COLORADO

Across the Fence

By Arvord Abernethy

There are two things that people like to tell others about; one is their grandchildren and the other is a trip they have taken. Since you know about my grandchildren, I will have to tell you about the trip that Mary and I have just taken.

We left here early Labor Day without a set schedule as to the time or place, only the Rockies of Colorado in mind. Our first side trip was when we left the main highway between Snyder and Post to drive by Fluvanna. Mary had lived there when she was in the second or third grade and wanted to go back and see the place. The school house looked familiar, and then when we drove to the business district where there was still a grocery store in the same building with its 16 foot ceiling that it was then.

She told of often buying an all day sucker there after school, but they didn’t have any like that now, so she didn’t buy anything. We thought it odd for the grocery store to be in the same place, as it was ------years ago.

We drove on to Santa Rosa , N.M. that night, but were tired and hot after that 500 mile drive. The traffic got pretty heavy with campers, boats and vacationers before we got there.

It didn’t take a long drive the next morning until we were in the plateaus and foothills of the Rockies to make us feel that our vacation had started. By the time we neared Santa Fe , we were seeing some pretty good mountains; but still there was not that smell of pine or that cool mountain air in our nostrils. We headed the car toward the northwest so it would take us to Chama and then across the Continental Divide for the first of eight times that we crossed it.

Pagosa Springs, made famous by a country song a few years back, made a good place to spend our second night. It is nestled right down between the mountains, sharing some of the space with the San Juan River which runs right through town. The river crosses the street about a block from the motel, so we walked down there and watched the clear, cold water as it rushed on its way to the Colorado River and on to the Pacific. The bed of the river was lined with boulders that had rounded by time and water, reminding one of giant dinosaur eggs. The tall, stately pines on the mountains silhouetted saw blade teeth against the late evening sky.

With the temperatures in the 40’s we headed out the next morning for Wolf Creek Pass , which was also made famous by the country song. As we drove up the valley beside the river with everything fresh and green, we got our first feeling of being in the mountains. This became even stronger when we topped the pass and sniffed the thin mountain air.

The very winding road down the other side of the Pass brings you into South Fork where our Bill Chappells have their summer home and his art studio. We didn’t have time to look them up, but headed on up to Creede where the Lester Roberts have their summer home. Creede has a special meaning to many Hamilton people. The First Baptist Church helped the church there for a number of years, both materially and financially. Many of our people have gone up there at different time and worked on the buildings as well as holding meetings and Vacation Bible School . The Chappells and the Roberts have been strong supporters of the church.

We went through the building and found it to be nicely furnished and attractive. In the basement part are Sunday school rooms and the fellowship hall. Here we saw the kitchen cabinets that Charles Newsom made here and then delivered them up there and installed them. It made us feel proud that we had had some small part in it.

 Leaving Creede, we headed for Lake City . It was on this road, at a scenic overlook, either on Spring Creek Pass or Slumgullion Pass , that we saw one of those “perfect” scenes. Lying before us was a wide valley of green grass and dotted with some sky-blue lakes. In the distance were cattle grazing, which we felt sure were fat as all cattle were. In the distance a high mountain arose to make a backdrop for the scene. Pine shrouded mountains rose from each side of the valley to make a perfect frame for the picture.

As we stood there, and at other view points, gazing at the mountains, there was a feeling of peace that one can not get any other place. There they stood as giants undisturbed by anything that was happening in this war torn world. We saw boiling clouds slam against them, there would be thunder and lightening, but as soon as they passed the mountain would be standing just as majestically as ever.

After leaving Lake City , we drove on to Gunnison . I knew that Cecil Kelly, son of the Neal Kellys, lived there so we gave them a call. Ruth told me where his station was so we drove around to it. There we found Bruce, Cecil’s older brother, and while visiting with him Ruth and Mrs. Neal (Cloyce) Kelly drove up so we had a nice visit with them. Cecil was out on a call and we didn’t get to see him.

The road from Gunnison to Salida takes one right along side the Gunnison River for some distance and then the countryside flattens out some to become a valley. Ranchers were putting up hay in nearly every valley we went through, but we probably saw more here than anywhere. Most of it was native grass hay, but we saw a lot of alfalfa hay and the bales would really be thick on the ground. Most of the ranchers use the New Holland brand hay loader that picks up the hay, stacks it on a trailer, and then puts it in a stack without a man ever touching the bales. A climb over the Continental Divide through the Monarch Pass put us into the Salida country.

We thought that we were in for a noisy, rowdy night soon after we checked into a motel as a motorcycle gang came roaring in. Mary peeped through the curtains and reported that they didn’t look so bad to her. I had an excuse to got get some other things out of the car, so met some of them. They were a group of business men from Michigan who have a motorcycle club and each year they take a long sight-seeing trip. The night was very quiet and peaceful.

Nearly every town up through there has something to remind one of those booming, mining days, and Salida is no exception. As a monument to the mining and smeltering industry there stands an abandoned smelter smokestack that pierces the sky for 365 feet. It seems that back in the early days of the century the ranchers began complaining that the fumes from the lead smelter was damaging their crops and making the cattle sick. ( West Dallas ) The smelter then built this towering stack to eliminate the problem. The 40 foot concrete base supports the brick walls that start out being six feet thick and at the top are three and a half feet thick. The tapered stack is still 17 feet across when it gets to the top.

Here I am doing all the talking. I bet you are tired of it. Maybe I can come back by next week and tell you some more about out trip; that is, if you want to hear it.

ACROSS THE FENCE