| Driving Through Scenic Colorado |
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Denver, Aug. 29, 2000 -- The Maroon Bells near Aspen, Colo., are among the most photographed peaks in the world. Buses from downtown Aspen deliver visitors to the pristine area where they can spend the day. (SHNS photo by Ken Papaleo/Rocky Mountain News.)
Denver, Aug. 29, 2000 -- Cleveholm Manor, better known as Redstone Castle, sits secluded near the main tourist area in Redstone, Colo. John Cleveland Osgood built his 42 room mansion when he founded the town. (SHNS photo by Ken Papaleo/Rocky Mountain News.)
Denver, Aug. 29, 2000 -- Water flows over rocks at the bottom of Hays Creek Falls, south of Redstone, Colo. (SHNS photo by Ken Papaleo/Rocky Mountain News.)
Denver, Aug. 29, 2000 -- Two kayakers "rail" their boats to the Arkansas River south of U.S. 285 near Buena Vista, Colo. This area is prime rafting and kayaking country. (SHNS photo by Ken Papaleo/Rocky Mountain News.)
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By Mim Swartz
Scripps Howard News Service The factory outlet stores in Silverthorne are but a blur by the time I realize I should have stopped to shop. But no need to fret. We're headed to the mother of all shopping towns, Aspen, so I sit back and take in the scenery. After all, that's what this trip is about. We're on Colorado 91 headed from Copper Mountain to Leadville, designated as part of the Top of the Rockies Scenic Byway. The Eastern Slope is beautiful, too, as least in these parts. We stop to read a highway marker about the Climax Molybdenum Mine, once the world's largest such mine, which opened in 1918 and operated continuously for almost 70 years before the market went bust. More than half a billion tons of "molly" have been mined here, the remnants of which are contained in pools alongside the highway. The mineral, when added to steel, makes the metal more durable and lighter. "Someday, travelers will see large grassy meadows and lakes instead of tailings ponds," a radio briefing informs us. I imagine a grassy meadow as I look at the ugly ponds. But by some anomalous quirk, the spot where we're standing is picturesque, with the ponds in the foreground and mountains in the background. Low clouds hover below the peaks in the distance, with 14,005-foot Mount of the Holy Cross peeking through. What looks like a cross is formed by snow in crevices atop the mountain. The cross is best-seen in late spring or early summer, as it disappears when the snow melts. Our timing this last week of June is perfect. In Leadville, we come across another "molly." This is where the Browns -- J.J. and Margaret, (better-known as Molly ) lived until moving to Denver after "Leadville Jonny" struck it really big in silver. The mountains here loom large also. Colorado's two tallest peaks -- 14,433-foot Mount Elbert (third-highest in the United States) and 14,421-foot Mount Massive -- tower over Leadville. The town sits at an elevation of 10,200 feet and, although it bills itself as the highest city in North America, there's been a dispute going with Alma for years. With 70 square blocks of Victorian architecture and an adjoining 20 square miles of mining district, the town is also a National Historic District, based on its 1800s heydays as a mining center for gold and silver. It's fitting, then, that we pay tribute to this heritage at the Smithsonian-quality National Mining Hall of Fame and Museum, the only museum of its kind that is federally chartered. Housed in a 70,000-square-foot Victorian building that once was Leadville's high school, the museum includes mineral collections from around the world, dioramas depicting early-day mining and a walk-through replica of an underground hard-rock mine. The Hall of Fame honors outstanding leaders in the industry whose engraved photographs and biographies hang in the hall. A monument to another of the strike-it-rich miners, Horace Austin Warner Tabor still stands on Harrison Avenue, Leadville's main thoroughfare. His 1879 Tabor Opera House, once billed as the finest theater between St. Louis and San Francisco, accommodated 880 on luxurious Victorian red-plush seats. It has the same cashier's cage through which miners passed their silver dollars to be entertained by such performers as now-you-see-him-now-you-don't Harry Houdini, John Philip Sousa's Marching Band, boxer Jack Dempsey and author Oscar Wilde. The Opera House is open for self-guided tours. Another Tabor legacy is less opulent. The Matchless Mine, about a mile east of town, is where Tabor made a fortune, a reported $1 million a year during the peak of its 14-year operation but where his second wife, Baby Doe, died penniless in 1935 after she froze to death in a cabin next to the mine. The cabin, run by the Leadville Assembly, a small historical association, is open for tours in the summer. Newspapers cover the cabin's walls, a common practice for keeping warm, volunteer guide Ray Northcutt tells me and some of the artifacts indeed belonged to Baby Doe, including a leather satchel, a trunk and a horsehair blanket. Northcutt debunks the legend that Tabor, on his deathbed in 1899, told Baby Doe to hang onto the Matchless because "it will make millions again." But Northcutt has no answer to why Baby Doe, who was only 46 at the time, would want to spend the rest of her life, 35 more years, here alone. There's no prettier alpine setting than the obviously named Twin Lakes, with the dual bodies of water swirling at the foot of Mount Elbert. Once a transportation hub for mining operations at Leadville and Aspen, it now is a center for fishing and boating and a good spot to stop for lunch. Although my mind-set is for the reputedly to-die-for strudel at the Nordic Inn, the restaurant is closed at this hour. But I'm not disappointed at the nearby Windspirit Cafe, which serves good meals with a view. And its homemade ice cream isn't bad, even though it's not strudel. I think this would be a good place to come back to and rent one of its cozy cabins. As we head out on Colorado 82, a highway sign says "End Scenic Byway." It still looks scenic to me. In summer, spectacular Independence Pass is the shortcut to Aspen -- about a three and one-half hour drive from Denver, compared with five hours via Interstate 70 and Colorado 82 from Glenwood Springs. In winter, Independence Pass (so named for the one-time town just west of the summit where gold was discovered July 4, 1879) is closed. And for good reason. While any vehicle up to 35 feet long can handle the pass, it has steep grades and "S" curves and is so narrow in a few places that I can reach out and almost touch the granite. But the drive across this beautiful wilderness jolts me into remembering why I live in Colorado: Standing slightly windblown atop the 12,095-foot summit, I'm surrounded by the stunning sight of Fourteeners everywhere. Most motorists can make the drive across the pass in less than an hour if they don't stop. But a stop at the summit is a must. Think about the early travelers by stagecoach, wagon and sleigh, who spent 10 to 25 hours crossing the pass, some never making it. A sign at the summit relates the reflections of a pioneer traveler: " ... a road bleak, rockbound top so mournful that even the ravens stayed away." I don't know about ravens, but by the time we descend into Aspen, I count innumerable wildflowers, umpteen curves, five switchbacks and 13 waterfalls. Don't ask me in which ocean they eventually wind up. I'm not crazy about Aspen in the winter. Maybe it's because I don't ski and I'm not into the "stars"/celebrity scene. In summer, though, I love the place and its resplendent surroundings: giant green mountains, rainbows of wildflowers, blue skies and stars of the celestial variety. It's glorious. And maybe because hotel rates are cheaper, kind of. I had wanted to stay at the historic Hotel Jerome, but the $700-something-a-night rate I was quoted for a suite -- that's all they had left -- was a little too pricey. Plan B was to stay in family-friendly Snowmass Village, 10 miles down valley in an equally spectacular setting with its own full schedule of music and arts events. Hotel rates there are always a fraction of Aspen's. But then a friend told me about Aspen Square Condominium Hotel in the heart of Aspen, two blocks from the Silver Queen Gondola. What a deal this is. A spacious studio condo with balcony facing Aspen Mountain, fireplace, kitchen, two-sink bathroom and pull-down wall bed plus free parking, daily maid service, small fitness center and swimming pool. It's $175 night. With my AAA discount, it's only $157.50 (plus tax). The money I'm saving is burning a hole in my pocket, so I head out to shop. Gracy's, sub-billed as First Class Second Hand, is a consignment shop that sells clothing castoffs, along with furniture. I plow through racks of jeans for $9, shirts for $5 and beaded dresses for $28 and $40. A pair of lime green Versace jeans is marked $18.50, a designer wedding dress "originally $5,000" has a tag of $550, and a Prada jacket is $682. There also are shoes, belts, khakis, blazers, coffee tables, sofas and antique desks. Oh, and furs. One, a $22,000 silver tip fox coat supposedly belonging to Donald Trump, is advertised for $5,500. Gracy's manager, Libby Selikoff, says she doesn't always know which of the rich and famous is selling what because they might have had some underling bring it into the shop for them. Selikoff has a few words of advice: "Buy it when you see it because it probably won't be here next time." I pass on The Donald's coat and head to Woody Creek for lunch. The serene burg north of Aspen off Colorado 82 is home to eccentric millionaires. Its most celebrated resident, renegade journalist Hunter S. Thompson, is said to hang out at the Woody Creek Tavern, but he isn't here when we drop by. The outdoor patio looks inviting but we opt for a table inside, which oozes with atmosphere. Hundreds of snapshots plaster the walls, and an autographed photo of Lily Tomlin reads, "Woody Creek -- Flow On." That night, I have the trip of my life in the Ultimate Taxi. Jon Barnes bills his 1978 yellow Checker with 400,000-plus miles as the only recording studio, theater, nightclub, planetarium, toy store and Internet-connected taxicab in the world. You've got to see it to believe it. A riot of neon dangles inside. Dry-ice fog pours from the floor. A silver disco mirror ball spins from the ceiling. Lasers and strobes pulse, their effects enhanced through 3-D glasses. The drive 17 miles south to Redstone through the Crystal River Valley is dazzling, with majestic Mount Sopris as company, along with the jagged Maroon Bells that ring out their beauty. There's a reason this is part of the West Elk Loop Scenic Byway. Redstone, on the National Register of Historic Places, is called "the Ruby of the Rockies." Industrialist John Cleveland Osgood built the village to house the men who worked in his nearby coke ovens. The quarters for his bachelor employees is now the Redstone Inn and Spa, and the elegant 42-room Tudor-style mansion he built for himself, Cleveholm Manor, is once again open for tours, although not every day. Joan Fiala, who has a weaving/cat-lovers gift shop on the half-mile-long main street (Redstone Boulevard), opened her business in 1993. "This is an absolutely wonderful place to live. The feeling of community is very deep," she says. In Paonia, I'm in search of singer Joe Cocker's bar but don't find it. That's because it's down the road in Crawford, Rose Casey, a broker in the Coldwell Banker office downtown, tells me. She says I can't miss Pam and Joe Cocker's Mad Dog Ranch Fountain Cafe when I go through Crawford on my way to Black Canyon of the Gunnison, the country's newest national park. When I tell her I'm taking the south rim road from Montrose, she tries to convince me to take the north rim road instead. "That's the blah road. ... The north rim road is the scenic road. For fall colors it doesn't get any sweeter than that, honey." I tell her I'm looking for quirky things to write about. "Honey," she tells me, "I'm a Crawford girl and I'm the queen of quirk." I brush aside her advice, however, and stay on the blah road. At least it's paved. Meanwhile, though, I find some quirk: Paradise on a Hanger, a Hawaiian shirt shop in Hotchkiss, where aloha shirts on display outside the former gas station blow with the breezes. Steve Duffy and his family began making aloha shirts in their Crawford home in 1990 (what is it about that town?) and decided to open a retail shop in Hotchkiss. A cowboy with a cell phone in the bar of the Holiday Inn Express in Montrose. He tips his hat toward me when I depart. (Mim Swartz is travel editor of The Denver Rocky Mountain News.)
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