Colorado     Part I       Idaho Springs to Victor

June 18, 1998:  6:30am Denver

I watched the sun come up in downtown Denver today.  In the half hour that I have been here, I have watched the cops waking people sleeping on the sidewalk, been offered early morning crack cocaine and weed, and felt numerous people eyeballing my pack.  It will be nice to be back in the mountains and in Idaho Springs.

Why are drug sales and homelessness always so prevalent near the bus station in large cities?  I can see why it happens in cities like Los Angeles, where so many mid-western dreams of Hollywood and California and a better life are so often crushed by an addiction to something that was never foreseen, or by someone who sees a naive dreamer as an opportunity, but why in Denver?  I guess the lure of the big city and hope for a better and more exciting life attracts people to all cities, and I suppose sheep will always attract wolves.  It is very unfortunate that some of the people don't get much further than the bus station.  

11:00am Idaho Springs

The trip has begun.  Today I met a preacher with gold teeth on the bus.  He was chewing tobacco and spitting in a cup.  Now and then when he moved I could see a flask of booze in his inside suit coat pocket that I'm sure was enjoyed on his trips to the restroom.  He gave me his card and sure enough, it says he's a reverend.

He wants me to come and stay with him when I reach Arkansas.  It could be an interesting experience, but Arkansas seems a million miles away and plans on the road constantly change.  He told me that he admired what I was doing and my faith that God would always take care of me out there.  He is right about that.

The first thing I did in Idaho Springs was call Laurie.  In no time I was soaking in her tub (an experience that is not fully enjoyed until you ride Greyhound for 22 hours.)  I met Laurie last October.  It was the day that I crossed the continental divide at Loveland pass.  I was trying desperately to get to a lower elevation before the sun went down, so I walked down a ski run.  It looked like the quickest way down, but I don't know if it was because I kept falling on my butt from walking down a steep incline with so much weight on my back.  She was running up the ski run for exercise and to watch the sunset.  I'm going to stay here for a few days.  I have the opportunity to earn some extra money for the trip doing yard work.  On Sunday I'll start walking south to Evergreen.

June 24, 1998:   south of Idaho Springs

The walk is going well, and I am so happy to be on the road again.  My feet hurt, but the sweet sound of complete strangers asking me "where you headed" has entered my life again.  Something incredible happens when you strap a fifty-pound pack on your back and walk through small towns in America.  People want to know what you are doing, they want to help, give you food, or a place to stay for the night.  Most of the time, we just talk for a while, but some people really stand out.  You get the opportunity to meet so many people that you would never get a chance to meet, and maybe get a chance to see what their lives are like.

That pack is magical.  It allows instant conversation with strangers wherever I go.  In my opinion, there is no other way to see America and meet it's people than to walk it.  Now the down sides are blisters on your heels the size of nickels, "hippie showers" in public restroom sinks (although I kind of like those), traffic, and people who think that you are "up to no good" and should be working or something.  They usually stare (and sometimes glare) at me and make me feel unwelcome to be in their town--but it passes.

The ups completely outweigh the downs.  There is so much freedom that comes with being able to carry everything you have on your back.  I've found that when you limit your possessions down to that level, it brings peace by reducing life's concerns to the amount of food and water you have and what the weather is going to do.  You don't really need all that much money--and thus can spend your days doing things you enjoy.  A steady diet of tuna and rice goes a long way for not a lot of money.  I am very comfortable here in this life style, and it's really good to be walking again.  I doubt that I will always be a vagrant....maybe.

June 26, 1998:  Evergreen

Today, I walked down Witter gulch to Evergreen West.  There is a forest fire going on to the west of me.  I can see the smoke.  It has been so hot and dry here.  I saw a guy washing his car and asked him to spray me down.  He thought his little daughter would enjoy doing that.  She did.  Later, as I was sitting on the side of the road resting, a guy pulled over and asked me if I needed a ride.  I told him that I was walking across the country, and he said that I would be welcome to camp in his back yard.  Done deal.

His name is John, and I spent the day with him and his wife, Michele.  He is a chemist who works with recyclable fuels, and she has five months left in school before becoming a nurse.  They were extremely nice folks.  We talked, did a little yard work, bar-b-qued, and just had a good Sunday afternoon.  I mentioned that I could smell myself and it wasn't pretty.  They agreed, and let me wash my clothes and take a shower.  I felt like a new man, like a person who lives in a house or something.  We ate like kings, watched the news about the forest fire (now 250 acres and 0% contained,) and went to bed.

This is Colorado Part I. 

From here you can move on to Colorado Part II, have a look at the Colorado Index, or return to walkingtom.com

June 27, 1998:  near Conifer

I wanted to make it to Conifer today.  After walking uphill for eight miles, I decided to go to Conifer tomorrow.  I was sitting next to a stream cooking Lipton beef noodles and tuna, (kind of like triple delight without the chicken, huh?) when I heard some big animals moving towards me.  I thought that they might be horses, because I had to climb over a barbed-wire fence to be camping where I was.  They were elk, and they hadn't noticed me yet.  I know from experience that if you try to get out a camera, they sense the movement and run.  So now I just watch them.  I could see two females and a calf, but could hear more behind them.  It was a wonderful experience, one that only occurs when you sit quietly in the woods.

Elk encounters like this are always the same.  They are going about their business of grazing until one catches a whiff of human.  It stares at you with this "What the hell are you doing here?" look on its face.  Then they all stare at you with the same look.  Sometimes the stare lasts 10 seconds.  If you are lucky it lasts a minute.  After the stare, one runs, so they all do.  Sometimes they stop to look back and see what you are doing.  Eventually, they leave because they can't comfortably graze in peace. 

June 28, 1998:  Conifer  

A short essay on no trespassing signs:

The roads in Colorado are so incredibly littered with no trespassing signs.  It causes me to shake my head in disgust sometimes when I'm walking.  Who are you to think that you can pay a bunch of money for a little piece of God's incredible creation, put a fence around it, hang up a no trespassing sign and say, "I own it, and you can't step on it."

When God kicked Adam out the Garden of Eden, He told him to go anywhere on this earth, except that garden.  Since I consider myself a descendent of Adam, then that makes him my great grandfather to the nth degree.  I am his great grandson to the nth degree.  I am sure that if Adam was still alive, he would let his great grandson to the nth degree go wherever he wanted, except that garden.  Since the Garden of Eden is nowhere near Colorado, how can you say to me that I can't go on that piece of God's incredible creation?

You can't, and that is why I try not to look at the no trespassing signs when I climb over a fence and walk by them to camp, jump in a stream, use the great outdoor's bathroom facilities, or whatever else I care to do.

John and Michele

June 29, 1998   Buffalo Creek

I met a woman named Carla, who works at the Safeway in Conifer.   She told me that I could camp on their land when I reach Buffalo Creek.   Here I am, and they have a computer.   I plan to stay here tonight and hopefully spend the 4th of July with a friend in Pine.   As I sit here and type in all that you have just read, Carla's three kids are sitting on the floor next to me playing cards and listening to an eighties mix tape that their mom made.   They know all the words.   I love this trip.

July 6, 1998   Cripple Creek

    Buffalo Creek was great.  The highlights for me were swimming in the creek with the kids and going to the only place of business in Buffalo Creek, Green's Mercantile.  Green's is a small grocery, the post office, a hardware store, and a gas station all in one.  The store is closed every day from noon to 1:00pm for lunch, and from 9:00am to 1:00pm on Sundays for church and lunch.  There is a definite Mayberry feel to Green's.  It's the kind of place you might see a "gone fishin" sign in the window on some days.  There is no running water.  The store's bathroom is an outhouse.  Old man Green was working the register that day.  You had to tell him the price of everything you were purchasing, because he couldn't read the small print on the price stickers.  I really enjoyed my trip to Green's.

My friend in Pine (Toby) was out of town for the whole week.  I couldn't get a hold of him, so I walked on.  I went south on Highway 67 and made it to Woodland Park on the 4th.  I went into a Texaco to get a soda and ask about 4th of July festivities in town.  The girl working the register (Ellen) didn't know of much going on for the 4th, but she invited me to join her and some friends in whatever they would end up doing.  So, I spent my 4th with high school girls this year.  It was actually pretty fun.  We watched the fireworks and then ran around town lighting off stink bombs and screaming at cute guys.  Typical high school girl stuff.

Today, I am in Cripple Creek, one of the only two gambling towns in Colorado.  It is raining today, so I'm hanging out at the library instead of pumping nickels into slot machines.  I left my pack with a lady who works at the Prospector R.V. Park.  It has been so nice to walk around town without it on my back.  I lost six bucks in the slots, but enjoyed a plate of tasty $1.99 steak and eggs, and several "free hot dogs for gambling patrons."  I call that pretty much even.

When it stops raining, I'm going to continue south towards Victor.  After Victor, I'll walk down through Phantom Canyon to Florence.  It seems that I don't have too much time left in the mountains.  At Florence, my plan is to take a left turn on Highway 50, walk through Pueblo, and across the rest of Colorado into Kansas.  I am actually looking forward to farm country.

Carla and her daughters