I have been in Victor the past two weeks. The walk from Cripple Creek to Victor was a five-mile hike in a relentless drizzle, and it was really hard to find a place to camp. All of the places in the trees would require sleeping at a 45 degree angle, and all the flat spots were being mined for gold or redi-mix concrete. I finally found a pasture that was so riddled with cow pies that I literally had to clear off a spot big enough for my tent. Walking across America is not all fun and games.
On Tuesday (7/7/98) I walked into Victor. I went to a restaurant for breakfast and sat at the counter next to a guy named Gino. I asked him if he knew of any work in town. In 30 minutes I was being introduced to Marshall. An hour later, I was working for Marshall renovating a 100 year-old house. The work wasn't too much fun, but I made some travel money that should last another month or so. For three days I scraped 100 year-old plaster off of the walls with a garden hoe. Then I stuffed fiberglass insulation into the walls and put new dry wall on. The dust was horrible and lots of interesting material has come out of my nose in the past two weeks.
Marshall, like most people who live in Victor, is the definition of good folk. I told him I was walking across the country, and I suddenly had a job and my own home in Victor. The house that I am living in is pretty much empty, but there is electricity, a bath tub, and a really old piano that someone obviously didn't want to move. There are no paved roads in Victor. Main street is gravel. The people here are extremely kind.
Marshall
The other day, I met a guy named Stan, who owns one of the three computers in Victor. I asked him if I could check my e-mail sometime. He told me that he wouldn't be home that day, but that he never locks the door, and I would be welcome to use his computer at any time. The trust that people give me sometimes is unbelievable.
Last weekend, Victor celebrated "Gold Rush Days." There was a parade, live music on Main Street, and Victor broke the world record for pounds of chicken wings cooked at one time. Buffalo, NY held the record until Friday at 200 lbs. Victor cooked 278. Buffalo and Victor kind of trade ownership of the title back and forth over the years. Buffalo will most likely reclaim the record in the next year. They don't call them Buffalo wings for nothing, and I would imagine that the bragging rights would be far more important to the folks in Buffalo than they are to the little town of Victor.
Tonight I am leaving Victor. My sister, brother-in-law, niece, and nephew are on their way to Arizona to see my folks. They are meeting me downtown this evening. We will camp tonight, and then I will walk on down to Florence, CO.
July 22, 1998: Cripple Creek
Today my sister (Karen,) her family and I drove to Mueller State Park to spend the day and camp the night. It was really beautiful there. The view out our camp site's back window was a small meadow, followed by tons of aspen trees, and Pike's Peak behind it all. It looked like rain all day, but all the gray clouds only produced a little drizzle. So we hiked in the drizzle, collected wood in the drizzle, and my brother-in-law (Rick) set up their tent in the drizzle. I waited to set up mine, in case the drizzle turned into a thunderstorm.
The storm came. It rained so hard. We sat in the van and waited for it to stop, but it didn't. After a lot of rain, the fact that we were now actually in the clouds with some real close lightning strikes, we decided to drive into Cripple Creek and get a motel room. Here I am again, eating cheap steak and eggs and listening to the monotonous sound of slot machines. Feels like I'm going backwards, but I am enjoying the time spent with family.
Victor has an elevation of 9823ft and a population of 421 people and about 300 dogs. It is an old gold mining town, and most of the buildings and houses are from the late 1800's. On Main Street, most of the buildings are empty, but there is a restaurant, a bar/restaurant, an antique store, The Victor Hotel, and The Fortune Club, which is a small grocery and soda fountain.
The thing I really liked about Victor's Main Street were all of the park benches on the sidewalk. This is where I would often sit and watch people. Sitting there with Marshall and drinking iced tea was especially enjoyable. He knows almost everyone that lives there, and he would introduce me to them.
Victor had that small town feeling that I love so much. When I walked down the street, the people that I knew would say, "Hi Tom" or stop and talk for a while. After about three days, I could go into the restaurant and order "the usual" and get my usual (the $1.29 cheese omelette w/home fries, rye toast, coffee and a large glass of water).
Most of the people that live in Victor work at casinos in Cripple Creek or for the gold mine that is huge and in operation. Most of the dogs ride around in the back of pick-up trucks, or they just chill on main street or in the bar --no kidding. (The bumper sticker on the truck in this picture says, "So many cats, so few recipes.")
Many of the older folks around here only spend their summers in Victor to get away from wherever they live in the winter. Everyone is so friendly. I received so many waves from people, whether I knew them or not. Down the road from the house that I was living in, lived three older couples (two of the couples were just visiting for a few weeks). I would always walk by their house on my way into town or to work. They would almost always be sitting on the porch drinking coffee and chatting. Every single time that I saw them, they invited me up for coffee or something to eat. I would often sit with them, drink coffee, and talk. They told me that they read about a guy who drove a riding lawn mower across the country. hmmm.
Last week, I also met a guy named Phil, who lives about eight miles outside of town. He told me that I could stay with him when I walked by. This is my destination today. It is very fortunate to have a place to stay tonight, because there is obviously another big storm on the way.
Hanging out at the local bar
Taking a short nap on Main Street
July 24, 1998 The Yurt
Yesterday, I followed the map that Phil drew for me on a paper towel. I reached the gate and the two-mile road that led to his house, sat down, and began to eat a bagel. Five minutes later, Phil came driving down the road on his way to work. He told me that he would drive me up to the yurt and introduce me to his rottweiler, so she would know who I am. I thought that was a good idea. Phil went to work, and suddenly I was sitting alone in his yurt with a huge rottweiler named Sierra.
The Yurt:
I will now try to explain Phil's yurt. It is a round house of wood and canvas, with kind of a teepee roof that has a plexiglass dome on top for natural lighting. The foundation is made from old tires and pallets. It is a museum of an alternative, primitive, and ecological friendly life. All waste is either recycled, burned, or composted. There is a compost toilet, and you have to scoop a cup of dirt from a bucket and pour it on top of your poop every time you take care of business. They use 100% solar energy. Two solar panels charge golf cart batteries that surprisingly power not only the lights, but also a TV, VCR, and the stereo. Water has to be brought up from a spring that is miles away, put into ten gallon containers, and stored for future use. The sink faucet is the tap on a barrel that is hanging above the sink. It has to be taken down to be filled. To take a shower, you must first fill and hang a barrel that has a shower head attachment. The water pressure is powered by gravity. It is truly an amazing place. It is very hard to describe it all. I've never seen anything like it, but I have finally found people that live life completely off the grid and without bills.
Gladys the dog and Phil's yurt
The front door of the yurt also includes a dog/cat door. Sometimes, I will be sitting on the couch and a neighbor's dog will stop in for a visit. It is usually Gladys, a very tired-eyed basset hound. They call her the prairie whale, because I think that Gladys eats meals at more than one home. Her legs are short, and her belly scrapes along the ground as she walks.
In 1993, Phil and Dharma bought thirteen acres of undeveloped land, eight miles outside of Victor. Then they began to convince good people to purchase the surrounding acres so that all their neighbors would be friends. Now eight people own about a hundred acres of land with no phone hook-ups, running water, or electricity. The whole neighborhood is completely welcome to use anything that anyone else in the neighborhood has. It is a beautiful, sharing community.
Phil, Dharma and Sierra
One of their neighbors (Johnny, Catherine, and daughter Alli) are building a two story, three bedroom house made of stacked straw bales. Its foundation also consists of old tires. You would have to see it to believe it. They are really doing a professional job. It will look like any other house (inside and out) after stucco is applied, and they will be very warm this winter.
Buffy, Alli, Alyson, Ryan, Johnny, Catherine and Gladys
Ryan and the straw bale house
Ryan and Alyson are two young people that are working on the straw bale house in exchange for campers to live in, food, and an opportunity to live in this unique mountain community. They are both just one year out of high school, but they understand the concept of community extremely well.
July 25, 1998: Victor
Today, I borrowed Phil's car to come check my e-mail at my friend Stan's house. I can't beieve that I in Victor again. It feels like I'm stuck in some sort of weird Victor Bermuda Triangle. When I see people that I know in town, they laugh and say, "I thought you had left." Then, they sometimes tell me a story about how they were just "passing through" Victor six, seven, or eight years ago, and that this town has a way of pulling you in.
I'm not making much progress in miles, but some places have to be fully experienced before you can move on. I have stumbled upon one those of places. Most of the past few days have been spent talking to incredibly interesting people, playing acoustic guitar by myself and with others, and writing. Tomorrow, I am helping a friend in Victor move to a different house.
My friend from Waverly, IA (Jay) is coming to visit on Monday. He is at a wedding in Telluride, CO, today and plans to stop here for a few days before traveling home to Boston. I love the fact that these people whom I normally don't get a chance to see are passing through Colorado this summer. My friend Fred, that I worked with at the Horseshoe Ranch in AZ, is expected in mid-August.
August 3, 1998 Victor
The few days that I spent with my friend Jay were great. We had our own house on Main Street in Victor. I helped a friend move into another house, and we lived in the house that she moved out of. I took Jay up to visit the folks at the yurt. I was happy that he got to meet them and see how they live.
One day we took a road trip and drove to the top of Pike's Peak. I had heard that driving to the top of Pike's Peak was not worth what it did to your car. Jay had the company car, so now was obviously the time to do it. It was incredible. We sat at the top and looked down at the clouds that went by--felt like being in an airplane. Believe it or not, at the top of Pike's Peak (over 14,000 ft in elevation) there is a factory outlet store. Who would have thought? I guess wherever two or more tourists are gathered together in the name of tourism, someone will be selling something.
Jay, on top of Pike's Peak
We also went to Colorado Springs and finished up the trip at "The Well" in Penrose,CO. The Well is a natural hot spring, and someone has built a swimming pool around it. In the middle, there is a pipe that sprays hot water into the air. Another pipe leads into a hot tub. Clothing is optional, but I didn't see anyone wearing any.
One disappointing part of Jay's visit was the attempted walk across Royal Gorge Bridge. It's the highest bridge in the world, 1,053 ft above the river. If you're not taking the kids, don't bother going. Someone has built a mini amusement park next to the bridge, and it cost twelve dollars per person to walk across it. Of course, they don't tell you that it costs twelve dollars to walk across the bridge at the entrance to the fifteen-mile winding road that leads to the bridge. No, they keep that information top secret until you've driven far out of our way, gotten out of our car and walked across a huge parking lot to the main entrance. It is there at the ticket booth that they inform you that it will cost twelve dollars per person to walk out on the bridge and look down at the Ardansas River 1,035 feet below, in hopes that you will say, "well, we've come all the way out here, we might as well just pay the twelve bucks per person."
I couldn't do it. Not because of the twelve dollars--it was the principle of the thing. I felt an anger begin to boil inside of me. An anger with no one to direct it towards except this poor guy that was sitting in a ticket booth making $5.50 an hour to give people the bad news all day. I didn't go off on him, but I would imagine that some folks do. The turnover rate of Royal Gorge ticket booth employees must be phenomenal. It just wouldn't be worth it. We looked at the gorge from afar and left.
Jay dropped me off in Cripple Creek before he left. I had changed my plans from walking down Phantom Canyon out of Victor, to walking down Shelf Road out of Cripple Creek. Phantom Canyon had too much traffic caused by Puebloites driving up to gamble in Cripple Creek.
I started walking towards Shelf Road as it started raining again. Catherine, the woman who is building a house out of straw bales, pulled over and rolled down her window. She thought I should come back up to the yurt community until the rains stop. It sounded good to me, however, I didn't intend to spent six more days there. Everyday brought more rain and another offer from Phil and Dharma to stay as long as I want. So, I stayed. Although the walls consisted of sheets and tapestries, I had my own room in the yurt with my own bed.
Those people are so wonderful. In a world full of communities where people don't usually love their neighbors and probably never considered giving them a hug, the yurt community does the exact opposite. Every greeting and farewell is accompanied by a hug, even if you saw the person earlier that day, or you know you will see them later. In a world where people lock their doors at night or when they are not home, I never saw a lock on anything up there. Keys are always left in the ignition and everything is shared--all the way down to the kitchen cupboards when your neighbor isn't even home. It was like leaving the planet for a while. I enjoyed my time there immensely and made friendships that I am positive will last forever.
This morning, we drove back to Victor and said our good byes. I walked around town, said goodbye to the people (and the dogs) I had met, took some pictures, and started walking out of Victor. I am all by myself and on the road again--literally goin' places that I've never been. Since I have more time to write now, here is some more about Victor (my unexpected home for two weeks).
The sky in Victor always seemed like it was about to rain.