Crested Butte Magazine Summer 2017

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SHORTIES

s’17 CONTENTS

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12 Extending their reach

Local rock climbers organize to connect climbing

enthusiasts and land managers.

20 Walking each other home by Kathy Norgard

The Gunnison Valley Diversity Walk celebrates our

similarities and differences.

14

24 Waste not by Sandy Fails

Sustainable Crested Butte is making it easier to re-use,

refill, borrow and compost.

Hanging tough Breast cancer can be a rough ride, but it helps having Tough Enough To Wear Pink on your team.

Page 16: the Living Journeys connection.

18 Switching gears

Outerbike: Where better to test-ride the year’s best bikes

than on the country’s best trails?

26 Paying it forward by Lauren Kugler

Through the 4-H Forever Fund, young people give today

for tomorrow’s youngsters.

FEATURES 38

Starry, starry night by Erin White

30 Embracing your dirt by Dawne Belloise

What we can learn about cleanliness from Etruscans,

scientists and local soapmaker Valerie Jaquith.

In our remote valley, brilliant night skies dazzle the eyes, boggle the mind and stir the soul.

32 Still going strong by Arvin Ramgoolam

In her new book, 70-year-old world adventurer Talie

Morrison puts her escapades to the page.

46 Body and soul by Beth Buehler Crested Butte pastors Tim Clark and Scott Winn work in the realm of the spirit but recreate in a very earthly playground.

56 “Blowing-in” the Avery by Brian Levine

In 1881, the fate of Gothic City hung in the balance as crews fired up a smelter critical to the mining town’s survival.

66 Earth stewards by Molly Murfee

The 40-year campaign to protect Mt. Emmons (a.k.a. the Red Lady) from a massive mine shows the power of steadfast, place-based relationships.

76 Selfies gone wild by Karen Janssen

In contrast to his urban Barcelona roots, photographer and sojourner Xavi Fane often aims his lens at the Elk Mountains’ wildest reaches.

85 When the cattle met the coal train by Cara Guerrieri

In 1943 an impatient train engineer blew his steam whistle at the 2,000 cows being herded down valley. He learned his lesson.

90 A life on wheels by Dawne Belloise

Doug Bradbury used his motorcycle savvy to pioneer suspension in mountain bikes, then “retired” to help design, shape and ride Crested Butte’s trails.

100 Creative currency by George Sibley

Crested Butte’s original ‘creative district’ adventure began 50 years ago. Page 108: Breaking new ground at the Center for the Arts.

THE WAY I SEE IT 111 Holding the bar high by Gregory Pettys

As this guide/educator travels a troubled world, Crested Butte remains his home and hope.

115 The making of a cowgirl by Polly Oberosler

Forget the rhinestones. Being a real horsewoman is more about grit than glam.

121 Forests, meadows, mountains by Peter Bridges

Notes from eight decades of memories outside.

127 When you gotta go by Molly Murfee

How to do your biz-nass outside when there’s no latrine in sight.

WHAT’S LEFT 7 Editor’s note | 96 Photo gallery | 134 Calendar 138 Lodging guide | 140 Dining guide | 144 Photo finish Mark Ewing

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Vol. XXXIX, No. 1 Published semi-annually by Crested Butte Publishing & Creative PUBLISHERS Steve Mabry & Chris Hanna EDITOR Sandy Fails ADVERTISING DIRECTOR MJ Vosburg LAYOUT AND DESIGN Chris Hanna ADVERTISING DESIGN Keitha Kostyk WRITERS Dawne Belloise Molly Murfee Peter Bridges Kathy Norgard Beth Buehler Polly Oberosler Sandy Fails Gregory Pettys Cara Guerrieri Arvin Ramgoolam Karen Janssen George Sibley Lauren Kugler Erin White Brian Levine

PHOTOGRAPHERS & ARTISTS Susan Anderton Dawne Belloise Matt Berglund Nathan Bilow Trent Bona Steven Christensen Sandra Cortner Dusty Demerson Petar Dopchev

Xavi Fane Braden Gunem John Holder Allan Ivy Terren Judson JC Leacock Lydia Stern Tom Stillo Alison White

COVER PHOTO Xavi Fane ONLINE crestedbuttemagazine.com E-MAIL sandyfails56@gmail.com ADVERTISING 970-349-6211 mj@crestedbuttemagazine.com Copyright 2017, Crested Butte Publishing.

No reproduction of contents without authorization

by Crested Butte Publishing & Creative.

6

Editor’s note

Petar Dopchev

Soft enough, tough enough

Years ago I interviewed Gunnison horse whisperer Johnny Leverett. Strong, weathered and life-savvy, he looked like a man who’d worked for decades with beasts branded as ornery and even dangerous. But when Johnny described with such compassion the misunderstood, sometimes maltreated horses, and when he talked with such tenderness about his wife and her death to cancer, then I knew how truly tough he was. Tough enough to care.

The decades have taught me new definitions of strength. When I was a little girl, my feelings got hurt when people acted mean or sad things happened. My parents worried that I was too sweet; the big bad world would beat me up. Their fear rubbed

off on me. So as I grew into adulthood, I tried to act tough, to care less, to wall myself off from pain.

I don’t recommend that strategy. I didn’t like the person I pretended to be. And gradually I realized I was focusing on the wrong part of the equation. The goal shouldn’t be to care less but rather to grow so resilient, rooted and steadfast that I could care ever more deeply…without getting torn to pieces.

The older I get, the more I’d like to reclaim the sweetness of my youth – while being effective in a world that can be harsh and ugly as well as kind and beautiful. I want to let myself see and feel the injustices, cruelties and wrongs around me, wrap my arms around that reality, and then do my part 7

Editor’s note to alter it.

I used to hear the phrase “bleeding-heart liberals,” and it conjured a morose, weak, ineffectual image. Now I see people (across the political spectrum) forging ahead and making big impacts even when their hearts are wounded, and I think, “Wow, now that’s tough.” As pastor Wilfredo de Jesus said, “Our hearts need to be soft enough to feel the pain of others and strong enough to care.”

It’s not all gloom and doom out there; my world still tends more toward Sunnybrook Farm than Apocalypse Road. I’m lucky to live in this place where love and loveliness surround me. I can feel and respond to some of the world’s hurt, then go hike with my dog, sip wine on the deck, or lounge in silence by a stream. This wondrous place helps me repair and refuel; it reminds me to take a larger, longer view and find beauty in the mix.

But so many things seem to need care these days. In addition to my daily responsibilities, my mailbox bulges with pleas for volunteers, petition signers and “critical funding.” I have to weigh options: do I spread my money and time in many paltry increments or make more meaningful contributions to just a few?

I recently skimmed a friend’s book, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, by millennial super-blogger Mark Manson. Yes, it’s profane, blunt and snarky, but also surprisingly wise.

One piece of advice among many: choose what you’re going to give a f*ck about by honing your personal values. Some things are less deserving of your focus (e.g. materialistic, ego-driven pursuits). Others lie beyond your influence. You can’t carry everything. Carry only what truly matters to you.

This issue of the Crested Butte Magazine highlights people who have figured out what they believe in and found the courage and heart to live their values: ranchers stewarding the land and its critters; mountain people protecting Mt. Emmons/the Red Lady for 40 years from massive-scale molybdenum mining; and “creatives” finding ways to make arts and economics support each other. These pages hold so many examples of compassion and caring, from rodeo riders who are Tough Enough To Wear Pink to support breast cancer patients, to people working on behalf of nature, neighbors, history, community, our food and health.

In their honor, may we also be brave, wise and strong enough to care.

—Sandy Fails, editor 8

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Extending

By Sandy Fails

their reach

Petar Dopchev

Local rock climbers organize to connect climbing enthusiasts and land managers.

As people jammed into Doubleshot Cyclery last March, Peter Horgan and Dax Myer traded high fives. For the Gunnison Valley Climbers’ first Climbers Beer Night, they’d expected an enthusiastic but small crew, not the spirited crowd before them. The beer donations and raffle tickets raised three times the funds they’d hoped, and the camaraderie told Myers “this amazing community is ready to come together.”

Gunnison County’s climbers have long encouraged and supported each other, but they’re less inclined to organize themselves. So, unlike other local sports, climbing hasn’t had an organization to represent it – until the recent launch of Gunnison Valley Climbers (GVC).

The idea arose as friends Horgan and Myers drove home, tired and happy after bouldering at Hartman Rocks near Gunnison.

“The climbing here is so abundant and good, and the valley has its community of climbers. But it’s under the radar, overshadowed by mountain biking and skiing,” Horgan said.

Myers and Horgan researched and created GVC “to sustain the climbing resources of the valley through education, safety and stewardship.” That includes communication and education among climbers as well as connecting with public land management agencies.

“We wanted to bring the community together – and if we need our voices to be heard, we’ll have an organization with recognition and credibility,” Horgan said.

12

Horgan and Myers are now assisting the Bureau of Land Management in mapping the bouldering areas in Hartman’s, so the agency can maintain trail access to those. Three Western State Colorado University students reached out to team up with GVC on a project to replace the hardware on some bolted climbing routes. The American Safe Climbing Association donated most of the equipment.

“I’ve seen some of the old stuff they’re replacing,” Horgan said.

“That got my attention; I’ve rapelled off of those bolts?”

Horgan, a climbing guide with Irwin Guides, in June started work on his Master of Environmental Management degree at Western State. He foresees the Gunnison Valley Climbers doing more hardware replacement and building trails in Taylor Canyon, the Cement Creek valley, Hartman’s, God’s Crag near Lake City, all the way to the Black Canyon.

GVC will also work with the Access Fund to design educational material for climbing-area kiosks, like the new one near the Second Buttress at Taylor Canyon. Increasing use is raising issues, especially at Hartman’s, such as human waste, parking, navigating the rocky labyrinth, respecting private land and general land/wildlife ethics.

Eventually GVC could stage “gym to crag” events, skills and safety clinics.

“So many places in the valley, you can climb all day and not see another person,” said Myers, who learned to rock climb as a Western student nine years ago. “By no means are we trying to diminish that seclusion. But tourism is growing, so we need to be equipped to handle that.”

GVC seasonal events will raise funds to purchase trail-building tools, t-shirts and eventually a website. For now, find Gunnison Valley Climbers on Facebook and Instagram.

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Hanging

By Sandy Fails

tough

Allan Ivy

Breast cancer can be a rough ride, but it helps having the record-breaking Cattlemen’s Days Tough Enough To Wear Pink on your team.

Interior designer Heidi Sherratt Bogart didn’t plan on becoming the executive director of Gunnison’s startlingly successful Tough Enough To Wear Pink (TETWP). But breast cancer had affected her life from an early age; both her mother and grandmother had it. And as a TETWP volunteer, she’d seen the generosity shown to people when they needed it most. So when the board two years ago asked Heidi to lead the growing organization, “I couldn’t say no,” she said. “It’s my ‘feed-my soul’ job.”

More than 300 Tough Enough To Wear Pink chapters have formed since TETWP was created in 2004 to raise money and awareness for breast cancer via rodeo competitors and fans. The Cattlemen’s Days TETWP in Gunnison is the number one fundraiser in the country, garnering almost $2 million. Dean Dillon, famed singer/songwriter who has written hits for George Strait and other greats, pumped up the campaign by performing and recruiting fellow music legends for the summer Singer/Songwriter TETWP Concert & Auction in Mt. Crested Butte. He also performs in the winter Mountain High Music Festival, for which TETWP is a charity partner along with the Adaptive Sports Center. Dean’s motivation for supporting breast cancer patients is simple: “I want to ease the pain.”

The Cattlemen’s Days TETWP rodeo is also critical in raising money and awareness, as are other community fundraisers, like the Pink in the Rink women’s hockey tournament.

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“We’ve been far more successful than anyone ever thought possible,” Heidi said. “Dean Dillon is a major reason, but it’s also this strong and passionate community.”

The money raised by each TETWP stays local, so Gunnison has been able to launch an ambitious campaign to make Gunnison Valley Health the top rural hospital in the U.S. for breast cancer care. One goal: bring services here so patients don’t have to leave the valley for diagnosis or treatment.

“We want people to be comfortable in their homes while they’re navigating cancer, with the emotional support of their family and friends,” Heidi said.

Two pieces of that puzzle fell into place with the arrival of Dr. Steph Timothy, a breast surgical specialist who performs biopsies, mastectomies and related surgeries, and Dr. Jennifer Butterfield, a plastic surgeon who does reconstructive procedures. People can get genetic testing, mammograms, ultrasound diagnostics and chemotherapy here, and the next purchase will be a 3D Tomosynthesis machine for better radiology.

Breast cancer patients must still travel for treatments like radiation.

After watching people struggle to get to appointments in Denver or other cities, the TETWP board recently purchased “Tuffy the Transportation Truck.” Patients can borrow the 2016 Ram 1500 or even ask for someone to drive them.

In 2017, TETWP helped Gunnison Valley Health hire a patient navigator, a Registered Nurse who can help all cancer patients through diagnosis and treatment, from insurance paperwork to appointment scheduling to wound care.

Last year, Friends of Pink gave more than $35,000 to breast cancer patients who needed assistance, including covering car and mortgage payments, groceries, gas and medical bills. They also started “Make It a Great Day!”, which gives patients coupons to use at the WellBeing

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TETWP collaborates with other entities on projects like a wellness series, which has included free mammograms and programs on genetic health factors and cancer-preventing foods. TETWP also gives funds to Living Journeys to help provide practical assistance and group, individual and family counseling for breast cancer patients. “The support TETWP provides these patients has been overwhelming,” Dr. Steph Timothy said.

TETWP came to Gunnison in part because of Crested Butte rodeo rider Jimmy Clark. After he was killed by a bull during a rodeo, his son CJay Clark picked up the ball in his father’s honor. CJay’s wife Megan and TETWP leader Edie Gibson first recruited their friend Heidi as a volunteer.

As TETWP’s executive director, Heidi has witnessed countless memorable moments: “all the people who make it happen, from second home owners to ranchers to high school kids”— and the huge impact on patients, who are often stressed and overwhelmed, when they’re offered a helping hand, counseling, or a covered mortgage payment.

Heidi recalled a young woman diagnosed with “scary” breast cancer. Facing a mastectomy and intense treatments with no family support and no car, the woman was astounded by the help she received from TETWP and the community. Private donors gave her a vehicle and people rallied to provide practical and emotional support. “I felt like somebody had my back,” the young woman said tearfully.

Heidi has also shed tears. “This is one of the most powerful things I’ve experienced in my life,” she said..

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THE LIVING JOURNEYS CONNECTION

While TETWP focuses on breast cancer patients, Living Journeys provides financial assistance, emotional support and enrichment programs to Gunnison Valley residents affected by any form of cancer. The nonprofit, featured in previous issues of the Crested Butte Magazine, can offer: • grants to offset lost wages and costs associated with cancer treatment; • support groups and private therapy; • activities to allow individuals and families to adventure and recharge; • access to other resources to help ease the burden of cancer.

Living Journeys raises funds through donations and events like the Summit Hike & Half Marathon and a trail running series.

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There’s something for

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50+ events over 7 weeks.

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Switching

By Sandy Fails

gears

Nathan Bilow

Outerbike: Where better to test-ride the year’s best bikes than on the country’s best trails?

Q: What’s more fun for an avid mountain biker than eying the season’s sexiest new cycles in a showroom full of fellow pedalheads?

A: Riding those bikes on some of the best trails in the country with a grinning bunch of fellow pedalheads.

This August 18-20, Crested Butte will host Outerbike, selfproclaimed “best demo event in the Universe.” From command central at the base of the ski area, mountain bikers can demo the innovative new bikes on the lift-served Evolution Bike Park or on Crested Butte’s classic backcountry trails.

Outerbike includes healthy lunches and beer, bike clinics and guided rides, parties and movies. Participants can register online for the Full Demo pass to check out the new bikes, the BYOB option (Bring Your Own Bike) to join in the fun using their own gear, or the Social Card to attend the non-ride events.

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The adventurous cousin to industry showcase Interbike, Outerbike has traditionally been held in Moab, Utah. Moab will host spring and autumn events this year, in addition to Crested Butte’s summer debut event.

Ashley Korenblat, CEO at Western Spirit Cycling Adventures, which hosts Outerbike, said, “Our goal is to give consumers the opportunity to connect with bike designers and manufacturers directly.” Outerbike events in Moab have included more than 60 exhibitors and attracted 1,000 riders from 47 states and seven foreign countries.

“Crested Butte has always been high on the bucket list for hardcore riders, but now with the Evolution Bike Park, it’s got something for everyone,” said Mark Sevenoff, owner of Western Spirit. “There are the classic Crested Butte rides plus fun new trails right out of the base area, along with some of the most incredible views of Paradise Divide and the West Elks.”

Crankjoy biking website described Outerbike as riding iconic trails on the newest bikes with “a healthy dose of amazing food, all-you-can-drink beer, shuttles, swag and happy, helpful staff for a well-oiled weekend.”

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Walking each

By Kathy Norgard

other home

The Gunnison Valley Diversity Walk celebrates both our differences and our commonality.

More than 80 women, men and children, accompanied by 30 or so dogs, walked side by side along Highway 135 on a brisk morning last October, with other walkers joining along the way. Passing motorists honked and waved in support.

These people weren’t protesting, fundraising or racing. Rather they came together for the second annual Gunnison Valley Diversity Walk, a homegrown event to celebrate our diversity and similarities.

People came from all parts of the valley to stroll together and get to know each other, some carrying homemade signs or banners they’d painted on old bedsheets. Mary Shannon Baim’s red vest bore the message “Make America Kind Again.”

Each walker received a free water bottle contributed by the Union Congregational Churches (UCC) of Crested Butte and Gunnison. No one need be thirsty. The reverend Kelly Jo Clark, of Crested Butte’s UCC, joined the event because she believes showing support to people on the margins is one of the most important things she can do.

“Diversity in our community is a gift, not a detriment,” she said.

As an event organizer and participant, I overheard walkers along the route chatting in British as well as American English, Spanish, Czech, Portuguese, Russian and Polish. Mary Burt of Gunnison commented, “I’m walking today in solidarity with and support for all 20

minorities. I want them to know I’m an ally. I am one with them.”

The half-mile route began at Gunnison’s Six Points Training and Evaluation Center (an event sponsor) and ended at the IOOF pocket park on Main Street. Participants spanned many ages, and for some, this walk has become an annual tradition.

Keir Wark, one of the organizers, noted, “During a very negative election season, this walk is a wonderful opportunity for me to come together with others from all backgrounds in a sign of solidarity and peace.”

As the group passed in front of City Market, a six-year-old girl asked Crested Butte’s UCC Pastor Tim Clark if he had a quarter. Tim didn’t have a quarter but gave the little girl the dime he had in his pocket. The girl walked over to a disheveled homeless man sitting on the lawn and gave him the coin. To Tim, that act symbolized the compassion and statement of unity of the Diversity Walk. He remarked, “It was a small, beautiful moment in the midst of a large,

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beautiful event.”

Our 16,000 valley residents are diverse in many ways, including our physical and intellectual abilities. Mark Tredway, a client at Six Points Training and Evaluation Center, Inc., enthusiastically welcomed walkers at the start of the route. Some think “thrift store” when they hear the name Six Points, and it does have a well-stocked second-hand store thanks to generous community donations.

Proceeds from that store help support Six Points programming for approximately 30 clients, who benefit from job training and placement, social skills classes, and special recreational opportunities facilitated by 22 professional staff members.

Halloween candy filled a bucket hanging from the handlebars of Polly Venard’s threewheeled motorized chair. “This is my Harley Davidson,” Polly said with a grin. “I may not walk, but I get around with the help of this chair. It keeps me from feeling disabled.”

Wendy Kidd, pastor of UCC Gunnison, greeted participants and spoke as a representative of the GLBT (gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender) community. The back of her t-shirt read: “Be the church.

Protect the environment. Care for the poor.

Forgive often. Reject racism. Fight for

the powerless. Save earthly and spiritual resources. Love God. Enjoy this life.

Embrace diversity.”

Walkers also came from various cultural and ethnic backgrounds. Many were born here. Others hailed from Argentina, the United Kingdom, Mexico, Cuba, Peru, the Czech Republic, Sweden and elsewhere. Many spoke English, some as a second language, and some not at all. Old and young, from varied religious and political affiliations, laughed and strolled together.

Marketa Zubkova from the Czech Republic said: “When we started the Diversity Walk last year, my hope was to promote immigrant integration, but it has become an integration event for our whole community.“

The 2016 sponsoring organizations, in addition to local UCC churches and Six Points, were the Hispanic Affairs Project (HAP), which helps newcomers from other cultures integrate into our valley; Living Journeys, which provides group support, counseling and funds to help anyone coping with cancer; and Welcoming Colorado, whose mission is to bring immigrants and nonimmigrants together to share their stories.

Ellen Pederson, from the Gunnison County Multicultural Resource Office,

welcomed participants in Spanish. The Multicultural Resource program assists foreign-born individuals gain health care, translators and other day-to-day needs as they integrate into the American culture.

Ricardo Perez, director of HAP, noted there’s a lot of fear and anxiety among our immigrant communities. He hopes the Diversity Walk will ease some of that fear and help prompt leaders “to achieve fair immigration policies in the future.”

According to the United States Census Bureau, 54% of us in the Gunnison Valley graduated from college. Our median age is 34 years old. We are white, African American, Asian, Latino, American Indian and mixed races. We are married and single.

Some of us are veterans. About 4.4% of us have a disability, and 15% of us live below the poverty line.

I figure most of us in this valley are immigrants. I helped organize the Diversity Walk to celebrate the importance of each one of us. We all matter and have important contributions to make to our community. It’s a privilege to live side by side, sharing our beautiful environment. We invite everyone, resident or visitor, to join the next Diversity Walk on September 30, 2017.

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W W W. P R E M I E R- M O U N TA I N - P R O P E RT I E S . C OM

Waste

By Sandy Fails

not

Sustainable Crested Butte’s 2016 townie takeover to promote a town ban on single-use plastic bags.

Tom Stillo

Sustainable Crested Butte is making it easier to re-use, refill, borrow and compost.

Doing right by the environment doesn’t have to be inconvenient, daunting or impractical. A new organization, Sustainable Crested Butte, wants to make it even easier.

The nonprofit group is helping create ways to: • borrow glasses, plates, cutlery, cloth napkins, etc., so you don’t have to use throw-aways for your gatherings; • bring or borrow cloth bags to hold your shopping bounty instead of wasting single-use plastic bags; • compost your food waste; • refill your water bottle so you don’t have to buy water in disposable plastic containers.

The board of Sustainable Crested Butte hopes the organization will act as an incubator for ideas from many sources – such as Mountain Roots’ community composting and student efforts to get a 24

Gabi Prochaska

water-refilling station at the Crested Butte Community School.

Teenager Benjamin Swift started the organization (originally called Plastic Bag Free CB) in 2016 after he learned about the huge impact of plastic on the environment, particularly single-use plastic bags (see the Crested Butte Magazine, summer 2016). Swift and others lobbied the Crested Butte Town Council, which eventually passed an ordinance that will prohibit single-use plastic bags in town

by September 2018.

To create alternatives to plastic, Sustainable Crested Butte joined an international organization called Boomerang Bags. Volunteers

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sew reusable bags from donated cloth, and those bags are available for shoppers to borrow at participating retailers. Guests can then return them to the retailer or local hotels. Clarks Market also has a bag bin where customers can grab a bag to carry their groceries and then bring it back the next time they shop.

Sustainable Crested Butte diversified its offerings after being given enough dishes, wine glasses, cutlery, etc., to serve up to 200 people. The organization makes these available as an alternative to disposables, and they’ve been used at Chamber of Commerce after-hours gatherings, wine tastings and parties. For personal occasions, the board suggests people donate to Sustainable Crested Butte what they might have spent on disposables. For commercial, profit-making events, a donation is required. This service is meant solely to decrease waste, not to compete with local rental and catering businesses.

Sustainable Crested Butte is now researching costs (and potential grants) to install two town water-bottle refilling stations, perhaps near the Old Town Hall bus stop and the Visitors Center bus station. Sustainable Crested Butte President Kelli Jones said, “Convenience is important to most people these days, so having filling stations at both ends of Elk would be ideal in reducing the purchase and use of unnecessary plastic water bottles.”

Jones moved to Crested Butte from Breckenridge, and she commented, “Sharing what I’ve witnessed as successful environmental initiatives in other mountain communities will hopefully encourage others to want to do better, to ‘be the change’ here in Crested Butte.”

Board member Gabi Prochaska would like to see Sustainable Crested Butte inspire, network and support all kinds of notions – like a local builder’s idea to encourage re-use of toilets, sinks and other remodeling “trash.” Why bother to take action in such a small town? Because the impacts can be so visible, Prochaska said.

“This place could become a leader; it could show what’s possible.”

That could be part of Crested Butte’s identity, she noted. When people visit, they might first see the spectacular beauty, then notice all the small innovations on behalf of the environment. “I’d like people to leave Crested Butte thinking, ‘That’s the coolest town ever.’”

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Paying it

By Lauren Kugler

forward

Martina Ritz

Through the 4-H Forever Fund, youngsters learn the multiplying power of giving.

Crested Butte 4-H kids. Bottom row: Vivian Clark, Tazzie Pozner, Laney Olmstead.

Top row: Capi Cussimanio, Rachel Clark, LoLo Houseman, Campbell Ryan, Lillian Brodie.

Imagine you’re 14 years old and you’ve just raised your first steer. Today you showed your steer and sold it to the highest bidder at the annual 4-H Livestock Sale. It’s a day of mixed emotions as you say goodbye to an animal you’ve cared for day after day, keeping it fed and healthy. The sale of this steer gives you more money than you’ve ever had. After paying your parents back for the steer’s food for the previous year, you have $1,800 left.

With that money, you can have some fun, appease Mom by saving for car and college… and there’s one more thing you’ve firmly decided. You proudly give $75 of your hard-earned money to the 4-H Forever Fund. You’ve seen the benefit of the fund; it helped your friend join 4-H this year.

Fast-forward 30 years. You have children of your own in 4-H, and a flashback at the Livestock Show puts a smile on your face. Your contribution from selling your steer long ago is now helping other kids participate in 4-H, and through endowment, it has helped many children over the last three decades.

In a fast-paced world full of technology and machines, 4-H strives to hone life skills and encourage students to become thoughtful contributors to society. Its teaching tenets focus on character building, leadership and skill development, friendship and individual growth.

With the creation of the 4-H Forever Fund at the Community Foundation of the Gunnison Valley (CFGV), 4-H leaders saw a way 26

to teach children the lesson of giving back – to say thanks for help they received or simply to “pay it forward” to help others in the future.

“Part of what we do in 4-H is community service, a great opportunity for the kids. Connecting service work with philanthropy enhances their learning about giving back to the community they love,” explained Eric McPhail, Gunnison County’s CSU Extension director.

The 4-H Forever Fund started when a long-time Gunnison Valley resident, recognizing the importance of the county’s ranching heritage, thought a jumpstart might keep a piece of that heritage alive. Wishing to remain anonymous, the individual provided $25,000 over three years, from 2000-2002, as seed money to start the 4-H Forever Fund, held at the CFGV.

With this gift came a challenge to the local 4-H. Once the funds were matched 3:1 and the fund grew to $100,000, local 4-H programs would have their own endowment. This endowment keeps the original $100,000 (and its growth) intact while providing the option to spend interest and income each year.

In 2006, the fund exceeded the $100,000 goal. Individual contributions ranged from $10 up – a true community effort. Since the fund hit $100,000, the local CSU Extension Office staff has had the annual option to take a distribution to help offset the cost of 4-H programming. They make sure fees are affordable, opening the opportunity to as many kids as possible. According to McPhail, 160180 young people participate in local 4-H programming each year,

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and the 4-H Forever Fund helps make it an option for every family.

The fund has also created a culture of giving. During the annual Livestock Sale, 60-65 4-H youngsters show and sell animals they’ve raised – steers, pigs, lambs, goats, rabbits and chickens. These kids spend many hours caring for their animals, and they’re proud to share the accomplishment.

Contributing a portion of the sale proceeds to the 4-H Forever Fund is voluntary, but close to 90% of the youngsters choose to give gifts, typically ranging from $25 to $150.

As with all community philanthropy, every little bit counts. The kids collectively contribute $1,300-3,000 to the 4-H Forever Fund annually. Since 2007, the Gunnison County Commissioners have voted each year to match these funds, doubling the youngsters’ investment into the endowment.

Individual donors also have made modest contributions in honor of loved ones over the years.

As people continue to “feed the fund,” it’s now at nearly $190,000, and almost $8,000 was distributed in early 2017 to local 4-H programs. Distributions from the fund’s interest and income have totaled $53,068 since 2006.

The fund has not only kept 4-H affordable and created opportunities for sharing; it also has shown the youngsters the multiplier effect of an endowment over time, a powerful lesson in the value of giving back.

For 20 years, the Community Foundation of the Gunnison Valley has enriched the community through “engaged philanthropy, grantmaking, strategic education and collaborative leadership.” It allows philanthropists to support good works through fiscal sponsorships, endowments, donoradvised funds and grants to local nonprofits.

To celebrate its anniversary or contribute to its mission, contact lauren@cfgv.org.

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Embracing

By Dawne Belloise

your dirt

Dawne Belloise

What we can learn about cleanliness from Etruscans, graverobbers, scientists and local soapmaker Valerie Jaquith.

Valerie Jaquith is doing her best to clean up the Crested Butte population. Jaquith wildcrafts soaps, lotions and potions in small artisanal batches for her company, Colorado Real Soaps. Her products offer a natural and gentler alternative to the harsh soaps prevalent on the market.

Wildcrafting means utilizing the plants and elements found in nature, and Jaquith roams our local forests and mountains gathering everything from pine to plants.

The earliest recorded evidence of soap 30

production was written on a clay tablet that dates back to around 2200 B.C. in ancient Babylon, with a formula of water, alkali and cassia oil. Later, ancient Etruscans and Romans massaged oil into their skin before bathing and then scraped away both the oil and dirt with a tool called a strigil, a curved metal blade with a handle. Unknowingly, they were partially maintaining the essential bacterial colonies, or biomes, that live on human skin.

Jaquith touts the benefits of using

oils for cleansing, since they maintain the healthy bacteria on the skin, while soap disrupts the skin’s biome to some degree.

“That’s just the nature of soap; it will remove oils. That’s why I don’t recommend using soap on your body. Unless I’m actually physically dirty or muddy, I’ll only use soap on my hands.”

She explained, “Before people learned to make soaps of oils and fats, we used just oils to cleanse our bodies and faces. We think of mostly Mediterranean peoples who had access to olive oils. Eventually, we learned to saponify.” The word “soap” is derived from the Latin “sapo,” and to saponify refers to “a chemical reaction that occurs between the fatty acid in your oil – whether it’s olive oil, hemp oil, sunflower oil or whatever – and an amount of lye.” Oils, she noted, can be extracted from any seed that can be crushed, and those oils have different properties.

To be frank, humans stink. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Anthropologists believe our funky odors helped ward off predators during our cave-dwelling days.

Ancient Egyptians masked their musk by dousing with perfumes made of animal fats combined with herbs and florals like cardamom, cassia, cinnamon, lemongrass, lily, myrrh and rose. They even piled globs of fragrant waxes on their heads, so as it melted throughout the heat of the day it camouflaged their body scent. Ancient Greeks and Romans enjoyed their baths, perfuming not only themselves but also their pets and horses. For several centuries, Christians apparently stunk to the high heavens, rejecting the concept of bathing because they considered it a sin of pride and vanity. Meanwhile, the Islamic communities not only kept the tradition of bathing but evolved the Roman customs into Turkish baths. The Black Plague was erroneously thought to be spread through infected air, so to protect themselves, people burned

bonfires and inhaled incense. At the time, most Europeans believed that bathing was dangerous to one’s health since it opened the pores to let in disease.

Human body odor actually serves many purposes, such as choosing a compatible mate, finding like-minded friends, and mother-child bonding; all rely, to a degree, on an individual’s scent.

However, our societal norms have moved far from accepting these natural aromas; people today opt to smell pretty or at least not stink offensively. But have we gone too far with cleanliness, over-showering and anti-bacterial soaps? Studies are showing that children shouldn’t bathe daily and, in fact, exposing them to dirt and grime builds up their maturing immune systems, leading to healthier kids. Perhaps the “dirty hippies” in their naturalness had a concept worth reviewing. As bacteria becomes ever more resistant to antibiotics and anti-bacterial soaps, it makes sense to return to more natural cleansing to retain our normal biomes and skin oils.

The FDA recently banned most of the ingredients in anti-bacterial soaps, stating that in most cases, they do more harm than good to consumers. Fortunately, there are natural bacterial-fighting ingredients that can be infused into blends for cleansing. Jaquith bases her own formula, called Many Thieves, on an old gypsy “thieves blend” used during the Black Plague era. Its name is derived from the gypsies in Spain who would douse themselves in essential oils before going to rob graves.

“Since they died in lower numbers than the general population, it was speculated that these essential oils had something to do with it, and the concoction has been passed down through history as an effective way to kill bacteria. The ingredients are naturally anti-fungal,” Jaquith said of the blend, which uses eucalyptus, cinnamon and cloves.

Jaquith also recommends that people stop altering their skin by using preservatives and chemicals, which add to their overall toxic load. So next time you want to clean up your act, think about all those small, healthy bacterial universes living on your skin, fighting off the bad guys for you, and understand that you don’t have to stink to be kind to your skin.

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CrestedButteNow.com 31

Still going

By Arvin Ramgoolam

strong

In her new book, solo wanderer Talie Morrison proves that an adventurous spirit knows no age.

Standing in line for coffee in Crested Butte, you never know who you might rub elbows with: winter sports superstars, Olympians, ultramarathoners, Grand Traverse top finishers. And then there’s Talie Morrison. An athlete of a different mettle, Talie is an adventurer, and in some cases survivalist, who has continued to push the limit in the outdoors even as the birthdays pile up. After much prodding by her friends and fans, she recently committed her story to page with Still Going Strong: Backpacking Adventures Through My Sixties.

In her opening, Talie introduces herself via a 2006 journal entry written as she hovered near hypothermia on the South Island of New Zealand. “Why would an otherwise sane, 60-year-old American woman put herself in this dangerous situation? Because I simply love it!” The now 70-year-old grandmother relates her inexhaustible tales in a journal-like narrative that puts the reader right next to her in every situation, from the side of desolate Antarctic roads to lonely mountain passes.

Talie’s love for the outdoors began in her youth at summer camp in western North Carolina. Two older brothers, with whom she did her best to keep up, also helped to temper her resolve in meeting obstacles. When asked what keeps her going all these years later, 32

From the Pyrenees to Antarctica: Talie Morrison, still adventuring at 70.

she responded, “The beauty and the solitude of raw nature fill my heart and soul. I also love the challenges of going to the edge and surviving.”

In November of 2007 Morrison applied for a janitorial position at McMurdo Station, Antarctica. (As a side note, several people from Crested Butte have held this and other positions at McMurdo, which is ideal for those who think winter in the Gunnison Valley is simply too short and too warm.) Talie couldn’t resist the opportunity; as she jokes in her book, she’d been cleaning toilets for free her whole life until being hired by McMurdo Station. In addition to being the cleaning lady, Talie also became the librarian and, with her Crested Butte Search and Rescue background, she joined the Winter Search and Rescue Team.

On a mission to deliver additional survival equipment, Talie and the team leader got stuck outdoors in a “Condition 1” storm. This meant they could face temperatures down to minus-100 degrees Fahrenheit, less than 100-foot visibility, and winds up to 63 miles per hour. Together they created a shelter on the ice and then waited the night for another rescue team to come for them. At 11:30 a.m. the following day, they were picked up after their long and sleepless night. While her harrowing experience might put most off from life in Antarctica, Talie completed a 14-month stint at McMurdo Station that included a cold water, mid-winter polar ice plunge (forbidden at the American base but somehow acceptable at the Australian Antarctic base). Talie reflects in her book, “To this day, I feel blessed to have experienced Antarctica.”

When I asked Talie why she keeps adventuring, she answered, “I

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enjoy the solitude of being by myself in the wilderness. I feel accepted just the way I am – I don’t have to be something or somebody.

I’m part of a bigger picture out there. And there’s the challenge to keep doing it as I get older.”

As a bookseller, I always want to know why someone writes a book. For Talie, one reason might be all the people who have urged her to put her tales into written form.

As she puts it, “I want to inspire other women, both young and old, to know they can go into the wilderness by themselves and be okay. I also want to inspire other backpackers, both male and female, to know that if they take care of their bodies they can continue to do physically challenging activities through their sixties.”

To capture a life like Talie’s, lived at the edge, full of family and friends, 200 pages seems inadequate. But I suppose when you’re on the move as Talie is, still living to the fullest, sitting down to write your story isn’t so attractive. Friends and readers should consider those 200 pages a gift.

Talie’s adventures didn’t end when she took off from McMurdo base in October 2008; she has continued to solo hike all over the world in places such as Tasmania, Alaska, Tierra del Fuego, the Pyrenees, Nepal, the Colorado Trail and New Zealand (many returns). As I wrote this article, she was planning a visit to China. Her parting message to readers: “Never surrender! Get out there and enjoy our beautiful planet – use your body – and be thankful!”

I’ve come to know Talie in bits and pieces, watching her catch up with friends over coffee in Rumors, then say goodbye and head off on the next adventure. We don’t often see the whole movie of people’s lives but are privy to the trailers they make for us out of breathless stories – like the ones Talie pulls together in her book.

Stories about having her bag stolen in Peru, or that time she got lost in Tasmania, cohere into a beautiful narrative of a life lived without regrets or missed opportunities.

Talie relates another realization from the pages of her book: “I love to push my envelope because when I’ve finished an extreme adventure, I feel alive. I feel fearless and invincible. It’s a feeling that grows on you!”

Note: The Crested Butte Magazine first featured Talie Morrison in summer 2007, back when she was a youthful 60. We marked our calendars to chat with her again (if we can catch up with her) when she hits 80.

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By Erin English

As a volunteer science camp counselor in high school, I learned the song “This Island Earth” by The Nylons. Sitting on a log at campfire beneath the night sky, I sang with a bunch of fifth graders about “this island in a starry ocean, spinning like a dancer.” My insides tingled and my heart seemed like it might explode. I felt overwhelmingly humbled by the size of the universe, grateful for the Earth and for my life. By the time my parents picked me up a few days later, a sliver of my soul had changed. I felt that strange dichotomy: somehow less important but also empowered to do big things.

Ten years later, I was teaching environmental education at a different camp.

In the velvet-black night sky, pinpoints of silver and white winked cheerily above me.

During an evening program, I heard the poem “Only a Little Planet” by Lawrence Collins. Later that night, lying in a wooden bunk bed, I mulled over the poem: “…let 38

yourself see/that everything is doing things to you/as you do things to everything.” Once again, I felt a welling up inside. I snuggled tight in my sleeping bag and stared out the cabin window, wondering about the planets, the stars and the universe until my eyes grew heavy.

The night sky is a great teacher. Peering up at the moon and stars is, oddly enough, an altogether grounding experience; a reminder that change is the only constant, but also that there is an order to so many things — here on earth, and billions of miles away. The stars serve always as our guides, as they’ve helped people find their way for thousands of years, long before paper maps and smart-phone navigation tools. The expansive sky gently reminds us not to make our problems bigger than they really are.

I no longer have the occasional starstruck epiphanies I did while I lived in a busy urban area. These days, I’d call it unwavering appreciation. Because for the

John Holder

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J.C. Leacock

last nine years, I’ve had the incredible good fortune to live in Crested Butte, where nature either embraces us or tests us every day, and on every clear night, the stars feel close enough to touch. It’s a fine place to be.

Most nights, strolling my dog down the road for his last potty break, I pause to take in the sky. Looking up puts me at ease before I head to bed. Not just an invitation to contemplate life, stargazing can also be a joyful and light-hearted experience. Last summer, my husband, son and I spread out a blanket in the middle of our Crested Butte South cul-de-sac and lay on our backs to watch the annual Perseid meteor shower. We told funny stories as we waited for light to streak the sky.

On some clear evenings, we log onto spotthestation.nasa.gov to find when the International Space Station (ISS) is flying overhead. Standing on our deck, the first person who sees the steadily moving light yells with excitement, “Space station!” and points it out to the others before it fades to nothing. We speculate as to what the ISS astronauts might be doing at that moment.

Eating dinner? Securing themselves to a wall for bedtime so they don’t float around?

Looking out a window and waiting for the 40

John Holder

Lydia Stern

next sunrise?

We don’t have an organized astronomy club in Crested Butte. But ask around and you’ll find that many people observe and appreciate the stars here at the dark end of the road.

“We have great night skies,” said Lisa Hart, a Crested Butte Community School science teacher who offers an astronomy class every few years. “We’re so high up, there isn’t a lot of atmospheric interference or light pollution.”

Suzanne Taylor, an astronomy professor at Western State Colorado University in Gunnison, added, “We’re far enough from the [populated] Front Range that we don’t get their sky glow.” The generally dry conditions at high altitude, with little humidity or haze, also enhance the clarity of our skies.

GETTING STARTED WITH STARGAZING Game for some night-sky viewing? First, distance yourself from the lights of Crested Butte. The glow emanating from streetlamps, businesses and homes is nowhere near as intense as the lights in Denver, but still less than ideal. Head up to Paradise Divide, out toward Gothic, or down Cement Creek Road John Holder

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RIVERFRONT LIFESTYLE

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in Crested Butte South.

Find a place to camp for the night or plan a leisurely evening. Bring a folding chair or sleeping bag, something warm to sip, a traditional sky map/star chart (available for download or purchase on the Internet) or your cell phone loaded with a stargazing app. I prefer a low-tech approach, but the apps can be very useful for getting oriented.

Simply point your phone up to the sky to find out what’s hovering just overhead.

A telescope is great to have, but a pair of high-powered binoculars will also bring you closer to that which twinkles. Even with the naked eye, you can still see plenty.

For a more structured experience, drive south to the Gunnison Observatory or venture to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. The observatory (2804 County Road 38 in Gunnison, east of Hartman Rocks) is open to the public from mid June to mid September, with public viewings on Friday and Saturday nights. Programs typically consist of a short lecture followed by a variety of viewing opportunities.

“We have a 30-inch telescope, some naked-eye viewing, and on any given night we have six to twelve volunteers running telescopes,” said Taylor, who serves on the observatory’s board of directors. “We have a good volunteer corps; we get a lot of kids from the middle and high school, college students, and folks from the community that just like doing astronomy.”

A visit to the observatory belongs on most people’s summer to-do list. Bring the family, go solo, or do something different for date-night. You’ll learn something new, and you’ll likely be impressed by what a sophisticated viewing facility we have so close to home.

You can also connect with fellow stargazers at the Gunnison Public Library.

In late winter of this year, the library, in partnership with the observatory, started a telescope borrower program and nightsky viewing events for the public. Two Orion StarBlast telescopes are available for checkout, and they come conveniently paired with a star chart.

“Several libraries in the country do something similar,” said Nancy Trimm, executive director of the library. “We thought, we have such a beautiful night sky year-round and the observatory is only open in the summer…this will be fun for families.”

If you’re itching for an exceptional

celestial experience and have a night or two to get out of town, consider camping at nearby Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park (www.nps.gov/blca). The International Dark Sky Association named it an International Dark Sky Park, “a land possessing an exceptional or distinguished quality of starry nights and a nocturnal environment that is specifically protected for its scientific, natural, educational, cultural heritage and/or public enjoyment.”

There’s no need to bring equipment if you arrive on the right night (Wednesday and Friday nights from Memorial Day to the middle of September), as volunteers from the Black Canyon Astronomical Society (BCAS, www.blackcanyonastronomy.com) generously offer their personal gear for the public to use.

“We’ll stay out there as long as people are interested,” said Bryan Cashion, president of the BCAS. “We can get 30-80 visitors on any given night. We might have up to 10 telescopes. People will walk up to a telescope and ask what they’re looking at. We tell them what it is, if it’s a planet, a galaxy, a nebula. We encourage them to ask questions about what they see.”

Identifying constellations can be a great

Orion Nebula, imaged here with special equipment and processing, but visible via telescope.

Steven Christensen

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starting point for budding astronomers, but there’s much more to do. Taylor suggests regularly observing the pattern of the moon and watching how the positions of constellations in the sky change seasonally.

Keep a lookout for planets in our solar system that are highly visible with the naked eye during certain times of the year; www.space. com will tell you the best viewing days.

The aforementioned Perseid meteor shower happens every year, and I always look forward to it. This summer, the Perseids will be visible between July 17 and August 24. On your calendar, mark August 12-13, when you’ll see the most meteors. If it’s a clear night, you’ll see dozens of streaks per hour.

Along with the ISS (and airplanes), one more unnatural phenomenon can dot the night sky: Iridium satellite flares. The Iridium satellite constellation, which consists of 66 satellites providing voice and data communications worldwide, periodically reflects sunlight so intensely that a bright burst of light appears in the sky. Heavens Above (www.heavens-above.com) provides a daily schedule for those interested in tracking flares.

Many hobbies run their course, with a distinct beginning, middle and end, but I’ve come to appreciate the limitless possibilities of astronomy and night-sky viewing.

We have an oversized National Geographic book at our house with a diagram of the Milky Way and neighboring galaxies; I look at that picture frequently with my five-year-old, who is obsessed with all things space. We marvel at star clusters with names like “NGC 5139” and wonder what lies beyond the starry page edges.

When he asks questions about the universe, I often lack good explanations. I encourage him to come up with his own.

I can hardly fathom what’s beyond our little planet, and I can’t yet figure out how to describe to my son that lovely feeling I get when I hear a song or poem about Earth or space, or the peacefulness that washes over me when a shooting star catches me by surprise on a still night.

I suppose it boils down to awe. And respect. And appreciation of all that is beautiful. Suzanne Taylor said it this way: “It’s always excited me to think of all the worlds out there, to think of how immense the universe is. It certainly makes me appreciate that we are hanging out on a really small planet and we are not that significant. We’re pretty isolated out here, and we have to take care of what we’ve got. In general, it puts human existence into perspective when you think about what a small part of the universe we are.”

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Telemarking theologians: Scott Winn (left) and Tim Clark (right) foster the community’s faith but know how to keep their feet on the ground.

By Beth Buehler Photos by Alison White

46

a cup of coffee and conversation with Crested Butte pastors Tim Clark and Scott Winn is like shooting the breeze with any locals. The conversation darts around favorite trails, latest injuries and repairs, and how the kids are doing. But the conversation turns contemplative when they reflect on fostering the faiths of adults and youth in a resort-town environment and managing congregations that have far-flung memberships and a healthy dash of visitors on most weekends.

Clark is in his 25th year as pastor of Crested Butte’s Union Congregational Church (UCC), a stint that was supposed to last five to 10 years. The church building, 403 Maroon Avenue, has also stood the test

of time; it was completed in 1882, two years after the congregation and Crested Butte were founded.

Winn’s tenure at Oh Be Joyful Church (OBJC) started only four years ago, but he had been visiting Crested Butte since a middle school ski trip in the 1970s, and for 15 years came almost annually to the town as his family’s chosen getaway. Founded in 1979, OBJC is “newer” than UCC but has a similarly eclectic mix of people with varied religious backgrounds, some exploring the concept of faith for the first time.

MOUNTAIN PASTOR PERSONA Being an athlete probably wasn’t a requirement for their Crested Butte pastoral

jobs, but that has ended up being an important part of both men’s ministries and a way to find solace and also spend quality time with friends and family.

They share other commonalities. Both prefer getting down a mountain on telemark skis or a mountain bike, and both have been recovering from fairly serious injuries and surgeries over the past year. Crested Butte also was the place where each was entrusted with his first lead pastor role.

Winn was a serious road biker before coming to Crested Butte but prefers mountain biking outside his front door these days versus riding the one paved road out of town. Learning to skate ski on sweetly groomed Nordic trails has been a 47

new addition to his quiver of sports. Clark is perhaps best known for his hockey exploits but also enjoys fall elk hunting, whitewater rowing, sailing and building boats.

Keeping his sailboat on the Sea of Cortez in Mexico gives Clark an escape that is both out-of-country and off-land. “To get unplugged, I have to leave the valley, as it is very small here. Wherever I go – even somewhere like Deer Creek Trail – people shout my name,” he said. Even running a quick errand at Clarks Market turns into people apologizing about not being at church – “and I’m just there to buy cornflakes!”

Simply stepping outside their trucks in town can be an adventure, but it’s one of the jewels of small-town living. “I love knowing the community like that,” Winn emphasized.

“People know you care.”

DIVERSE FLOCKS, SIMILAR TRAITS

Tim Clark marrying Morgan and John Allgeyer: the unpredictable joys of outdoor weddings.

Scott Winn: connecting across a wide spectrum of beliefs.

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Being a pastor here also means finding ways to engage people and empower their gifts.

“Many who end up here have been very successful in other places. I’m humbled by their help at our church and in town,” Winn said. “We also help people figure out who they are… everyone is an adventurer of some kind here.” Clark chimed in, calling it “fire in the belly.”

Pastoring here also means getting a broad spectrum of liberals and conservatives sharing Biblical truths and “pulling on the same end of the rope,” as Winn described.

One thing that tends to unite everyone is the beauty and uniqueness of Crested Butte. “The natural world is the handwriting of the divine all around us; we can all rally around stewardship of the natural world.

It’s a foregone conclusion that people are here to enjoy and recreate in nature, which is the universal playground of God,” Clark said. “At UCC, we have everything from conservative Baptists to Unitarians, the full spectrum. I try to shepherd everyone to a place of love and preach cooperation and tolerance.”

Winn admires the accepting and forgiving nature of the community. “At the end of the road in paradise, there’s an acceptance of fragility that you don’t have other places. It’s a great venue to welcome people and love them.”

Since a large number of visitors as well as locals walk through the church doors, Winn and Clark serve as greeters on behalf of the community.

“There’s quite a bit of mixing with people in their own environment, from the

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coffee shop and a bike ride to the Headwall and locker room. People here want you to be real,” Clark said.

Winn agreed. “For us, being outside is a major connection with people through athletic activity. You have to have a story from skiing the Headwall or falling off the t-bar.”

KIDS

BEYOND THE VALLEY Another unique aspect of leading churches in a resort community is that the threads of connection run way outside county lines, with membership and attendance far beyond what’s typical of small-town congregations.

On Christmas Eve, both churches have crowds of more than 700, prompting OBJC to rent the ballroom at Mountaineer Square Conference Center and requiring UCC to host three services with the help of 57 volunteers for ushering, music and more.

In addition to huge holiday numbers, both churches fluctuate dramatically in attendance throughout the year.

“Half of our congregants are seasonal

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Education: Bachelor’s - Lewis and Clark College, Portland, Oregon Master’s - Union Theological Seminary at Columbia, New York, NY Discovering Crested Butte: I visited my sister, Robin Norton, and her family here while in college in the mid-1980s and was inspired by the backcountry telemark skiing, mountain biking, fishing and beauty.

Seeds of faith & ministry: I was very involved in the UCC church that my family belonged to for generations and decided to go into the ministry after an engaging religious studies and history major at Lewis and Clark College.

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residents,” Clark confirmed. “The diversity of backgrounds, beliefs and theology within our congregation is astonishing, as is the level of education. Being in the ministry here has much of the tenor of a cosmopolitan culture but with the intimacy of a very small town where everyone knows my name, precisely which truck I drive and how many penalties I was given in my last hockey game.”

Clark is known for officiating hundreds of weddings – from 25 to 50 a year – with a large number for the children of seasonal residents. “The kids vacationed and spent summers here and have an idyllic view of Crested Butte. A couple years later they want to have a baptism on Christmas morning.”

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Behind the scenes are supportive wives: Kelly Jo Clark also is a minister at UCC and works at Townie Books, and Claire Winn is very involved in OBJC’s ministry and works remotely for Friend’s Insurance, a company based in Dallas. The Clarks have daughters Rachel, 12, and Vivian, 6; the Winns have

Prior to Crested Butte: Young adult minister at Brick Presbyterian Church on Madison Avenue, NYC Manager of a soup kitchen on 114th and Broadway in NYC

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At the historic Elkton town site, while the bride and groom were exchanging their vows, a buck tiptoed up to them, solemnly witnessed their betrothal from 10 feet away and bowed his head as they kissed before rejoining his mate in the trees nearby.

Fun times with daughters: Skiing, boating on Blue Mesa Reservoir, biking, and gathering wild mushrooms and cutting firewood in the national forest.

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Taylor, 21, Sarah, 18, and Michael, 16.

The two dads acknowledge that raising kids in Crested Butte is both wonderful and challenging. There are no youth or recreation centers at the north end of the valley, for example, and extracurricular options are more sporty than academic. Clark said, “The mainstream athletic kids are fine, but I have a lot of compassion for kids who don’t fit in the jock mode.”

UCC’s service and “urban plunge” trips for youth – in Colorado, the greater U.S. and abroad – are well attended; its largest intergenerational group (ages 6-86) last fall assisted La Puente, which operates a homeless shelter, thrift shops, food pantry and more in the Alamosa area. The church also has played a key role in assisting Paradise Place Preschool, which serves close to 70 families. OBJC has a group of eight high school students and two adults going to Thailand this summer, sent a group to Mexico last year and is active in providing and supporting youth and young adult programming.

The message to youth and adults is more

Education: Bachelor’s – University of Texas, Tyler Graduate study - Dallas Theological Seminary Discovering Crested Butte: I visited on a ski trip in the late 1970s while in middle school. In about 1999, we chose to make Crested Butte our one destination for vacations (rather than multiple places) to give our kids a place to build memories in. We visited only in the summer and stayed in about 10 different condominiums before landing on a little house in Pitchfork for many years. Mountain biking also was a pretty big driver for me.

about “what we are for and not what we are against. For youth in particular, the message is about building relationships that introduce them to the love of Jesus and the fun of life with Him,” said Winn, who chairs the committee for the growing local Young Life ministry.

At OBJC, several students and adults help with Young Life, which is headquartered in Colorado Springs and operates across the globe. UCC has quite a few senior partners working with Gunnison Valley Mentors. “One-on-one relationships are very important for youth here,” Clark emphasized.

To expand their overall impact, local churches have partnered for many years.

Recent ecumenical events have been a Bible Adventure Camp in the summer, Bethlehem Caves during the Christmas season, and a shared service or meal around Thanksgiving.

Discussing the churches’ role in towns like Crested Butte, Winn said, “We’re normal people trying to make it through life.

The church provides a special community for that to happen within.”

b

Seeds of faith/ministry: I became a believer on an adventure experience with a camp called Pine Cove and was inspired by my counselor to go into ministry.

Prior to Crested Butte: Pine Camp volunteer during high school Young Life leader in college and Young Life camp staff on weekends Pine Camp staff after college for one year Youth pastor for 10 years and outreach pastor for 14 years at WoodCreek Church in Richardson, Texas, only a few miles from my childhood home.

Moving to the mountains: We had two full summer sabbaticals in Crested Butte and decided to really invest in the community so attended OBJC and did some volunteering around town. OBJC offered me my first role as lead pastor, and I’ve been given a lot of encouragement and freedom to grow here.

Most memorable wedding officiating: A fun one was beyond the top of Washington Gulch in the wilderness.

The bride walked out from a grove of evergreens and into a flowering meadow; it was pretty amazing!

Fun times with sons & daughter: We love to be outside. I can’t count the number of trips we’ve made out to a lake or river with a picnic.

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While people drop into Crested Butte True Value to grab candy or nuts and bolts, activity of a different type hums in the adjoining blue building. This is the rapidly growing local hub of Young Life. A sign on the door explains: “Young Life is a little crazy and a lot of fun for middle school, high school and college-age students. We talk about life and the God who loves and pursues us right where we are, plain and simple.”

Area Director Courtney Kirby described Young Life as “an ecumenical ministry, meaning we don’t represent any one denomination. We welcome anyone, including students exploring what faith means.”

Evening “club” gatherings for middle school and high school youth meet weekly during the school year, and small groups convene on other days. More than 120 participate, an impressive tally in this sparsely populated valley. At Western State Colorado University in Gunnison, College Young Life has grown to more than 80 students in less than two years and sent 18 on a March trip to help with projects at Young Life’s Washington Family Ranch in Oregon.

With only one staff member, the local Young Life relies on volunteer leaders, including 14 high school and college students and five adults, and a local committee that helps guide the organization and raises money. Last fall, 14 leaders and 75 students attended Snow Camp at Frontier Ranch near Buena Vista, and at least 50 will go to Young Life camps in Arizona and Colorado this summer.

High school senior Morgan Moss said the program has already changed her life for the better. “Young Life has been a safe space where I can have fun and be myself while building relationships with people who care about me.” –Beth Buehler

Gothic City, eight miles north of Crested Butte, in 1881.

By Brian Levine As it might have been witnessed by nineteenth-century photographer Charles F. Blacklidge.

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Main Street of Gothic City, 1881.

Often times, the future’s here, developing before us, like images on albumen paper, with the most vital details emerging from the strongest contrasts and deepest tones. The question then arises: what do we do with the developing potential? --From the fourth draft of my mining prospectus, entitled “Gothic, Colorado: Gunnison County’s Spectacular City of Silver Wires.”

That wording just came to me this early July day, 1881, because we’re all poised to witness the future unfolding for this place.

Two years have passed since the Jennings brothers discovered silver on Copper Creek.

Gothic City – the mining area’s central supply center – has since evolved a town structure.

Many surrounding mines are producing good ore. Passable roads lead to almost everywhere in the Elk Mountain Mining District. There are various modes of reliable transportation and enough working capital to fund every hopeful prospect.

Yes, that’s a good opening for the prospectus. Starts with a conundrum, then

proceeds with optimism. Unfortunately, matters in Gothic aren’t so lustrous right now. We critically need an efficient smelter, one with the metallurgy to run properly.

That Gothic Smelter back in 1880 was a painful failure, and the mill erected by the Colorado Springs Company was a hoax at best. Even our current hope, the Avery Smelter, had serious problems with oxygen flow the first time it was fired up in 1880, so the molten mixture in the furnaces coalesced and ruined the interior workings.

57

1882 stock certificate signed by Thomas Avery.

The process has been recalculated and the furnaces re-engineered, and expectations are once again as lofty as Gothic Mountain.

On the other hand, anxiety runs ankle deep, like the mud forming Gothic’s streets.

Before the “blowing-in” ceremony gets underway, we gather at our usual haunts: Yank Baxter and the Poverty Gulch crowd over at the Gunnison Pool Company office (“pool” referring to mining investment money, not water); Croxton, Roche, and the Schofield bunch at Birge & Thomas’ Saloon; and Allerton, Avery, Watson, and Beeger – the Chicago-Gothic money cartel – down at the Sands & Holmes Bank. As the only professional photographer in Gothic City, I’m having lunch at Miss Cary’s Star Restaurant with Rufus Choate, editor of the Elk Mountain Bonanza, and others of the journalistic ilk.

Men have ridden in from the four quadrants of the District: B. F. Field from Irwin; J. K. Hornish from Elko; Dave Scott, Snowmass; George Summers, Dark Canon; G. H. Rodie, Ashcroft; and more from parts unknown. They’ve congregated at Flagg’s Saloon, Popejoy’s Restaurant, the Olds House and Pease’s mining brokerage firm.

Outside, it rains voluminous, cold 58

Schematic for the Avery Smelter.

drops, heavy like mercurial dimes. The top of Lone Mountain is enshrouded in clouds, as if wearing a cotton crown. Welcome to July in Gunnison County’s Elk Mountains. (That’s definitely not going into my prospectus.)

Anticipation, like waiting for good air to a fill a mine tunnel, has been growing for some time. Since 1879 we’ve been sending our high-grade silver ores as far away as Denver and Pueblo to get processed. The cost has been far too high. We desperately

need an efficient concentration and reduction works right here in Gothic to make the ore pay. That’s why there’s such anticipation surrounding the Avery Smelter.

This time we have reason to hope.

The smelter is a Charles Avery and Samuel Allerton enterprise, designed and built a quarter mile southeast of Gothic by the Fraser & Chalmers Company of Chicago.

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Typically simple residence in Gothic City, 1881.

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bit of a mystery. Different ores from many mines around Gothic were sent to Chicago for assaying. There the laboratory sorted, crushed, roasted, mixed, sampled, assayed and cupelled the rocks – everything assayers do to earn their wages – and ultimately designed an efficient reduction and refining process. The Avery Smelter was engineered around a scaled-up version of that process. If all turns out as planned, we should soon be profitably milling the District’s silver-laden, galena and quartz-gangue ores.

The Avery’s been under construction for more than a year, set back by delays, machinery availability problems, last-minute changes, missed shipping dates, etc., and then slowed by weather conditions that were extraordinary even for Gunnison County. But now, on the brink of this new blowing-in, one has to be astounded by the science and technology that went into this second design.

I continue with my prospectus: What a path this town’s been on since 1879. Gothic: “The City of Wires” (and language of the Goths) resides in the most majestic of settings.

Both Charles and his father, Thomas M. Avery, were gobsmacked and beguiled during their first visit to the town in 1880. Today, they are still astounded by the tall, massive, spired

mountains; and seduced by the rich paystreaks of delicate wire- and ruby-silver. Its lure is hypnotic, truly magnetic, and more so embellished by its crystalline streams, rarefied air, and azure-like skies (generally). Thomas M. Avery, founder of the Elgin Watch Company, has, through his great influence, encouraged other Chicagoans to invest in the Elk Mountain Mining District. Along with men such as Samuel Allerton, William L. White, T. W. Harvey, and J. M. Cutter, Avery purchased the Sylvanite Mine, near Gothic on Copper Creek, as well as the Virginia Group, at the base of Red Mountain (later known as Avery Peak), three-quarters of a mile from Gothic.

But that’s the past. Soon, the future will be here. We pay Miss Cary for our meal at the Star and head toward the Avery Smelter. Most are on horseback. I’m in my photographer’s wagon bearing my logo: Gunnison County Portraits and Landscape.

Herman Beeger left about a half-hour before the Gothic cartel to check on the smelter.

The rest of us ride slowly down Main, giving Beeger ample time to oversee last-minute details. I stop to take photos for my mining prospectus, a publication intended to inspire even more people to invest in our mines and community. The Avery can’t fail, I think. Too

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Office of the Gunnison Pool Co. (mining investment company).

much depends on it.

Should it fail, then Miss Cary of the Star will depart. Mills’ Meat Market will close. Banning will no longer have horses to board. Few will buy hardware at Dean & Friedenthall’s. Vulcan’s flames will dwindle at O’Neill’s blacksmith. The East River Toll Road and Bridge will fall into disrepair. Even worse, the rye at Caldwell’s Saloon will dry up. The Avery Smelter has to work. We have to promote confidence or Gothic’s luster will quickly tarnish, especially in this age when there’s always another gold or silver discovery just in the next mountain range.

As we bounce down the wagon-rutted main street, I count commercial buildings – facts for my prospectus. There are 13 on the north side; 12 on the south. Most are constructed with vertical clapboard siding, lumber from nearby sawmills. Roofs are tarpaper or wooden shingles, except for the log cabins, which in general are covered with 60

canvas. Only a few business properties have false-fronts; the majority have their arrowtipped rooflines exposed. Front doors – even in the rain – are open, beckoning the miner to enter like the many gaping holes in the surrounding hillsides. Gothic sports a simple and cheap vernacular architecture, the style in which most new mining camps are built -- when none are sure they’re here to stay. But in the prospectus, I’ll say something like: Solid new structures fashioned to house hundreds of prospectors, businessmen and miners rapidly flowing into town.

Our procession passes over the confluence of Copper Creek and East River, and we glimpse the tops of the Avery Smelter’s four smoking chimneys. Things appear to be going well. Still, I’m nervous, more so, it seems, than Charlie Avery, who up ahead is joking with Sam Allerton.

Perhaps we who live here in Gothic – those who hope to make this place our future –

have more to worry about than Avery and his clutch. Should the smelter not produce the desired results, Avery and Allerton will just go back to their mansions on Chicago’s Prairie Avenue. As for me, I’ll be back on the Mineral Trail, looking for the next rush and another storefront to set up my photo gallery.

So, yes, I’m nervous as we approach the smelter’s entrance. The rain is clearing, and a swathe of brilliant sunlight glistens across the prismatic plant-life blossoming throughout the valley. Atop my wagon seat, I look out at nature’s wondrous diversity and consider – just for a moment, mind you – the grand beauty of the place. It seems such an odd juxtaposition: the Edenesque tranquility and the smoke-infused industry….

I compose my impression of the Avery: The smelter is clad in corrugated metal; its smokestacks are made of stone and brick, cylindrical and fluted, rising high above plush mountain grasses and steep slopes of evergreens. Inside the smelter, enormous castiron stamps rise and drop to the heavy rhythm of an unnamed symphony. Sprockets of great flywheels resound like trumpets as they move even greater flywheels. Pulleys and weights drag striated-rubber belts, like violin bows, across taut metal strings. Automatic ore-feeders resonate with the roiling of kettledrums as Cornish rolls provide a brassy background.

Jagged rocks fall into the tympanic jaws of Blake crushers, are then chewed and ground until they pass through an aria of revolving mesh screens. Smelter men shovel the crushed rock into eight separate roasting ovens. Then the charges are heated, churned and mixed in a tumultuous, sulphuric scherzo; removed and then placed inside the uproarious chorus of two smelting furnaces. Coal from Slate River mines feeds the twenty-ton infernos while a fifty-horsepower engine, fueled by local coal, keeps the entire orchestra playing on, loudly, clamorously, profitably.

The contained world of the smelter is smoky, hot and mechanical, acrid, fiery and sulphurous. If successful, the Avery symphony will run day and night. If not, there’ll be a short, cacophonous allegro, and then….

Ore has been obtained from the Virginia Group, the Black Hawk in Rustler’s Gulch, the Sylvanite and Golden City up Copper Creek, the Great Republic near Schofield, the Silver Queen in Silver Basin, and the Wisconsin in Rock Creek. All have been carefully sampled and measured out by assayers Lee and Cloud, and then mixed in just the right proportions to facilitate the chemical separation of silver and gold from the native quartz gangue. The whole

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process is calculated and precise (though in reality it appears strangely medieval).

I’m doing my utmost to capture the images about which I write; but the light is quite bad. And the atmosphere’s unbearably foul, almost hellish. The heat’s beyond extraordinary under my photographer’s hood. I’m having difficulty breathing. And with all the contaminants floating about, I doubt the glass-plate negatives will develop properly. I should try fixing the negatives outside in my wagon—

But hold! A cast-iron door opens.

There’s a rush of air, then a roar of furnace flames. Under the black hood of my box camera, I’m not sure what’s happening. I hear an almost mephistophelean cry go round, and it seems – though, I could be wrong – Gothic’s future might still be in question. The coals inside the furnaces are burning, but neither molten slag nor copper matte are flowing yet. Perhaps it’s too soon.

Word spreads: something is wrong with the flux. Too much lime…not enough iron or sulphur…maybe the oxygen flow again… definitely a problem. Not again, not again….

“What’s the news?” Miss Cary asks as she runs out of the Star to meet me.

“Not much,” I tell her, stopping my wagon in the middle of the street.

“Will they ever get it working?”

“Hard to say.”

Miss Cary looks out toward Lone Mountain. Another storm looms in the distance.

I compose in my mind: The Elk Mountain Mining District, where investing is never gambling.

Looking back a few years later: By 1883, the Sylvanite Mine’s 800 feet of shafts and tunnels produced a good amount of ruby and native silver from a pay streak eight to 24 inches wide. The local smelter still didn’t process the Sylvanite’s best ores; they continued to be freighted to Leadville, Denver and Pueblo. I temporarily relocated my gallery in Crested Butte. Miss Cary and many others reluctantly left Gothic while Charles Avery returned to Chicago. It’s difficult to qualify or quantify, but sometimes the natural beauty of a place is worth more than its capitalization.

2017: Eight miles north of Crested Butte, the former ghost town of Gothic serves as home base for the Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory, a renowned high-altitude field station.

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Atop Mt. Emmons: Julie Nania and Mel Yemma, HCCA staff; Red Ladies Laura Yale and Lydia Stern; and Julia Adams, HCCA backcountry advocate.

Terren Judson

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Earth stewards

The 40-year campaign to protect Mt. Emmons (a.k.a. the Red Lady) from a massive mine shows the power of steadfast, place-based relationships.

By Molly Murfee

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ALLI MELTON

“Harmony with the land is like harmony with a friend; you cannot cherish his right hand and chop off his left.” —Aldo Leopold, father of “The Land Ethic”

If I were one of the 1,200 bald eagles migrating from Alaska to the Southern Rockies in the fall, my compass would hum from the starting rise of the Wind River in Wyoming and continue through the great undulating spine of Colorado, before fading into the pinyon-juniper mesas of New Mexico.

I would specifically know the topography of the Ruby Range, the studded belt connecting the Elk and West Elk mountains. I’d see the haloed valley of Whetstone Mountain to the south, Crested Butte to the east, Gothic Mountain to the north. And to the west, Mt. Emmons, known locally as the Red Lady. From that place, I could spy the silver ribbon of the Gunnison River, marking the arrival to my winter home.

In the 1970s, human migrants also answered the compelling call of nature, rebelling against the institutions, hierarchy and greed of mainstream culture. Seeking freedom of expression, they found a home in the East River Valley. The Crested Butte Tribe became a bedraggled species of barely 300: jeans-, flannel- and Sorel-wearing mountain folk awed by the spectacular beauty here at the junction of five open valleys.

“We had run away from the ‘real’ world,” said Denis Hall, who arrived in 1967 as a Western State College student in geology. “We all felt that ‘wow.’ Just look at this place!”

Headwaters. Oh Be Joyful Creek, Brush Creek. Down to the confluence of Coal Creek and the Slate River. To the East River, Cement Creek and the Gunnison.

“Oh God, how do you describe it?” pondered wide-eyed Sue Navy, who arrived in 1971 at 22 years old. “There was nature to discover, beautiful environs, it was clean, and people were very down to earth. Exploration came naturally, and appreciation came with exploration. There was a sense of freedom and free-spiritedness. There seemed to be no boundaries. You started bonding and becoming a part of the community.”

Englemann spruce and subalpine fir of the subalpine forest ecosystem.

Lodgepole pine and quaking aspen of the montane forest ecosystem.

Sagebrush of the semidesert shrubland. Willows of the riparian.

It was a Shangri-La, and in 1977 it was threatened with the prospect of a large-scale molybdenum mine on Mt. Emmons. AMAX had arrived.

Denis’ love of rock shows all around his home. On the shelf: an orthoclase crystal, building form of the volcanic igneous rock. Relics of ancient mountain making – diorite, isolated from its granite mother.

A tube of a fine greasy powder, slate gray, the kind that weaves its way through the crevasses of your fingerprints. Molybdenum. All evidence of the tumultuous and transitory ancestry of the earth that rises to support our feet, our homes, our livelihood.

Quixotically, Denis was driving up the valley, the ink barely dried on his geology degree, thinking that with a mine he would have a secure job. Simultaneously, he also realized that a haulage portal could bury his house and would destroy the magic he’d found at this confluence of Coal Creek and the Slate River. At once he became an opponent of the mine’s development, armed with the spirit of Edward Abbey’s Monkey Wrench Gang, a gaggle of like-minded friends, and an adamancy occasionally fueled, he admits, with acid and Jack Daniels.

“It was very personal,” he said of his response. “We had all found a special place, and it came down to respect for the place we’d chosen.”

“We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us.

When we see land as a community to which we belong, we begin to use it with love and respect.” –Aldo Leopold 68

DENIS HALL

“Sure I could make more money working in a corporate law firm, but my soul wouldn’t be happy.

Living and working in the same place gives you a higher quality of life.”

“The response to the mine proposal was very personal. We had all found a special place, and it came down to respect for the place we’d chosen.”

“I’d lived here for six years,” reflected Sue, “and I thought everything was always going to be beautiful and perfect, and then there was this threat. I remember looking at Red Lady and just crying and saying, ‘No, you can’t ruin it.’”

So it began. In opposition to the mine, High County Citizens’ Alliance (now High Country Conservation Advocates), or HCCA, was formed in 1977. Its battle became the longest grassroots fight against a mining company (or rather a revolving door of companies) in the history of the U.S. To add levity to the effort, “Bye-Bye AMAX” parties were held, even though AMAX wasn’t gone. The Red Lady Ball flounced onto the stage. John Denver came.

Here we keep company with black bear, coyote, fox and beaver. Elk and mule deer glide through our midst. Canada lynx, Uinta chipmunk, mountain lion.

Denis and Sue arrived before the threat of a large-scale molybdenum mine existed. They knew a Crested Butte that lay as peaceful as Eden at the base of these mountains. They, and many

others, have stayed the course, fiercely riding the waves of a mine threat – sometimes ferocious, sometimes seemingly at bay, but always there, looming in the shadows like a hungry ghost.

Pulitzer Prize-winning nature poet Gary Snyder calls this “showing solidarity with a region.”

What would have happened if they had just given up? Got bored, decided the battle wasn’t worth it. Too much hassle. They could make more money working a mine, after all. What kind of Crested Butte would we be living in now?

Broad-tailed and rufous hummingbirds. Redtailed hawk, mountain bluebird, white-crowned sparrow. Great blue heron.

Crested Butte has changed a lot since those earth-loving, adventure-grabbing hippies of the ‘70s took root. Now seen on the top-ten lists of best skiing, best wildflowers, best small towns and a myriad of other “bests,” Crested Butte’s door is swinging a little faster. Folks stay a little shorter, root a little less – or not at all. Check it off, move on. They think not about how a mine might threaten the town’s clean water, but about how to fit in the top-ten bike rides in only three days.

“Most see nature as just a plaything,” a third-generation rancher recently told me.

What connects some people in an irrevocable tie that mandates responsibility and protection, while others enjoy the beauty and access but never roll up their sleeves to do the dirty work of stewardship?

Alli Melton, armed with a law degree in natural resources, chose to serve not in a six-figure corporate position but as Red Lady program director for the non-profit HCCA. As a young girl, Alli forged a deep connection to nature through horse riding with her mother.

“I don’t look at nature as other,” she said, “but as part of us. It’s my personal philosophy, and I have a drive to protect it. Sure I could make more money working in a corporate law firm, but my soul wouldn’t be happy. Living and working in the same place gives you a higher quality of life – depending on what you value.

I love empowering people with their right to information about their public lands and decisions happening around it.”

“Without a complex knowledge of one’s place and without the faithfulness to one’s place on which such knowledge depends, it is inevitable the place will be used carelessly, and eventually destroyed.

Without such knowledge and faithfulness, moreover, the culture of a country will be superficial and decorative, functional only insofar as it may be a symbol of prestige, the affectation of an elite or ‘in’ group.”–Wendell Barry

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Again and again Denis names a love of place as his fuel and inspiration for protecting Red Lady and other local environs. It holds him to his routine morning check-in with a dozen or so information sites full of mining reports, molybdenum prices and updates from other communities fighting mines. He’s not alone. Love of place has sustained HCCA over a four-decade battle. It has driven Sue to persevere over 40 years, hundreds of meetings and thousands of hours. It gives them all the determination to not become complacent.

In the mid 1970s this environmental philosophy and practice was termed “bioregionalism,” defined as “living a rooted life.” Here you are “aware of the ecology, economy and culture of the place where you live, and are committed to making choices that enhance them.”

This is a long-term relationship, not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am one-night stand. It’s easy to love Crested Butte’s landscapes when frolicking in them — biking, hiking and skiing. But being in relationship with the earth is not just something to check off on your list. It’s not just having a gorgeous backdrop for your cocktail party. It’s not a social media platform or a promotional drone video. Loving a place is not just a view from the great room window or writing an article on the best secret hikes. It’s not a Facebook post on your latest beautiful adventure for all the world to see. It’s not an investment opportunity.

MOLLY MURFEE

“Being a steward: four decades of lawsuits, letters, legislation, meetings and diligence.”

“We face the question whether a still higher ‘standard of living’ is worth its cost in things natural, wild and free.” –Aldo Leopold

It means being an earth steward, having a land ethic, acting with bioregionalism, even deep ecology.

Being an earth steward of a place means four decades of holding the physical and emotional energy to keep a mine off of a mountain. Forty years of lawsuits, appeals, letters and diligence. Forty years of spearheading legislation to support water quality through six different mining companies and partners. Being in relationship also means paperwork, petitions, meetings, and more letters and diligence. It means being there when too many people threaten the integrity of fragile ecosystems, and doing something about it.

“Nature can’t speak for itself,” said Alli.

“When you come from concrete, you may not realize the earth is fragile,” Sue commented. “Nature sustains me. I’m dependent on nature for my sanity. Being outdoors provides the balance I – we all – need. I guess I’m giving back for the gift that is the Gunnison Valley.”

Roundleafed sundew. The endemic corydallis. Heart-leafed arnica. Osha. Valerian.

The color therapy of a field of aspen sunflowers.

Our community is finally seeing the results of all that giving back in what will hopefully be a permanently mine-free Red Lady. The negotiations transpiring between

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At a June 2016 house party, HCCA members discuss the status of Mt. Emmons with outside counsel Roger Flynn.

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local stakeholders and the Mt. Emmons Mining Company, a subsidiary of FreeportMcMoRan, hold the real potential of dissolving the mining interests the company holds in the private lands, ore body and mining claims on federal land. A Memorandum of Understanding has been signed. A Plan of Operations has been submitted for the continued functioning of the wastewater treatment plant. Everyone is – cautiously – beginning to breathe.

This is responsibility with staying power.

The giving side of reciprocity, after receiving so much. The act of feeding each other so that all the members of our community, human and wild, are healthy. We cannot just take and take, or all will eventually starve.

The practice of bioregionalism asks us to be guardians of this place. Because if those of us who reap the rewards of living and playing amid this expansive beauty don’t – who will?

“A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends to do otherwise.” –Aldo Leopold

Molly Murfee is the executive director of 1% for Open Space, a local non-profit that collects voluntary donations from customers of more than 100 participating businesses.

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HCCA 40 years of stewardship

By Dawne Belloise

It started out as a small meeting of concerned locals at the home of Dick Wingerson in 1977. Don Bachman, Ceil Murray and Chuck Malick plotted how to stop the mining giant AMAX from decimating Mt. Emmons, and consequently the sleepy town of Crested Butte, from a massive molybdenum mine. From that gathering, the High Country Citizens’ Alliance (HCCA) was born.

Crested Butte’s mayor, W Mitchell, got involved and most of community jumped on board, although some old-timer families remembered the former mining days and thought a return to the industry would benefit the town’s economy. But this proposed mine would be different from the coal extraction of Crested Butte’s past. The new mine would be a large industrial one, affecting pristine valleys like the Slate River, Ohio Creek as well as Kebler Pass, with huge social impacts and

electrical and wastewater needs.

Through HCCA’s efforts, along with market/corporate circumstances, community resistance and legal battles, five different mining companies that tried to move forward were thwarted from doing so.

From the start, HCCA organizers decided it should be more than a single-issue organization. When ill-advised timber sales and trans-mountain water diversions reared their heads, HCCA addressed those issues as well. Other shared accomplishments are: working on nationally recognized range reform with area ranchers; creating protected wilderness areas like Oh-Be-Joyful and Fossil Ridge; joining with local ranchers to avoid clear-cutting of aspens on Kebler; the designation of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison as a National Park; getting the national roadless rule adopted; engaging in the County’s process for adopting natural gas

regulations; and working with the ski area to get a 44-acre conservation easement in Mt. Crested Butte.

Permanent protection of Mt. Emmons from mining will require Congressional legislation that is signed by the President withdrawing the mineral estate. HCCA, the mining company and other stakeholders are pursuing that while addressing other issues, such as reclaiming the former Keystone Mine site on Mt. Emmons and maintaining the water treatment plant that removes heavy metals from acid mine drainage before it reaches Coal Creek.

In 2014, HCCA changed its name to High Country Conservation Advocates to better reflect its mission, which is to advocate for our local environment. This year HCCA celebrates forty years of protecting the health and natural beauty of the land, rivers and wildlife in and around Gunnison County.

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Center for the Arts building in the heARTS of Crested Butte

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In contrast to his urban Barcelona roots, photographer and sojourner Xavi Fane often aims his lens at the Elk Mountains’ wildest reaches.

By Karen Janssen

When Xavi Fane was growing up in the Les Corts neighborhood on the southwest side of Barcelona, organized activities were pretty limited. There were, of course, games of futbol in the plaza. There was parkour-style play in the abandoned factories (one of which had been a glass factory where Xavi’s mom Dolores had worked as a teen). Sometimes Xavi would walk, with glass milk bottles in hand, to the local dairy with its few bucolically-deprived cows.

Xavi spent some afternoons collecting mulberry leaves to feed his shoebox of silkworms. He and his friends didn’t have baseball or Pokemon cards for trading; they dealt in a currency of cocoons, mini puck-shaped eggs, or the silkworms themselves. Luckily for Xavi, a mulberry tree grew near his family’s apartment, and with a chimney-style move against tree trunk and brick, he could shimmy up onto a wall that separated the street from an old tuberculosis clinic. Thus was Francesc Xavier Fane Vallejos entertained during his younger years in the city.

However, Xavi’s most formative experience occurred at age nine when Isabel, his sister-in-law, took him to her mountaineering club. The Club Muntanyenc Barcelones was housed in a sketchy part of town, off a plaza where drug dealers and gangs congregated. But inside the doors of that era’s iconic alpine club, things were different. It provided a hub for hikers, climbers and explorers of the Pyrenees as well as other mountains of the world…a place where kids and adults could join excursions that took them out of the city and into another reality. Through this club Xavi’s lifelong love of wild places began.

He recounted his first hike with the group. “We got on a train after school and arrived a couple hours later at the foothills of the eastern Pyrenees. We hiked through a lush valley, past an old hermitage, and arrived at a hut in the dark. I can still recall the feeling of wonder I had – cruising, on my own power, through the blackness and arriving at a cozy refuge.”

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Fast forward several years, during which the citizens of Catalunya (Barcelona’s region of Spain) railed against the dictatorship of Francisco Franco. For Xavi, the blissful ignorance of youth had faded, and Barcelona’s true colors became apparent.

Or, more correctly, Barcelona’s lack of color.

“Everything was dark,” Xavi remembered.

“A heaviness weighed on everything and everyone. Even after Franco died in 1975, people were uncertain and confused. There was no color, no light, to everyday life.”

Xavi had two havens amid the gloom.

First, his bohemian parents sent him to an alternative school, where, unlike the staterun schools, the surreptitiously rebellious teachers encouraged the speaking of Catalan (illegal in public schools at the time) as well as a more liberal way of thinking. Second, he had the mountains. There he found the color lacking in the city, both in the landscape and in the people he loved. There was no politics, no religion, no coercion or repression. Just the diverse and rugged Pyrenees, stretching from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic along the Spanish/French border.

Fast forward another couple years. Like many of his peers, Xavi was disenchanted with the establishment. At age 17, he left his

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parents (artisans who worked etching glass and selling it out of a small shop below their apartment), his brother’s family, and his city friends. He headed to the mountains, this time for good.

The Pyrenees hold an amazing network of refugis, backcountry huts where people can spend the night. Some are deluxe, with live-in hutkeepers, comfortable bunks and options of food and wine. Others are bare bones. While involved with the mountaineering club in the city, Xavi found a mentor of sorts, a guy ten years his senior who had traveled the world and collected inspiring stories and climbing experience.

Jaume took him to the hut he cared for, called Certascan, perched above the largest lake in the Pyrenees. For Xavi it was heaven, and he jumped at the chance to take over Jaume’s duties when the hutkeeper left his post. The rustic hut became Xavi’s college dorm, of a sort, and that landscape his university. There he set a course for much of the rest of his life.

Xavi and I have been partners for almost 20 years now, and in that time Certascan achieved mythic proportions in my mind. I envisioned scenes from Xavi’s stories: tales of his bread, cheese and potato existence;

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the days on end with no visitors, spent swimming in the icy lake or climbing the neighboring peaks; the boisterous visits from friends and travelers; the 3,400-foot vertical trips down (and back up…and down…and up) to the village of Tavascan to buy and transport huge pack loads of supplies. That little town, population 90, was the yang to the yin of his hut life. (Think: Friends’ Hut to Crested Butte.) “There were girls, dancing parties, you name it,” reminisced Xavi. “The little towns in the Pyrenees are notoriously not that friendly to outsiders, but they took me in like family.”

On our first visit to Spain together, we visited Tavascan. I think the population is still around 90. Life there still doesn’t move very fast, and change is incremental. We arrived on a blustery spring day and walked up the cobbled street to the hotel that the Colomer family has owned for generations.

Sure enough, hanging out at an outdoor table, surrounded by geranium boxes, were three generations of the family, complete with cousins and spouses. “Xavi!!!” exclaimed Araceli, his partner in crime all those years ago. “Xavi?” asked the grandfather. Within minutes we’d joined the table, beers in hand, with the whole smiling family.

We’ve since been back several times, and it’s always that way. We’re treated like a king and queen, dining in their restaurant, sleeping in their comfortable beds. On our last visit we finally made the pilgrimage to Certascan.

With a polar blast expected, the family in Tavascan worried about us. They pressed us with offers of food, cell phones, warm clothes.

We climbed through old growth forest, past deep alpine lakes and through meadows cloaked in muted hues of autumn. We arrived soaked by a sleeting rain. The hut was closed for the season, but even when closed, most huts have a small, free and open side where weary travelers can rest. We piled on five blankets, ate bread and cheese, and spent a night with the friendly ghosts of Xavi’s past.

There’s much more to tell about how Xavi made his way to Crested Butte and became a professional photographer. That journey included 13 years as the international editor for two Spanish publications: one about mountain biking, the other skiing. When the economy in Spain tanked and the magazines cut back, Xavi decided to pursue his favorite part of the job: photography. Though he still enjoys shooting sports images, he has diversified, and he shoots everything from weddings to landscapes to architecture to portraits and more.

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The Difference is in the details!

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Among it all, his favorite pursuit is capturing the wild essence of this valley that has been his home for almost 30 years.

Within this passion lies another. Since Xavi is often alone on his photographic journeys, he started to relish the challenge of capturing the ultimate “selfies.” These are not your ordinary handheld or stick variety. They involve the hauling of a tripod or two, remote triggers, and a lot of running back and forth to the camera. On our last trip to Barcelona, we watched a rotating conga line of people at Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia cathedral snapping shots against the Gothic masterpiece, selfie-sticks extended as they squinted into the sun. The sight was almost as amazing as the structure itself. Xavi’s solo wilderness selfies are as far from that reality as can be imagined.

Recently another local photographer commented to me: “Xavi must do it for the love and the challenge, because he certainly isn’t selling all those images, is he?”

She’s right. Xavi’s far-flung photographic adventures are good for the soul…maybe not for the mortgage, but what can you do?

I’ve grown accustomed to Xavi’s need to go on quests, to head solo to the high, remote places. His passion is unflagging for the art and for the process it takes to capture his amazing images. “See here how everything…leads up to this day,” sings Jerry Garcia. I couldn’t agree more.

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What’s with the X?

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Some consonants are more confusing than others, and X has to top that list.

Xavier makes sense, but drop the ‘er’ and confusion ensues. A quick Catalan primer: ‘x’ is pronounced ‘ch’; ‘a’ is often pronounced ‘ah’; and ‘v’ can sound like a ‘b’. So Xavi ends up being somewhat like ‘Chevy.’ (Some have thought his name was ‘Chubby’; perhaps he was larger as a child?) This is important phonetic information if you travel to Barcelona, so you’ll know to bring your sweet tooth to the store that says ‘xocolat.’

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By Cara Guerrieri

Honking your way through a cattle drive is never a good idea, a lesson the engineer of the Crested Butte-to-Gunnison coal train learned the hard way back in 1943.

That year, as they had every year from the early 1900s, local ranchers brought two thousand head of Hereford cattle off the Red Mountain range, herding them north on Highway 135 toward ranges in Gothic, Washington Gulch, Brush Creek and the Slate River Valley.

The group of ranchers, called the East Side Cattlemen’s Association, met at dawn each day for 14 days, gathered their cattle off the high meadows and rugged streambeds of Red Mountain and herded them in bunches of two to three hundred toward what they called the Tin House Cow Camp, on a high south-facing bench on the mountain.

There the cowboys “cut” the cattle — the process of sorting cows into mother-calf pairs (easier said than done). After the cutting, cowboys would start each bunch on the long two-day journey to the high ranges above Crested Butte.

Crested Butte cattle drive in the 1930s, from the Lee Spann family archive.

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Cow camp on the Volk property just north of Crested Butte, 1989; cattle stayed here overnight before the drive continued at daybreak.

Sandra Cortner

Upwards of twenty cowboys and a dozen or more blue-heeler cow dogs worked in teams. “They were long, long days,” said Lee Spann, a local rancher who participated in those cattle drives. “We’d be in the saddle from dawn to dark for days on end. Many of the cowboys, especially the guys doing the sorting, would start the day with two horses.

With two weeks straight of riding ahead, you had to preserve your horse flesh.”

Phyllis Spann Guerrieri, Lee’s cousin, also remembers those days. Her dad, Aubrey, would come home “bone tired, and our little dog Sandy would be so sore-footed she could barely walk. Us little girls would cry, thinking she was hurt.”

When Phyllis and her sisters got older, they rode in the big cattle drives, too.

“It wasn’t glamorous,” she recalled, “and sometimes it was downright dangerous.”

Phyllis recounted a day at the top of Red Mountain when the electrical charges from an approaching lightning storm caused all the horses’ hair to start twinkling with sparks. “It was so pretty us kids thought it was wonderful, but my Uncle Virgil hollered at us — ‘Run! Get outta here! Run downhill 86

as fast as you can and leave the damn cattle behind.’ Lucky for us, we left the lightning behind, too.”

Phyllis and Lee both remember there was a four o’clock deadline for starting the cattle off Red Mountain toward Highway 135 each day to get the herd to Crested Butte by dark. Four o’clock also happened to be the time the Denver and Rio Grande (D&RG) coal train left Crested Butte, headed south for Gunnison, ensuring that the cattle drive and the train passed each other near the old Glacier School House where the tracks and the road ran close together.

“Cars were not a worry back then,” Lee said. “If we met five cars between the Cement Creek road and Crested Butte, that would’ve been a whole lot. There were so few cars that when we got to Crested Butte, where we rested the cattle overnight, if any cows weren’t paired to the right calf, we’d just turn them out onto the highway knowing they’d find their way back where they’d come from and pair up eventually. We didn’t have to worry about them being hit on the road. But the train…well, most of the time the train went nice and easy, cluckety

cluckety, past the cattle, but if the engineer got impatient and blew his steam whistle, cattle would turn tail and scatter.”

The whistle-blowing didn’t happen often, but one day a D&RG engineer named Braswell pulled that steam horn long and loud, and “all hell broke loose,” Lee said.

Cows and calves hightailed it toward Gunnison. “Every cowboy raced to get ahead of the stampeding herd. Every cowboy, that is, except one. That cowboy went after the train.”

Riding his black gelding horse named Bumbo, Aubrey Spann galloped toward the locomotive. Not only was the train steaming but Aubrey was, too. By the time he and Bumbo caught up to the slowed locomotive, Aubrey had some choice words for Braswell about blowing a whistle at a bunch of cows.

As Bumbo trotted along keeping pace with the train, Braswell’s response must have not been contrite enough for Aubrey’s mood on that tired day. For the first and only time in his life, Aubrey communicated with his fist, reaching through the train window and popping Braswell in the nose.

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also everyone who knew Aubrey as the mild-mannered man who wrote the weekly agriculture column for the Gunnison newspaper and was as comfortable with a gavel at the local Masonic Lodge as he was with a rope or shovel on the ranch. “It’s the only time I ever heard of my dad hitting anyone,” Phyllis said. “So you can imagine how mad he was.”

Lee chuckled as he recalled the story.

“You can bet that Braswell fellow never blew his horn again near a bunch of cattle, and word of Uncle Aubrey’s right hook must’ve travelled among the Crested Butte engineers, too, because we never had any more trouble with the trains.”

Aubrey’s message to the engineers, however, soon became obsolete. In the spring of 1953, the very last train from Crested Butte made its way down the valley.

Also by that time two of the biggest cattle ranches in the cattlemen’s association, the Trampes’ and the Allens’ (both of whom still ranch in the valley), had split off from the group and began leasing individual ranges.

When the remaining cattlemen met for the July cattle drive from Red Mountain, the

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Audrey, Phyllis, Aubrey and Gerrie Lou Spann, circa 1944.

herd was fifty percent smaller, tallying about a thousand head. Later that fall, the roundup from the ranges above Crested Butte was a diminished affair, as was the big Gothic “Beef Ride” — when ranchers sorted out the beef for market from the breeding cattle to keep.

Tony Stefanic, the owner of the historic Stefanic’s Store on Elk Avenue, usually showed up to the Beef Ride to buy a critter so he could sell fresh meat at the store, but that practice would soon be over as well.

Six years later the Forest Service cut the range herd by another ten percent, a reflection of Gunnison County’s slow decline in the cattle industry. In the last six decades, the number of cattle in the county has gone down by half and the East Side Cattlemen’s Association, which once included nearly twenty ranchers, was disbanded years ago.

Ranching still pumps approximately $46 million into the Gunnison Valley economy, and a few ranchers still drive cattle down Highway 135. You might drive through them as you hurry to and from Crested Butte, but the number in the herd will be about ten times smaller than the waves of cattle on the same route in former times. Nevertheless, you’ll be forced to slow down, and as you worry about being late to wherever you’re going, know that the scene you witness is an iconic bit of American history. Take some time to look around at the open fields along the roadway and know that the irrigating skills of those cowboys behind the herd keep the meadows green.

And when you grow irritated with the lumbering bovine, you’d best remember the lesson of old engineer Braswell. Don’t honk your horn.

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In the early 1990s, Doug Bradbury brought suspension technology to mountain biking. Today, even in retirement, he hasn’t lost his love for the bicycle.

By Dawne Belloise

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Dawne Belloise

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Doug Bradbury has been on wheels since he was able to reach the pedals. From his sleek Stingray bicycle as a kid in 1956, to building the first downhill skateboard in 1960 and putting a Briggs & Stratton lawn mower engine on a Schwinn Cruiser the following year, his love progressed along a natural path to his first motorcycle in 1965, a Honda 90. Doug’s passion for the mechanical evolved into motocross and desert racing as he got older; he spent his teens and early twenties competing in off-road racing, which scored him compound fractures in arms and legs as well as some lost teeth.

He moved on to observed trials, which is, Doug explained, “like golf on a motorcycle. It’s scored like golf so the lower score wins.

There’s no speed involved, but you try to get through a very difficult short section of a course without putting your feet down. It’s balance and finesse. The sport is very obscure here, but Europeans love it.”

For two years in the mid 1970s, Doug traveled on the Observed Trials National Circuit with top-ten placing.

Doug grew up in southern California, but in the early 1980s, tired of the traffic and pollution, he moved to Manitou Springs, at the foot of Pikes Peak. He was in his mid-twenties, and mountain bikes were just catching on. “I was just getting out of motorcycles and picked up the bug for riding mountain bikes. What I found was that mountain bikes were just like motorcycles, but without motors. I was the motor and I wasn’t nearly as good,” he joked.

His mental gears started turning as he pondered the inefficiency of those early mountain bikes. “The bikes at the time didn’t work well at all, not like how I expected my motorcycle to work over the same terrain. I had a knack for seeing what the difference was, so I started building frames. It was one of those seat-of-my-pants deals; I learned everything through experience, trial and error, and from my years on motorcycles. I knew what I wanted the bicycle to do, and so I was able to build the bike frame to do exactly that.”

First Doug bought a metal lathe, which enabled him to create the structural shapes he envisioned. He was so inexperienced with that type of machinery, he had to call the guy he bought the lathe from to ask how to turn it on. He then purchased a welder and a howto book, teaching himself the craft. Back then, material for bicycle components was geared toward road and commuter bikes. Doug used aluminum tubing in a larger diameter but with thinner walls. The resulting components were light and stiff, and he found that allowed for unconstrained dimensions. “With aluminum, I could do anything I wanted with the geometry and create a bike frame that handled correctly.”

His experience with motorcycles led him to question why mountain bikes didn’t utilize suspension systems. In 1990, Doug developed the first front suspension forks for cycling, designing all the prototypes and then the production for both front and rear suspension. After registering the patents and trademarking his product under the name Manitou, he sold the design, patent and trademarks to Answer Products, a company out of Los Angeles. The deal included royalties for five models of suspension forks, three versions of the hard tail and two versions of the full suspension frame. Doug proclaimed, “That was the goose’s golden egg. I took the money and ran.” Several years later, feeling it was time to move on, he sold those royalties as well and retired to enjoy the payoff from that golden egg.

Doug confessed that he’d always viewed work as a necessary evil to support the rest of his life. He’d first visited Crested Butte during 92

Doug Bradbury working on trails – and then playing on them.

the 1970s and returned often to ride the Taylor Park and Crested Butte trails. He enjoyed the riding and the valley so thoroughly that he bought a house in town in 1992, finally moving here full time in 1999.

In 2002, Doug met Sally Johnson, who coowned and operated the Cucina restaurant, and they married in 2008.

“Even though I was retired, I’m not one to sit around,” Doug said, explaining his involvement with the Crested Butte Mountain Bike Association (CBMBA). “I’d been doing things with CBMBA, the oldest mountain bike club in the world, since the early ‘80s, building and working on trails. We put in Lower Loop, Upper Loop, Tony’s Trail, Whetstone Vista and worked on all the different trails in the area. We improved historic trails like 401 and Deer Creek, which are the old Civilian Conservation Corps courses, old stock highways for cattle and livestock that go back to the 1930s.”

Doug spent much of his summers working with CBMBA, but always finding time for mountain biking. “A lot of time my rides incorporate riding out to work on the trails,” he explained. This past decade, Doug amped up his involvement, helping to design the Lupine System 1 and 2 and the Gunsight Connector.

“It’s just really fun. You have this huge canvas and palette, and you can draw what you want on it,” he said. “To me, that’s just as rewarding as designing the bike to be ridden down the trail.”

The Gunsight Connector links the Lupine trails with the Lower Loop systems.

Doug worked out the designs, planning the track and terrain flow of the trails. He also designed and welded the trail’s metal rollovers, devices that allow the singletrack rider to bypass a fence while keeping the cattle contained in their grazing range.

Doug also worked on the Baxter Gulch trail just south of town. “I’ve been basically the foreman on that project for CBMBA, laying out the trail and keeping it going. It goes from just beyond PAWS, where the new town campground will be built, to where it wraps around the hill and goes all the way back up that valley to the Carbon Creek trail.”

Currently, the Green Lake trail connects into Carbon Creek and Ohio Pass. Baxter Gulch will eventually connect to the Carbon Creek trail, and from there riders will be able to access the Green Lake trail or Ohio Pass.

“That’s the big project we’re trying to finish up, working with the town and the U.S. Forest Service. If we’re lucky, we’ll have the trail

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roughed in before the snow flies this winter.”

Doug and Sally spend the majority of their time in Crested Butte, with winter trips visiting his family in the west Los Angeles area of Venice Beach and then heading farther west to Maui. “As soon as the snow flies here, I’m out. I return when it melts. I used to ski but the cold weather and I are not getting along like we used to. It’s because of my lizard blood, growing up in the desert and on the beaches.”

He smiled broadly. “And actually, there’s really good mountain biking in Maui. You ride through seven different ecosystems, from sea level to 12,000 feet elevation. There are trails everywhere, and they’re really nice trails.”

But there’s no place in the world better than Crested Butte in the summer, he added.

“I’ve traveled all over, and nowhere comes close. It’s just staggering here in the summer.”

From early May through Thanksgiving, you’ll find Doug on Crested Butte’s trails.

“I can remember so many times riding my bike up Columbine, wearing shorts, and there are people in their down coats, ear muffs and gloves riding down the white strip of death on the slope. Consequently, once the big snowstorm hits and closes everything, I’m gone.”

The only thing that might lure Doug back in the winter is the burgeoning new sport of fat biking, which brings bicycling to the snow.

Dave Ochs, executive director of CBMBA and Doug’s “partner in crime,” is recruiting Doug to work on the grooming equipment and trail grooming for the Fat Bike World Championships, a Crested Butte original created two years ago. At Dave’s request, Doug returned for the 2017 championships in January.

“I’ve actually built a couple of fat bikes, and if you don’t mind the cold then it’s a great sport,” Doug said, adding with a hint of pride, “We’re the home of the Fat Bike World Championships, and people came from all over the world – Europe, Australia, everywhere.”

These days, the 1994 Mountain Bike Hall of Fame inductee builds bikes for himself and his family.

“I still build my own frames, design, machine and weld. I enjoy using aluminum because it works really well and I can still build a lighter frame than carbon fiber.”

“Retirement” to Doug will continue to involve working on trail projects throughout the county. “It keeps me outside and busy, and the whole reason I like being in Crested Butte is to be outside on the trails. It’s a win-win for everybody.”

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By George Sibley / Artwork by Susan Anderton

In 2016, Colorado Creative Industries – formerly the Colorado Council on the Arts – officially designated Crested Butte as a Colorado Creative District. As one who has been hanging out in upper Gunnison valleys for the past half century, I can only say – it’s about time that became official.

The end goal of the Colorado Creative District program is sustainable homegrown economic development, through nurturing internal cultural resources. Unlike the conventional perception of economic development, which anticipates that a town might have to sell its soul or at least part of its tax base to bring in businesses (‘light industry!’) for new growth, the CCI’s Creative District concept envisions a “bootstrap” local process of development in three areas: creating hubs and clusters of economic activity anchored by arts and cultural activity; promoting the community’s unique identity; and generally celebrating the community as an appealing place to visit, live and conduct business. Sixteen Colorado Creative Districts have been designated, ranging from small towns like Crested Butte to large urban neighborhoods like the art district on south Santa Fe Avenue in metro Denver.

Crested Butte’s Creative District initiative is not so much about creating new art and culture as it is bringing together under one umbrella the many creative things that have been going on in Crested Butte for some time, and celebrating their cumulative economic impacts. You can follow this on the evolving Creative District website, www.cbcreativedistrict.org.

But my purpose here is historical, to point out that this kind of effort became part of Crested Butte’s character 50 years ago when the community created the Crested Butte Society, an umbrella organization whose goals were virtually identical to those for CCI Creative Districts.

In 1967, Crested Butte had what might have been called “a diversified near-economy.” A not-quite economy. The mining heritage was still hanging on, with American Smelting and Refining Corporation trying to find a good vein in the old Keystone Mine on Mt. Emmons; and the Crested Butte Ski 101

Area had emerged from bankruptcy in 1966 and was operating on the town’s other mountain. There was a fair amount of random tourism and some lodges and restaurants to serve it.

There were also three anomalous summer entities that didn’t fit conventional economic models but did have economic benefits.

Crested Butte hosted Dr. Hubert Winston Smith’s Law-Science Academy, a month-long gathering of lawyers and medical professionals pursuing two ideas: one, that there should be more science and less pathos in courtroom testimony involving medical matters; and two, that Crested Butte was a cool place to be in the summer for Midwesterners who liked the mountains – mornings working, afternoons playing. Up in Gothic, the Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory since the late 1920s had been attracting a growing number of “bugologists,” also committed to natural science in the midst of great scenery. And down in a Cement Creek campground, University of Kentucky geology professors had been bringing students on summer pilgrimages since the late 1940s. The scientists, doctors and lawyers all patronized the town’s restaurants and stores, some groups more committed to “buying local” than most of the locals.

So it was an incipient economy, a few erratic and idiosyncratic moving parts but nothing really solid and stable – and all of it dependent on decisions made in Kansas, Texas, Kentucky or other places “out there.”

That’s what I stumbled into in 1966, looking for work and lucking into a job on the Ski Patrol – mostly because locals didn’t want to work for the ski area due to irregular payment during the bankruptcy. But the ski area stabilized on a very tight budget in 1966-67 (we patrollers had to buy our own patrol jackets), and having fallen in love with a beautiful town as disorganized and down-and-out as I’d been feeling, I came back for a second year in 1967 after leaving for a summer construction job.

I returned to a town in ferment – not too surprising given that the whole nation was in ferment in 1967: the Summer of Love, growing opposition to an enlarging Vietnam war, generational skirmishes escalating over drugs and hair lengths, et cetera. Some of that came home to Crested Butte. A handful of longhaired Western students of both sexes moved to town to escape the still-dominant cowboy culture of Gunnison; and the retired miners, hunched over their half-a-dozen afternoon dime beers, groused about the presence of drugs, but found that balanced by the presence of lovely young females.

Most of the local ferment, however, was focused on the future of the town, and a growing sense that the townspeople should take a more active role in developing the town they wanted, rather than passively waiting for things to drift their way. There seemed to be meetings practically every night, in bars and living rooms, kicking around ideas about chamber-of-commerce-type organizations, or hiring a more aggressive cop to discourage the hippies who might drag down property values, or the hippies talking about a Coal Creek Pig Farm Cooperative that would have nothing to do with pigs but expressed vague purple-hazed interest in a music festival.

The idea that finally took hold stemmed from a serendipitous happening that summer. An art professor from the University of Kansas with a van full of art students had found his way to Crested Butte, and they stopped at the gift shop cum home of Gene Martin, a retired Marine officer who made jewelry. He offered the class the use of his back deck with its Elk Range vista, and they decided to stay another couple of days. Martin sent them to lodge with Carroll Morgenson, a gruff conservative Kansan converting the old CF&I boardinghouse into the Elk Mountain Lodge.

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Gene Martin, one of the founders of the Crested Butte Society in the late ‘60s.

Martin, an enthusiastic town booster, talked with the UK professor about bringing a whole workshop from the university to Crested Butte the following summer; his enthusiasm was contagious and a tentative plan was sketched out, with Morgenson participating. After the class was gone, Martin and Morgenson got together with Western State business professor Art Norris, who was living in Crested Butte (his wife Bea running a small restaurant), and the three of them drew the sketch larger and conceived “the Crested Butte Society.”

Their intent was to encompass as much of that fall’s ferment as possible in a single organization. Because the town already had artists and counterculturalists like me filtering in, looking for a place that wasn’t like the America they came from, the arts seemed like a logical economic focus. The history and funky beauty of the town itself seemed like another good focus. So they pulled together a board with a balance of town natives, like postmaster Rudy Verzuh for “memberships” (since he could put the arm on everybody that came for their mail) or plumber Willard Ruggera for “buildings,” and newcomers like Martin, Morgenson and Norris.

They needed a place where the university workshop could meet – and Martin believed that every art department in the country would eventually want to come to what some already envisioned as the Summer University of the Rockies. So they approached the school district, which just that fall was moving Crested Butte’s high school students down to Gunnison.

The school administration was happy to lease them, for a dollar a year, the old Rock Schoolhouse, which had been abandoned for years, and also summer use of rooms in the yellow-brick school (now the Town Hall) for ten percent of the take. The Crested Butte Society was formally organized as a nonprofit to sign that contract, and Crested Butte had a “Convention Center.”

The first task the barely organized Society undertook was to reverse the deterioration of the Rock Schoolhouse by installing a new tin roof. That project began with a community work session on a brilliant October day – a day I still treasure as a cornerstone in my belief that humans are basically okay when positively inspired.

All the hippies showed up with enthusiasm and even a hammer or two, and a lot of Crested Butte natives showed up to make sure the hippies and other newcomers didn’t accidentally destroy the beloved old building.

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Nobody fell off the roof, and around midday some lovely young women in granny dresses lugged a big pot of something very healthy to the group. Some work actually got done, although the next summer the Society, with membership money trickling in, hired a carpenter to finish the roof and correct any mistakes.

The Society’s plan for the Rock Schoolhouse was indicative of its mission, and it checked off all three of the presentday requirements for a Creative District: the downstairs would celebrate the town’s heritage with a museum; the upstairs would nurture cultural and economic development with workshops for the Summer University; and putting a derelict building back in economic and cultural use improved the town as a place to visit, live and do business.

The Society’s first year, as reviewed at the first annual meeting in February 1969, reflected the original desire to create an umbrella to further as much of the communities’ stirrings as possible. They had hosted a University of Kansas pottery workshop, whose leaders wanted to return, and Martin had also lined up a 1969 sculpture workshop from Northern Colorado University. Dr. Smith had decided to rent the Convention Center for his 1969 LawScience Academy. The Society had contracted for a town bulletin board with a couple of resident hippies (one of whom became a town councilman a couple years later); and it had cosigned a business loan (soon paid back) enabling a young weaver to purchase her loom. In that year, 114 full- and part-time residents had joined the Society, bringing in enough money to start work on the Rock Schoolhouse interior.

In its subsequent early years, the Society hosted several summer workshops and the Law-Science Academy until Dr. Smith’s death in 1971, supported the first Arts Festival in 1971 and the first Mountain Theatre productions in 1972, developed the Town Museum during the mid-1970s, and advocated for the creation of the town’s Historic District designation. The Society was the first local owner of the Depot building, a gift from Ralph Clark, Jr. and his wife Billie, who supported much Society work.

There were problems, mainly financial; with no money for staff, the board carried out tasks like driving a truck to Marble to scrounge the marble riprap along the Crystal River for a sculpture workshop. There was burnout; a lot of people moved through the Society board in its first decade.

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Annual meeting of the Crested Butte Society in the late 1960s: Carroll Morgenson, Barbara Kotz, Helen Morgan and Gene Martin.

As time passed and people came and went, the Crested Butte Society gradually disappeared from the community consciousness, although it continued to run the Arts Festival and the Depot until the Town took over the latter around 2007 and the Society disbanded.

What was most important about the Crested Butte Society was what continues to be most important today about the (finally) official Creative District designation. It gave the town a new way of looking at itself: This is a creative place looking for creative people; come re-create yourself and your world. That perception about the place inspired me to naively fire up the Crested Butte Chronicle in 1968 and get into journalism (maybe I should say “creative nonfiction�). In addition to the things already mentioned, that attitude has since inspired things as diverse as the radio station, a dozen local festivals, the Public Policy Forum, the Crested Butte Music Festival, and heaven knows how many interesting businesses.

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Silver Ridge

By Sandy Fails

Crested Butte’s creative identity, inspired decades ago by the Crested Butte Society, has been nurtured for the last 30 years by the Center for the Arts. This spring, the Center took another step forward, breaking ground on an expanded campus for the performing, culinary and visual arts.

In the mid 1980s, the expanded community rallied and raised money to convert a county maintenance garage into the Center for the Arts building. The Crested Butte Mountain Theatre and Crested Butte School of Dance found homes there, and the Center also brought in outside performers. Since the Center opened its doors in late 1987, the number of performances and educational programs has grown hugely, and audiences often fill it to capacity. Eight local art-related groups, ranging from dance to film, now use the Center as a primary facility.

Now Alpenglow free outdoor concerts fill the field south of the Center with dancing, picnicking revelers each Monday of the summer season. The school, Public Policy Forum, Crested Butte Film Festival and other community groups hold events in the Center.

Professional entertainment has grown in abundance and quality.

In its first year, the Center’s total audience tallied less than 8,000 people. In 2016, the Center served 47,209 patrons.

Beyond drawing ever-larger audiences, the Center also fosters participation in creative endeavors. The Art Studio of the Center for the Arts holds classes, workshops, retreats, receptions and relaxed artistic explorations. The Piper Gallery exhibits local visual artists throughout the summer and winter.

In its three decades, the Center has seen a generation of young people grow up, from toddlers to young adults, budding artists to accomplished ones. The Center also anchored the campaign in recent years to earn Creative District designation for Crested Butte.

“The Center gives a place for the whole community to come together to celebrate the arts,” said Executive Director Jenny Birnie.

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“That was the original vision – to encourage and nurture the arts. So many presenters and nonprofits use the Center now; the arts are very strong here. That’s everybody’s success.

With greater participation and bigger audiences, the Center has outgrown its building, and a few years ago the board began studying possible expansion ideas. Last fall Crested Butte’s Board of Zoning and Architectural Review approved the design for a new campus, which incorporates a remodeled version of the existing structure.

The design includes flexible seating for 300-330, a dance floor and balcony, a new outdoor stage, four art studios, a new visual arts gallery, a kitchen for culinary classes and catering, and state-of-theart lighting, sound and visual technology.

The Center board and staff work closely with proponents of the Biery-Witt Center proposed for Mt. Crested Butte. That facility will host larger conferences, performances such as the Crested Butte Music Festival’s operas and big-name concerts, and events like weddings, while the Center for the Arts will focus on its role as a community arts center.

To fund its expansion, the Center is continuing its “Building in the heARTS of Crested Butte” capital campaign, and more than 250 donors have contributed so far. As of April, the Center had raised $8.1 million of the $12.6 million budgeted for the project. The Town of Crested Butte agreed to set aside funds to cover possible timing gaps between construction costs and donor pledges.

Construction on the new Center will be phased to ensure the community is never without space to meet ongoing needs.

“Keeping in mind the importance of this building to the community, our construction plans have always included keeping the lights on,” Birnie said. After the new section is ready to use, the existing building will be renovated, followed by a new outdoor stage.

Birnie hopes the new construction will be completed by July 2018 and the entire project finished by July 2019.

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Gregory Pettys, third from right, with students in Nepal (above) and with friend John Bukaty in the Elk Mountains.

Holding the bar

HIGH

As this guide/educator travels a troubled world, Crested Butte remains his home and his hope.

By Gregory Pettys

Like many Buttians, I lead a transient existence.

I was inspired years ago by the stories I read in the Chronicle & Pilot of local resident Jean Pavillard’s summit of Mt. Everest and by conversations with my employer Pemba Sherpa and his family about a magical valley between India and Tibet. I was too shy back then to strike up a conversation with Blake, owner of Mabuhay, the Elk Avenue store full of imported treasures, but I eavesdropped on his colorful tales of places with names I still struggle to pronounce.

Because of those inspirations, I have over the years crafted a career that has me traveling abroad more often than not. I live part

time on an organic farm in northern Thailand, part time here in Crested Butte, and the rest of the time everywhere from Nicaragua to Fiji, New Zealand to Myanmar, Cambodia to Costa Rica.

Some might recall that President Obama’s eldest daughter recently took a pre-college “gap-year.” This typically is an accredited college semester spent in a foreign country where virtually all modern conveniences are left at home, access to social media is greatly limited, and one is immersed in the daily life of another culture. That often means learning a new language, living in homes made of natural materials, and using one’s hands to partake in 111

activities that once defined us as humans: spinning wool, making music, planting seeds, cooking, weaving, etc. I have the immense pleasure of acting as the guide/ teacher/cultural liaison on such journeys, and it allows me to travel far from our pristine and sheltered snow globe into what some call, for better or worse, “the real world.”

It goes without saying that Crested Butte is special. In the upper Gunnison Valley we are able to drink pure water from alpine springs. We frequently experience the humbling magic offered by an encounter with wildlife. Rarely do we hear of any significant act of violence here. If we opt to not read news headlines or listen to Democracy Now! on KBUT, it’s possible to believe life is a series of fresh-powder ski turns on a bluebird day.

From my first day as a freshman at Western State Colorado University in Gunnison until I signed on as an educator for the Boulderbased organization Where There Be Dragons, that’s what life was for me. As the old saying goes, ignorance is bliss….

As most of us are all too aware, life isn’t so “stellar” (to use local lingo) for most people who share this planet with us. Where I work in Nepal, increasing numbers of

young men leave their country to find work in far-off places so they can afford to buy things they don’t need in order to keep up with an imported status quo. Due to high levels of pollution throughout the valley where my students and I live and study, it’s imperative to wear a mask whenever we leave our homes. On the last three Kathmandu valley rim treks I’ve led, where once we could see the impressive Himalaya in the distance, we saw only a putrid haze.

This is the consequence of unregulated development and a mythology that values consumerism over what was once considered sacred. In the highest mountain range in the world, few dare drink the water. The land herself is increasingly toxic. Girls as young as 13 are sold into prostitution, and the government is so corrupt that it even pockets greatly needed aid money.

I often sit perplexed, heartbroken and unclear of how to implement a bridge between the contrasting pictures in my mind. I see joyous images of half the population of Crested Butte gathering to raise awareness regarding women’s rights — as I wander throughout Asia with young female students smacking the hands of perverse men whose cultures have told them

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it’s okay to simply grab a girl as one pleases.

The women have been trained to not speak out. As a man, I’m ashamed by how we as a gender allow ourselves to behave. Tears fall often.

In some places where we travel, if women gathered as they did for the January women’s march in Crested Butte, blood would be shed. If a woman spoke openly about sexual liberation, or openly admitted she had been raped, or worse yet, pointed out who did the crime, she would likely be imprisoned or even killed.

I find needed inspiration from my admittedly privileged hometown of Crested Butte. In this so-called “post truth” era, where verified facts are up for debate and the very idea of human rights seems to be in question even in the United States, Crested Butte, with all her struggles, sets the bar high on moral decency, the rights of women, immigrants and the land.

I often share stories of our success with my students. They, in turn, often travel to Crested Butte post-semester to experience it first hand, volunteering for such local groups as Mountain Roots, a collective that educates the community about all things food related. Here the students get to explore

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a positive alternative to what they all too often see in their own homes and the places where we venture overseas.

Many of the struggles we encounter on our trips find their causes rooted in American soil, usually because of the weighty pressure economic globalization presents. What many abroad refer to as “the ugly American” is far more common than we’d like to admit. But we can find reassurance in Crested Butte, blossoming forth from the vigilant efforts of organizations like the High Country Conservation Advocates (HCCA), which tirelessly works to preserve our pristine wilderness. We are a community that strives to put our money and time where our mouths are.

From my travels around the world, I know this is not always seen. I’m beyond proud to call Crested Butte home. And I thank all of you who continue to speak courageously on behalf of these mountains and sacred waters, for the animals and trees, for woman everywhere, and for our global brothers and sisters who don’t have the same privileges we do. I assure you, your influence is spreading far beyond the snowcapped peaks of our little home. #resist

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The making of a

COWGIRL

By Polly Oberosler

Standing in line at the coffee shop several years ago, I felt a tug on my sleeve and looked down to see a wide-eyed five-year-old boy looking up at me. He bluntly and confidently asked, “Are you a real cowgirl?” The lad caught me so flat-footed as I stood in my heeled riding boots, I could only reply hesitantly, “Well, I guess so; sort of, anyway.” It seemed that was good enough for him, but his inquiry jarred me some, and I began to ponder his question: Was I a cowgirl?

I’d never dwelled on what constitutes a cowgirl, and frankly I kind of rejected the term. Dale Evans, after all, was a “cowgirl,” and the skirts and sparkly blouses she wore were not a bit practical, to my mind; horses go with dirt, not frill and cleanliness. I did a little reading

on the matter and found an array of women in history with seemingly nothing in common other than a horse and Western lifestyle and all were dubbed cowgirls. Some were outlaws, others ranching wives, and still others were free-spirited ladies of both the day and the night. Few worked the big ranches or hit the high trails, and many rode sidesaddles to enable them to travel in their dresses. Certainly, some pulled up their bootstraps and swung a leg over to ride off into the sunset, but for most women, horses were a matter of utility, not adventure.

The “cowboys,” as they were called, were the very young, daring men who escorted the great herds of cattle north from Texas to meet the trans-continental railroad in Kansas. With good water and grass 115

Less glam, more grit: horsewoman Polly Oberosler.

located along certain routes, the infamous trails were named for their original users — Chisholm, Goodnight and the like — and were followed for decades by hundreds of thousands of cattle and a comparatively small handful of men brave enough to swim the swollen rivers and calloused enough to sit their saddles ten to 16 hours a day. Most were barely in their teens and many were black slaves either escaped or newly freed.

The cowboys were revered and have been immortalized in song, prose and films for more than 150 years. Few women were part of those drives, and if they were, they were disguised as men. Hollywood portrays women of that era certainly as tough and savvy, but rarely on a horse.

At the time that young boy quizzed me in the coffee shop, I was packing for the United States Forest Service (USFS) as a Wilderness Ranger in the West Elk Wilderness. It was a job I held officially for three years and volunteered for nearly twenty more. It was not a job a woman would typically take, but like some of my female 116

predecessors and some of my modern peers, I was game. In fact, it was tailored for me, for I’d always dreamed of riding the high ridges with the wind at my back and the sun in my face and winding through the forest on single threads of earth bordered by wild roses and the smell of pine. I always wanted to be a cowboy like my dad and clunked around in his boots as soon as I could walk.

“You aren’t afraid to stay out for a few nights?” my USFS supervisor asked in my first interview. I replied that I felt fine doing that. Little did I know that two supervisors later, I would be living in the woods for most of the summer and packing out 2,000 pounds of trash in three months’ time. I had no way of knowing that I would be living with bears, elk and my dogs and sleeping peacefully amid the casual stomping of the livestock off and on all night. The job took perseverance and guts I was not sure I had, but out of my past came a grit that I imagine the few early cowgirls summoned when they needed it.

The making of a cowgirl first requires a horse, and all my dad had left after he hung

up his spurs was one old gray mare and a donkey he took care of. My personal cowgirl lifestyle started via that little donkey named Kay, whom Dad would catch and bridle for my brother and me, then turn us loose for a couple of hours. Kay was stubborn, and you had to out-think her to get her to do what you wanted. Sometimes it worked out, but often not so much.

I was five or six years old and my brother three, so we lacked elevation enough to get on Kay’s back. With me trying to lead her and my brother pushing, we would work her to a rock or porch where we could be at eye level with her. I would climb onto the rock and just as I was about to swing my leg over her back, she would shift her rear end sideways until she was staring at me. That was not her first rodeo, and her list of tricks was mighty long. We came to learn that if we positioned my brother on her “off side,” where he could push on her ribs, I could get aboard the “on side.” Then came the problem of getting my brother on; there was no one to keep her from shifting sideways away from his position on

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the rock. Eventually I learned if I stiffened my foot for him to grab, he could crawl up my leg until we were both aboard.

There we were, astride our trusty steed, and there she stood. I tried clicking her up with my tongue, kicking more forcefully with my short legs and slapping her with the reins… but nothing doing; she held to her convictions, whatever they were. Since we had developed a system to remount, my brother would slide off, get a small stick and hand it to me, then I’d haul him back on. Kay respected the stick, and we managed a few steps every time I tapped her with it. The whole affair was at least two solid hours of entertainment and we never left the yard. Looking back on it, I’d say if we covered a hundred yards in that two hours, we considered it a triumphant day.

Women are, by a large margin over men, smitten by horses, something all of us understand as fact. None of us knows why, but the eye of the horse pulls at your soul. As I grew up I eventually got my own horse and spent hours and hours riding up every draw, mountain or old trail around Almont. I dreamed of owning a horse trailer so I could ride in new places, and I pored over Western Horsemen magazines, eyeing the saddles advertised there. Before I had my own trusty steed, I hung out at the local stables more hours than I can count. I eventually ended up taking guests for hourly rides, where I found my gift of gab answering questions and offering up local history at the age of ten or so. Over the years, I worked for outfitters, ran some stables, irrigated and cut hay, and worked cattle some…anything I could do to tie me to the land and afford me some riding time.

I was without a horse the sum of four years out of fifty.

I still reject the term “cowgirl” in favor of “horse woman” because I can’t get that Dale Evans rhinestone skirt out of my mind.

I prefer practicality over social airs, and I’m forever in my blue jeans and boots. My rides are shorter now and I try to pick the better weather days, unlike my time in the West Elks when often the rain was dripping down the inside of my hat brim, but I am a horse woman to my core. My mother always told me I was just like my grandfather, who bought and sold horses as well as owning three ranches in his life. Many say I’m a lot like my dad in personality. Either way, the fabric is in my genes, and that is how a cowgirl is made.

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Peter Bridges and dog Seumas in the Dolomites, 1968.

Forests, meadows,

MOUNTAINS

By Peter Bridges

Notes from eight decades of memories outside.

Henry David Thoreau told an audience in Concord in 1851, “I believe in the forest, and in the meadow….all good things are wild and free.” I agree with the forest and meadow part, but most of us think that civilization, which by definition is not wild, does have its good parts, although I myself have never much liked living in a metropolis or working in bureaucracies. What saved me, I think, during decades when I was a denizen of big cities and big offices, was that I had learned as a boy to love forests and meadows and, later, the mountains. To me the epitome of beauty is a sunny day in the aspens that have turned to gold in September, on the trail from Ohio Creek to Swampy Pass or the trail from Horse Ranch Park toward the Raggeds Wilderness. I treasure, too, memories of sparkling winter days, skiing out Mike’s Mile or the road to Gothic, or snowshoeing

through quiet snowy woods toward Green Lake.

I began to learn and love the woods long before I first came here to Crested Butte. I went to summer camp when I was ten, in northern Wisconsin. The crux of the month was the canoe trip.

A dozen and a half of us campers, half a dozen counselors, and half a dozen canoes went in rented trucks to a put-in point on the Wisconsin River, which was there just a hundred yards wide. We paddled downstream several miles to a campground and spent the night, after the counselors cooked us dinner and told us ghost stories about the North Woods.

They roused us at dawn, and after scrambled eggs and charred toast we set off down the river. As sunrise came on, mist rose from the cold flowing water. A lagoon opened on our right. There I saw, as 121

John Holder

she waded slowly through shallows in the mist, a small brown doe.

I stopped paddling and looked at her as we floated by. She stopped, too, and looked at us; at me. In a half-minute she was gone. But she remains always in my mind, pure beauty: my first wild creature.

At 12, I joined the Boy Scouts in Chicago, began to earn merit badges, and had another woodland experience that taught me there was more to life than cities. The hiking badge required 14-mile hikes.

Our Scoutmaster devised a 14-mile route that began at the church on the city’s South Side where our troop met. On a Saturday morning we started marching west. In a mile the city ended and we walked out an almost empty road, in the last autumn of World War II, through what were then only nascent suburbs. Finally we reached a part of the Cook County forest preserve: a square mile of woods not penetrated by any road. In the middle of this quiet woods was our lodging for the night, four cabins built for the Scouts by the Kiwanis Club. That evening we cooked our dinners -- I was no cook, but I brought a can of Libby’s beef stew, which had only to be warmed -- and then our scoutmaster told stories about the Fox and Winnebago who had lived here. We had a good time, the best of it on Sunday morning.

For hours we ranged the woodland playing games of cowboys and 122

Mary Jane and Peter Bridges atop Mt. Axtell, 2011.

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Indians in a world made up, as far as we could see, of oaks and sloughs and meadows and not a single house or car. After two such Sundays, I knew that I was for the woods.

Kenneth Roberts confirmed me in my knowledge. Roberts is not quite forgotten today; before World War II he was famous for his historical novels. As a boy I read and read again Northwest Passage, his account of the march by Robert Rogers’ Rangers across the wilds of Vermont and New Hampshire in 1757, to destroy the Abenaki village whose warriors had raided white settlements. One Saturday when I was eight, my father took me to see the film, starring Spencer Tracy as Major Rogers. It convinced me still further that I was for the woods. Perhaps, I began to think, I might go to college in New England, not a place my family knew. Dartmouth College in New Hampshire was affordable then for the middle class, and known for its Outing Club as well as its academics — and it owned a mountain called Moosilauke, a 4,800-foot mountain that I got to know and love during the next six decades. (My wife and I last climbed it, with several family members and classmates, at my sixtieth Dartmouth reunion.)

I have known and loved a lot of mountains. And woods, and lakes, and broad green plains. My favorite place over the years has been the ridge of Mt. Axtell, 12,000 feet above sea level, with its long grassy slopes that remind me of “The Sound of Music” as we sit at the cairn by the top and look westward, at the peaks of Beckwith and Marcellina and the lower lands beyond. Then we turn and look eastward, at Green Lake far beneath us and, beyond, Mt. Crested Butte and so many other good mountains. Another such place is equally high Scarp Ridge, with its views of the still higher Maroon Bells that wall us off from Aspen, while far below lie Blue Lake and perhaps a mountain goat or two.

I have enjoyed traveling widely, though not always to good places. I saw far worse cities than Washington, D.C., in which I spent decades. Soviet Moscow and Communist Prague were grim capitals of police states, Cairo poor and teeming, Panama oppressively hot.

Once, though, outside dusty old Ulaanbaatar, I ran up a green ridge and saw I shared it with a handsome Mongolian wolf. In Washington, my wife and I could escape from bureaucracy on climbs in the nearby Appalachians, or on runs along the old Chesapeake & Ohio Canal framed by

huge sycamores. In Panama, we dived into the Pacific daily to wash off sweat and cares.

During our years in Prague, we could almost forget about the cruel regime when we spent Sundays on modest Czech mountains or on rambles along the best trail system in Europe. In crowded Rome I looked forward to vacations with my family in the Ladin valleys of the Dolomites.

Even in Somalia there were good and high places to visit. A hundred miles inland from Mogadishu, I stood once atop Buur Heybe, a rounded monolith of pinkish preCambrian granite that rises 1,100 feet above a flat plain. It is an arid plain now, but in the big cave at the base of Buur Heybe an American archaeologist, Steven Brandt, was finding the skeletons and artifacts of humans who kept their herds on this plain five or six thousand years before Christ, when the Sahara and East Africa were well watered and lush.

I got once to Somalia’s highest point, 7,000 feet above sea level, with my friend Bill Fullerton, the British ambassador, and his wife Arlene. We stood in cool air at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the shore of the Gulf of Aden, ten or fifteen miles away, where temperatures reach 115 degrees.

Behind us was a forest of tall pencil cedars, the remnant of a much larger forest that was falling prey to the charcoal-makers providing cooking fuel to Somalia’s exploding population. And it is still exploding today despite the country’s horrendous civil war.

Thank heaven, I think as I walk the woods above Crested Butte, for the great American conservationists of both parties, like Teddy Roosevelt, who created 150 National Forests including ours, the Gunnison. Traveling in the Mediterranean world, I lament the deforestation that began two millennia ago, but then I hike through the huge pines on Corsica and the ancient beeches on Italy’s Apennines and am thankful that woodmen spared those trees.

Thoreau also loved meadows, as do most of us. In this valley, the Gunnison Ranchland Conservation Legacy, the Trust for Public Land and others have saved thousands of acres of grassland forever — or at least as long as our laws last. But there are thousands of acres still to save, so that houses and highways do not replace all our Herefords. We may feel fortunate not to live on the searing plains of Africa, but we have work to do.

Peter Bridges, a former American ambassador to Somalia, lives in Crested Butte.

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When you

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How to do your biz-nass outside when there’s no latrine in sight.

We’re gonna talk about poop (and pee). Embarrassing, I know.

Especially if you have to “go” while out camping, hiking or biking. I mean, even if you’re jeeping – all that jostling and morning coffee….

Fact is, you’re here to experience the great outdoors. You’ve gone far and deep, and there’s no indoor plumbing out here. So let me breach Miss Manners’ handbook (which sadly neglects the topic). We do, in fact, have etiquette around pottying in the woods, but it’s not fabricated by the bored elite. It’s about health: for you, your fellow humans, the water, earth and animals. Remember E.coli, coliform and giardia? These are the kinds of nasties we’re trying to avoid.

Imagine. The Gunnison National Forest sees up to 3.4 million visitors per year. In a county of 16,000 people, that’s a lot. And in case you’re wondering, the average person of 160 pounds releases just under a pound of poop per day. You got it: that’s just about 3.4 million pounds of pottying potential near those pristine waters you came to fish and swim in.

And toilet paper. Yuck. That stuff doesn’t disintegrate as quickly as you think, and critters apparently think it’s hilarious to strew it about.

And while you’re here today and gone tomorrow, someone else will follow you. Under logs or rocks, tucked behind some poor willow…

you thought you were being sneaky, but we stumbled upon it and were disgusted. We cleaned it up, by the way (you’re welcome).

And while I’m an advocate for the admirable qualities of women (I am one)… ladies, please stop dropping toilet paper on the ground every time you pee.

But do not lose heart. There is a way to relieve yourself ethically in the woods. First step: Be prepared.

THE POOP KIT You can practically enjoy the comforts of home with a simple poop kit in your daypack. The ingredients: • a shovel, like the U-Dig-It stainless steel hand shovel, the Cadillac of pottying tools; • a bit of toilet paper, tidily rolled up; • a couple of handi-wipes and hand sanitizer; • a coffee sack for used t.p. and handi-wipes (my favorite pro tip for backcountry toileting: it’s opaque for privacy and often lined with plastic to contain moisture, and any coffee residue acts as odor deterrent).

Put these items in individual baggies inside a large baggie, which 127

can go in its own opaque fabric stuff sack.

Nice.

THE PROCESS (HOW TO DIG A CATHOLE AND LIKE IT)

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You’re still going to poop in the woods; you’re just going to bury it, where soil microbes will help break it down. Putting a rock on top doesn’t count. Stop doing that. Poor rock.

• Locate your cathole at least 200 feet (70 steps) from water, trails, camps and places where people walk and hang out.

• Use that spiffy U-Dig-It to dig a hole about eight inches deep and six inches wide, piling the dirt next to the hole.

• Do yer biz-nass. Squatting is actually the most natural way to potty. If your quads and knees balk, dig your cathole next to a log or tree so you can lean against it.

• Use your toilet paper and put it in the coffee sack to throw away once you’re back in civilization. Do NOT leave t.p. in the woods. Put on your big-kid pants and get past the cultural resistance to carrying your used toilet paper with you. You’ll get used to it.

• Cover the cathole completely with dirt.

Note: The U-Dig-It should NOT touch poop; it touches only dirt.

• Disguise the area with sticks, pinecones and forest duff as though you’ve never been there.

• Clean up with handi-wipes (that go in the coffee sack with the used t.p.) and hand sanitizer.

PEEING Urine has far fewer nasties, thus less protocol.

But you should still pee 200 feet away from water, trails, camp, thoroughfares, hangouts or places where others have urinated (smell can accumulate). If you use toilet paper, carry it out in your coffee sack. Please do not drop it, cover it or try to hide it. Really.

b

Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics: www.lnt.org How to Shit in the Woods: An Environmentally Sound Approach to a Lost Art by Kathleen Meyer Coal Creek Watershed Coalition: www.coalcreek.org (local nonprofit water protector organization)

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PREMIUM BIKE RENTALS AT THE BASE OF MT. CRESTED BUTTE

• The first section of the building was erected on the alleyway in 1883 as a blacksmith’s shop.

• By 1890, a small building, called the iron warehouse, was constructed next door, just south of the blacksmith.

• By 1893, the iron warehouse was connected structurally to the blacksmith’s shop. Another addition was made, noted on maps as “B&S,” meaning “basement and store.”

• By 1898, the buildings were joined completely, creating one confluent structure. Another addition on the south end was recorded as the cobbler’s location.

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• By 1904, the structure stretched to Elk Avenue, with a storefront. The cobbler shop closed, but the blacksmith continued and the hardware store opened in the front.

• By 1910, another addition was made to the west, operating as a warehouse for the building.

• By 1911, the town’s first gas pump was installed out front.

• Tony Mihelich became a partner in the store in 1940 and ran it until his death in 1996. The building has the distinction of housing Crested Butte’s longest-running business (113 years) and the longest independently owned Conoco station in the world (1940 to 1996).

• Lovingly known as “Tony’s Conoco,” the building was purchased in 2001 by the Crested Butte Mountain Heritage Museum, thanks to immense community support and grants from the History Colorado – State Historical Fund.

After a slight remodel, the doors to the museum opened in 2003, but the hardware store and its supplies remained in place. You can walk through the original doors and stroll through 100 years of history.

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Summer events

JUNE

2017

4, 11, 18, 25

Farmers Markets on Elk Avenue

7

Sketching in the Rijks Family Gallery every Wednesday

10

Evolution bike park opening

11

Magic Dick & Shun Ng at Center for the Arts (CFTA)

12-Aug. 25

Summer Camp at The Trailhead Children’s Museum

15-17

Crested Butte Mountain Theatre (CBMT) Ten-Minute Plays

15

Crested Butte Film Fest monthly movie, CFTA

15-July 15

CBMT art exhibit: Images of Old Town Hall (reception June 17)

19, 26

Alpenglow free outdoor concerts, CFTA outdoor stage

19-20

Painting with water-soluble oils, CFTA Art Studio

21, 28

Pinnacle Bike Race Series, Evolution Bike Park

22-25

Crested Butte Bike Week

22-25

Junior Crested Butte Bike Week

23

Karen Immerso ceramics demo, Rijks Family Gallery

23

Bike Week Film Night, CB Mtn. Heritage Museum (CBMHM)

23-Aug. 5

Crested Butte Music Festival

23

Chainless bike race

24

Rocky Mtn. Biological Lab’s (RMBL) annual breeding bird survey

24

RMBL open house and 90th summer celebration

24-25

Bridges of the Butte 24-hour townie ride

28

Public Policy Forum (PPF): Gail Schwartz, protecting public lands

28-July 1

CBMT production “Chasing the Limelight,” a Brent Laney original

28

Live from Mt. Crested Butte! Free concert, Red Lady stage

29

Taste of Caring for Gunnison Valley Health Foundation

30

ArtWalk at Crested Butte galleries and studios

30

Western Summer Speakers at CBMHM: geologist Bruce Bartleson

30

Phoebe Hunt & The Gatherers, CFTA

30-Aug. 19

Tour de Forks events for CFTA

JULY Chris Hanna

Lydioa Stern

134

1-30

Crested Butte Music Festival continues

2

Black & White Ball, CB Mountain Heritage Museum

2, 9, 16, 23, 30

Farmers Markets on Elk Avenue

3, 10, 17, 24, 31 Alpenglow free outdoor concerts, CFTA outdoor stage 4

Parade, street games, fireworks

4

Gothic-Crested Butte Run, Walk or Crawl 1/3 Marathon

5

Public Policy Forum: Rosa Brooks, “How Everything Became War…”

5, 12, 19, 26

Live from Mt. Crested Butte! Free concerts, Red Lady stage

5, 12, 19

Pinnacle Bike Race Series, Evolution Bike Park

6, 13, 20, 27

Farmers Market at the ski area, Mt. Crested Butte

7

Cleo Parker Robinson Dance Ensemble, CFTA

7-8

CB Land Trust’s Caddis Cup fly fishing tourney

7-16

Gunnison Cattlemen’s Days

7-16

Crested Butte Wildflower Festival

8

Pat Green with CFTA at the Big Mine Ice Arena

9

Hillbenders’ “Tommy,” a bluegrass opry, CFTA

12

Public Policy Forum: Nan Aron, saving the federal judiciary

13

Artists Reception, Rijks Family Gallery

13

CBMT Kids Theatre Camp performances (camp June 20-July 13)

13-15

CB Music Festival Opera performances

14

CB Film Festival film series: Dean Dillon story, CFTA

15

Grin & Bear It Trail Run

JULY cont.

15

Trevor Hall: A Night in the Village, CFTA

15-16

Mixed media with our mountain muse, CFTA Art Studio

19

Public Policy Forum: Mark Fallon, countering violent extremism

20

Crested Butte Film Fest monthly movie, CFTA

20-23

Chasing Epic: Crested Butte bike trip

21

New Orleans Suspects, CFTA

21

Western Summer Speakers at CBMHM: Duane Vandenbusche

21

ArtWalk at Crested Butte galleries and studios

26

Public Policy Forum: John Bellinger, Trump’s national security agenda

26-30

Crested Butte Food & Wine Festival

27

MarchFourth with CFTA at Big Mine Ice Arena

29

Living Journeys Summit Hike & ½ Marathon

Matt Berglund

Dusty Demerson

Braden Gunem

135

Summer events 2017

AUGUST 1

Quebe Sisters, CFTA

2

Public Policy Forum: George Frampton, climate change, carbon pricing

2-6

gO Trail Running Academy

2, 9, 16

Live from Mt. Crested Butte! Free outdoor concerts, Red Lady stage

3

Feast in the Field, Mountain Roots Food Project

3, 10, 17, 24, 31 Farmers Market at the ski area, Mt. Crested Butte 4-6

Crested Butte Arts Festival

4-6

CBMT production “The 39 Steps” at Mallardi Cabaret

5

Comedy Night, CFTA

6-7

Crested Butte Open

6, 13, 20, 27 Farmers Markets on Elk Avenue

Matt Berglund

7, 14

Alpenglow free outdoor concerts, CFTA outdoor stage

9

Public Policy Forum: Ilyse Hogue, “The Future Is Female”

11

ArtWalk at Crested Butte galleries and studios

11

Chefs on the Edge, CFTA

12

Red Molly benefit concert, CFTA

13-15

Master workshop, foundations of painting, CFTA Art Studio

16

Public Policy Forum: Jon Bailey, impacts of the musical “Hamilton”

17

Crested Butte Film Fest monthly movie, CFTA

18-20

Outerbike bike demo expo, ski area base

19

Joe Pug, CFTA

21

Dawn to Dusk Golf Challenge for CFTA at Club at Crested Butte

22

Rocky Mtn. Biological Lab’s historic preservation dinner

24

Sierra Hull CFTA

24

Historic Pub Crawl by CBMHM

26

DJ Sean back to school party, CFTA

31

Speaker Series at CBMHM: Kym & Mark Todd

J.C. Leacock

136

SEPTEMBER 2-3

Paragon People’s Fair

2-3

Grand Traverse Mountain Bike & Run

3, 10, 17, 24

Farmers Markets on Elk Avenue

8

Speaker Series at CBMHM: George Sibley

9

Beer & Chili Fest, Mt. Crested Butte

9

Crested Butte Ultra 100K & 50K run at the ski area

9

Park to Peak to Pint trail run

16

Cornmeal, CFTA

17-23

Vinotok Harvest Festival

20

Frank Orazem Memorial Storytelling at CBMHM

21

Crested Butte Film Fest monthly movie, CFTA

21-24

Chasing Epic: Crested Butte bike trip

22

ArtWalk at Crested Butte galleries and studios

22-24

Frank Francese watercolor workshop, CFTA Arts Studio

23

Camp4 Cart to Cart trail run

24

Steep Canyon Rangers, CFTA

28-Oct. 1

Crested Butte Film Festival

30

Diversity Walk in Gunnison

Dusty Demerson

OCTOBER 1

Farmers Market on Elk Avenue

3

Illuminations slideshow at CBMHM

5

Iron Pour with CFTA Art Studio

6

Speaker Series at CBMHM: Michelle Pierce

20

Locals Historic Pub Crawl by CBMHM

Nathan Bilow

Also check out the museum’s historic walking tours; and programs for adults and children at the Art Studio of the Center for the Arts, Trailhead Children’s Museum, Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory, Mountain Roots, Crested Butte School of Dance, Crested Butte Mountain Heritage Museum, Yoga for the Peaceful, Crested Butte Mountain Theatre, Crested Butte Dance Collective, and Crested Butte Spirit/Mind/Body. For the latest info, see www.Gunnison-CrestedButte.com/events.

137

Lydia Stern

ALPINE GETAWAYS

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LODGING

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Established in 1939, inside National Forest, only 12 minutes from town. 8 clean and cozy cabins, with Cement Creek running through the property. Fully equipped kitchens, comfy beds, fireplaces and more. Dog friendly, open year round.

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Bed & Breakfast Lodge PO Box 148 129 Gothic Avenue, Crested Butte

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Cozy B&B with European ski lodge charm.

Homemade Continental breakfast. Hot tub with mountain views. Private baths. Near free shuttle; walk to shops & restaurants.

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Nathan Bilow

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Elevation Hotel, Mt. Crested Butte

DINING COAL BREAKER COFFEE CO. 970-349-2229

Treasury Building, Ski Area Base

Breakfast / Lunch / Dinner

Lunch / Dinner

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Experience American cuisine at it finest with our classic roadhouse menu, burger and shakes. Enjoy the casual fun atmoshere complemented by daily drink specials, live music and a large outdoor deck with unbeatable views.

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ELK AVENUE PRIME • 349-1221

HOGWOOD BBQ • 970-444-2277

Treasury Center, Mt. Crested Butte

Downtown Crested Butte on Elk Ave. Serving U.S.D.A Prime Steaks, fresh seafood, wild game and more. Come watch the game on the biggest HD screen in Crested Butte. 16 draft beers and the largest wine selection in the valley.

Hogwood delivers wood-fired meats cooked to perfection & signature sides made from scratch. We specialize in weddings, rehearsal dinners, parties, corporate events, even off-the-grid gatherings.

Hogwood offers onsite buffet catering, casual dropoff’s, and home delivery.

For menu and details go to hogwood.com

Coffee

Dinner

Delivery

This new base area culinary outlet features made-toorder crepes, breakfast sandwiches, espresso and coffee drinks, and hand-scooped ice cream. Fuel up with coffee or a fresh, healthy snack. Coal Breaker will be open each day from 7 am to 6 pm, making this the newest hotspot for quick bites or warm drinks!

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JEFE’S • 970-349-4450

Mountaineer Square, Mt. Crested Butte Traditional Mexican fare made just for you. Our Stone Patio is the perfect place for a Margarita with some chips & salsa after your adventure on the mountain, or in the Adventure Park! Fast affordable and friendly. Open Daily 11 am - 4 pm

Lunch

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226 Elk Avenue, Downtown

Back Cover

LAST STEEP • 349-7007

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MARCHITELLI’S GOURMET NOODLE • 349-7401

208 Elk Avenue, Downtown

Sandwiches/soup/salads. Casual family dining.

Affordable menu with Caribbean island flair; Cajun chicken pasta, curry shrimp and coconut salad, artichoke-cheddar soup in bread bowl. Happy hour and daily specials.

Lunch / Dinner

hogwood.com

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411 Third Street, Downtown

Italian. Offering generations of family recipes in a cozy, relaxed atmosphere. Featuring unique pasta sauce combos, traditional and regional Italian, seafood, veal and elk. Reservations recommended.

Dinner

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SOUPCON • 349-5448

WOODEN NICKEL • 349-6350

WOODSTONE GRILLE • 349-8030

Romantic, petite bistro featuring traditional French technique using local ingredients married with the finest cuisine from around the world. Open seven nights a week. Two seatings nightly. Reservations recommended.

Steaks, prime rib, king crab. USDA Prime cuts of beef, Alaska King crab, ribs, pork and lamb chops, grilled seafood, burgers, chicken fried steak and buffalo burgers. Reservations accepted.

The WoodStone Grille offers a generous breakfast buffet to charge you up for the day’s adventures.

Come back to rest by the fire while sipping your favorite drink, and stay for a pub-style dinner suited for the whole family. Serving breakfast and dinner daily.

Dinner

Breakfast / Dinner

Off Elk Avenue on Second, Downtown

Dinner 140

Spirits and food with altitude. Serving something for everyone, all with subtle twists to intrigue your palate and keep you coming back for more. The large deck with its slopeside fire pit and outdoor bar is the perfect location for an afternoon drink and sunset viewing.

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222 Elk Avenue, Downtown

Ad pg. 72,73

The Grand Lodge, Mt. Crested Butte

Ad pg. 143

A French American Bistro

Seatings nightly at 6:00 and 8:30 For Reservations Call 970.349.5448 On Coal Creek in the alley behind The Forest Queen 127 Elk Avenue #A soupรงon-cb.com

Kids Cook!

Grownups can, too.

These recipes came from the Fall Harvest sessions of Kids Cook! classes, presented by the Mountain Roots Food Project.

Young chefs in grades four through nine cook in small groups alongside their instructors, learning how to plan and prepare healthy, yummy food. The weekly classes culminate with a parent night, when parents are invited to taste their kids’ favorite new creations.

Strawberry tomato salsa 1 tomato 1 small carton of strawberries (about 2 cups) ¼ cup cilantro ¼ cup red onion Juice from ½ lime Pinch of sea salt

Finely chop tomato, strawberries, cilantro and onion and add to a bowl. Sprinkle with sea salt and lime juice and mix.

Serve with homemade tortilla chips or crackers.

Curly kale and pasta salad with pesto 8 oz. curly pasta 6 large kale leaves, stem removed, and chopped 2 chopped scallions 1 can cannellini beans, drained ½ cup chopped pecans

Pesto: 2 packed cups of fresh basil ¼ cup mint leaves ¼ cup olive oil 1 garlic clove ¼ tsp sea salt Boil pasta in water. When pasta has 1 minute left, throw in the chopped kale leaves and stir. Drain and pour pasta back into the pot. Add the scallions, beans and pecans.

In a food processor, combine all the pesto ingredients and blend well. Add to the pasta and mix together.

142

[ ON MOUNTAIN ] UMBRELLA BAR AT TEN PEAKS

DINE OPEN DAILY | WEATHER PERMITTING | TOP OF THE PAINTER BOY LIFT

[ BASE AREA ]

BUTTE 66 ROADHOUSE GRILLE SERVING FROM 11 AM | SLOPESIDE TREASURY CENTER | (970) 349-2999

JEFE’S MEXICAN EATERY PHOTO: TRENT BONA

SERVING FROM 11 AM | MOUNTAINEER SQUARE BREEZEWAY

THE WOODSTONE GRILLE BREAKFAST, APRÈS & DINNER | GRAND LODGE | (970) 349-8030

COAL BREAKER COFFEE CO. OPEN DAILY | TREASURY CENTER

970.349.7007

208 Elk Avenue, Crested Butte

www.TheLastSteep.com

ridecb.com/dine 143

PHOTO FINISH

Petar Dopchev

144

GUNNISON VALLEY’S FINEST RECREATIONAL MARIJUANA STORE Voted 2016 Best Dispensary!

Locally Owned

CRESTED BUTTE \\ 970.349.6640 423 BELLEVIEW AVENUE

SOMA Grown

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Prime Dry Aged Steaks, Steakhouse, Fresh Seafood, Large Groups and Weddings Welcome

226 Elk Avenue, Crested Butte 970 . 349 . 1221 elkaveprime.com