Review by Andy Burns
Mountain Life – January 2002 – Colorado Central Magazine
Colorado Central:
I wrote the enclosed note in response to Sibley’s piece on mainstreet moves to the suburbs and sometimes back:
In Salida, I walked to the Post Office, the library, the bookstore, bakery, coffee shop, cafe, Gambles, Safeway, the bank, the office supply store, drugstore, liquor store, and never drove drunk because there were three bars downtown. The gas station and auto parts store were right there. Sometimes I drove to the swimming pool.
Here, it takes almost half a day to drive to and get back from any single one of these types of places.
Andy Burns Santa Fé
I CAME ACROSS THIS NOTE the other day, and then came across George Sibley’s writing a few days later in Durango in a magazine called the Gazette out of Telluride. He was reviewing a book of essays about tourism, and I was touring myself.
The light was turned down about 20%. Is it always this way in November, and I’ve never noticed? The shadows were dark and difficult to see into and the dim light was hazy … or was it? I wondered if my eyes were going. I became concerned enough to ask others and they assured me that we were all seeing the same thing. (They say reality is a social agreement.)
I phoned the highway department from Grand Junction to find out if Hagerman Pass was open — after the internet was consulted.
(My parents are in their 80s and my siblings thought it a good idea to hook them up. I suggested a hole-in-the-head, but was overridden.) The information downloaded was that it was passable on foot, or in winter on skis; the tunnels are blocked from slides and full of water. My mother remembered riding through in a car when she was eight years old.
But the Pitkin County dispatch said “yes, the pass was still open.” It snowed that night, so I phoned the dispatch again in the morning. Whoever was on duty had never heard of Hagerman Pass, but assured me that Highway 24 was open. “Thank you.”
It was a light snow in the mountains, the first snow of the year, and the weather was good and we had time and friends to visit on the Frying Pan. They were out of town and the house-sitter said she’d heard the pass had been closed on September 11 and armed guards were posted to protect Reudi Reservoir.
But there were no guards, armed or otherwise. At the end of the pavement a notice was stapled to the road sign informing us that the pass was closed as of October 10th.
The next day we stopped in Salida long enough to eat some elk and learn that the teachers got their raise. (What a lot of research went into that article! Thanks.) It was passed by 20 votes. Same old thing, 50 – 50 split more or less. Those that don’t vote don’t care and if they did, it would still be 50 – 50, we were told.
We spent the night in Del Norte and went over Conejos Pass the next day. The snow at the top was O.K., but the wet parts of the road were very slick. We were driving a four-year-old Forester all-wheel, and we looked like the tourists we were — among all the late model trucks with ATVs in the back, or pulling trailers with ATVs. One huge outfit was pulling four ATVs with big plastic rifle holsters. Tracks in the snow indicated a few vehicles had been sliding around some.
On the north side of Summitville the snow was deeper and the road was soon blocked by a truck trying to pull another (from North Dakota) back onto the road. They had to give it up because either end they pulled from caused the opposite end to head downhill. Poor guy. He was about 6½ feet tall with a frightened and vulnerable look. He’d sent his nephew back to the ranger station to phone for a Cat. “That’s gonna cost you,” one guy said. “Yeah, starting with your first-born,” the other added.
November is a good month for travel. Nobody on the highways. Quiet towns. Subdued ambiance.
Andy Burns
Santa Fé