Observing the Florence Wildlife

On the prairie, below the Southwest Front Range

The morning started lazily enough, taking time to harass a Western Kingbird and her chicks.  A rare opportunity to capture her and the new family members through the lens, without being attacked, lent a positive tone to the day.

In contrast, a ride over the hill found a more grim scene.  A new resident of the immediate area had indeed torched most of his land recently.  With a firm misunderstanding of the law related to illicit substances, he was also unaware, but mostly did not care, that the environment in this part of the country is much more combustible than the Ohio valley.

A little further down the road, eighteen holes waited, under blue skies, fluffy white clouds, and a crisp 32 °C.  Panoramic views of the South Front Range, the Pikes Peak Massif, and Wet Mountains served an inspiring backdrop for the day. 

Wildlife made an appearance here and there, completely ignoring our presence, and their immediate danger of being struck down by a stray ball. Mule deer are often found wandering about the grounds here, as if they own the place, along with the occasional antelope, coyote, prairie dog, rabbit, snake, tarantula, representative of any other day on the plains.

Transport for the planned expedition the following day required unexpected repairs.  A mysterious drain on associated energy cells needed some consideration, but ultimately remained a mystery. Inspected, restored and replenished, our party quickly moved on to repair that condition in our own physical state.

Attaining a sufficient level of sustenance, a quick return to base camp afforded an opportunity to acquire the best seating to watch the great burning orb in the sky light up the horizon.  The accompaniment of quiet across the surrounding prairie established a proper ending for a properly squandered day.

The rising moon glowed across the relatively blank slate of sky, offering time to contemplate the deeper meaning of life. Clouds were beginning to move in.  A rare occurrence of rain expected the following day seemed as though it might be more probable than usual.

Disrupting the peaceful moment, word of fire across the plains jolted the reverie, sending our party scrambling to inspect, and if necessary, address the situation.  The new resident got his head up in the clouds and carelessly ignited the range again.  The local Sheriff arrived in short order intending to discuss the matter with him, but said resident had vacated the area. Fortunately, he had taken a few moments to extinguish the aberrant blaze, before his departure.

The Sheriff found himself bound and gagged, lacking sufficient resources in the current global hysteria, and left having accomplished a lot of nothing. Our party remained watchful for quite some time after his departure.  Numerous bizarre and ridiculous stirrings occurred on the grounds of the nearby situation under observation, no new fires appeared.

Sooner or later, this new resident may very well find himself under observation in appropriately lit confines that are much less combustible, and for his own safety.  Folks out here have a keen understanding for the potential of fire, and are not particularly tolerable of those with no respect for law and order.  They have built an abundance of facilities in this part of the western prairie to contain such matters.

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Up Next:  The return to KC by way of the Twilight Zone of KS-4

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Further Reading

Western Kingbird
Audubon Field Guide

Sumo Golf Village
SumoGolfCourse.com

Fossils, Gold, and Tarantulas

In the footsteps of explorers, fortune seekers, the stage coach, and a railroad of necessity.

The Southwestern US Army Expedition led by Lieutenant Zebulon Pike set out to explore the new southwest boundary with Spain in 1806, which ultimately led him to be captured by the same.  That is a whole other story, and a much greater area of discovery that than planned for this excursion.  Only a portion of his original path was followed, lest this expedition suffer the same fate.

Before the gold rush, uncovering another valuable commodity about 70 years later touched off a competition between paleontologists Edward Cope and Othniel Marsh.  It added fuel to a fire already blazing between the two, who faced off in the "Bone Wars" to see who could uncover the most dinosaurs.  Marsh won the numbers game, although both made significant contributions to understanding of the extinct giant reptiles.

Folks more interested in real gold spawned an extension of the route, leading to Cripple Creek, from Cañon City.  Stagecoach delivered goods to the infant mining district, along a perilous path perched upon a shelf involved with the fabled Great Unconformity.  Along the way, features great and small litter the landscape.  Wildlife only challenged the expedition once.  Eventually, the beast moved along, glaring at us all the while, last in the crossing of a herd before him.

Cripple Creek is nothing more than gambling town these days, slowly awakening to the history surrounding the culture of the mining industry. One of the relatively recent additions, honoring those from the past, is a tribute to to the thousands of over-worked, and ultimately, misplaced workers.  Certain benefits enabled their grandchildren to persevere well attended, and they permitted to graze just about anywhere they please. 

Touring about the town, other sights enticed occasional pauses beyond the casinos.  Those particular establishments were a ghost town amidst the masked hysteria.  Most of the rest of the town was too, on a beautifully sunny Wednesday afternoon. One ice cream shop attached to a casino became highly populated for a brief moment, with workers bustling about frantically, while our party enjoyed a bit of refreshment. 

Mining of this area has left a lot gaps in the countryside, beyond the cultural implications. Wandering about the hills and valleys can be hazardous to health, as discovered by one soul who took up residence 300 meters down an abandoned mine shaft.  Old mines are often buried, hidden, and mostly undisclosed. Publicly available situations are usually best for exploration of these access points to the subterranean world.  

Lacking appropriate search and rescue apparel, facts above ground provided all the detail of interest for this outing.  The American Eagles Mine, along Little Grouse Mountain Trail and CO-67,  showcases varied paraphernalia of one man with a dream.  Winfield Stratton drove the shaft of this mine down nearly 500 meters, the furthest of any of the times, on a quest to discover the mythical "Bowl of Gold." He never made it, before passing on, having only found more of the usual.

The real unearthing of the precious metal lies just to the east of there, nearer Victor, in spite of an era billed as the "Cripple Creek Gold Rush."   The mine here is the only remaining significant producer of gold in the state, and tailings have been piling up there since the late 1800's, in an ongoing quest for more of the yellow dust.   Generally yielding a personal best of one gram of gold per tonne of ore, it seems like a lot of work for so very little.

One would think that Victor would be extremely wealthy as a result of the excavating happening within the proximity.  However, a population crash associated with depleted ore and a world at war left it a near ghost town, clinging to life with only a few hundred, ever since.  The old man has rediscovered himself recently though. Building restorations, along with random acts of art, proliferate in a landscape that previously displayed little more than a broken down old mining town.

When times are booming, creativity and ingenuity rise to meet challenges rarely considered, as demonstrated in such engineering feats as the Phantom Canyon Road. Originally, the path hosted he Florence & Cripple Creek Railroad in 1894, as a connection from Florence to the gold fields of Cripple Creek and Victor.  While our expedition moved along the trail easily, it is amazing that a train ever moved more than a few km per hour through the tight turns of the narrow canyon, with unseen apparitions lurking at every turn.

Barely escaping the clutches of the phantoms, suddenly and unexpectedly, we spilled out on to the open plain.  Mountains had  begun swallowing the sun, leaving only a glowing backdrop, begging pause before night settled in.  The 100 km journey absorbed an entire afternoon, and much of the evening. Time for sustenance had come and passed.  A good meal waited at the ranch.

One last curiosity captured our attention, demanding our vehicles hesitate. Crossing the road, a Texas brown tarantula, aka Oklahoma brown tarantula, aka Missouri tarantula arrived early in search of a perfect mate.  This crowd usually does not show up until August or September, but it seems one wanted to get a jump on things.  Letting him pass unmolested, he dutifully ignored our intrigue. 

Garden Park to Cripple Creek, by way of Shelf Road, across to Victor, and returning south along Phantom Canyon Road to Florence, CO

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Further Reading

Zebulon Pike: Explorer
Colorado Virtual Library

OC Marsh and ED Cope: A Rivalry
PBS American Experience

Shelf Road
The Gold Belt Scenic Byway

Colorado's Royal Gorge and the Shelf Road
Earthly Musings

Cripple Creek
Visit Cripple Creek

Death made official 14 years later

Denver Post

American Eagles Mine Scenic Overlook
City of Victor

Phantom Canyon Road
The Gold Belt Scenic Byway

The Phantom Canyon: The Gold Belt Line to Cripple Creek and Victor
by Doris & McFarland, E.M. Wolfe
(thanks to a donation from The Ranch, available only in print)

Thousands of Tarantulas Are About to Set Off on Their Annual Migration in Colorado

Live Science

Grassland Parks and Canyon Shrublands

An expedition along the Ute Trail to Badger Creek, and back through to Red Canyon.

Following Currrant Creek up from Lucero Canyon, blacktop quickly faded to a distant memory at Smith Gulch. The ensuing manicured gravel road enabled mostly undetected travel along the stretch, though not quite enough to prevent one lone settler curiously emerging from his homestead.

More pressing matters inhibited dialog. Cottonwood Creek stood in the wings waiting to lead on to Black Mountain and beyond, to even larger landscapes. An impenetrable haze of dust blowing in from the Sahara, coupled with smoke from fires in New Mexico, obscured more distant views in the lens.

In closer proximity, Mountain bluebirds basked under a warm afternoon sun, surveying the variety of accommodations available along the Ute Trail.  Random wildflowers found purchase here and there, where attainable in the harsh conditions of the high grasslands.  Life is a bit more demanding in this most southern region of South Park.

A much more lush and inviting environment lie amidst this, draining down to the Arkansas River.  Winding between jagged and tumbled rock from the surrounding scenery, Badger Creek bubbled seemingly out of nowhere.  Hiking about a half kilometre down to the beginning of the cascade, both pilot and spotter stretched out on the best rock available.  The cool air, warm sun, along with the sound of rushing water entranced them, and their journey south along the creek bed ended.

They missed a fantastic landscape, an environment solely dedicated to this creek.  Outstanding views unfolded with every step, increasing the difficulty in generating any desire to return.  However, it seemed only prudent to do so after about 2 km. Returning to inquire on their situation found both still lounging lazily in the same location they had been left. Time had stood still.

Saddling up and moving back east along the Ute Trail, more wildlife appeared in plain sight, than earlier along the same path.  Most offered a wary eye, while others could not be bothered to look up from their lunch.  Unsure of what Golden Eagle attempted to convey by hopping around the side of one nearby hill, he was left to his own devices.  

A Red Canyon beckoned just south of halfway between the Thirtyone Mile Mountain and Pikes Peak.  When the distinct red band appeared amidst the green landscape below, confidence of the pilot soared.  Instinct towards discovering the fabled east entrance into Red Canyon Park had paid off, and getting down to it the only remaining task.

The trail into the valley proved relatively easy, and not much different from other adventuring of the day.  Occasionally, it offered tests of maneuverability, and a chance to peek at a previously discovered abandoned settlement.

A  review of charts became necessary, once deeper in the valley, to ensure continuity in the proper hearing, and after passing the right turn, which was actually on the left.  Course correction in place, the trail put suspension and agility to the true test, and often leaving all wishing for better padding.

Just about the time it seemed it would be less jarring and more expedient to get out and walk, the goal appeared. The road improved about that moment too, and celebrations ensued.  Copper Mountain stood tall against a foreground of beautiful red formations.  Numerous trails led in a variety of directions, but existing maps of the area were insufficient for any more than roadside endeavors on this expedition.

A waning afternoon encouraged heading back to base camp, leaving a bit of time to observe a few more peculiarities. The Garden Park Schoolhouse stood on the land originally deeded.  It is a second rendition, built in 1865.  The school operated through to 1960, when more formidable educational facilities arose.

Lingering by the side of the road, a thick set of antlers rose up against the later afternoon sun, pausing to monitor the presence of new intruders.  They were as startled to see our party, as our party was to see them.  Standing boldly out in the open, they patiently waited for party to move on, ready to dart at the sign of any indiscretion.

Everyone seemed to be on guard at this time of day, as if waiting for an invasion.  This old bird hardly budged from her perch ten meters in the air, continually regarding the omnipresence of flowing humans through her vicinity.

Everyone was famished by the time we arrived back at base camp.  An awesome home cooked meal topped the day perfectly, with a few other guests joining in quiet company on the range.

Badger Creek to Red Canyon - June 2020

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Further Reading

Red Canyon Park
RoyalGorgeRegion.com

Garden Park School

Colorado Encyclopedia