After leaving Deadwood, we decided to head east instead of sticking around for the night. I saw that Badlands National Park had a free dry campground on the north portion of the park, so we decided to give a it go. It wasn’t quite boondocking as there were vault toilets, formal parking spots, and picnic tables, but without power and water, it was still pretty rustic. We got in toward the end of the afternoon and only had a few spots to choose from. We put almost all of our leveling blocks to good use, unhitched, got settled in, and made some dinner. I read that Sage Creek Campground usually only has a spot or two left most nights, and that was true for the two nights we were there.
We couldn’t beat the price, but what we didn’t count into our calculation was the dust. The Badlands have such interesting formations because the land is being worn away by wind and water at the rate of about an inch a year, and all that material has to go somewhere. Well, by the time we left, the truck and Beangle were both a uniform grey color. A super fine dust was in the bed of the truck and even inside the bins inside the bed of the truck. I figure we took approximately a year’s worth of erosion with us as we drove away. Oh well, let’s just call the cleanup at the next campsite a part of the price we paid.
After the first night’s dinner, we climbed the rise to the west of us to enjoy the sunset and get an overview of the area. If you zoom in, you can see the trailer and truck.
Jeff’s took a really pretty sunset photo
On the way back down we saw a bison munching above the campground. How cool is that?
Pretty cool. But definitely not as surprising as the bison that got a little extra friendly with some of the conveniently placed (and height’ed) posts next to some guys’ tents and motorcycles. It then proceeded to roam through the southern end of the campground. That big guy stopped right next to their picnic table, looked them dead in the face, and then kept on moving. They could have reached through the sun slats and touched him.
The next morning, when it came by for a second tryst and wouldn’t walk away from where their bikes were parked for over an hour, one of the men admitted that he’d been scared out of his mind the whole time. They’d acted so calm, you’d never have known!
The woman, below, was fun to talk with. We were cracking jokes the whole time. She might have been rethinking her tent choice, though. “I just bought that,” she called over to the bison.
The three red tents, below on the upper left, were a homeschooling family with 4 or 5 young kids. They got an unscheduled biology lesson. The dude making dinner didn’t even stop grilling. Ho hum. Bison in the hood.
On our second morning, we woke to an entire herd of mammas and babies grazing next to camp. That was quite a sight in the early dawn sunlight. By the time we were ready to pack up, they were nowhere to be seen. It’s shocking the way such a large number of animals can seem to just ‘disappear’ amongst the rolling hills out there. Top ten event so far.
Long a fan of Wild West history, Jeff has been wanting to go to Deadwood, South Dakota, for ages, so it only made sense that it be our first true destination. After leaving Wind Cave on Monday, we headed north and grabbed breakfast in the town of Custer after a brief moment of terror where I thought I’d left my wallet the day before in the Wind Cave Visitor Center.
We passed a few single-lane construction areas on the way to Deadwood, where we had to wait for the flag person and the lead vehicle. At the first one, we had to catch the flag person’s attention as he was distracted by his phone. Thankfully Jeff was pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be driving through, so he saved us all from trouble. Construction techniques and materials were evaluated along the way and found wanting in a few places. You can remove the engineer from his desk, but he’s still an engineer.
After parallel parking the truck and trailer suspiciously easily near the Old Town district, we were greeted by a wall of skeletons on this fence. Sure, why not. I’m game.
Unsurprisingly, the wood-framed shacks of the Wild West mining era (1876) burned down shortly after the town was officially formed, so we didn’t expect to see them. Nowadays it has some interesting turn of the century buildings, made from brick and locally quarried stone.
Ok, so what is Deadwood like today?
Take a 1900s era Main Street movie set and fill it with slot machines and kitschy souvenir shops. Next, slap an old timey name or a reference to Wild Bill onto everything standing. Then, charge a fee for anything history-related, such as $10 to walk into the room where Wild Bill Hickok was shot dead playing poker (not joking) or $4 to enter the city cemetery where he and Calamity Jane are buried (again, not joking) and you have the modern tourist-trap that is Deadwood.
Can you imagine wanting to visit your mom’s grave or granddad’s final resting spot and having to pay $4 — cash only! — to do so? I sure hope there’s some local workaround because that’s just appalling.
The road used to be 15ft lower, hence the odd way it meets the former bank building here.
Now run an endless parade of converted school busses between all points, blaring a canned audio tour the whole time. How-dee, Calamity! This here hooch is got a wicked kick!
Miss Peacock’s clothing store with a Schlitz beer sign above the door ???
We could have skipped the town, and maybe we should have, but part of the trip is seeing places and finding out what they’re like. Now we know. Deadwood isn’t a do-over for us.
That said, the post office was beautiful and reminded me a lot of the one in Boise. My guess is they’re from the same time period.
The courthouse has a lovely ceiling mural.
This restaurant’s metal shutters were fantastic.
And there’s something quite grand about this hotel’s curved brick facade.
We were going to overnight in the National Forest just outside of town but chose to head out immediately since we still had lots of daylight left.
“It’s windy and there’s a cave,” as quipped by our tour guide, Ranger Franny.
Wind Cave National Park’s claim to fame is the fact that the cave system ‘breathes’ in and out of a small helmet-sized hole in the ground, adjusting the internal barometric pressure of the cave throughout the days and seasons. Winds in and out have been clocked as high as 70 mph. It’s also one of the most complex cave systems in the world, with nearly 100 miles of cave discovered, packed multiple levels deep, in an area that covers only slightly more than 1 sq mile.
There’s a long backstory on the modern history of the cave, and a wonderful Lakota creation story about it too. I’ll leave it to you to look them up, if you’re interested.
The National Park Service offers several tours daily; we took the Natural Entrance tour.
If you look below, you’ll see the extremely delicate boxwork formation for which these caves are famous. Almost all the boxwork found so far in the world is in Wind Caves. The flat yellow area you see on the left is what’s left over from decades of people taking home ‘a small souvenir’ when the property was in private hands. This kind of damage is in several sections. ‘Little bits’ really added up.
Right before our tour ended, one of the participants passed out, surprising us all. The Park’s medical system leapt into action and she was extracted in good shape, if a bit sheepish. Remember to eat before taking a tour, don’t lock your knees when you’re standing, and stay hydrated, folks.
After our tour, we set out to see the other half of the park, the wide and pristine mixed-grass prairie above it. It’s equally important and of great value to the nation. It protects several species, a fragile grassland habitat, and highlights the interconnectedness of the plants and animals living there.
Throughout our five nights at Elk Mountain Campground, we saw a maternal herd of bison with a primary bull and several lone males roaming around. It’s hard to express how massive these animals are, and how plodding they can appear (but are not).
We checked out a few different ‘good spots for viewing elk,’ such as the one below. We saw no elk. Our quest for elk continues, but with such a pretty landscape who can complain?
Because of some wildfire smoke drifting in, the sun hid for the first few days. It scattered the sun’s rays in a very pretty way and kept the temps down.
Pronghorn made a showing on the main road Friday, as did a coyote — slinking along the same field a day later. No mountain lion sightings to date. Here, kitty kitty!
A fire lookout on the far north section of the park, located up a ridge line, made for a pleasant walk on the day the sun returned.
The expansive grasslands, below, really came alive when the sun set, creating a golden-green carpet for this rainbow-colored moonrise a day before the full moon. We had walked up onto this plateau behind our campground to see if any animals were in the valley on the other side. A resident mule deer family was heading back into the forest for the evening, while the coyotes started their daily, evening calls to each other. That may have been my favorite part of each day at Wind Cave. There is something eternal, in the deepest sense, in those far-reaching calls.
These lights glimmering in the dusk caught my eye one evening. Even a concrete bathroom on the edge of a forest is pretty with good lighting.
Our final hikes were to some cliffs to see the resident swallows, prairie falcons, and great horned owls. They alluded us as well — probably in cahoots with the elk! Instead we saw this great combination of red limestone and green algae.
Thankfully the park’s copious amounts of poison ivy were starting to turn red with the approach of fall, so we were very cognizant of its location as we walked around. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the park planted it on purpose just to keep people on the paths. As a deterrent, it’s highly effective.
One animal we did see a lot of, and I mean A LOT OF, were prairie dogs. I know farmers and rancher hate them, but I love them. They yip yip yip in several different tones, stand up on their back feet to check things out, and scurry back to their dens after giving up all pretense of bravery when you come within their circle of comfort.
The little one below, though, couldn’t be bothered. Totally not impressed by the big two legged things. Yawn. Seen ‘em before. We got within two feet of it (while still on the trail) and it barely even looked up. That must be some Grade A grass it was munching.
On Saturday, we headed back into Hot Springs for showers, to do laundry, and to print off something at the library. I ended up on laundry duty and Jeff headed to the library. On the way back, we saw this frontier jail open to the public and had to stop in for a quick peak. The notice says it was found in the early 1980s, built into someone’s home, and was only found because they decided to do some renovations. In other words, someone built their house around the shell of the former jailhouse. Waste not, I guess. What an interesting piece of history. I’m glad they were able to save it.
(Oh, and we donated two more bags of odds and ends while in town.)
Solar panels are wonderful. They’re also picky. Our panel has a curve to it, to fit it to the front of the Bean trailers. This means we don’t get 100% of the sun unless it’s very bright, but it also means that it can get some sun most of the time if it’s points in the direction of the sun, without changing its orientation. Win some, lose some.
Since we were in a big wildfire smoke area, we weren’t drawing our usual solar amount due to the smoke cover. Thus we had to do everything possible to get every last ray. I noticed our battery was charging at about 10 watts one morning, far shy of our usual 60-100 watts. As I walked back from the bathrooms, I wondered if the truck might be blocking the panel a bit. Sure enough, we gained another 17 watts just by pulling it forward a few feet. Small action, but a noticeable impact. Take from that what you will.
This morning we’re in town having a shower, doing laundry, getting some legal and financial things taken care of, and cleaning/organizing later in the day. Saturdays will be nice for that as everyone else is out and about doing the tours, hikes, checking out the visitor center, etc.
One of the things we decided to do early on when planning this adventure was to save the bulk of The Boy’s ashes so that we could release them at special places we find along the way. Cherish. Embrace. Let go. The past year and a half has been an exercise in living those words.
Jeff found a lovely flat rock while he was walking the Poudre River, looking for good spots to fish. He wanted it to be the first place. The water rushing down from the mountains is soothing and Big Horn Sheep scramble up and down the cliffs across from it. We thought he would have enjoyed that. I imagined him saying, “I could climb that.”
For the most part, we did a lot of nothing last weekend. And that’s what we needed. A lot of nothing. Rest, relaxation, sorting, bagging things up, and lazy time together. We went on a short, easy hike through Hewlett Gulch on Labor Day, but that was our big outing.
I found these Broad-leafed Sweet Peas along the trail and wondered if they were native or leftovers from the homestead that used to occupy the land. The only obvious reminders of that family’s time that we saw are the foundations of two buildings. I wonder what they were: a home? a cottage? a barn? an outbuilding? I’ll never know.
We started our days with a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs topped with wilted spinach — to “make it healthy” as Jeff said. Don’t tell our GP.
Nebraska looks like a Windows start screen. There are buttes and ravines out there too, but for the most part it looks like this.
I want to make this perfectly clear, Agate Fossil Beds National Monument doesn’t get enough love. I wish more people took the time to drive out and visit it. It’s an interesting place with friendly, hardworking, and informative staff. Too little staff, though, to be honest. When we arrived, one woman was nearly run off her feet trying to engage with visitors by explaining exhibits, answering questions, giving directions, turning on the intro film, and welcoming others as they arrived. After a while, another person arrived to work the desk and handle gift shop sales. A good reminder that budget and personnel cuts on paper are being felt for real in the field.
The man who homesteaded the Agate Fossil Beds property had a wonderful respect for and friendship with the local Native American tribes, and the National Monument has given a section of the visitor center space to documenting and explaining their close relationships. He championed their causes to Washington, DC and at Fort Robinson, fighting to have their treaties upheld and their way of life respected. They honored him and his family in numerous ways in return, most clearly in the thousands of pieces of minutely decorated clothing and moccasins they made for him and his family members. They’re stunning.
While walking the path up to the site’s twin buttes, we saw this adorable wild cucumber plant growing on a bridge crossing the wetlands. I looked it up later: It is poisonous and can cause burns. Look, don’t touch. Bummer.
As it was getting late, we decided to spend the night at a scenic overlook/truck stop. We had a quick dinner of shrimp and cocktail sauce (cause we’re fancy like that) and raspberries.
Our only neighbors were a semi-truck driver getting his required hours of rest and a random dumpster. Very different reasons for us all to be there, but we all enjoyed the same prairie sunset.
If I have to get up at 1am, so do you
We woke to high winds and lots of low clouds, but the forecast said no rain. The clouds remained much of the day, but we never did get rain.
Something we’re having to learn is that there isn’t a lot of anything in Nebraska outside of the larger cities. We knew we had to get fuel sooner rather than later, so we stopped at the first gas station and were glad we did. We probably drove another 60 miles before coming across the next one. While I’m sure running out of gas on a narrow two-lane and extremely rural road would be an adventure, it’s one we hope to avoid.
Last weekend, the amazing Miss Carmen personalized the HMS Beangle and it turned out just as were hoping.
She made us some cozies for the propane tanks, too. That will keep the tanks out of direct sunlight, which reduces the chance of hot, heat-expanded gas leaking out. They’re just so adorable.
Let’s talk nuts and bolts. Even after selling or giving away nearly everything we owned, we still have way, way too much stuff. Ok, maybe that’s not news, but all that remained got packed (one might even say, stuffed) into either the truck bed, truck back seat, or the trailer.
With a mere hour until Go Time, we popped the bike rack onto the trailer, slipped the key into the extra heavy duty lock holding the ridiculously heavy chain wrapped around Jeff’s hybrid and my mountain bike in the garage storage closet, I did live in the Netherlands, for a sec, and it wouldn’t budge. It was ‘No ma’am, I like it here’ stuck. We tried everything. We sprayed copious amounts of lock lubricant into it, wiggled the keys to loosen the tumblers, flipped it upside down to let gravity do its thing, and even banged it against the wall. Ok, by that point we were pretty deep down the desperation tunnel.
We were scheduled to return the apartment’s keys back to the owners at 11am, so after a second round of — Maybe it just needs some more lubrication — to no avail, I called a local locksmith, explained the situation, and asked if he could cut the lock off the chain so we could get on the road. “No problem,” he said, estimating that he’d be there in 30 minutes to an hour. He arrived, tried to pop the lock for good measure, and then pulled out his industrial strength grinder. Amid a shower of sparks, the glorious clunk of a sliced-through lock clanged onto the concrete floor and our bikes were free. He asked if we wanted the old lock. We did not. It can rot in lock hell for all I care.
Just a few hours behind our planned time, we arrived at our first campground with all of our remaining belongings. I did a full reset of all our clothing, putting warmer items into our big duffels and packing the clothes cubbies with the remainder. While doing so, I filled four kitchen trash bags with Didn’t Make This Cut clothes, shoes, sheets, old ratty blankets, etc. They’ll get dropped off at a thrift store as we leave the area.
The no-signal-to-be-had at our Ansel Watrous riverside campsite’s along the Cache La Poudre River made it all worth the hassle.
Think of Colorado. Let your mind rest there. Craggy mountains, lodgepole and ponderosa pines reaching skyward, alpine lakes glistening green and blue under a cool summer sun. From Denver, it’s also 200 miles of prairie on Highway 76 before you reach the Nebraska line. In fact, some variety of prairie makes up the entire eastern third of the state.
That’s ok, there’s beauty to be found in the prairie, too. At 70 mph, north-eastern Colorado looks like an impressionistic painting if you relax your eyes a bit. Bright, middle green-colored grasses the length of a child’s hand cover the ground from the highway’s edge to up and over the chunky rolling hills. Thin, yellow-tan, knee-high leftovers from the native short-grass prairie days wave above it all in the ever present wind. A two-tone effect that exists together, yet independently.
Fassh fussh shht fffffff
Heavy wind gusts push against the truck with every bend northward, the highway snaking and bending ever closer to Ogallala.
Delicate, petite-headed sunflowers a meter tall hold fast, rooted in the disturbed ground that edges the highway and the dirt roads running parallel with and perpendicular to us. From road to hilltop, these bands of green and yellow fade into a light blue sky so soft it reminds me of a raggedy, bleach-stained kitchen towel I had back in the day.
No, the prairie’s not bad if you let its beauty whisper a bit.
Our campsite last weekend had a lot less shade than most in the Blue Mountain Campground, but that’s okay, its eastern orientation was perfect for sucking up the solar rays. And we had an excellent reason to set up our 180° awning for the entire four days. It handled the light breezes and stronger wind gusts really well. Who needs shore power, right?
Well, as it turns out, we did, because by Saturday afternoon our battery was at 3% and our refrigerator at an unhealthy 51°F. After sharing some mini freak outs, Jeff ran to the local general store to buy some ice to drop into the mini fridge, and I plugged our portable power bank in as “shore power” and got the battery back up to 51%, enough to get us through the weekend if we sipped electricity vs guzzled it.
We also raided the camp host’s site under cover of darkness, literally, and (*looks left, looks right*) recharged our depleted power bank for an hour at their electrical hookup. As they were gone due to a family emergency, we decided they wouldn’t mind. With our illicit power, we were able to push the charge back to 79% on Sunday morning.
That was the big event for the weekend. We talked with the manufacturer on Monday morning and they were able to diagnose the problem, a bad component between the solar panel and the battery that will need to be replaced. They’re working to schedule the repair locally. Good to get the bugs worked out before we hit the road for good.
Proof I do exist
After arriving mid-day last Friday, we found a nice little trail to stretch our legs and check out the area. What we found is that the trail went Up Up Up and then Down Down Down into another campground that sits on the South Fork of the South Platte River. At some point we wandered off the official trail and had to figure out a way back to it. We also hiked it in our running shoes; we should have had our boots on. One of those, ‘It’s only a mile,’ moments.
The end of the trail
A couple of months back, we watched an older TV series called How the Earth was Made, sipping it episode by episode. One of the common themes throughout (earthquakes! tectonic plates! volcanoes!) is how magma pushes through cracks to form intrusive bands of igneous rock like the one you see below. We enjoy seeing examples of it on our hikes. It reminds me of backbones.
Can’t believe everything you see online. An app identified this rock as a Big Horn Sheep.
Our evenings were pretty quiet the entire long weekend. A simple dinner, pretty sunset, crackling fire, and retire early. Repeat. I woke up each evening around midnight, hello tiny bladder, and stargazed a bit since it was a new moon weekend. I even saw a bit of a meteor shower. We’d intended to go to a stargazing event nearby, but never got there. Sometimes it just makes more sense to relax and get some extra sleep. Each morning Jeff would make us coffee/tea and then sit very very quietly, watching the birds move around us. Hairy woodpeckers, hummingbirds, western bluebirds, a variety of hawks. His Merlin app was getting a workout.
Dry pine cones make excellent fire starters
One of the things we’re learning is that I’m our fire whisperer. When Jeff has declared a fire played out, I can usually get it going again. As for getting it started, step aside, I’ve got work to do. I don’t know why, but where the logs should go and where and when it needs more oxygen just makes sense to me. My reflexes are crap, so I can’t catch anything you toss to me, but I can burn a pile of logs to ash.
Always in awe of a dark night’s sky
On Saturday, when we knowingly chose to hike in the heat of the day, we saw the cutest little toddler hiking boot atop the trail signage post. I hope someone came back for it!
Tiny little Timberlands. 😍
We wandered in and out of tree cover for a few miles, had a schnack, and then turned back to the truck.
Along the way, we passed a few others but mostly had the trail to ourselves (again, heat o’ the day). The river nearby though? It was packed with people sitting on lawn chairs in the river itself or tubing down the length of it. Everyone seemed to be up in the mountains, cooling off from triple digits down on the Front Range.
Everyday prettiness
I may or may not have seen a mountain lion’s head pop up on top of the rocky ledge below. I can’t be sure, as it was out of the corner of my eye, but it’s definitely the type of place a cougar would like to be. We kept our eyes peeled the rest of the hike.
As the old adage goes, if you’ve been in the mountains and haven’t seen a mountain lion, be assured that they’ve seen you.A break on a Florissant National Monument trail
On Sunday we drove over to Florissant National Monument. The area isn’t well known in general, even here, but what it’s best known for are its large petrified Redwood stumps. There used to be hundreds of them, but tourists broke off pieces as souvenirs for decades (“It’s just one little piece”) and now there are only a handful left. Seriously, people, leave things where you find them. Yes, even the little bits.
What Florissant National Monument should be better known for is that it’s home to some of the best, clearest, and most detailed examples of plant and insect fossils in the world. I mean it, they’re famous the world over by paleontologists, botanists, and entomologists. And they’re stunning.
The area also has 14 miles of very pretty, easy to moderate trails through all kinds of environments, including a remarkably well preserved homestead. We took a hike that again went Up Up Up and which overlooks Pike’s Peak before passing through a few groves of Aspens on the way back to the visitor’s center.
Banded for stability because they’ve been damaged over timeThis is not The Big One.Petrification, up close and personal.Oh, and our license plate holder’s adhesive failed after we washed the trailer, because of course it did. That and a door latch are also getting fixed.
We’re four weeks today from our lease being up and our last days being worked. I’ve paid our last month’s rent, changed our addresses, scheduled the end of utilities, and sold off or given away nearly everything we own. Our furniture is getting picked up soon. The give-your-stuff-away-for-free sites/apps probably know me by name now. Our cycle trainers are still for sale. That’s my current pain in the neck thing yet to deal with.
We spent yesterday packing the truck with 99% of what we’re taking with us, to make sure it all fits. There’s… a lot. Too much stuff, to be honest, but we’ll use up the consumables and jettison other things as we figure out what we do and don’t use.
Cross your fingers and wish us luck. It’s probably going to be a bumpy month.
Back before we even arrived at the National Forest Service’s fee station on our last camping trip, we stopped for breakfast at one of our favorite restaurants, The Shaggy Sheep. After helping us sop up the coffee that I carelessly slopped across the table, our waitress mentioned that her friend says she’s never failed to see a moose at Jefferson Lake. Awesome, no? Then the NFS gate attendant said that ‘Mamma Moose’ had been seen that morning. That was pretty exciting because a Mamma suggests a Baby. Even better! Driving by, we noticed that each campground has a sign declaring, “Welcome to Bear Country” with tips on how to store food safely. And with the summer’s high temps, we knew that the elk herds were browsing up in the high country.
Perfectly good alpine meadow; no elk seen. (Although we believe we heard a few elk bugling to each other.)
All sorts of yummy cooking smells; no bears seen. (You just know the person who invented this specific style of fire ring made a fortune.)
Nutrient rich beaver pond; no moose or beaver seen. (But we saw a lot of proof that beaver are very active in the area.)
What we did see plenty of were towering storm clouds, dense black clouds, flat grey and green clouds. They built and roiled and flew across the landscape every afternoon. We had an hour or two of rain on Friday, none on Saturday despite the excellent collection of starter clouds below, and a mother of a storm on Sunday evening.
It rolled in after our quick supper of leftovers, just as we got a proper fire going. We quickly put everything away and hopped in the trailer to relax while it blew past. Only it didn’t blow past. It raged on from about 7 PM until around midnight. Luckily our campground was up a slight hill from the road, because at one point a river seemed to be flowing down the back side of our campsite and through what had once looked like “a nice place for Jessica to set up a tent.” Poor woman can’t get a break with us even when she’s not camping. We watched our blazing fire suffocate.
Lightning crashed and flashed. Wind screamed. Trees rocked. The sky turned green, then orange, then black. Then the hail started. We laughed because ‘What else can you do?’ and relaxed into the chaos. Without any cell service, we had no idea how long the storm would last. Around midnight, when the rain had ceased, I braved a trip to the toilets, using a flashlight to avoid the biggest puddles in the tire tracks. When Jeff went out a few hours later, the road was nearly dry. Life in a desert.
Our campground, Lodgepole, is covered in its namesake trees, and it’s easy to see why people used (and use) them for log cabins, shelters, and lodges. In a landscape so relentlessly buffeted by storms and rocky ground so devoid of nutrients, it’s impressive how tall and straight and strong they grow. They’ve adapted to what life throws at them, like we all must.
We loaded up the following day and stopped back at The Shaggy Sheep for breakfast. Seriously, it’s that good and they’re remarkably accommodating when it comes to dietary issues. While chatting with a fellow diner at the bar, we learned about the devastating fires that had broken out at the Grand Canyon and at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. It sounds like both were due to lightning storms like the one we’d ridden out the night before. We haven’t been to either National Park yet. It breaks my heart to know that when we do finally visit, we’ll see only a shadow of their former glory. Fire is a natural part of the forest habitats here in the West. I know that. Accepting that doesn’t make such losses easier.
Yes, South Park is a real place in Colorado. Technically, South Park is the larger high grass basin area (according to Wikipedia). The town the TV show is loosely based upon is actually named Fairplay, but you know how that goes. Although cute, Fairplay isn’t pristine and upscale like neighboring Breckenridge, and the locals like it that way. (They even have stickers saying so.)
Early Saturday morning, we followed the West Jefferson trail, crossed the long distance Colorado Trail, and greeted a few of its thru hikers. Since it’s halfway along the 12 miles between the Kenosha and Georgia high passes, we could only hope they made it to their next stop and had their tents set up before the unstable looking afternoon skies opened upon them.
There are spots along Jefferson Creek that had clearly moved and readjusted themselves over the decades, and details like this old disintegrating bridge emphasized the fact. With time and erosion, the curve had pulled further and further away from where the trail now stood. Since there wasn’t any indication of where that road or trail might have led, my mind wandered pleasantly for a while, imagining the possibilities of who might have used it, to where, and why.
We bravely forded a few raging streams
After a quick lunch, we drove into Fairplay in anticipation of the usual afternoon thunderstorm — which never did materialize. The local 4-H groups were about to have a parade through town and we were publicly shamed by bullhorn for parking on the ‘parade route.’
Keep your top hat on, sir. We moved the truck.
We hopped into a local distillery to buy the right to park in their lot as customers. Jeff’s bourbon was, and I quote, “About what you’d expect.” My lavender lemonade was excellent.
I wanted to revisit the South Park City Museum, a cute little ‘town’ of rescued and salvaged buildings from around the region which helps show how life was back in the mining and settlement era. I always find such museums fascinating. I read every sign, visit every room, check out every roped-off closet.
A burro harnessed to this beam, made innumerable rounds, grinding promising-looking rock into smaller and smaller chunks, in search of gold nuggets, pebbles, and dust.
Jeff, having been through this museum with me already, was more amused by the army of ground squirrels darting in and out below every building and sidewalk plank. They race around as if they’re on urgent business and we humans simply hinder their progress.
South Park City has a fabulous view
We made a delicious dinner of hamburger mess (hobo dinner as Jeff calls it). We packed our aluminum foil packets with hamburger, onions, corn kernels, and a few other random vegetables, starches, and seasonings that we had on hand. The packets got tossed over the fire while beverages were consumed. After the very scientific method of check and see, we opened the packets up and dug in. It’s one of my favorite camping meals. Quick, easy, and a good way to use up leftover veggies, so it’s always a bit different.
Final note: I don’t recommend listening to a YouTube compilation of South Park quotes in your favorite coffee shop without headphones, not even on low volume.
