Red Mountain Town, CO
I suppose I’ve let you all know that one of my primary outdoor activities is checking out old mining camps (to say nothing of searching for minerals. I’m an expert on leaverite ore … I have quite a collection).
Red Mountain Town is one of many old mining camps in the area roughly defined within a region bounded by Telluride, Ouray, Silverton, and Lake City. The town sits at just shy of 11,000 feet but not too far off modern US550 roughly midway between Silverton and Ouray on the north side of Red Mountain Pass.
This is the tailings pile of National Belle Mine circa 2010.
My photo
Gold miners settled in the area in the 1870s but it was the silver discoveries in the 1880s that led to the formation of the significant town of Red Mountain Town. There was also a “Red Mountain City” close by but it faded away as Red Mountain Town grew, being closer to the mines and situated on better land.
Otto Mears opened “The Million Dollar” toll road between Red Mountain Pass and Ouray in 1883, the same year the RMT post office opened. Otto Mears also brought the railroad into town in 1888, taking ore to the smelters in Silverton. By 1890, the town reportedly had a peak population of 10,000 and over 100 buildings including a telephone office, a couple of newspapers, a schoolhouse, saloons, more saloons, cathouses, and an escape-proof jail. The town did not have a church until later in the town’s life.
When working the National Belle mine in the late ’80s, a huge cavern was discovered filled with large pockets of gold and silver. The rush was on.
One of three major towns (also Guston and Ironton) served by the Otto Mears’ toll road and the Silverton Railroad to carry ore to the smelters in Silverton, the town burned down in 1892, the day after the church which had been rejected by Red Mountain Town opened in Guston. Starting in the hotel, all buildings along Main St were destroyed; only the RR depot and jail survived.
The town was rebuilt but the demonetization of silver in 1893 resulted in the closure of the National Belle. Another fire in 1895 pretty much finished the town – by 1896, only 40 people lived there. Only 12 by 1899.
Over $30M (1890s prices) of gold, silver, copper, zinc, and lead came from the mines in the area.
The town was once the largest of the Red Mountain mining region, reaching a peak population of around 10,000 (as some claim) in the late 1800s but few buildings remain today, most significantly the jail. Ruins of the major mine, the National Belle are shown in the upper photo as they appeared when I last visited in 2010.
The townsite is relatively accessible along county roads but 4wd is generally recommended for anything more than the well-travelled routes.
The jail ruins are at 37.90433251415818, -107.70322831935269
I’ve spent a fair amount of time wandering around these hills. God willin’ and the crik don’t rise, I’ll be blessed to spend more.
Tunesday: Alan Parsons Project – Gold Bug
A sample of some obscure – and maybe not obscure – tunes from my strange and off-the-wall collection.
Today’s selection: Alan Parsons Project – “Gold Bug” 1980
“The Gold Bug” was off Alan Parsons Project’s album “Turn Of A Friendly Card” released in 1980. Alan Parsons himself provides the whistling.
The Alan Parsons Project consisted of Alan Parsons and Eric Woolfson. An English collaboration formed in 1975, their first album was “Tales of Mystery and Imagination“, based on Edgar Allan Poe’s work as was “Gold Bug“. “Turn Of A Friendly Card” was their 5th album (of 11 total). “I Robot” was their most successful album; “Friendly Card” was 2nd most
Food For Thought
The Great War Was the Great Error
It’s not often I suggest an outside article but this estimated-40-minute-read article by David Stockman is worthy of your time and contemplation.
I dislike live links on the main page so replace “dot” with a period to reach the article.
“The Great War Was the Great Error”
brownstone dot org/articles/the-great-war-was-the-great-error/
Woodrow Wilson was likely the worst president of the 20th century; his actions led to the others.
Spring Must Be Coming
The Burpee catalogue showed up in the mail today.
Mourning Doves
A ghostsniper comment
Watching the Mourning doves in the yard walking around, their heads constantly bobbing back and forth as they are in motion only stopping when they stop moving. How can they see, plainly, while their heads are bobbing?
Triangulation.
Simple geometry.
When the head is in the forward position they snap a picture, then a microsecond later when the head is in the rear position they take another pik. Instantly, their brain compares the 2 images and gives them the info they need.
Distance, height, color, etc. And much more. Their eyebals do not rotate in the sockets, the position of each is fixed, and from different sides of their heads. It can get complicated. To you. To them it is the only life they ever knew. From the day they are born.
To you it may seem a handicap, to them it just is. Imagine flying, through the branches and trees of a forest with eyes like that. They do it well. You, though, would crash and burn instantly.
You think your eyes see continuously while moving them around in their sockets but they do not. They are like a movie camera in that they take many pictures per second and stitch them together in your brain and make you think it is one continuous movie. Movie cameras take pictures rated at number of frames per second. Old skool TV was about 60 frames per second, and if, while viewing, you turned your head quickly from side to side you could catch a glimpse of this reality. Newer TV have a much higher frame rate.
While reading this, if you stop and focus on each letter in each word you will notice that in each position your eye is focused on you will only be able to see a few letters and the rest will sort of blur out. Then, seemingly fluidly, you will move your eyes to the next “group” of letters, that were formerly blurred and they will now be in focus and the previous letters will be blurred. There is no continuous focus. You can see this more clearly at night, with clear night vision.**
With each advancement of your seeing eyes they are doing what the doves eyes do. Sending a signal to your brain that then stitches all of the stops into a seemingly continuous movement. What your eyeball does while rotating in the socket is what takes the Mourning Dove an entire head movement to do.
Fascinating, no?
**If, in darkness, you look directly at something at a distance, it will seem to be in an unfocused cloud. This is because of a blind spot on the rear of the eye where the retina cord connects. (there is a technical term for this but it eludes me at the moment) Therefore, if you want to look at a thing in the dark you need to avert your focus a little to one side or the other. In a way, your peripheral vision is better than your direct vision.
Not A Petting Zoo
She’s not friendly and you’d best be advised to keep your distance. Those horns are not for looks … and that udder is not for you.
This is all “open range”. Many, many square miles of open range. The owner may only see his cattle twice a year.
Closed range is fenced in; open range is not.
The important difference for us’ens?
If you hit livestock on the road in closed range territory, it’s the rancher’s fault; if you hit livestock on the road in open range, it’s your fault.
Back east, our family farm raised cattle. Other farms nearby raised cattle. Out this way, ranchers raise cattle.
Rough definition: A farm is cows per acre; a ranch is acres per cow.
Not for sure but I’d guess the boundary between “farm” and “ranch” is the “dry line” at roughly the 100th Meridian – roughly a N-S line passing through Cozad, NE, Dodge City, KS, and Abilene, TX; close to following US283.
Both my grandfathers were raised on farms. Both got out of that business as soon as they were old enough. Granted, they were raised before tractors were in use and staring at the south end of a north-bound mule all day tends to give you time to think of alternative lifestyles.
So Much Evidence,
So few indictments.
If any of us had the merest hint of a “maybe” in any of these crimes, we’d be dumped in a very deep cell and held incommunicado.
Which simply tells us life goes on as normal …
It would be less effort to list the not-guilty.
Joe – Again
On this date one year ago, one of this site’s earliest posts was about my childhood friend and his untimely – perhaps – death on this date in 1988. By common consensus, Joe was a f*up. I can’t/won’t deny it but we’d been friends for more than 20 years and I’m biased. He got himself into something ugly and didn’t survive. Suicide? Murder? At this point, what difference does it make?
But that was the past – water long under the bridge.
Fast forward about 10 years.
I was sitting in a bar with a friend – the Ace High in Golden, Colorado. The Ace High was as close to a dive bar as would be allowed on Washington St in downtown Golden. Many if not most of its clientele were Coors workers – the brewery was just a few blocks away. Coors was not a big seller there. Did I mention that I had once lived in an apartment above the bar? That’s OK, it’s not part of this story anyway.
Just as an aside, it appears downtown Golden has been highly gentrified since I lived there. Including the Ace High.
Ron and I were sitting back in a booth BS’ing about something not important when over by the pool tables, I swear I saw Joe doing his Joe thing around the table: taking on all comers, clearing the table, getting free beers as a result, and working his bedroom eyes on the waitresses.
Joe had died about 10 years earlier …
I swear it was Joe. I’ll swear it to my dying day. It looked like him, same hair, same face, same body. He was dressed like Joe, he acted liked Joe, he played pool like Joe. He flirted with the girls like Joe.
The girls reacted to him like it was Joe. We’d go into a place together and the girls would come to me asking how to meet him.
But this Joe didn’t know me and it was the first time ever I watched him as a stranger. I’d known the original since he was 13.
I couldn’t follow the conversation with Ron I was so distracted.
I swear I was watching Joe in action.
There’s not much to this tale. I didn’t walk up to see him up close – the pool table was maybe 10 feet away – but I watched him for about 20 minutes or so.
Ron & I finished our beers and left.
Of course I can rationalize this.
Maybe.
There’s more to this world than what rationalization can explain …
Headshake; Facepalm
It really doesn’t matter what belief you may or may not have but this? Oh me, oh my .
Headline: “Politico Claims That The ‘Far-Right’ Has “Stolen” Christmas By Daring To Call It Christian“