PLEASURE TRIP TO COLORADO
In the summer of 1872 I joined a party of friends for the purpose of
visiting Colorado. The party consisted of Judge Byron Rice, Doctor
Ward, Alexander Talbott, Mr. Weaver, a druggist, and Monroe, a clothing
merchant, and myself. We went by rail to Denver. We took with us a tent
cloth, some blankets, buffalo robes, and bedding. At Denver we
purchased a three-seated spring wagon and a pair of good mules. We also
hired a teamster with another pair of mules and wagon, and bought a
camping outfit, cooking utensils, and provisions. From Denver we went
south to Colorado Springs. Our first camp south of Denver was at a
place called Haystack Ranch, so called because there had never been a
haystack on the ranch, but three immense boulders bore a striking
resemblance to three haystacks, in the vicinity of which a settler had
erected his buildings. A small mountain stream supplied him with the
facilities of irrigating his land. He had built a fine large milk
house, paved with flagstones and so arranged that he could turn the
mountain stream of ice cold water on the floor of the building and thus
regulate its temperature. He also had built an overshot water wheel
with a small trough or flume and through this trough he turned the
water onto his wheel from time to time as he wished it, and utilized
its power to churn his butter. He milked about thirty cows, which he
told us were fed entirely upon the buffalo grass in the valley near by
among the foothills, and that he sent his butter twice a week to the
city of Denver. The man was evidently living an easy, pleasant life,
and getting rich without any severe toil or drudgery. The town of
Colorado Springs was then a single street with a few straggling houses.
Within a few miles of it we found the newly laid out city of Manitou.
The surveyors were still at work surveying the streets. One large hotel
was in course of erection and the valley up Cheyenne canyon contained
about two hundred tents filled with invalids and health seekers. In
this canyon could be found mineral waters of any temperature and almost
any ingredients; principally iron, sulphur, lime, and soda. On a
beautiful plateau of ground near where the hotel was being erected we
pitched our tent and made our camp for several days. We finally
concluded to make the ascent of Pike's Peak. Besides the two mules that
we had bought, we hired some ponies accustomed to the trail, except
that Mr. Monroe, one of our party, declared that he was able to walk,
and refused to be provided with other transportation. We proposed to go
up the mountain to the timber line the first day, and stay all night,
and the next morning attempt to reach the summit by sunrise, for the
purpose of enjoying what we were assured would be a most magnificent
view of the country. Judge Rice and myself were a little late in
procuring our ponies, and the other four of the party started in
advance of us, Monroe on foot. "Halfway," as it was called, up the
mountain, we stopped for rest and refreshment at a little log shanty
erected by two enterprising young men, who there supplied luncheon and
sleeping accommodations to the traveling public. The trail at that time
was barely visible to the naked eye, and the climbing was difficult and
somewhat dangerous even with our trained animals. Several hundred yards
before we reached the timber line, so-called, we found Monroe lying in
the path and apparently almost lifeless. The rare mountain air had
scarcely left him oxygen enough to preserve life, and he had succumbed
to the inevitable. We found near the timber line a shelving rock or
rather a large cavity in the rock, where we took up our quarters for
the night. Carrying Monroe to this place and wrapping him in blankets,
we infused life into him by administering several doses of brandy, of
which Judge Rice fortunately had a small flask. A large pine tree had
fallen across the outer edge of this rock against which we could place
our feet to prevent slipping over its edge, and here we all tried to
sleep. A fearful thunder storm came up in the night, but fortunately
the storm was below us. It was indeed a grand sight to see the forked
lightnings darting through the clouds below us, without any
apprehension of their finding our retreat. Our sleep, however, was very
indifferent. We had been in the territory only about ten days and our
breathing apparatus had not adjusted itself to the necessities of a
life in these altitudes. We fairly gasped for breath. In the morning
when we awoke we found that we could take our ponies no farther on the
trail, for there was none visible to the eye. The remainder of the
journey to the top of the peak was necessarily a climbing over huge
rocks scattered here and there without reference to the convenience of
adventurers. We could walk or rather climb about one hundred feet
between rests and then fall down under the shadow of a great rock to
recuperate enough strength for a venture of perhaps a hundred feet
more. After climbing about four or five hundred feet or more in this
manner we each began to feel a roaring in the ears and a nausea of the
stomach, and at last had the discretion to call council in which we
unanimously concluded with old Falstaff, one of Shakespeare's heroes,
that the better part of valor was discretion, and we concluded to
return to the valley below and forego the magnificence of a sunrise
view from the top of Pike's Peak. When we got back upon our way as far
as the timber line where we had hitched our ponies, I found my pony had
taken "French leave" and gone down on the trail without waiting for my
valuable company. I was doubtful at first whether I should be able to
walk to camp, which was then over eight miles from the place of our
night's adventure, but I had not proceeded down the mountain a mile
before my strength returned to me and my lungs filled with sufficient
oxygen to restore my vigor. We all got back to camp safely, even
including the dilapidated Monroe, and the consensus of opinion was that
we were glad we went up Pike's Peak, but were more satisfied with the
reflection that we did not have to go again. After another day's rest
we took to the road with our mule teams and wagons, passing over a
beautiful mountain road up Cheyenne canyon. Every few hundred yards we
passed some beautiful cascade or water fall, formed by the dashing
waters of some mountain stream supplied from the eternal snows that
crowned the mountain peaks around us. Our road lay through the
so-called South Park. On the high table lands before we reached this
park we passed through a forest of petrified wood. At one cabin,
occupied by a gentleman who kept a small hotel, we found the foundation
of his house made of this petrified timber, and his chimney and
fireplace of the same material. We gathered a few specimens that we
afterwards brought home with us. In South Park we passed what was
called the salt works. Here some English capitalist had built an
immense plant for manufacturing salt. A natural spring that threw a
constant stream of salt water, probably ten or twelve inches in
diameter, supplied the water from which the salt was to be made. Large
and commodious buildings with evaporating apparatus had been erected.
An expenditure of probably fifty or one hundred thousand dollars had
been made. There was only one difficulty about this Utopian enterprise
and that was that the salt had to be manufactured so far from
civilization that it cost more to transport it than it would be worth
when it reached the market, hence the enterprise had been an
ignominious failure and had been abandoned.
Leaving this point we passed through the South Pass of the Rockies and
on to the headwaters of the Arkansas river. We went up this river to
the town of Granite, that had been a thriving mining village when
placer mining in these parts was profitable; thence we went to Twin
Lakes, two small beautiful lakes of water among the mountains, where we
camped and supplied ourselves with mountain trout. On the way we
frequently shot mountain grouse. With our breakfast bacon and most
excellent flour and potatoes, and our own improvised cooking and our
excellent appetites, we all fared sumptuously every day. We returned
via another route, passing through Fairplay. Returning to Denver we
sold our team and wagon for just its original cost, and paid our
teamster with his outfit four dollars a day. We had kept an accurate
account of our expenditures and found that $1.50 a day for each of us
had paid all of our expenses, including our transportation, for our
three weeks' trip. We made a trip then by rail and stage line, going
first over to Idaho Springs, visiting that beautiful little valley, and
some of our party going as far as Georgetown. Returning to Denver, we
all came home by rail well satisfied with our trip, but when we struck
the blue grass regions of Iowa and its fields of ripening corn, with
the memories of the homes that we were nearing our hearts were made
glad that we lived in a land of civilization and plenty.