linear parking lots during weekday rush hours. In the mountains, Interstate 70 eastward from the Eisenhower Tunnel can be a stop-and-go nightmare on weekend afternoons, both summer and winter.
Black Hawk, Central City and Cripple Creek: Dying in the 1980s, these forgotten mining towns were handed over to the casino industry, which gutted historical structures to build gaming pits for gamblers hauled in by the busload.
Royal Gorge: This famous suspension bridge across the Arkansas River might be an interesting sight if it didn't cost $19 to walk across it. At least parking is free.
The best place to taste regional cooking
The Fort: This restaurant near Denver occupies an adobe structure patterned after an 1833 southeastern Colorado outpost. The cuisine includes buffalo meat and game as well as Rocky Mountain oysters, an appetizer that begins as the testicles of castrated calves. It is 17 miles southwest of downtown Denver near the junction of Colorado 8 and U.S. 285. Call 303 697-4771 or visit www.thefort.com
A famous native son or daughter
For those of us who remember the 1970s, Colorado's best known "native son" was Henry John Deutschendorf Jr., who actually was born in Roswell, N.M. In the 1960s, the aspiring singer/songwriter changed his name to John Denver and eventually moved to Aspen.
Many of his songs, such as Rocky Mountain High and Back Home Again, became anthems for a Colorado lifestyle. Denver died in a plane crash in 1997, and he is honored today with a musical review, Almost Heaven, which plays periodically at the Denver Performing Arts Complex.
A major problem residents face
Rampant growth is the root of Colorado's worst problems, especially around Denver. Water resources are taxed by the addition of residences. Denver's traffic gridlock ranks third worst in the nation behind only Los Angeles and San Francisco. Exhaust fumes form a brown cloud over the city in winter, and ozone alerts are becoming common in summer. In spite of it all, the city keeps sprawling outward.
The best joke that locals tell on themselves - or on their rival state
We love Texans here in Colorado, and in fact, our current governor was born in the Lone Star State. But as any Coloradan on the slopes can tell you, if God had intended for Texans to ski, he would have cattle defecate white.
On the Web
Readers can find all the articles in our series on the Louisiana Purchase, which runs to next May, by going to the Web site www.sptimes.com/lapurchase There are links to the installments and interactive features.