Day 11:

Breakfast of Champions

 

The Nevada Hotel in Ely is a place of extremes. On the one hand the rooms are cheap, clean, and comfortable. On the other hand the casino has a very depressed feel about it, the water temperature fluctuates wildly (there were three signs in the bathroom warning the unsuspecting patron - it is either scalding hot or freezing cold, - certainly never lukewarm), and the fire alarm goes off when you take a hot shower (as it did for me this morning).  The hotel has a restaurant (a sandwich costs nearly the same price as the prime rib) where I opted for a large taco salad for breakfast.


 

After leaving the hotel we headed back onto US 50, the loneliest highway in America.  After hours of driving we passed through only two towns, Eureka and Austin. We stopped at the International Hotel (I guess clients come from all over the globe) where we had a pop and talked with the young woman who was working in the dining room. It was a bizarre place where everyone, save the server, seemed withdrawn and burned from the blazing wrath inflicted by the unforgiving desert sun. I asked the server where children from the town went to school as Austin was literally hours from any other town. She said Austin had a school, and while she wasn’t sure about the current enrollment when she graduated two years ago there were 24 students K-12.

US 50 - The Antisocial Highway

 

 

 
 We didn’t linger in Austin and headed back down US 50 toward Fallon, Nevada. A few miles before Fallon we spotted a massive sand dune in the distance. We drove back the road to the dune and found a good number of people driving dune buggies on the dunes. The sand was so thick on the road we nearly got stuck. Many people were also camped at the base of the large mound of sand. While the sand was nice, much like the sandbox variety, I am not sure how anyone would find sitting around in a camping trailer in the desert sun to be a relaxing getaway. Then again most people would probably not drive across the country to meet a 115 year old woman on their vacation.  Below is a picture of a local Berber man who is largely insane from the desert heat.

 

 

 

 

 

After passing through Fallon, the so called “Oasis of Nevada,” we headed for Virginia City. Virginia City is of course where the 1960s television show Bonanza was set. The town boomed in the days of silver and gold. It possesses many fine buildings which to a large degree reflect the golden age of Virginia City. That being said the place is super touristy. Sure it has boardwalks and the buildings display a vintage motif, but the town is also full of junk shops - touristy stores trying to sell you the next doodad or knickknack you do not need. There are also many saloons on the main drag which attempt to capture a bygone era. Interestingly enough the town slows down about 6:00 PM and so if you want to come to take in the museums and trinket shops you better get here early.  Fr. Doug is not a fan of Virginia City. He has reported that he feels personally hurt by the fact that the lush Ponderosa depicted on Bonanza is really a howling wasteland. Moreover I think he fails to see why Mr. Cartwright, Hoss, Adam, and Little Joe spent their lives defending a city that is a tourist trap. I am rather detached I was always a bigger fan of Gunsmoke and have long felt the plots of Bonanza are too fanciful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are staying at the Silver Queen Hotel. An authentic hotel from the heyday of the Comstock Lode (i.e. what put Virginia City on the map), today it is too pricey for what you get (they don’t offer two-bed rooms so we had to get two rooms at a cost of $60.00 each). The place is supposedly haunted; if the ghost shows up I am telling her to haunt the owner until box fans are put into the rooms. For supper tonight we ate at a decent Mexican restaurant located just outside of town. It is hard to find a place to eat in Virginia City; everything was closed by 7:00 PM except for the Mexican place and a Chinese place which had no customers and was located inside of a brothel museum. We opted for Mexican.  The restaurant had three large windows in the front that were open which not only brought in a pleasant breeze but also gave a great view of the mountains.  Tomorrow we saddle up and head for Frisco.

 


1955 Oldsmobile, just like Hoss drove to the prom 
 
 
 
 

Day 10:

Spending the night in the Western Hotel in Ouray, Colorado is a unique experience. There are many things that make the hotel unique; the saloon played host to two female gun fights, the lobby contains the oldest AC generated light fixture in Colorado (the proprietor says in the world), and there is a bear hide on the wall that supposedly came from the last Grizzly shot in Colorado. Ranking alongside of these unique features are the creaky floors in room 15. The creaking of the floor produced by Fr. Doug walking around was so loud it woke me from a deep sleep, earplugs and all.

Western Hotel - Ouray, Colorado

After getting up Fr. Doug and I decided that since we had a long drive (about 9 hours) it would be good to get an early start. Originally we scheduled a Jeep tour the same day I reserved a room at the hotel (the Jeep tour company and the hotel are owned by the same family). We decided it would be better to cancel and get a jump on the day's traveling. When we came down stairs to check out and cancel the trip the only person in the lobby was a young man from Kyrgyzstan who was sweeping around the front desk. He told me to put the key on the counter and that would serve as my checkout. I wrote a note explaining why we needed to leave early and cancel the Jeep tour.

Wanting to go to Mass I was unsure of the time Mass was celebrated at the local parish.  As we made our way up to the church we saw a fellow driving one of the Jeeps used in the tour. We stopped him and explained our situation and apologized for canceling. He said he was just coming from Mass and while he was sorry we had to cancel we would do well to go and meet the parish priest, Fr. Nat.

The Jeep driver (who turned out to be the owner) said that would not want us to miss meeting his remarkable priest. With all honesty, I am grateful for his suggestion. Fr. Nat is a 72 year old Benedictine from Mt. Michael Abbey in Nebraska. Anyone - priest, religious, or lay person could learn a lesson from this truly remarkable man. Fr. Nat is all priest; he serves four parishes (the picture above is the interior of St. Daniel in Ouray), fixes the homes of his parishioners (he is very talented as an electrician and plumber), and is involved in countless other ministries. He celebrates five weekend Masses and drives over 250 miles per weekend between his parishes. On Saturday night he crosses the treacherous Million Dollar Highway in order to go to Silverton. If you have read the blog from yesterday you can read my description of this dificult road (to read what others have said, you can check out http://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g28927-d104148-Reviews-Million_Dollar_Highway-Colorado.html). I like off-roading and I was very nervous driving it in the summer. He drives it in the winter after dark. In eight years he has only missed one vigil Mass in Silverton due to an avalanche. On Sunday he has Mass at Ouray and drives and even more treacherous road to the famed ski resort town of Teluride, takes a nap in a cemetery, and then drives to another mission in the high desert. His missions are small, but his presence is the only way people in these parts can go to Mass. For instance the parish in Silverton has 11 families. He does all of this in a Ford Focus. He has had several prisoners paroled to his rectory where he helps them find a job and rebuild their lives. A very generous man, he gave us each a book about a priest who served in the same missions in the late 1800s. I told him he is really inspirational, he deflected the compliment by saying the priest in the book showed real heroism. The book looks good so far (it is chalked full of a rugged priesthood filled with snow, ice, rock slides, and hunting stories), but truth be told I was honored to meet Fr. Nat. Later in the day I celebrated a private Mass at St. Daniel's.

After meeting Fr. Nat we decided to see if we could go on the Jeep tour after all. When we told the owner that we needed to get an early start he told us that he could take us on a shorter trip and have us back sooner. After some time shooting the breeze in the lobby of the hotel we got into his modified 1978 Jeep J-10 and headed for the hills.





The Jeep tour included commentary that is worth driving to Colorado just to hear. While I typically have to fight my temptation to talk more than the tour guide, Gregg - our driver and the owner of the hotel and tour company, was so interesting that I just incessantly asked questions. On the way up the trail Gregg pointed out many remains of the once prosperous mining activity in the area. Beginning in the 1880s silver was mined in these hills. Towns sprung up and thousands of people lived in these mountains. To try and imagine how they lived is nearly impossible. Above us there are roads, carved into the rocks that are so narrow it blows your mind to think about it. Drops several thousand feet are twenty inches from your buggy wheels, rock slides, and snow were part of the reality of the early silver miners. In addition to all of that stamp mills ran 24 hours a day pounding rocks, the sound of the machines bouncing off of the then barren rocks.

To put this in perspective, take a look at the picture to your right. About halfway up the cliff you will see a line. That is an old wagon road. Mind you this picture was taken from our road, several hundred feet below. Moreover we were on the edge of a cliff hundreds of feet above basin floor.

With the decline in silver prices in the 1890s the towns in this area were deserted.  After this happened one man, Thomas Walsh, bought over 900 acres of this land for next to nothing. While up here he discovered gold by accident (it is a long story), and as a result gold mining in this area boomed (they are still actively mining gold here today). However while gold took over, the towns never came back and became ghost towns. One such is Sneffels, which we were fortunate enough to visit today. The two pictures below show the old general store and the stamp mill. If you look closely you can see two wheels and a cam shaft. The cam shaft turned and pulverized rock in order to harvest the silver. Many of the old mine tunnels are completely accessible today (though very dangerous).

After leaving the trails we headed back to town where we had lunch with Gregg and looked around the historic town before departing. What was going to be a short tour took several hours longer than expected. Yet, Gregg made the trip so enjoyable that it was truly worthwhile. If you ever find yourself in this part of Colorado, please avail yourself of Gregg's services.

Ouray is the home of the court house scene from John Wayne's classic True Grit. The Sheriff was kind enough to let me go up to the court room where Marshall Reuben J. "Rooster" Cogburn testified about how many men he killed and showed that he was a man who possessed "true grit." The Ouray County Courthouse must be the only hall of justice that proudly displays a cardboard cutout of the Duke.

All in all Ouray is a nice visit. It is pleasant place if you would want to see a town that, while having some commercialized aspects, is for the most part a simple small town.  If one were into trout fishing, extreme skiing, ice climbing, hot springs, or four wheeling this place would be ideal. Ouray has first-class scenery and abundant wildlife. Sadly I didn't see any big horn sheep, however I did see several bucks in town (presumably they were here to do their shopping).

After leaving Ouray (way too late), we headed for Ely, Nevada. This is a 9 hour drive part of which involves driving on US 50 though Nevada, the loneliest highway in America. As we headed north out of Ouray we went through Ridgeway, Colorado where the house of Mattie Ross from True Grit is located. It is out of the way and we were short on time so we had to forgo seeing this landmark. Along the way we passed traveled between Delta, Colorado and Grand Junction, Colorado. On US 50 a few miles from Delta Charles Kuralt did a great story about a Juniper tree that grew alongside of the road. The tree grew in an area so hostile that it was a marvel to behold. Kuralt explained how people decorated it each year. He tied in some good reflections about Christmas at the end of the segment. I always wanted to see the tree; I found out it no longer exists. Sadly one devotee wanted to light up the tree so he hooked it up to a generator which unfortunately caught the tree on fire. Thankfully a new tree was planted.

When you hit Grand Junction the scenery changes again, and becomes notably arid. Crossing into Utah is like nothing I have ever seen. Perhaps Utah should change their motto to read, "Utah: You could have done better," or "Utah: Just like going to Mars without the hassle of becoming an astronaut." It is a foreboding desolate landscape.                                                                                   

US 50 after Delta, Utah (there is also a Delta, Colorado on the same road) is truly a lonely stretch of highway. Hundreds of miles seem to go by without a building. It was dark, the road had no traffic, it began to rain, and there was a full moon. The winds blew across the vast desert. An oncoming car approached and right before we passed it turned off its lights. Fr. Doug told me that it is an urban legend that if that happens the car will end up behind you and you will be killed. Suffice to say it was a great trip.  We almost hit a coyote, and we saw a solitary man standing alongside the road with no apparent desire for a ride miles from a town.

Finally arrived at our destination for the night, Ely, Nevada. Ely is an old mining town that is known for gambling. It claims to be the "friendliest city on the loneliest highway." Tonight we are staying at the Nevada Hotel and gambling hall. The Nevada Hotel was once the tallest structure in Nevada (Nevada must have had shirt buildings) and is a great deal. For $24.50 per person you get a great room and all kinds of casino perks. Since I had no Internet access last night I wrote two entries this evening. Due to the fact we got here late I find myself finishing this entry at 4:00 AM. Sorry for the shoddy workmanship of the blog. Goodnight.

 

Day 9:

This morning we got up around 5:00 AM. Fr. Doug was up before me as I couldn’t hear the alarm due to my ear plugs (think ear protection worn by workers on the tarmac). We were on the road by 6:00 AM headed for Durango, Colorado. Colorado is a very diverse state. We saw it unfold before our eyes today. The Rocky Mountains can change dramatically and quickly; some are covered with trees, others are without any vegetation, others are “canyon-like” and have an orange/red hue, others are gray. The topography changes dramatically: desert, prairie, farmland, forest, alpine, and tundra. Temperatures also change quickly; at 7:00 PM in one location the temperature registered 104 degrees, at 6:00 AM two hours away the temperature was 47 degrees.  This morning when we left we needed jackets.

Wolf Creek Pass

Departing Monte Vista we headed out on Route 160 which cuts across the bottom of Colorado. This route goes over the somewhat famous Wolf Creek Pass, a pass described in the C.W. McCall song by the same name as “switchback county and hairpin city.” I think I am one of only four people who have ever heard this song. Well the song exaggerates the pass a bit, but truth be told if I were going down the pass in a big rig loaded with chickens counting telephone poles going by “at the rate of 4 to 7^th power” I would probably think differently.

Eventually we arrived in downtown Durango. Durango is a small modern city. It seems to be bustling with tourists and young adults. Everyone seems to be on a bike. Actually Durango seems to be a place where everyone is healthy, rides a bike, and wears expensive hiking clothing everywhere.

Durango is also the terminus of the Durango & Silverton Railroad, a narrow gauge railroad that used to haul passengers and tons of gold and silver. It is the railroad featured in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Like the East Broad Top, the Durango & Silverton is a rare gem – a working narrow gauge. We boarded the train at 9:15 AM and headed up the mountain to Silverton, Colorado. At first I was disgusted about the high price of the affair. However as we got out of town and into the mountains I realized it was worth every penny. The ride is 7 hours long. It takes 3.5 hours to get to Silverton, and 3.5 to get back. In between there is a 2 hour layover in Silverton. The railroad is worthwhile not only because of the antique equipment, but more importantly because of the scenery. I feel like I am employed by the Colorado tourism bureau but I cannot endorse this ride enough. The train chugs up the mountain and goes through passes and along rivers that you have to see in person. In all honesty I actually had a headache because I felt the need to take a picture of every scenic vista.

This horseless carriage will never catch onEventually the train ends up in Silverton. Silverton is somewhere between Victor and Idlewild Park's Hootn' Holler (i.e. a  totally fake Old West attraction). It is an old town, with real dirt streets and old buildings. There are old miners and genuine locals who actually live here. That being said there are many tourist traps that play on the “Old West” genre. I have to admit that when I walked into a real late 19^th Century saloon, complete with piano player and genuine period aesthetics, I was somewhat turned off by the yuppies in Birkenstocks playing with their I-phones. Unlike Victor, a genuine old mining town where I felt  that someone was going to beat the tar out of me at any second, Silverton, while a little touristy, did nevertheless have something authentic about it with its three steam locomotives arriving daily. As I was walking down the hall in an old hotel and heard the steam whistle blow I could not help but feel I was back in 1910.  I can die saying that I have only been to Silverton on a steam locomotive. Years from now I can recount, “Back in ‘12 I caught a train to Silverton one afternoon.”

                                                        Bigfoot and Fr. Doug discuss the fine points of Cryptozoology

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After our railroad excursion we left in short order for Ouray, Colorado, about 2 hours away. The road that runs between the two towns is Route 550. I wonder what C.W. McCall would say about this road. It is the craziest highway I have ever traveled on to date. The road contains a ridiculous number of switchbacks and sharp curves (they are sharper than you are imagining right now), in addition to shear drops with no guardrails. It was rare to even see a reflector. Basically this road (called the Million Dollar Highway) was designed either as a joke or a way to thin out the human race. We came through here at dusk so I don’t have many pictures, especially of the worst parts. Fr. Doug, who drives with one hand and seems for some reason to accelerate right before a hill, handled the road with such ease I would think he lived in these mountains. We saw a number of Mule Deer along the way and almost hit a pair of foxes.

 

The Ho Chi Minh trail that is Rt. 550 brought us to the town of Ouray, Colorado where we are lodged for the night at the Western Hotel. You may not have heard to Ouray but you have probably seen it many times. Ouray plays the part of Fort Smith in John Wayne’s classic, True Grit (one of my top 3 favorite movies). Tonight we ate supper at the Outlaw restaurant where the Duke liked to dine when he was filming True Grit. The hotel here is old, inside and out. The prices are cheap. As a tradeoff the toilet is down the hall and so is the bath. There is no air conditioning, we don’t have a fan, and there is no screen for the window. But for $21 a night (each) it is hard to beat.

Day 8:

If you read the blog you will see that today began in Leadville, Colorado. Leadville has the distinction of being the city with the highest elevation in the United States at 10, 152 feet. As a result it is difficult to breathe there if you are not acclimated to the high elevation. Luckily I remembered this before I had Fr. Doug give me last rites. I thought for while I was "coming home, Elizabeth," that this one was  indeed the big one. Thankfully this was not the case. First of all I hope the "big one" happens in the distant future. Moreover I am not sure why my afterlife would include the wife of Redd Foxx.

Leadville. The Delaware Hotel is on the right.

At first I wanted to eat at the Golden Burro in Leadville, an old Leadville greasy spoon. However the allure of free cereal sold me on breakfast at the Delaware. After leaving the Delaware, our first stop was Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary Church, which is just up the street from the hotel. The parish in Leadville has two churches, Annunciation and St. Joseph. St. Joseph was a Slovenian ethnic parish, Annunciation was the Irish parish. Mass is celebrated in St. Joseph from October 1st until April 30, and at Annunciation from May 1st until September 30th. Annunciation has a nice high altar with inserts of green Connemara marble. During our visit I noticed that the Diocese of Colorado Springs only has 12 seminarians. After Lincoln with their 42 I felt bad for Colorado Springs (the local diocese) until I realized we only had 3 in Altoona-Johnstown (who are all very good men by the way).

 

 

Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Leadville. At 10, 152 feet they give new understanding to the term "High Mass," in fact they have the highest in the nation.

 

Interior of Annunciation Church

 

 

 

Upon departing the church we toured around Leadville for a little while. It went well except for one true mishap and one near mishap. First the actual mishap. I asked Fr. Doug to pull over so I could take a picture of an old schoolhouse. He did so and I got out and walked up the road. While taking the picture I heard a loud crack. I looked down the road and saw that Fr. Doug put the car in reverse and backed  over a bent metal highway reflector. When he pulled forward it ripped the plastic bumper. I hope that insurance covers the bumper. A plastic bumper, yoi.

 

 The schoolhouse. Fr. Doug looking at the bumper and lamenting this trip

 

 

Next, the near-mishap. Right before the schoolhouse incident I told Fr. Doug I wanted to take a picture of a building and a car that looked like "it came out of the photo section of a Rand McNally Atlas from 1968." He pulled into a small driveway. As I was taking the picture I heard him whistle. I wasn't sure why he whistled, so I stood in my place. A few seconds later an old mangy dog crawling through a rusty metal fence growled at me. Fr. Doug said he never saw me move so fast. I guess he whistled to warn me that the dog was stalking me. A simple "Hey that old mangy dog is about to tear your face off" would have probably worked better.

 

OK, maybe a National Geographic on old mining towns from 1968

 

 

In addition to the above mentioned situations we did mangage to take some other pictures of the town.





 

The Silver Dollar. Great place for a beer and a broken arm

 

The Opera House. I understand they produce the Wagner's entire Der Ring Des Nibelungen three times a year using an all local cast

 

After bidding Leadville goodbye, we headed south. The drive from Leadville to Buena Vista has some of the best scenery I have ever seen (and I have been on many rides). Some truly breathtaking views of the Rockies.

 

Between Leadville and Buena Vista on US-24

 

Buena Vista, Colorado

 

Also in Buena Vista. The town is very small, and contains this small strip mall with only three businesses. A tattoo parlor, a Domino's Pizza, and a Liquor store. It is located right next to the "Gunsmoke" gas station and convenience store. Basically it is redneck heaven.

 

After Buena Vista we continued our journey that lead eventually to Cripple Creek, Colorado. Along the way we stopped at an old homesteader's cabin built by Adeline Hornbeck. Born in Massachusetts in 1833, Adeline Hornbeck and her husband moved west and had three children before he died in 1864. As a widow with three children  she bought a plot of land under the Homestead Act. The story gets complex from there but suffice to say it was a real treat to visit her homestead a few miles from Florissant, Colorado.

 

Hornbeck Homestead

 

This place sure beats the sod house in Nebraska. Hoping the Schwann's man gets here soon, I haven't had a chicken patty in 12 minutes.

 

Cripple creek was a real disappointment. The entire downtown has been turned into a casino. I wanted to visit the Molly Kathleen Mine (I suggest you name your first born after the mine. If the child is a boy he will get tough becasue of it, and as a result become a good miner) but couldn't find where it was located. Disgusted I wanted to see a real gritty mine town. I traveled six miles to Victor, Colorado and my wish came true.

 

  St. Victor Church in Victor. Note the streets are dirt. Not sure how I can hint to Bishop Bartchak I want assigned here.

 

Victor is a rough town. We ate lunch in a bar on the main street (there were very few options). It sounded like a dog fight broke out in front of the bar, the town had dirt streets (save the main drag), and is surrounded by old (some still working) gold mines. It is as close as you will get to the olde school mining town in Colorado.

 

Dirt streets and cars that could get antique plates. I can't be assigned here otherwise I would never want to leave to go to heaven.

 

 

One of the many old mines in Victor

 

I originally planned to take a crude dirt road to our next stop. This route had great scenery and passed by the beautiful Phantom's Canyon. After our mishap this morning Fr. Doug didn't think a three hour ride on an unimproved dirt road (it was rough, we drove on it for a quarter mile) was a viable option. Thus we took paved roads for the next few hours. We wimped out. Fortunately even along the "city" roads, there were plenty of things to see.

 

On a train bound for nowhere

 

 

 

 

 



 

The Rockies, continued

 

Eventually we made our way to Bishop's Castle, about 12 miles from Rye, Colorado. Bishop's Castle was built by an eccentric craftsman named Jim Bishop. Mr. Bishop began working on his castle in 1959 and is still working on it to this day. Mr. Bishop will gladly tell you that he built the castle, all of it (100%), by himself. He doesn't live there, but continues to work on it daily. As an ornamental iron worker he is very talented. That being said the place seems to have a significant number of places where one could potentially be killed. Spiral stairways that have no handrails, open windows, and rickety floors remind the visitor that they must be on their guard when visiting. Mr. Bishop is also an exceptionally devout Libertarian (countless signs tell you this). It is worth a visit.

 

Bishop's Castle

 

More rickety than you think

 

Fr. Doug wimped out and stayed on the ground. Or perhaps he just had more commonsense than Fr. Aron

 

You tell him he has bad breath

 

Trip on these stairs and you will fly right out the window. The objects in the window form a balcony and would not help much if you tripped.

 

Not sure what is more amazing: that one man built this place on his own, or the fact that he owns an International truck without rust.

 

After Bishop's Castle we drove for well over 2 hours to our motel. Tonight we are staying at the Movie Manor located at the Star Drive-In in Monte Vista, Colorado. Built in the 1950s, the Movie Manor was the brainchild of the Drive-In owner who needed stable, year-round, income. His motel, the only one I know of, allows patrons to watch the movie through the window. Each room has a wall speaker that allows each guest to hear the film. Tonight the film was The Avengers. I wasn't into it and watched the news on the room television instead. Nevertheless it is an interesting place to stay.

 

The Movie Manor

 

You can see the screen out the window

 

The mountains surrounded by desert in this part of the state remind me of Mt. Sinai