tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53335207339538856962024-03-14T01:49:40.841-06:00Remember More Than Their Names: Colorado's Women and the Wild Places Named for ThemA blog about my quest to hike to all the Colorado summits and lakes named for women, to find out who those women were, and to write a book (trail guide meets history) about it.Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-6403055703219325462022-08-31T14:47:00.001-06:002022-08-31T14:47:13.962-06:00Brief update on the S____ Mountain renaming!!!<p> Visit https://mountbluesky.info/ to see where this name change journey has gone! S__ Mountain is now officially named Mount Mestaa’ėhehe (the spelling was requested by the Arapaho and Cheyenne tribes). It IS possible to change these names!!! -- Sarah</p>Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-46677790258533898312021-07-27T16:31:00.006-06:002021-07-27T16:37:45.631-06:00Mount Chiquita (RMNP)<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Mount Chiquita, 13,075 feet </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(MODERATE)</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-090806b9-7fff-eb4e-bb49-5d3b807a3017"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">named for the fictional Ute woman Chiquita, from a 1902 novel</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ocph8XDvKPBcyPKcj18TWUzu_1MG5G659SdwDLMOrrBV_23VLjg_-HcORw0SY2zMsRywJf48MC-KTnHgC-gJHuFdD1sCUUqchVxU2MwT-CwWqBYxmsSP3W2Cbyaz3nyMCem1qynZ8U8/s2048/ChiquitaFallRiverPass_J3A2488-HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ocph8XDvKPBcyPKcj18TWUzu_1MG5G659SdwDLMOrrBV_23VLjg_-HcORw0SY2zMsRywJf48MC-KTnHgC-gJHuFdD1sCUUqchVxU2MwT-CwWqBYxmsSP3W2Cbyaz3nyMCem1qynZ8U8/s320/ChiquitaFallRiverPass_J3A2488-HDR.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount Chiquita from Fall River Pass<br />(Photo by my dad, Richard H. Hahn -- visit his gallery, Alpenglow, in Estes Park)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Getting to the trailhead:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Follow Fall River Road from the Fall River entrance of the national park. Turn right at the turnoff for Old Fall River Road. Remember this is a one-way gravel road, and -- while almost any car can handle the drive, not every driver can handle the view of drop-offs! Drive up the Old Fall River Road 7.8 miles to the Chapin Pass trailhead. The park is crowded all summer; go very early if you want a parking space. When you go home, you’ll need to drive up and over onto Trail Ridge Road. Stop at the Alpine Visitor Center to admire the views first.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Roundtrip distance to the summit from trailhead</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: 5 miles RT</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Elevation gain</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: 2,057 feet</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: yellow; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Map:</span><span style="background-color: yellow; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (to be included)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WVdA4jwfA3K_yiQYWio0ka5FpVTNKYr4hTvxSREuIrVttDozH4Np0p1X9GlIYO4Ash_Zc1uhyUUN5Z8TknRqJi7V2uCIEQuMr9XmHimu0_lgNZabmSE_drrZ6CPmkwmfl8oMAENU4p4/s2048/CCYmilkyway_4071_011814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WVdA4jwfA3K_yiQYWio0ka5FpVTNKYr4hTvxSREuIrVttDozH4Np0p1X9GlIYO4Ash_Zc1uhyUUN5Z8TknRqJi7V2uCIEQuMr9XmHimu0_lgNZabmSE_drrZ6CPmkwmfl8oMAENU4p4/s320/CCYmilkyway_4071_011814.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stars above (L to R) Chapin, Chiquita, and Ypsilon<br />(photo by my dad, Richard H. Hahn)</td></tr></tbody></table></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How to reach the summit:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. The trail is well-marked, like most popular trails in the national park. Basically: keep going up! At an informational sign 500 feet past the trailhead, turn sharp right on the clearly-signed Chapin Pass trail (continuing straight takes you down into the creek drainage).</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. After another 0.5 mile, the trail forks. The lower fork (to the left) is a slightly more gradual climb with a steep push up toward the Mount Chapin summit (12,455 feet), which is easy to reach and worth including. The upper fork (to the right) is a more direct climb (also with that option to zip up Mount Chapin before continuing on). I prefer the righthand trail. Hike one mile to the junction with the Chapin summit trail.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. After the junction with the trail to the Chapin summit, the Chapin Pass trail continues another 0.5 mile to another junction. To hike Chiquita, take the righthand trail and continue ascending another 0.4 mile to the summit. The views are glorious up here, and it is very difficult for most mountain lovers not to add the summit of Ypsilon, only 1.2 miles away. Just watch the weather (another reason to start very early). </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: #6aa84f; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the search for </span><span style="background-color: #6aa84f; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chiquita</span><span style="background-color: #6aa84f; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hesitated to include Mount Chiquita in this book at all, but the reference is interesting (if problematic) and the hike is glorious. I first hiked Chiquita from the Chapin Pass Trailhead on Old Fall River Road when I was a teenager. It is a moderate 5-mile round-trip hike to the summit, with the option to zip over to Mount Chapin on the way and to add Ypsilon Mountain out of the sheer joy of being up in the alpine with stunning views in all directions. In a national park that gets more and more crowded each year, it’s still possible to find some true alpine solitude on Chiquita.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But who was Chiquita? The word is Spanish for “little girl,” but the mountain’s name is actually a now obscure reference to the main character of a 1902 novel by Merrill Tileston, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chiquita, the Romance of a Ute Chief’s Daughter</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. In the book, which is less than masterfully written, a New Englander named Jack travels away from the repressive culture and Christian religion of the East Coast to Colorado, where he finds freedom in the wildness of nature. In his adventures, he sees this freedom reflected most in the Ute religion, particularly in an Uncompahgre Ute chief’s daughter named Chiquita. Jack becomes good friends with Chiquita and pledges to help her receive a nursing education in the East so she can help her people. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><img alt="Chiquita: An American Novel : The Romance Of A Ute Chief&#39;s Daughter: Tileston, Merrill: 9781246499193: Amazon.com: Books" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" height="295" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51S-U36vEPL._SX258_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" style="height: 338px; margin: 0px; width: 260px;" width="227" /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the novel, Tileston dramatizes the historically true violent M</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">eeker Incident (sometimes called the Meeker Massacre) at the White River Ute Indian Agency in western Colorado. Boldly, he describes the subsequent forced removal of Chiquita and her people, compassionately showing how the so-called “Manifest Destiny” was destroying good people’s lives. With the help of Jack and his wife Hazel, Chiquita survives, but she converts to Christianity and adopts white ways in order to earn her nursing degree at a college in the East. Ultimately, the book is a criticism of the forced removal of Native Americans and of the constrictions of Christian “civilization,” with Chiquita a tragic victim of it all. Only once in her adult life, in a visit to Estes Park with Jack and Hazel, does Chiquita feel true happiness again: “her restive spirit broke through the bonds of captivity as soon as the first campfire was lighted. Like a golden-winged chrysalis she broke her civilization fetters and became again the forest-born maiden, Chiquita. No longer did she feel the restraint which society demanded.” On her deathbed, Chiquita rejects Christianity and embraces her Ute religion again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was Enos Mills who named Chiquita on the maps, inspired and moved by Tileston’s heroine. Mount Chiquita shows up on a 1919 topographical map of the park. However, why honor Tileston’s romanticized Chiquita and not a </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">real</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Ute woman, like She-towitch (also known as Susan or Shawsheen), sister to Chief Ouray and sister-in-law to Chipeta (Ouray and Chipeta are both honored with mountain names in southern Colorado) and protector of Arvilla and Josephine Meeker in the Meeker Incident? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It seems likely that Mills, a naturalist, appreciated that scene in Estes Park, when Chiquita longs to discard all of “civilization” and return to the freedom of the West. That moment captures the longing of so many lovers of wilderness in the early 20th century. However, it fails to record the absolute and violent destruction of Ute (and Arapaho and Cheyenne) culture in the area and the removal of those people from their ancestral lands. By memorializing a fictional girl, the mountain’s name makes it too easy to forget the real Ute women who lost their lands and family members and ways of life as Progress roared its way toward them. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And yet -- hike the mountain. On its summit, think about Chipeta and She-towitch, about the women and men and children who journeyed up the Ute Trail each summer, following the elk. Think about the real women who, like Chiquita, had to make impossible choices and sacrifices to survive. Consider the wilderness and all it has witnessed. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-58351877604976209532021-07-25T22:08:00.007-06:002021-07-27T16:38:25.080-06:00Lake Agnes<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lake Agnes, 10,666 feet</span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (MODERATE)</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-9ba14653-7fff-d75e-01c7-4e027ea418d0"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Named for Agnes Zimmerman, pioneer</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Getting to the trailhead:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Drive up the Poudre Canyon from Fort Collins on Highway 14 to Cameron Pass. About 2.5 miles past the pass, you will see a sign on the left for the Lake Agnes trail. Drive up the dirt road here (there will be a fee, as this is State Forest State Park land). In one mile, you will reach the trailhead. In winter, the dirt road is closed, but you can park just off the highway and snowshoe up. The Never Summer Nordic Hut system rents out lovely little yurts and cabins in this area -- Nokhu Hut on the Lake Agnes Road is my favorite.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Zimmerman&#39;s Keystone Hotel, a Stanley Steamer, and a Mountain Lion – Fort Collins Images" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://fortcollinsimages.files.wordpress.com/2018/02/04-keystone-from-bridge-pm1908-b680.jpg?w=720" style="height: 360.271px; margin: 0px auto; width: 542px;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The historic Keystone Hotel, which Aggie's father built in 1897</td></tr></tbody></table><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Roundtrip distance from the trailhead to the top of the hill:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 2.3-4.3 miles RT</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Elevation gain:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 442 feet</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Map</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span><span style="background-color: yellow; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">[to be included]</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How to hike to Lake Agnes</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. The trail is well-marked. If you choose to walk the dirt road (from Willey Lumber Camp), the first part is a gentle incline. Then, from the Agnes Lake trail, the trail zigzags up to the lake. The views of the Nokhu Crags and the other impressive, jagged peaks (all in the 12,000-foot range) are amazing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. If you want to extend your hike, descend to the Michigan Ditch Trail intersection (about halfway up the switchbacks) and hike the 3 miles to the American Lakes trail. Another 2.3 miles will take you up to the American Lakes on the other side of the Nokhu Crags. A different option? Do as I did, and rent the Nokhu Hut on a wintery weekend in November, explore Lake Agnes, wave to a moose, and then return to the woodburning stove and a good book.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the search for </span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Agnes Zimmerman:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0NgIZV_h4HdTZRxuW2svqjHxsNV2NM3jtgZ2zU7uakIHRrsQMSqcFPtiWGSTQPHP1H9ZcZQdeglmDj6_yx7k9IT3gu3DmtPXRSzxk9m7WCWeVGwfpSnVLTAwDdQarrsxFLtcS4NKyjI/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="571" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0NgIZV_h4HdTZRxuW2svqjHxsNV2NM3jtgZ2zU7uakIHRrsQMSqcFPtiWGSTQPHP1H9ZcZQdeglmDj6_yx7k9IT3gu3DmtPXRSzxk9m7WCWeVGwfpSnVLTAwDdQarrsxFLtcS4NKyjI/w400-h245/image.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Barbara Fleming's book <i>Legendary Locals of Fort Collins</i> -- L to R: John Zimmerman, unnamed guest, Eda Zimmerman, John McNabb, Agnes Zimmerman</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unlike so many of these other names, it was very easy to discover who Agnes of Agnes Lake was: The Colorado Encyclopedia says that “Lake Agnes is named after Agnes Zimmerman, the daughter of John Zimmerman, a homesteader in the area and the proprietor of the Keystone Hotel in Home, Colorado.” That sentence, more or less, is repeated in many different sources. From Findagrave.com, I discovered Agnes was born in December of 1880 and died on May 15, 1954, at age 73. She is buried at the Grandview Cemetery in Fort Collins in the Zimmerman plot.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, I needed to know more. Who was Agnes? What kind of life did she live? Did she love her little gem of a lake at the base of the Nokhu Crags?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I learned from a historic structure assessment of the original Zimmerman Cabin at Lake Agnes that the cabin was built by John in 1882, about a year after he and his wife Marie Schmidt Zimmerman arrived with their four children from Minnesota. Both John and Marie had been born in Switzerland, but had emigrated as young people and had been raising their family in Minnesota. When they decided to venture west to homestead and mine for gold in Colorado, Marie was pregnant with Agnes, and their other three children -- Casper, Ed, and Eda -- were ten, eleven, and thirteen. Agnes was born in December on the covered wagon journey west, when the family wintered in Kansas. Agnes spent her first year bouncing west in the wagon pulled by two oxen; her second year, she toddled around a log cabin beside a lake her father named for her. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At first, John Zimmerman believed he could strike rich with gold mining, but transportation of the ore from his homestead way up the Poudre River proved difficult and expensive. Instead, he turned to tourism: he built and opened the Keystone Hotel at milepost 84.5 of Highway 14. On July 22, 1897, when the hotel opened, the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fort Collins Courier</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> reported the hotel was located in “one of the most picturesque locations imaginable . . . surrounded by some of the wildest and grandest of mountain views in the world.” It was such a success that Zimmerman ran a stage twice a week from Fort Collins -- the twelve-hour trip cost $3. Just a few years later, the Stanley Steamer cars and “mountain wagons” took the place of the stagecoaches. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The hotel was large for the canyon: three stories of brick, with sixteen bedrooms. However, it could not keep up with the tourism industry drawing people elsewhere in Colorado. The blog </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fort Collins Images</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> notes that “after the Keystone Resort finally closed despite Agnes Zimmerman’s desperate attempts to keep it going, the land was acquired by the Colorado Department of Game and Fish, now the Colorado Division of Wildlife.” The hotel was torn down in 1946, replaced with the fishery that is still there. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What was the story behind that phrase “desperate attempts to keep it going”? Agnes was 17 when the hotel was opened, and 66 when the hotel was bought and razed to the ground. What happened?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then I stumbled upon an oral interview with Agnes’ nephew, Robert Casper Zimmerman, conducted in 1977 by a local Fort Collins historian for the Fort Collins Public Library. This kind of source is a history writer’s dream. I quickly discovered that Agnes was “Aggie” to those who knew her, and that she tried hard to keep the Keystone Hotel running after her father’s death in 1919. It was a serious struggle. Zimmerman told his interviewer that, in 1921, when “that road came in up Poudre Canyon,” it “killed the hotel business there” (pg 29). Suddenly, people didn’t need to stop at the Keystone Hotel at Milepost 84.5; they could zoom right by on up to North Park and beyond. Zimmerman said “after the automobile came,” it was harder to find and pay help in the hotel, so “Aggie did all the cooking” (pg 28, transcript). She would have been 41 at the time. She was unmarried. As Zimmerman explained, “I don’t know that Aggie ever had any intentions of ever marrying. If she did, I never heard of it” (pg 30). Her sister Eda did not marry, either.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For Aggie, who had grown into a woman in the beautiful hotel, the struggle to keep the business going must have been heartbreaking. An undated photograph published in </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Legendary Locals of Fort Collins, Colorado</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> shows Aggie and her sister Eda reclining by the piano, listening with two guests as their father John reads something aloud. With a billiard hall and a barbershop, the hotel at its busiest must have been a haven of a resort. But just as Aggie tried to continue her father’s legacy, the construction of Highway 14 (“by the convicts,” Robert Casper Zimmerman said) ruined it. Her brother Edward died in 1931, and her sister Eda died in 1937. That left Aggie and the eldest, Casper, the only heirs. Zimmerman insisted in the interview that both wanted to sell the hotel to the Colorado Department of Game and Fish (some sources had suggested conflict between his father and Aggie). They just didn’t know, he said, that the plan was to tear down the historic place. “She never would have sold if she’d known they were going to tear it down,” Zimmerman said. “She never in the world would have sold it. She would have lived there and died there. They told her they were going to make a school for game wardens, training game wardens out of that place” (pg 20). Because she believed this, she wouldn’t allow any of the family to remove anything from the grand old hotel -- even the crystal, even the furniture. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Instead, the buyer took everything and sold it at auction, then had the historic hotel razed to the ground in 1946. Aggie, Zimmerman said, “ran it right up until they sold it. If anybody came up there and wanted to stay, she would get them a meal” (pg 30). </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the hotel sold, Zimmerman said, his aunt Aggie -- in her sixties -- traveled to Chicago to study art. “She was a wonderful artist,” he said (pg 30). She painted every wildflower in the canyon -- “she would go out and get the wildflowers in full bloom and bring it in and paint it. She was just unbelievable -- they were so good” (pg 30). Zimmerman had them, he told the historian, some framed and some “in the book that she had.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hope, as Aggie lived her last nine years after the hotel’s destruction, that she painted her wildflowers and found some peace. I hope she traveled sometimes -- in cars faster than her father John could have ever imagined as he drove his oxen west to Colorado in 1880 -- up the Poudre Canyon to the trailhead for the little lake named for her. But maybe she just remembered it. After all, though her older sister Eda “wanted to be out fishing and hunting or tracking around the mountains all the time,” “Aggie was more of the domestic type. She wanted to stay around the hotel” (pg 7). </span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-87792580313149058102021-07-20T19:03:00.001-06:002021-07-20T19:03:02.771-06:002021 update on Sq**w Mountain renaming<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">In July of 2017, after some research into Native women connected to this area of Clear Creek County, I submitted a proposal that the USBGN change the name of Clear Creek’s Sq**w Mountain to Mount Mistanta, in honor of Mistanta (also known as Owl Woman). Mistanta lived from 1800-1847 and was the wife of William Bent, who ran Bent's Fort in eastern Colorado. Owl Woman was a respected Southern Cheyenne leader who helped negotiate trade between the many groups who traded at Bent's Fort, and helped maintain good relations between the white people and the Native people. As the eldest daughter of the powerful Cheyenne leader White Thunder, Mistanta worked as a translator and important bridge between the indigenous tribes and the newcomers, in an era before the military-ordered massacres and removals.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-094a59aa-7fff-a2be-a9e6-a139e6c65f9c"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I only submitted a name change for the mountain. Next will be the re-naming of the pass, the fire lookout, the road -- and maybe of neighboring Chief Mountain -- but this seemed an important beginning. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I received a confirmation of my proposal. Then, months later in late 2017, the USBGN informed me via email that the Clear Creek County Commissioners Office did not support the name change, as "[we are] proud of our own significant local historic background and heritage.” They also cited the expenses involved in updating maps and signs. I was disappointed, but not surprised. Changing a mountain’s name could not be that easy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, in July of 2020, in the midst of the pandemic, I received another email from the BGN that Governor Polis was rejuvenating the Colorado State Names Advisory Board, and they wanted to re-open the proposal. Times had changed. In fall of 2020, Clear Creek Country agreed to the change, I withdrew my proposal so the Arapaho and Cheyenne tribes could submit one with a spelling that is closer to the phonetics: Mestaa’ehehe. A passionate group of Native leaders and activists have been leading webinars to educate people on the harm caused by the word “sq**w” and by honoring people like Evans. The Colorado State Names Advisory Board is working slowly toward the changes.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hopefully, by the publication of this guidebook, that lovely triangle mountain between Evergreen and Idaho Springs will be officially named Mestaa’ehehe Mountain, and hopefully, from the summit, people will gaze upon Mount Blue Sky (once known as Mount Evans). Hopefully. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-23269748894231691302021-07-20T15:34:00.000-06:002021-07-20T15:34:52.349-06:00Hessie Trailhead<span id="docs-internal-guid-e94b94cd-7fff-983a-4887-99c1943dde98"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hessie Trailhead, 9,009 feet </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(MODERATE)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Named for Hessie Davis, postmistress of the town of Hessie</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkjCOGN_gQ3W-TB1dytg2qRn2du-pm1rbbOSuBvwx9vYuCR2sMAwk451yt_-uYhLDLookjjd3VPXIYK-vavosYAml-yuxvzZhIyf6wOz0k073-RTaAlG8zw-apd8QLp-t6UBzXa4-igc/s2048/IMG-5210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1539" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkjCOGN_gQ3W-TB1dytg2qRn2du-pm1rbbOSuBvwx9vYuCR2sMAwk451yt_-uYhLDLookjjd3VPXIYK-vavosYAml-yuxvzZhIyf6wOz0k073-RTaAlG8zw-apd8QLp-t6UBzXa4-igc/s320/IMG-5210.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Getting to the trailhead:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> From downtown Nederland, drive south on Highway 72 for 0.5 miles, then turn right onto County Road 130. You’ll see a sign for the Eldora Ski Resort at this junction. Drive through the quiet tiny town of Eldora (be sure to obey their speed limit signs!) and park along the gravel road at the trailhead. This is a very popular trailhead; on summer weekends, locals in orange vests will turn cars away after 8 or 9 in the morning. However, there is a great free local shuttle that runs people from Nederland to the trailhead.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Roundtrip distance from the trailhead to the closest lakes:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 4 miles RT to Lost Lake; 9.8 miles RT to Jasper Lake; 12.2 miles RT to King Lake; 9.8 miles RT to Diamond Lake</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Elevation gain:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This depends on how far you would like to venture into the Indian Peaks Wilderness! The elevation gain to Lost Lake is 830 feet. It is 1,942 feet to Jasper Lake.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Map</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span><span style="background-color: yellow; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">[to be included]</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How to hike from Hessie Trailhead</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. From your parked car or the shuttle drop-off, walk down the obvious gravel road marked “Hessie Trail.” Be sure to note the remains of the little town of Hessie along the way. In the spring and early summer, much of the first half mile of the gravel road floods, but an alternative trail with boardwalks has been built through the woods. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. All the trails in this part of Indian Peaks Wilderness are well-marked. The hike to Lost Lake is a quick one, up the old mining road, then a left turn onto a solid bridge over the impressive tumbling Jasper Creek. Lost Lake is a blue gem ringed with lovely mountains -- a perfect place for a picnic (or camping, though note the Wilderness Area regulations). This is officially the end of the Hessie Trail, but it is very difficult to stop at Lost Lake, particularly on a beautiful blue-sky day, when the map shows the Devil’s Thumb trail beckoning upwards. The June day I hiked to Jasper Lake, my dog and I encountered only a few other people -- and snowdrifts to my hips. It was glorious.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOI8DQwL8e9LNR2imdqre4Nh3SnANbh2TxbYExqEOG1BnJbif39jqVyUuBJAm_tNfbgK_2aixZRAmkVe6lX6PRSpynVhmoTnCwiOT_KJocMhHF1wcM57x6hDw-SQG0f_hzyJRcxhdPKh0/s2048/IMG-5208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOI8DQwL8e9LNR2imdqre4Nh3SnANbh2TxbYExqEOG1BnJbif39jqVyUuBJAm_tNfbgK_2aixZRAmkVe6lX6PRSpynVhmoTnCwiOT_KJocMhHF1wcM57x6hDw-SQG0f_hzyJRcxhdPKh0/s320/IMG-5208.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the search for </span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hessie Davis:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This has been a trail guide for peaks and lakes named for women so far, but I couldn’t help including the Hessie Trail -- and Hessie herself, partly because this trail is a popular entrance to some of Colorado’s most beautiful wilderness, but also because this area preserves the ghostly whispers of a rollicking mining era in the region. Hessie Davis, postmistress of the mining town her husband J.H. Davis named for her, would have known all the gossip and drama that rippled through the area like the telluride gold in the rock.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Early in the morning on a weekday, the Hessie Trail is so quiet, it is difficult to imagine the town of Hessie in 1898, when frantic fortune seekers streamed into Eldora in search of the newly discovered gold ore. Eldora grew to over 1000 people, and the hopeful miners camped in the surrounding area. I’ve always thought the smartest people in these ore boom areas were the ones who sought to profit from the desperate miners (see Clara Brown’s story in the Clara Brown Hill chapter). J.H. Davis was one of those entrepreneurs: he built a lumber mill and founded a town, naming it after his wife. However, the prospectors ultimately discovered very little gold, and the boom fizzled. By 1905, the town of Hessie was deserted. Today, a hiker can see only collapsing structures, sprouting with aspens and monkshood. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Again, though, the official sources do not satisfy my curiosity. Who was Hessie? What happened to her? Where did she and J.H. go after the boom? The interest in the area led to tourism in the small town of Nederland, which thrives today. Did they settle there? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I learned from the Historicorps, which is an organization working to preserve the Hessie Cabin, that Hessie Davis single handedly started a postal facility in the new settlement, and that the miners -- not her husband -- wanted to name the town for her to honor her. Likely, Hessie, like other settlers in the area, grew potatoes, radishes, carrots, and peas, though not much else would grow at 8,600 feet. Unfortunately, her husband’s dream to profit from a lumber mill failed when a forest fire swept through the mountains in 1899. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then what? According to the 1972 book </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Colorado Ghost Towns</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a Mr. Wilson Davis -- living at the time with his wife in Hessie -- was arrested for the planned murder by dynamite of a fish and game warden in 1914. Was this the son of J.H. and Hessie? I can’t find confirmation. Mr. Davis was released, along with two brothers named Smalley, because there was not enough evidence. The murder remains unsolved.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But back to Hessie. In source after source, I could find nothing beyond the oft-repeated sentence “she quickly made herself indispensable as postmistress” of the new town of Hessie. Then finally, on Ancestry.com, I found a 1900 U.S. Census record: Hessie A. McBurney Davis, born April 8, 1849, in Ireland, lived in Boulder County in 1900, at age 51. I found a marriage record from Virginia (though it shows her marrying a Wilson E. Davis -- did J.H. go by a different name, or is this the wrong record?). I found a death record that showed she died in Los Angeles County on May 29, 1942, at the age of 93. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My favorite record? The one that reveals the most about the mysterious Hessie? She registered to vote in 1920 in California, the moment it became legal for women to do so. I like thinking about 71-year-old Hessie, once the postmistress of a tiny town of thirty people in the Colorado mountains, striding out to vote for the first time in a presidential election in California. </span></p></span><p> </p>Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-65056368404670868402021-07-19T15:33:00.006-06:002021-07-27T16:38:08.669-06:00Mount Silverheels<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mount Silverheels, 13,829 ft </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(DIFFICULT)</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-57ca56ee-7fff-61a1-585e-8f97373570b6"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Named for Silverheels, the dancehall girl and nurse</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yCEGKJuNMFLVAbM9B6FYNdqZ6W_cgUC-53Q4kYbAnogvaMNxIA4AtwSloSALUiLaiSyJkE6ehCJ-wM2Ae0lh9H-tdxwlQLs0mI03mGzVLqTYD_o23w98wWL9Yp061AKE2_MIP8L27lI/s2048/IMG-5524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yCEGKJuNMFLVAbM9B6FYNdqZ6W_cgUC-53Q4kYbAnogvaMNxIA4AtwSloSALUiLaiSyJkE6ehCJ-wM2Ae0lh9H-tdxwlQLs0mI03mGzVLqTYD_o23w98wWL9Yp061AKE2_MIP8L27lI/s320/IMG-5524.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riley on the side of Silverheels, Quandary in the distance</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Getting to the trailhead</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: This is the first point of disagreement about Silverheels: where to begin? It is possible to hike from the Hoosier Pass parking lot, from Highway 9 up Scott Gulch, or -- if you are lucky enough to own a good 4WD vehicle or have a friend who does -- you can drive up the nine miles on rough jeep trail north from Alma, park by the mine, hop across the creek, and start up. This is how I’ll hike this mountain next time!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Roundtrip distance to the summit from the trailhead</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">:This is the next point of disagreement, as it depends on where you begin. From Hoosier Pass, it will be 8.5 miles round trip; through Scott Gulch, 7.6 miles round trip. From the place you can drive a 4WD vehicle to: it will be barely 4 miles round trip.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Elevation gain</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: Again, this depends on where you begin. From Hoosier Pass or Scott Gulch, you will gain (and lose!) and gain: 2,949 feet. From the 4WD parking: 1,821 feet.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><div><span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisj42UaNiigSx2D3IexgPinnPLmGWIcbkrHR1XCy0WSP0mB0K2kirbyToohzpWWYkEAt5S0qy9tvSCA_s9qsUxDkKmvQSnrEMCDJcf0wBlOKVC81zNAH98qHcts-GVMrc5Mt23Ft22A_A/s2048/IMG-1206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisj42UaNiigSx2D3IexgPinnPLmGWIcbkrHR1XCy0WSP0mB0K2kirbyToohzpWWYkEAt5S0qy9tvSCA_s9qsUxDkKmvQSnrEMCDJcf0wBlOKVC81zNAH98qHcts-GVMrc5Mt23Ft22A_A/s320/IMG-1206.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Riley coming down from Silverheels</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Map:</span><span style="background-color: yellow; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> [to be included]</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How to hike to the summit of Mount Silverheels:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is no trail to the summit of Mount Silverheels. This is part of the reason 13ers are wilder and more challenging than the famed fourteeners in Colorado. It is also the reason I saw no other hikers on my journey to the summit. All of that said, there are, as I noted in “Getting to the Trailhead,” three common approaches. The easiest, by far, is the 4WD option. I’ll describe the one I did, though. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1) From Hoosier Pass, cross the road (to the east) and hike up the very obvious gravel road. This gravel road travels only briefly through forest before it emerges onto tundra and reveals the very daunting view of Mount Silverheels to the southeast (and Hoosier Ridge to the east). The climb up the green slopes of Silverheels looks interminable from here, and many choose to just do Hoosier Ridge, instead.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2) The temptation is to traverse the steep and cushiony tundra and head straight for the saddle in front of Silverheels. However, this is difficult hiking, and requires navigating several talus fields. It is easier hiking (though somewhat more difficult psychology) to continue on the trail toward Hoosier Pass until an obvious false summit at about 12,800, then turn southeast down the alpine ridge toward the saddle. Yes, you lose 800 feet of elevation to reach the 4WD road.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3) As you descend toward the 4WD road, you will likely see a jeep or two parked serenely by a colorful tent, and you will wonder why you did not choose this approach, as you have already hiked a mountain (a twelver, you could say). However, the emerald green dome of Silverheels in the morning is gorgeous, and you will have a far better view than those campers down in the valley.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4) Walk across the 4WD road, then down to the burbling creek (Beaver Creek, near the eponymous iron mine). Then start ascending (only 1,821 feet to go). It is a steep climb, but a spongy one, and the flowers are incredible in the summer.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">5) Keep ascending the green slope past a trail that zigs down to a smaller summit, then turn east for the final rocky ridge hike to the summit. Enjoy the views, and be sure to consider the long crowded march of people ascending Quandary to the northwest. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Note: It likely goes without saying, but if you chose the 4WD option, you only need to hike down to your vehicle and then drive to Alma. If you chose my route, you must ascend your unnamed twelver again, then descend to Hoosier Pass.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNxocmAeWv6HCddjkDbhat-QitYiDYnOz3BhXMf4SA5_4o_689-a8AqBJlL898vkGR64BUA2v6LWDN_PpPVhoDIA9zvdMRf4jL1GV0hlveZp1xpgeqmtz8LVOZ2uxYK7Lq3nvbp4yoPFI/s2048/IMG-5507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Tinos; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNxocmAeWv6HCddjkDbhat-QitYiDYnOz3BhXMf4SA5_4o_689-a8AqBJlL898vkGR64BUA2v6LWDN_PpPVhoDIA9zvdMRf4jL1GV0hlveZp1xpgeqmtz8LVOZ2uxYK7Lq3nvbp4yoPFI/s320/IMG-5507.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forget-me-nots on Silverheels</td></tr></tbody></table><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: #93c47d; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the search for </span><span style="background-color: #93c47d; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Silverheels:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Silverheels is a famous Colorado legend, so I knew about her even before I began work on this project. The story, told with only slight variations in articles and plays and historical fiction, is that a woman nicknamed Silverheels was a famously beautiful dancer in the mining town of Buckskin Joe, located between today’s towns of Fairplay and Alma. Some sources say she was nicknamed “Silverheels” because of her talent at dancing, but others weave the story that a miner crafted dance shoes for her that were inlaid with silver. Regardless, all sources agree that, when an epidemic of smallpox -- brought to the town by two sheepherders in 1861 -- afflicted the town and the surrounding area, the women and children were evacuated, a plea for nurses from Denver went unheeded, and Silverheels stayed behind to care for the miners and nurse them back to health. Inevitably, she contracted smallpox herself, disappearing into her small cabin on the edge of town. When the outbreak abated, the surviving miners, wishing to thank her, collected money (sources agree that this was the impressive sum of $5,000, which, in 1861, would be the equivalent of $150,000 today) and brought it to her cabin door to give to her. However, she was gone. Some sources say she was so disfigured by the disease that she fled. Others say she died, and that she still haunts the area. All sources agree that the miners returned the money and decided to pay tribute to their angelic savior by naming the beautiful dome of the mountain to the north for her. “Silverheels” started appearing on maps in the mid-1860s.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, I wanted to know more than what the legend offers, so I dug. In the work of one researcher and historical fiction writer, I discovered more elaboration on the well-known legend. On his website, Adam James Jones tells that Silverheels arrived in Buckskin Joe dressed all in black, and that she hid her face behind a heavy veil. When she revealed her face, all were astonished at her beauty. Jones admits, too, that Silverheels was more than just a dancer, as all the unmarried women struggling to make their living in those rough camps had to sell far more than their dancing talent. The commonly told legend tends to omit that fact.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In a compilation of legend versions by Western romance writer Lyn Horner, I discovered that some legends tell that Silverheels arrived in Buckskin Joe wearing a blue and white mask. Others insist that she disappeared after contracting smallpox because she could not bear to let anyone see her ugliness. And finally, some say that she could be glimpsed for years after near the miners’ graves, heavily veiled, weeping.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">None of this legend satisfies the historian’s curiosity in me. What was her real name? What about her life drove her to become a dancehall girl and prostitute in a tiny Colorado mining camp? What did she actually think about and love? She’s idealized in all of these legends, an angel, a Florence Nightingale, a selfless martyr. What did she fear? What did she want for her life? Why would she sacrifice everything for miners who viewed her as a luxurious purchase for their bedrooms? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Writers have tried to fill in the answers, as writers do. Breckenridge’s own novelist Helen Rich (see Mount Helen/Belle and Helen Peak) wrote a novel about Silverheels, though the New York publishing house that had published her first two novels (1947, 1950) rejected it. In 1954, Denver University produced the opera </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Silverheels</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and Central City put on a play about Silverheels called </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. ..And Perhaps Happiness</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Several novels have been written in recent years about the legendary Silverheels, too.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, the legends and fictions have become a thick screen, like we are trying to peer at Silverheels through the silk fabric of a dancegirl’s dress. It is lovely, all that purple color, but we can see only the figure of a woman: now she is dancing; now she is ministering to the sick and dying miners; now she herself is ill. Now she is gone. Who she really was is forever veiled. Maybe all that is certain is that, on many clear mornings in Buckskin Joe, she emerged from her cabin to sip coffee from a tin cup and to admire the great rounded high peak to the north. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-10353886826254832612018-08-12T21:51:00.003-06:002018-08-12T22:26:54.672-06:00Hiking Mount Ida for Ida Ruth<div style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2ue_1YZGRfI5IXZVIyykqt3If5C5rFQedJO_j5DG-bq5nutSqQUA0PKDXF4-mMagoJtNJSh4TVBE8mSIfJUaKjlGnkcrSUEOU8EsvEznFpc0VWE2fjS7XEDt4fuojAbwPqMChebAmNM/s1600/IMG_0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2ue_1YZGRfI5IXZVIyykqt3If5C5rFQedJO_j5DG-bq5nutSqQUA0PKDXF4-mMagoJtNJSh4TVBE8mSIfJUaKjlGnkcrSUEOU8EsvEznFpc0VWE2fjS7XEDt4fuojAbwPqMChebAmNM/s320/IMG_0012.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">My gram, Ida Ruth Miller, was the kind of woman people would have named mountains or lakes or flower species for. She was an intent listener, a keen observer of the natural world, a lover of family and home. She was quick to laugh deep from her belly, and she was as content kneeling to nurture her bloodroot flowers (<i>Sanguinaria canadensis</i>) in the Iowa woodlands section of her lush Des Moines garden as she was to sit in the cool shade of the gingko my grandfather planted, discussing a <i>New Yorker</i> article with me, her oldest grandchild. A gifted writer who worked as a food editor and director of the test kitchen for <i>Better Homes & Gardens</i> before she married my grandfather Wayne, Gram wrote me long letters on canary yellow legal pad paper, detailing her thoughts about the world, the newest blooms in her garden, and her wonderings about my life. </span><span style="background-color: white;">When I visited from wherever I was living or traveling, Gram and I would talk and talk for hours. She was brilliant, radiating love for me, for her home and her family, for her garden and the world. She had set out a rock cairn in her front yard, in view of her living room window, a rock cairn like the ones we followed on the trails we hiked in Rocky Mountain National Park on our summer vacations. "This cairn," she would tell me, "is the first marker on each family member's journey when they leave here." Always, when I pulled into her driveway for a visit, that perfectly balanced cairn of Iowa rocks would reassure me that I'd made it home again.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>My gram's BH&G profile photo from<br />1948. The best Ida I knew.</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Gram wasn't ever entirely sure she loved her name, though she allowed my sister Katie to incorporate it into "Elida," her daughter's name. I wonder if Gram knew that the ancient Greek name "idi," or "ida" in Doric dialect, meant a wooded mountain, a sacred forest. Crete's Mount Ida was so-named because it was once covered by a rich green forest. This etymology fits my gram, who loved to walk for hours in the Iowa woods, who invested her time and her money in returning a section of those woods at Living History Farms in Des Moines to native Iowa plants and flowers.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Some people have assumed that Rocky Mountain National Park's Mount Ida, a 12,889 foot mountain on the western side of the park, was named in allusion to that mountain in Crete. However, my sleuthing -- and my heart, now that I've climbed our Mount Ida -- suggest a different possibility.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">When my mother Mary, my sister Katie and I planned our hike up Mount Ida, we compared calendars and found that Saturday, July 28, was the only possibility in the entire summer. Only later did we realize, with astonishment, that that date was the exact five-year anniversary of Gram's death, at age 97 (she would have turned 98 one month later). Of course. We were hiking Mount Ida as part of my quest to hike the mountains and lakes named for women in Colorado, but we were hiking <i>together</i> to honor Gram, the Ida we love and admire and miss dearly. The date was no coincidence.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">On the Mount Ida trail (July 28, 2018)</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">As we ascended the mountain that morning at 6 am, in silence, our labored breath audible, I wondered about the Ida for whom this mountain had been named. It seems unlikely that the 19th century mountain-namers, who loved to honor themselves and their famous sponsors, would have just named it after a mountain in Crete. Surely, Ida was a woman worth naming a mountain for.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">On our hike, the Ida who mattered was Ida Ruth Miller. As the white granite trail climbed upward through the tundra, along the side of an unnamed 12,000-foot mountain toward the right-triangle of Ida, the three of us admired the early sunlight on the Never Summer range, and we identified plants, as Gram would have done: white Yarrow, yellow Arnica, pink Moss Campion, purple Aster, purple Mountain Harebell, blue Jacob's Ladder. Some we didn't know, but we observed so we could identify them later: Dotted Saxifrage, Miners-candle, American bistort. We laughed in delight as the little pikas darted out from their rock caves, as the fat brown marmots squeaked alarms at us. And we climbed.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWllB-xwxDAEf2A3tzk02ndPj2TMhyphenhyphenHbyUby4aYHSeKhoxGkTj7BB2wKSyhvYqN0Kff65RS0Qrswq2oEWbXCdVJY2Zjqeyc7k8m6-IBTCiD7JYXOZu2ogrvCB-FUFsGOmopgLP6io6HQ/s1600/IMG_0101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWllB-xwxDAEf2A3tzk02ndPj2TMhyphenhyphenHbyUby4aYHSeKhoxGkTj7BB2wKSyhvYqN0Kff65RS0Qrswq2oEWbXCdVJY2Zjqeyc7k8m6-IBTCiD7JYXOZu2ogrvCB-FUFsGOmopgLP6io6HQ/s320/IMG_0101.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Mount Ida is the summit to the far right.</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Of the 4.1-4.6 miles (depending on the route one takes through the boulderfield in the last stretch) to the summit of Mount Ida, all but 1.2 miles is above treeline. In the sunshine, beneath a blue sky, that means it is a stunning, expansive, exhilarating hike at the top of the world. It's true that the trail ascends 2100 feet from the trailhead, and that it is a strenuous hike, but it is also glorious, even for those exhausted by the effort. When Mom, Katie and I finally stepped onto the summit at 10:30 am, with a view of the turquoise Azure Lake and the blue Inkwell Lake down the steep cliffs, and the massive flat-topped hulk of Long's Peak rising to the southeast, we congratulated each other on the accomplishment. Mom, nursing a bruised chin from a fall, wanted us to stay away from the steep edges, but she smiled as she ate her sandwich, obviously relieved to have reached the top with us. Above all, we knew, the best way to honor our Ida was in our togetherness. She loved and valued family above all.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">On the summit of Mount Ida (me, Mom, and Katie)</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Azure Lake, from the summit of Mount Ida.</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were wise, watching the cumulonimbus clouds darkening in the west, to start our descent at 10:45. With over three miles of exposed trail before we reached the safety of the trees again, we knew we needed to hike to beat the thunderstorms that growl across the tundra in the afternoons.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">We didn't expect the first thunderstorm to strike only an hour later.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The clouds darkened quickly, blotting out the blue, shadowing the sun, as sheets of rain blurred the Indian Peaks to the south and the Never Summers to the west. Then, a hiker's worst nightmare: an electric white zigzag of lightning that seemed to blaze into the ridge just ahead of us. Katie and I looked at each other with wide eyes. We were still above 12,000 feet, with miles ahead of us. We could glimpse treeline a steep five hundred feet to our left, but it was as dangerous to hurl ourselves down that rocky ravine as to continue on. Between us, Mom kept hiking forward, one foot in front of the other, her head down.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">In all my miles of hiking, I have never been so close to lightning strikes as we were that morning. Thunder cracked ahead of us, and freezing rain stung us -- and another lightning bolt zigged to the ground in front of us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I am not religious, but I hold deep beliefs. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought of Gram, of her deep love for us, of her delight in the natural world, and I imagined a golden bubble around me, my sister, and my mother. And when I opened my eyes, I <i>felt</i> it -- from the east, where Ida Ruth's Bloodroot and Black-Eyed Susan and Oxeye Daisy still bloom, I felt this intense certainty that we three were safe. Another lightning bolt struck ahead of us, and Katie turned to me, panicked, and I said, "We're okay. We're safe," and within minutes, a spherical space cleared around us, a circle of blue sky opened above us, pushing the lightning and the thunder and the rain away from us until we stood in bright sunshine again beneath feathery cirrus clouds.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">We hugged each other, hearts hammering, our legs shaky on the tundra trail. And then we applied sunscreen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">It's not that I believe Gram saved us. Gram herself told me, when I asked her in her last year of life, that she simply believed she would nurture the flowers and the plants in her spot beside my grandfather. But there is something besides fatal lightning that vibrates in the world. Great love does. Memory of being greatly loved does. The whole rest of the way down Mount Ida, my mom and my sister and I talked about this. Our legs ached and we wanted iced tea, but every moment had been worth it, if only to remind us how loved we are.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">After a high-altitude lightning storm, it's easy to make fun of our fears. . .</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Safely back in Denver, I started my research. Gram never loved her name, but she loved to ask good questions and pursue their answers. </span><span style="background-color: white;">I learned that in 1904, when Estes Park pioneer Abner Sprague and Estes Park civil engineer Julian Hayden embarked on a fishing trip, they hiked and camped near Mount Ida, already named. That means the mountain must have been named by one of the late 19th century geological surveys -- by Hayden or King or Powell (Wheeler's survey did not stretch this far north). </span><span style="background-color: white;">I exhausted Google, meticulously researching each man on each survey -- but I found no Idas as wives or daughters. I searched in Grand Lake and Estes Park histories, and found an Ida McCreery (1875-1941), a the daughter of a homesteader in Estes. I found famous Idas of the late 1800s: Ida B. Wells (1862-1931), the African American journalist and reformer; Ida Tarbell (1857-1944), the famous "muckraker" journalist who exposed the corruption of Standard Oil; Ida Kruse McFarlane (1873-1940), a Colorado poet and the head of the University of Denver English Department. Though Gram may have begun to love her name a little more after reading about all these other incredible Idas, none of them had any connection with the west side of Rocky Mountain National Park. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Cairns on the top of Mount Ida.</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I called museums. The Estes Park Museum had no idea who Ida might have been. The Grand County Historical Association had no record of Idas during that time. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I spent an afternoon buried in the stacks on the Western History/Genealogy Floor of the Denver Public Library, paging through brittle type-written papers and old scribbled diary entries in the glassed-in reading room. The old documents explained the origin of nearly every mountain named for men in Colorado, but they mentioned Mount Ida not at all.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who was Ida? My daughter Mitike suggested, as we ate Ethiopian food from a food truck in Civic Center Park, that we could just say it was named for Gram, "because she was the best Ida of all." I agree, but the historian in me needs to <i>know</i>. Why do these women get lost, while every website and book explains in detail who Stephen Long and Nathan Meeker and William Hallett were? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After more meticulous research in the stacks, I began to develop a theory. Both Clarence King, the leader of the survey exploring California and the railroad route planned west, and Ferdinand V. Hayden, the leader of the survey exploring the Colorado and Wyoming territories, admired and were influenced by the famous Harvard geology professor Louis Agassiz, that controversial man revered for his glaciology and reviled for his racist beliefs. Agassiz's daughter Ida (1837-1935) married the banker Henry Higginson five years before the King and Hayden surveys explored Colorado, and either man may have thought to honor her -- and thus her father -- with a mountain name, King because he admired the man who had been his professor and Hayden because he wanted the scientific world to take his survey seriously. Hayden's botany surveys and reports threatened Agassiz's dream to found a museum of comparative zoology, and Hayden may have wanted to smooth over that conflict.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Maybe. From 1868-1873, when the surveys were naming mountains in the area, Ida Agassiz Higginson was in her early thirties, corresponding with famous people like Ralph Waldo Emerson, moving in the scholarly circles created by her stepmother, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Elizabeth Cabot Cary Agassiz, a co-founder of Radcliffe College, and benefiting from her brother Alexander's fortune in copper mining. What else? Like other wealthy women of her time, Ida stayed home while her father roamed west in search of fossils and glaciers. She never viewed Mount Ida.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">And maybe Colorado's Mount Ida wasn't named for Ida Agassiz Higginson at all. Maybe a map-maker loved an Ida who has been lost to history now. Maybe a pioneer named Ida lived there awhile and has now faded into dust.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">And maybe Mitike is right: when <i>our </i>family is hiking Mount Ida, we will tell ourselves it is named for the Ida who will always be dearest and most famous to us, Ida Ruth Younkin Miller, lover of wildflowers and names and stories and, above all, the family love that can comfort even in the midst of a high-altitude lightning storm.</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Ida Ruth's granddaughter Katie (my sister) on the summit of Mount Ida.</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;"><u>Getting to the trailhead: </u>Drive to the parking area at Milner Pass trailhead, on Trail Ridge Road, </span><span style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">4 miles south of the Rocky Mountain National Park Alpine Visitor Center and 16 miles north of </span><span style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">the Grand Lake entrance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;"><u>Roundtrip distance to the summit from the trailhead:</u> 9.2-9.6 miles RT, depending on the route </span><br />
<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">you choose to take through the boulder field</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;"><u>Elevation gain: </u>2,465 feet</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Map</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> (from </span><a href="https://www.nps.gov/romo/planyourvisit/upload/ROMOmap1_small.pdf" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">https://www.nps.gov/romo/planyourvisit/upload/ROMOmap1_small.pdf</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">) : </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><img height="388" src="https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/s21kMY0iRRoV8KBewmWVuaw/image?w=403&h=388&rev=18&ac=1&parent=1gQqLjc8UhLHk-RGFjC_3hyxC03ABJXgb8FYmURxjm_w" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="403" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;"><u>How to reach the summit: </u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">1. Follow signs to Mount Ida (note that the sign says only 4.0 miles) from the parking lot, continuing on </span><span style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">along the southern shore of Poudre Lake. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">2. At the intersection, take the righthand fork to the south, toward Mount Ida (the lefthand fork takes </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">hikers up the Alpine Visitor Center).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">3. After the trail emerges from treeline at about 1.2 miles, continue south toward Mount Ida, which is </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">the right triangle peak straight ahead of you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">4. At the summit of the unnamed Peak 12,150, the trail diverges. Take the righthand trail, descending </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">toward the saddle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">5. From the saddle, which is about 3.5 miles into the hike, the trail climbs through tundra and a boulder </span><span style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">field. Several routes exist here, mostly marked by cairns and the worn paths of feet in sections of tundra. </span><span style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">Climbing straight up shortens the hike but is far rockier. The routes that curve to the right and then up </span><span style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">take hikers through a softer tundra. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times, times new roman, serif;">6. Finally, climb the boulders to the summit, for an impressive view of Long’s to the southeast and o</span><span style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">f Azure and Inkwell Lakes straight below. </span></div>
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<u style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Sources:</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></u><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Delbert, Jack E. and Brent H. Breithaupt. <i>Tracks, Trails and Thieves: Hayden's 1868 Survey</i>. Geological Society of America, 2016. Book.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Emerson, Ralph Waldo. "To Ida Agassiz Higginson, Concord, November 11, 1870." <i>The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson. </i>Columbia University Press, 1941. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Fleming, Barbara. "Fleming: Abner Sprague left a large footprint behind." Coloradoan.com, Coloradoan, 7 May 2017, https://www.coloradoan.com/story/news/2017/05/07/fleming-abner-sprague-left-large-footprint-behind/101416518/.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">"History: Psiloritis." Psiloritisrace.com, 2018, http://www.psiloritisrace.com/en/pages/history-en.php</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Jones, Keith. <i>History of Jelm, Wyoming, Vol. 1. </i>Lulu.com, 19 April 2014, http://www.lulu.com/us/en/shop/keith-jones/history-of-jelm-wyoming-vol-1/paperback/product-21587948.html.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Koster, John. "He tried to solve earth's mysteries and left a few mysteries of his own." History.net, 3 March 2017, http://www.historynet.com/tried-solve-earths-mysteries-left-mysteries-clarence-king.htm.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"Photo Record." Catalog number 2004.024.134. Estespark.pastperfectonline.com, Estes Park Museum, 1940, https://estespark.pastperfectonline.com/photo/63A7BBA5-DA66-47CA-83CF-892962937260.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Sargent, John Singer. "Ida Agassiz Higginson." Drawing, 1917. Harvardartmuseums.org. https://www.harvardartmuseums.org/art/309242. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Sprague, Abner. <i>My Pioneer Life: the Memoirs of Abner E. Sprague</i>. Karen Sue Stopher, 2005. Book.</span></span></span></div>
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Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Mt Ida, Colorado 80517, USA40.371651 -105.7791758000000215.6333455 -147.08776980000002 65.1099565 -64.470581800000019tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-19732736047186665632018-07-10T19:10:00.003-06:002018-08-12T21:58:51.136-06:00Mount Flora and Lake Ethel (and, to the north, Mount Eva)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Scarlet Paintbrush on the Mount Flora trail</b></td></tr>
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My daughter Mitike crouched low on the Mount Flora trail to closely examine a fuschia-colored paintbrush. "It's beautiful," she told me and my cousin Johanna, reminding us to pause in our hike down the mountain, reminding us to examine the details, to breathe it all in awhile. So we did. We named the flowers we know: King's Crown, Moss Campion, Dwarf Clover, Chiming-Bells, Sky Pilot, Forget-Me-Not, Pussytoes, Alpine Sunflower, Pasque Flower. We could not identify the succulent with the white flowers; we did not know the specific names of any of the lichens or stonecrops. And what was the specific name of each species of paintbrush?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WsbzQyuTWBQx1RNA8lx-IQDgKhcGTAWV_WBKxBP6Z9ovlMfrjiAcHD2cR5AcJWiSHChVhyakerupXkeZecLbbdSDSg2MCaM5U_Bhc6wfSkPzDYtNo4gI_ARwkXwfFd9Cmy1jLNsR7QU/s1600/IMG-5103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WsbzQyuTWBQx1RNA8lx-IQDgKhcGTAWV_WBKxBP6Z9ovlMfrjiAcHD2cR5AcJWiSHChVhyakerupXkeZecLbbdSDSg2MCaM5U_Bhc6wfSkPzDYtNo4gI_ARwkXwfFd9Cmy1jLNsR7QU/s320/IMG-5103.JPG" width="320" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><b>Me, Johanna, and Mitike (with Henry the golden retriever) on the summit of Mt Flora, July 10, 2018</b></span></td></tr>
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An hour before, at the top of Mount Flora, another hiker, a man named Mark, told me that he had heard these peaks called "the Botanists' Peaks," because they were named for famous 19th century botanists and their wives -- a great lead to my research into the women for whom Mount Flora, Mount Eva, and Lake Ethel were named. Mark then asked me to tell him about other mountains and lakes named for women. Later, Mitike joked affectionately that she thought I would "explode with happiness," as I told Mark about Anna Dickinson and Helen Rich and Margaret Goldsborough. The stories behind these names <i>matter</i>. They do.<br />
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As we examined the flora beside the trail, though, Johanna suggested gently that this mountain we had just climbed -- and loved -- may have been so named merely because the botanists loved flowers. I hoped not.<br />
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The moment I got home, I googled "botanists' peaks in Colorado," and confirmed what Mark had said: Gray, Torrey, Parry, James, Audubon, Engelmann, and Guyot were all renowned botanists. Charles Parry gave the mountains their names, including his own; the 1997 book <i>The King of Colorado Botany</i>, by William Weber, notes that Parry named Mount Eva for his second wife, Emily ("Eva" must have been a nickname -- some people online have questioned this; is it possible "Eva" was someone else entirely?). Emily and Charles Parry married when they were 36 and 38, respectively, in 1859. Interestingly, they moved to Davenport, Iowa, where the determined Germans from which Johanna and I are descended were just beginning a farm. I know Emily outlived Charles by twenty-five years, and that she was, according to the <i>Davenport Democrat and Leader</i>, "a most estimable woman, whom older residents will remember for her many good qualities." Emily made such an impression on her husband's botanist colleague, Asa Gray, that he named the purple Sand Blossom for her, <i>Linanthus parryae</i>. She often accompanied her husband on his plant collecting excursions.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKTK8WdbLgwaq2dbx_0KnnPwtKlY9qgHtbLosD2q2q2lyYGobj0lodjtJ4jXsNJf17NaZNqPrgWB20p45CyE0xrQsf6q5EFrld2S6CIvwMDvJaI1dnfSOt6KRVCHG5_49pK24GDn1t0M/s1600/IMG-5122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKTK8WdbLgwaq2dbx_0KnnPwtKlY9qgHtbLosD2q2q2lyYGobj0lodjtJ4jXsNJf17NaZNqPrgWB20p45CyE0xrQsf6q5EFrld2S6CIvwMDvJaI1dnfSOt6KRVCHG5_49pK24GDn1t0M/s320/IMG-5122.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><b>Left to right: Parry Peak, Mount Eva, Mount Flora</b></span></td></tr>
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But was the name "Flora" merely a nod to those plants the famous botanists collected? In an era of honoring people with geographical namesakes, it seemed unlikely. I kept researching and found, in a PDF about Clear Creek County's history, two stories. Some say that Mount Flora is so named because Parry "introduced the Colorado flora to the world," as Weber's 1997 biography of Parry insists. Of course, in Latin, "flora" means "flowers." However, others say that Mount Flora was named for early Denver poet and short story writer Chauncey Thomas' mother, Flora Sumner Thomas (1866-1943). Flora Thomas was the sister-in-law of W.N. Byers, the founder of the <i>Rocky Mountain News</i>. According to Thomas, the famous western explorer, Major John Wesley Powell (a member of the first party of white men to summit Long's Peak, in 1868), stayed with Byers in Colorado, and started a Boy Scout Camp at Berthoud Pass. Again, according to Thomas, Powell named two mountains there, one for Byers' wife Elizabeth and the other for his sister-in-law Flora. Thomas' ashes are scattered on Berthoud Pass and on Mount Flora, and the Colorado Historical Society placed a monument to him at the pass in 1943.<br />
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This second story rings truer, I think, considering the times, though I wonder why Powell's wife Emma did not get a mountain named for her, too. Or maybe she did, and the record has been lost.<br />
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Finally, who was Ethel, for whom the little turquoise lake at the base of Mount Flora is named? I found a 2013 obituary for an Ethel Schwartz, who grew up skiing at the Berthoud Pass Ski Area in the 1920s and 30s, but that doesn't seem to indicate a reason to name a lake for her. None of the famous botanists were married to Ethels; Parry's daughter (who died as a child) was named Elizabeth; and Powell was not connected to any Ethels. Who was she? I emailed the Colorado Ski History organization to see if they know -- I'll update this if they reply.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Ethel, as seen from Mount Flora's summit</td></tr>
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Sometimes, pursuing the people behind the names, immersed in research, I lose sight of the fact that I am trying to more deeply appreciate this place I love even as I am trying to get people to honor historical women. Sometimes I forget to just appreciate the paintbrush. Today, I hiked across tundra meadows for miles with Mitike and Johanna, and I watched the hardy flora blossoming and thriving even in the wind and the cold and the exposure. I am a writer, not a botanist, and so I collected the riot of color and the sweet strangeness of names (groundsel, alpine valerian, arctic gentian). I looked and looked at the mountain ranges. Like the famous botanists who collected here, I never feel like I can gather enough into my mind and my heart, and that in itself is glorious.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikqlOfnfEDnHa0u34qFyygdcWBsUzO7lOTLriRKcTNrCvvvVtDwDRgibxE1yGhyqtWoNUwr9ia8MxW27PzeMCnF9ZX89H4rS2Wis-dDiJ82unLv8NnJ_GV1sd0oGrdCaKvouicFyMxCvE/s1600/IMG-5115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikqlOfnfEDnHa0u34qFyygdcWBsUzO7lOTLriRKcTNrCvvvVtDwDRgibxE1yGhyqtWoNUwr9ia8MxW27PzeMCnF9ZX89H4rS2Wis-dDiJ82unLv8NnJ_GV1sd0oGrdCaKvouicFyMxCvE/s320/IMG-5115.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<b>Who was Ethel? I DID find that this succulent is Alpine Spring Beauty (Claytonia megarhiza)</b></div>
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<u>How to hike Mount Flora</u>:<br />
1) Drive to Berthoud Pass, and park on the east side. Enjoy reading the informative signs at the pass, especially the one about the Continental Divide Trail, which you will be following to the summit of Mount Flora.<br />
2) Follow the Continental Divide Trail on the east side of Berthoud Pass. The trail follows a service road for 0.89 miles, and then clearly forks to the left (the signage to Mount Flora is clear).<br />
3) Follow the CDT for another 2.5 miles to the summit of Mount Flora. It's a relatively easy hike, though the false summit may temporarily defeat tired 11-year-olds. From the summit of Mount Flora (13,146'), you can peer down into the steep valley at Lake Ethel, which would be a dangerous scramble. Similarly, it does look possible (and challenging ) to climb Mount Eva by following the Continental Divide ridge line north from Mount Flora -- but no trail heads in that direction.<br />
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<u>Resources:</u><br />
http://www.ahlbergfuneralchapel.com/book-of-memories/1739153/schwartz-ethel/obituary.php?Printable=true<br />
https://www.amazon.com/King-Colorado-Botany-Christopher-1823-1890/dp/0870814311<br />
http://bristleconecnps.org/native_plants/names/parry.php<br />
http://www.co.clear-creek.co.us/DocumentCenter/View/2508<br />
http://www.coloradoskihistory.com/lost/bpass.html<br />
https://www.cpp.edu/~larryblakely/whoname/who_pary.htm<br />
https://www.crestedbuttewildflowerfestival.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Handy-Dandy-Alpine-Wildflower-Guide.pdf<br />
http://www.cumc.columbia.edu/psjournal/archive/fall-2006/charles_parry.html<br />
https://www.swcoloradowildflowers.com/Slide%20Shows/Charles%20Parry's%20Colorado%20Flora/index.htmSarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Mt Flora, Colorado 80452, USA39.8049872 -105.736394415.0666802 -147.0449884 64.543294199999991 -64.4278004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-20514226621359877802018-07-01T18:36:00.000-06:002018-08-12T22:04:40.932-06:00Lake Dorothy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_7qLl-WUdKbtYFKqVKJbhVMxYFbyu5iWniIrSq-ITPKXX7oO12TMD-Y9OUSlHdUeUlscs40VzRA-qkyo8tZK3Vc4CiDfmQX4ax1l3P-T8e7CtxD8Vdd7mDr-2LZqmpOchdADxJNL15I/s1600/IMG_5057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_7qLl-WUdKbtYFKqVKJbhVMxYFbyu5iWniIrSq-ITPKXX7oO12TMD-Y9OUSlHdUeUlscs40VzRA-qkyo8tZK3Vc4CiDfmQX4ax1l3P-T8e7CtxD8Vdd7mDr-2LZqmpOchdADxJNL15I/s320/IMG_5057.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><b>Lake Dorothy, June 30, 2018</b></span></td></tr>
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Just 1/4 of a mile south of Arapaho Pass, at the cradled base of the jagged Mount Neva, is a small lake shaped somewhat like a heart: Lake Dorothy. The stunningly gorgeous 3.7 miles of trail from the the Fourth of July trailhead reveal nothing at all about this little lake -- the engraved wooden signs point to Diamond Lake, to Arapaho Glacier, to Arapaho Pass and to Caribou Pass, but not to Lake Dorothy. It is as if this little lake, relatively easy to reach, is a secret. If so, it is a lovely secret, reflecting the blue sky, then changing suddenly with a cloud's shadow, the snowfield at its southern edge cobalt blue in the water. It is perfectly beautiful.<br />
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My cousin Johanna and I ventured up to Lake Dorothy on a surprisingly cool day in late June (it was 40 degrees in the sun at the trailhead at 8 am). We had visited the lake before, years ago, but we have been more focused on summiting peaks. Now we delighted in the trail that edged along the steep mountainside of columbine and paintbrush, opening to a more and more expansive view of the jagged, snowy Indian Peaks: North Arapaho, Neva, Satanta, and then Arikaree, Kiowa, Apache, Shoshone, Pawnee, Paiute. We hiked past the rusting metal remnants and sunken holes of the once prosperous Fourth of July mine, we stood in the whipping wind on Arapaho Pass, and then we made our way to little Lake Dorothy, where we found shelter from boulders to eat our snacks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFNJp1ueU0eFBqYGD-RERYJnMkHI95g-t_Ik9fYp89nko3hF9o6FZ0WDfYSd0vwh0wy3y14luPyq7CiAFALtuEqumJJ-2GaJFEZ7l6M_TO-zejp78bnFQTGbzQ7Z5FloJw3l5bxKmUm44/s1600/IMG_5065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFNJp1ueU0eFBqYGD-RERYJnMkHI95g-t_Ik9fYp89nko3hF9o6FZ0WDfYSd0vwh0wy3y14luPyq7CiAFALtuEqumJJ-2GaJFEZ7l6M_TO-zejp78bnFQTGbzQ7Z5FloJw3l5bxKmUm44/s320/IMG_5065.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: 12.8px;">The Fourth of July trail toward Arapaho Pass and Lake Dorothy</b></td></tr>
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And of course, I wondered: who was Dorothy? Already, I had done some research, and I had discovered some famous Dorothys from late 19th century and early 20th century Colorado, when the US Geological Survey was naming these peaks and lakes. I knew that Dorothy Cave had been the sister of Ruth Cave, who was one of the first African Americans to attend CU Boulder. I knew Dorothy Guinn, also African American, had run Denver's YWCA in the 1920s. I knew Dorothy Starbuck had been an accomplished and brave WWII nurse, and that Dorothy Woodruff had been a pioneering schoolteacher. I knew Dorothy Teague Schwartz became the sixth woman to climb all of Colorado's fourteeners in 1949. I knew Dorothy Hughes ran for mayor of Nederland in 1976. But none of these Dorothys had a strong association with the Fourth of July Mine or with the Indian Peaks Wilderness, though of course Teague Schwartz hiked and skiied throughout this area.<br />
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Who was Dorothy? My cousin, always a little entertained by my wish to discover for <i>whom </i>these lakes and peaks have been named, tolerated a stop at the Nederland Visitor Center, where a thin pale man named John shrugged his shoulders at me. No idea. Dorothy? Anyone know who Dorothy was? When I called the Nederland Mining Museum, the response was the same. No one had any idea. If I had asked about Mount Neva, they would have been quick to tell me about Chief Niwot and Neva of the Southern Arapaho tribe. If had asked about Long's Peak, just visible to the north from Arapaho Pass, they would have shown me multiple sources about Stephen Long. But the women for which these places are named are often forgotten.<br />
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I wanted Dorothy to be a nickname for the fascinating Baby Doe Tabor, the aristocratic woman who made headlines because she worked in the Fourth of July mine, among other reasons. But Baby Doe was named Lizzie, or Elizabeth.<br />
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I researched C.C. Alvord, who discovered silver in the area on the Fourth of July of 1872, but he was connected to no Dorothys (incidentally, his wife, Nancy Alvord lived most of her later years in Davenport, Iowa, where I attended high school).<br />
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Finally, I thought to find out who exactly named all the Indian Peaks after Colorado's Native American tribes and chiefs. I found a high school botany teacher named Ellsworth Bethel who, in the spring of 1914, wrote to the US Board on Geographic Names in his capacity as a leader in the Colorado Mountain Club and suggested eleven tribal names for the unnamed Snowy Peaks, the area where he most loved to collect fungi and flowers. This was an unusual suggestion, as it was common to honor naturalists or politicians with names. The board accepted only six of the names: Apache, Arikaree, Kiowa, Navajo, Ogalalla, Pawnee. They replaced "Ute" with Paiute.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><b>A columbine on the trail. I photographed no fungi, which Bethel studied.</b><br />
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By 1917, Bethel had earned an honorary master's degree from the University of Denver, had retired from teaching, and had joined the United States Department of Agriculture’s Forest Pathology laboratory. By October 1924, at the age of 61, he had married thirty-one-year-old Dorothy Stokley from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and lived in Wheatridge, Colorado.<br />
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Dorothy. There she was! Sometime in those years (I cannot find when or how he met Dorothy Stokley), Bethel wrote another suggestion to the US Board on Geographical Names: name that little heart-shaped lake just beyond Arapaho Pass Lake Dorothy, after the woman I love.<br />
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That's what I can surmise, anyway. The name Dorothy is not documented officially in the Geographical Names Informational System (GNIS) until 1978, but people in the area could have been calling the lake that name for the five decades since Bethel traipsed those trails.<br />
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There's a tragic story hidden here. Just under a year after he married Dorothy, Ellsworth Bethel died suddenly, in September of 1925. In 1926, the US Board on Geographical Names changed the "Little Professor Peak" in Clear Creek County to Mount Bethel. Census records from 1930 show that Dorothy moved to Washington, D.C., where she lived with her mother. She died in D.C. in 1975, still Dorothy Bethel, "widowed."<br />
<br />
What else? As usual, the real stories are hidden. Did Dorothy meet Ellsworth on a vacation to Colorado, or did they meet in the D.C. offices of the U.S. Department of Agriculture? Did Ellsworth ever take Dorothy to her namesake lake? Did Dorothy collect <i>Puccinia interveniens</i> (rust fungi) and study the <i>Betheliella </i>bee on the mariposa lily with him? When he died suddenly, did Dorothy leave Colorado right away, or did she grieve him first in the mountains he had loved?<br />
<br />
As usual, the lake and the mountains and the sky keep their secrets.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-xSg2cmzZoSSr0YDxV9K_AS3EMdlxlZsUMRNaTmHFj2AaScZH2QljzxapYqZK5DhHjuLEZj6tl-BX6aN2clFJYv7C2oLXHHgFL0CxKz4ZDl2zbJ6xYQ3aw1JycYq-8mUCPMkZwf1hyphenhyphennU/s1600/IMG_5055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-xSg2cmzZoSSr0YDxV9K_AS3EMdlxlZsUMRNaTmHFj2AaScZH2QljzxapYqZK5DhHjuLEZj6tl-BX6aN2clFJYv7C2oLXHHgFL0CxKz4ZDl2zbJ6xYQ3aw1JycYq-8mUCPMkZwf1hyphenhyphennU/s320/IMG_5055.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>An alpine sunflower on Arapaho Pass</b></td></tr>
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<u><br /></u>
<u>How to hike to Lake Dorothy</u>:<br />
1. Drive through the little town of Eldora, to the Forest Service Road. Take the righthand fork (not the lefthand fork to the Hessie Trailhead), and drive on the rough, potholed road four miles to its end. The trailhead to Arapaho Pass is well-marked here.<br />
2. Hike three miles to Arapaho Pass (pass the Diamond Lake fork, and veer left at the fork that veers off to Arapaho Glacier).<br />
3. At Arapaho Pass, turn left (not into the pass) and hike up along the ridge for 0.25 miles until you reach the lovely Lake Dorothy.<br />
<br />
<u>Sources:</u><br />
http://www.ancestry.com<br />
http://www.herbarium.unc.edu/Collectors/Bethel_Ellsworth.htm<br />
http://www.longs-pikes.com/pkpage.htmlSarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Lake Dorothy, Colorado 80466, USA40.0122597 -105.6856121999999840.009219200000004 -105.69065469999998 40.0153002 -105.68056969999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-11795997753965907522018-06-29T14:36:00.000-06:002018-07-01T18:38:40.427-06:00Mount MargaretSometimes, the raucous history of a place -- and a name -- is incongruent with its reality. Look at Mount Margaret, near Red Feather Lakes in northern Colorado. The 7.2-mile roundtrip hike to the summit of Mount Margaret winds through through gentle green meadows that bloom with pasque flower, golden banner, and pussy toes in June. It crosses a clear, burbling stream. The path is wide enough for three people to walk beside each other. "Mount" is deceptive, as this is the only mountain I have ever hiked that requires a <i>downhill</i> walk to the summit. On a sunny day, Mount Margaret is merely a lovely pile of smooth boulders, a perfect place to eat a lunch.<br />
<br />
But examine its history, and Mount Margaret and the surrounding area, known as Maxwell Ranch, reveal an astounding series of scandals and land dramas. Houses and barns burned, people died suddenly, land was bought and sold and contested. The most scandalous story, though, involved the namesake of the mountain, Margaret Goldsborough. According to Lon Lewis of the Red Feather Historical Society, Margaret bought three homesteads on Maxwell Ranch for her daughter Mildred, as a wedding present in 1926. Mildred married a veterinarian named Dr. Wallace Brown. However, after just three years, Mildred filed for divorce from Dr. Brown, claiming that he was cruel and that he had only married her for her mother Margaret's wealth. Brown, still in possession of the land Margaret had purchased, promptly married a rich Denver socialite named Marion Elliot -- before his divorce was finalized -- and was charged $500 for bigamy. Only a year later, Marion filed for divorce, charging Brown with extreme cruelty. In 1935, Margaret managed to re-purchase the ranch. She, her daughter Mildred, and Mildred's son John from Mildred's second (failed) marriage moved onto the ranch. Mildred re-married and had a daughter, Margaret Ellen, in 1941. In 1943, Mildred heard that Dr. Brown had been found dead in Sweetwater, Texas, where he was widowed from his fifth wife and probably practicing veterinary medicine illegally.<br />
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Meanwhile, on Mount Margaret, the pasque flower bloomed purple and the bluestem grass waved in the breeze, and somewhere cattle lowed.<br />
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And exactly who was Margaret Williams Goldsborough? I can find no photographs of her. I know, from Ancestry.com, that her middle name was Luetta and that she was born in Illinois. I know Mildred was a daughter from her first marriage, though I can't figure out how the first marriage ended. I know she married Lewis Custice Goldsborough, twenty years her senior, who was rich, and who died in 1919, only four months after he and Margaret married, leaving Margaret with enough money to buy ranchland. I know she married A.G. Barnes Stonehouse, the famed owner of the Al. G. Barnes Circus, in 1930, and that he died seven months later (was Margaret cursed, or was she killing her husbands?) I know Margaret lived in Denver until she moved onto the ranch with Mildred and John in 1935. I know from the Denver Public Library archives that Margaret died in 1938, in early September, just three years after she moved onto the ranch.<br />
<br />
But what was <i>she</i> like? What did she think and feel? The mountain named for her hides it all. She was persistent, evidently, since she got the ranch back after all those complicated changes of ownership. She was resourceful, since her marriage gained her wealth. But was she <i>happy</i>? Did she sometimes walk to the top of her mountain and feel some peace from the view?<br />
<br />
These are the answers the cold archive, the birth records, the marriage records, the death records, hide. We can only imagine the stories.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking on the mostly flat trail on Mt. Margaret</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBoWff7vFI8Tueh-euVtQIZgq-grrfbKdF6G19YiOphMPnqCsaP-8LYjuw5iM7RIJiN50LqkAhyphenhyphenNpQVT0YAiLxed5tMwJUPaEnrrLUdEGRtLZAokY7r-YKGpWRBALT7llcgjANoWWPXY/s1600/34191090_10157415470906102_5207847880206843904_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBoWff7vFI8Tueh-euVtQIZgq-grrfbKdF6G19YiOphMPnqCsaP-8LYjuw5iM7RIJiN50LqkAhyphenhyphenNpQVT0YAiLxed5tMwJUPaEnrrLUdEGRtLZAokY7r-YKGpWRBALT7llcgjANoWWPXY/s320/34191090_10157415470906102_5207847880206843904_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the summit of Mt. Margaret (June 2, 2018)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp85FQ9pnqHFfr_HA3jDQUMN4iNaIet8e7Hg4fC1qDNvUEkVyLucKxs7UhE90r78ZVNteuP5Io5w11Fijbqf0rmI6lvWKei8ezink_e9MXl7XF6cDPZy9eURVwXkLjnS_JI2rHFGCZuVI/s1600/34268617_10157415470991102_8994482118570541056_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp85FQ9pnqHFfr_HA3jDQUMN4iNaIet8e7Hg4fC1qDNvUEkVyLucKxs7UhE90r78ZVNteuP5Io5w11Fijbqf0rmI6lvWKei8ezink_e9MXl7XF6cDPZy9eURVwXkLjnS_JI2rHFGCZuVI/s320/34268617_10157415470991102_8994482118570541056_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cows grazing behind us</td></tr>
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<br />
<u>How to hike Mount Margaret:</u><br />
1. Drive west on Highway 74E to the Mount Margaret trailhead, on the north side of the road.<br />
2. Follow the Mount Margaret trail for 3.6 miles to the summit. Note that several other trails intersect with this trail, but the signage is good, if you are paying attention. Just before the summit, the trail goes downhill, and then hikers must scramble up boulders for a view of the surrounding valley.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<u>Sources:</u></div>
<div>
<br />
Lewis, Lon D. "Maxwell Ranch History." Red Feather Historical Society. 2015. Retrieved from <a href="http://redfeatherhistoricalsociety.org/local-histories/historic-local-sites/maxwell-ranch-history/">http://redfeatherhistoricalsociety.org/local-histories/historic-local-sites/maxwell-ranch-history/</a>, 14 June 2018.</div>
Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Mt Margaret, Red Feather Lakes, CO 80545, USA40.8177597 -105.5277712000000215.295725200000003 -146.83636520000002 66.3397942 -64.219177200000019tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-34575793996532655812017-08-08T12:36:00.001-06:002017-08-08T13:16:36.749-06:00Emmaline Lake and Naming Places for Mothers<span id="docs-internal-guid-10220eba-c329-de55-6d26-5b80baf055d4"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The day before we hiked to Emmaline Lake, I told my mom that "Emmaline" was Emma Schupbach Koenig, the mother of one of Rocky Mountain National Park's three first park rangers, Frank Koenig. To my surprise, my mom sighed. "They were always naming places after their mothers and their wives just because they were mothers and wives, not because they DID anything memorable."</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRNWWr4N8caTep9r5DWdvnlHjaU29qWHY8ulI_7026EqHD45ICSeThfngLgArO5gGWREGsL0BSFdra2N3KUohv3CWOhdkSZJAD_BIX5ijLNxYdOlK-SOwNzwDhPzlxYdd5B_kD_lPTH_0/s1600/IMG_3994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRNWWr4N8caTep9r5DWdvnlHjaU29qWHY8ulI_7026EqHD45ICSeThfngLgArO5gGWREGsL0BSFdra2N3KUohv3CWOhdkSZJAD_BIX5ijLNxYdOlK-SOwNzwDhPzlxYdd5B_kD_lPTH_0/s320/IMG_3994.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was true that I couldn't find anything more about Emma. Her son evidently added the "-line" suffix to her name just as he added it when he named the remote Hazeline Lake in honor of his wife Hazel Ramsey Koenig (note that Frank named Ramsey Peak after his father-in-law, but did not call it Ramsey-line Peak). I learned Emma was born in Sardis, Ohio, in 1862, to Swiss-German parents; I learned that she married Rudolph Koenig (twenty years her senior), moved to Colorado, and gave birth to eight children (Frank was the second). I learned that she died in 1960 and is buried in Loveland. But these Ancestry.com discoveries led me nowhere close to who Emma Koenig was as a person. What thoughts and dreams did Emma hold dear? Did she ever think of the alpine lake her son named for her? Did she ever walk there? What was significant to her in her 98 years? </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-10220eba-c32a-3631-cc37-feca8480a1a8"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Emma Schupbach Koenig happened to be the mother of one park ranger who walked in these woods before trails were built here. But what else?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFs5LYKpZp8CbEgbJX5oYJxur0noKM3T-4UrAXGwiex3XESttWV0xZ1y67wbdRdZXnhmQLzGIahtKfg-LNK65-B78ft_VqpWrUrbul8zkBIgUuDsFckftX31uW95D4lTUg_wTTHVOqGW8/s1600/IMG_4002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFs5LYKpZp8CbEgbJX5oYJxur0noKM3T-4UrAXGwiex3XESttWV0xZ1y67wbdRdZXnhmQLzGIahtKfg-LNK65-B78ft_VqpWrUrbul8zkBIgUuDsFckftX31uW95D4lTUg_wTTHVOqGW8/s320/IMG_4002.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"></span><br /></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then, during the thirteen-mile round-trip hike to Emmaline Lake with my mom and my stepdad Gerry, my thoughts shifted away from Emma Koenig to my own mother, whose name is Mary Miller, and for whom I would eagerly name a lake or a peak, if someone offered me that opportunity. My mother has accomplished quite a bit in her 65 years: she shone in a long and successful career as an ELCA Lutheran lay minister and a journalist, she raised two daughters on a farm in eastern Iowa, and she has retired to Colorado to live boldly, traveling local hiking trails and across Europe with Gerry. But I would name a high-altitude lake for my mother not because of her biography, but because she is like the wildflowers that insist on thriving in rock and wind and storm here. Once, twenty years ago, when all our lives suddenly became very hard, my mother refused to remain defeated. She bought a little house of her own and she planted morning glories along the backyard fence. Every morning, she told me and my sister, those purple blooms reminded her to keep persisting, to keep hoping. The first Christmas in that little house, she held our hands tightly at the table and reminded us that the circle the three of us made was strong enough. We believed her.</span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNvfFmHeTV2LIKXQ_KtpWsn9JutXWSUW8sOOi2DN1o9LAkxGfjLXxVxCOIImcWHfBI6lTJgpZTIgDLSAOk50rXeAQy-vGi_CjBsiFIREF7rnuavXg5Gq4kmylDkT3r_EPqPa_M_y9U_U/s1600/IMG_3989.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNvfFmHeTV2LIKXQ_KtpWsn9JutXWSUW8sOOi2DN1o9LAkxGfjLXxVxCOIImcWHfBI6lTJgpZTIgDLSAOk50rXeAQy-vGi_CjBsiFIREF7rnuavXg5Gq4kmylDkT3r_EPqPa_M_y9U_U/s320/IMG_3989.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Gerry crossing the boardwalk of felled trees on the Emmaline Lake trail</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At Emmaline Lake this August, my mom and Gerry and I perched on a flat boulder and ate our sandwiches, which Gerry had slathered with the perfect amount of butter, and I hugged my mom close. "I think it's enough to name a lake for your mother just because you think she's wonderful," I said. She grinned at me, holding her sandwich in both hands. The hike had been more difficult than we had anticipated -- 6.5 miles of several shaky stream crossings on rotten logs, mud, two steep climbs up drainages to ledges -- and my mom was tired, but obviously proud she had reached the lake. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-10220eba-c32a-c4b3-ce81-b1a664cefa86" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I examined my map. "It looks like the little lake on the ledge above Emmaline is unnamed. Should I name it Mary Lake?" </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She shook her head. "Use my whole name. I want everyone to know which Mary it was." </span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKd7DZm43rORSBm_bECiVB4U8kvi-Q9oEsRtOXwePaTpFbWVFa-fGngYtLZEySpTDLHcdn6H78U4NPAWZzigsj4zgEV9lVKqwOgPUjK9IW9cAT6TOpcoVYi4BSFCgM8GA3a3qVnrCl5o/s1600/IMG_3996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKd7DZm43rORSBm_bECiVB4U8kvi-Q9oEsRtOXwePaTpFbWVFa-fGngYtLZEySpTDLHcdn6H78U4NPAWZzigsj4zgEV9lVKqwOgPUjK9IW9cAT6TOpcoVYi4BSFCgM8GA3a3qVnrCl5o/s320/IMG_3996.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Emmaline Lake, with Comanche Peak</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In 1915, when Frank Koenig, RMNP park ranger, first reached this alpine lake at the base of the imposing wall of Comanche Peak, he named it for his mother, a widow who now lived on the plains in Weld County with Frank's brother Charles. Maybe Frank lay on the sun-warmed rock awhile and thought with admiration of his mother's survival, from her birth in the midst of the Civil War to her loss of her mother at age 11, from her decision to leave Ohio and strike west with her husband, Adolph Koenig, to her Swiss-German resilience through eight pregnancies in the rough landscape of pioneer Colorado. Maybe Frank also thought with awe about his new wife Hazel, herself the intrepid daughter of homesteaders in that wilderness. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I like that Frank understood that, of all people, women like his mother and his wife deserved the honor of their names printed on the maps. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After our lunch at Emmaline Lake, we headed down, cognizant of the building gray storm clouds. We talked about parenting, building relationships, finding ourselves. The older I get, the more I admire my mother and the more I understand she is human, just like I am. She nurses worries; she wonders if she is good enough. Realizing this makes me even more certain that there should be a Lake Mary Miller somewhere on the maps. </span></div>
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</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47y0h1cmm2RBPTKvIdCR5_dKICLVAh78cyE6hu_zG2dD9ekxv3cdtvwFWQmcKv0uGBKEnSMJ5_ZubbARyM3p9wZ2ne7tXJSByv3FnYMrvmmWV1AHsgr9rPFs1wzZFMSGVdfVWWpUzEcc/s1600/IMG_4001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47y0h1cmm2RBPTKvIdCR5_dKICLVAh78cyE6hu_zG2dD9ekxv3cdtvwFWQmcKv0uGBKEnSMJ5_ZubbARyM3p9wZ2ne7tXJSByv3FnYMrvmmWV1AHsgr9rPFs1wzZFMSGVdfVWWpUzEcc/s320/IMG_4001.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="background-color: white;">My mother, Mary Miller, whose name should also be on the maps</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we were still over two miles from our car, our feet aching and our legs tired, a boom of thunder startled us. Then another. We stopped to cover our packs and don our rain jackets, though we only expected a brief drizzle of rain. Instead, the clouds opened: hail, cold driving rain, wind, more cannon-shots of thunder. I wanted to run down the trail, and said as much to my mom, who was hiking with her head down. A muddy brown river roared down the trail beside us, and the heavy rain nearly obscured the sight of Gerry hiking in front of us. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-10220eba-c32b-6980-a1ce-0ed2a8675860" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Go ahead. I'll be fine," she shouted over the thunder and the rain. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She would have been fine (we were in no real danger from lightning there in the trees), but I slowed my pace. The point of hiking with her was to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">be</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> with her. We trudged through the mud beside each other.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the sun emerged a half an hour later, the air around us strangely silent, we both breathed again, smiled at each other. Gerry waited for us on a rock up ahead. We had weathered storms together before, and the sun did always come out, eventually.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From the shelf just below Cirque Lake, the smaller lake below Emmaline, it is possible to see the entire drainage known as Pinigree Park, where Colorado State University has had a campus since 1910. In 1972, Hazel Koenig -- Frank's wife and Emma's daughter-in-law -- deeded over most of the remaining Koenig Ranch to the university, and in 2015, the university changed the name of its high-altitude campus from Pinigree Park to Colorado State University Mountain Campus, to distance itself from the logger George Pinigree, who had expressed pride in his role in the Sand Creek Massacre.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-10220eba-c32b-9b78-7a3b-8e58582fa7b0"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How much more honorable to remember people like Emma and Hazel. How much better for the soul to stand in a meadow of paintbrush, saxifrage, elephant head and bluebells, and to think of women like my mother, who keep sinking roots, searching for strength, even when the world in which they live threatens thunder.</span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVDzCJ6_3AgTjqvMaDSo7aoSAsaL2lCMDoiCZiJTxbCVusjOeR4ze0U3WnbRA79wzf8j-M26gAt58Y-HIz8y2tge5sAHS6oFyTKzmaiv9qkheyWJpy0JeYH57S-1KLXQJdx-iqWQDLxho/s1600/IMG_3993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVDzCJ6_3AgTjqvMaDSo7aoSAsaL2lCMDoiCZiJTxbCVusjOeR4ze0U3WnbRA79wzf8j-M26gAt58Y-HIz8y2tge5sAHS6oFyTKzmaiv9qkheyWJpy0JeYH57S-1KLXQJdx-iqWQDLxho/s320/IMG_3993.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="background-color: white;">With my mom</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How to hike to Emmaline Lake:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Drive toward Pinigree Park on CO Road 63E. At the Tom Bennett Campground, turn right (toward Sky Ranch Lutheran Camp) on CO Road 145. Park at the intersection with the Cirque Meadow Trail (a 4WD road that some vehicles could travel for another 1/2 mile). </span></span></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-10220eba-c32c-2413-19f2-21cf2c47769b" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hike along the Cirque Meadow Trail west/southwest. You'll see the CSU Mountain Campus to your left. Ignore the trails that veer off toward the campus and the ones that veer to the right toward Sky Ranch. All trails are well-signed. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the intersection with the Mummy Pass Trail, continue on the Cirque Meadow Trail. Before the last 1,000-foot climb to Emmaline Lake, you'll cross Fall Creek at a gaging station and then climb west to the lake. Again, the trail is well-signed, and rock cairns will increase your confidence.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4. </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You'll climb to the turquoise Cirque Lake and then veer right to Emmaline. Emmaline Lake is at 11,060 feet -- 2,100 feet higher than the trailhead. It's worth it (ask my mom)!</span></span><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-10220eba-c32c-5a9d-49d3-b00dadd55a9e" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Chapter 6: Paradise Founded." </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rocky Mountain National Park: a History. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Retrieved from </span><a href="https://www.nps.gov/parkhistory/online_books/romo/buchholtz/chap6.htm" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.nps.gov/parkhistory/online_books/romo/buchholtz/chap6.htm</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Web. 8 August 2017.</span></span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dimas, Jennifer. "Pinigree Park Officially Renamed CSU Mountain Campus." 6 April 2015. Retrieved from </span><a href="http://source.colostate.edu/pingree-park-officially-renamed-csu-mountain-campus/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://source.colostate.edu/pingree-park-officially-renamed-csu-mountain-campus/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Web. 8 August 2017.</span></span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"History of Pinigree Park." Retrieved from </span><a href="https://www.behance.net/gallery/2038601/Pingree-Park-Historical-Interpretive-Sign-Series" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.behance.net/gallery/2038601/Pingree-Park-Historical-Interpretive-Sign-Series</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Web. 8 August 2017.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Schupbach, Emma. Ancestry.co.uk. Retrieved from </span><a href="https://www.ancestry.co.uk/genealogy/records/emma-schupbach_124372412?geo_a=r&geo_s=uk&geo_t=uk&geo_v=2.0.0&o_iid=41012&o_lid=41012&o_sch=Web+Property" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.ancestry.co.uk/genealogy/records/emma-schupbach_124372412?geo_a=r&geo_s=uk&geo_t=uk&geo_v=2.0.0&o_iid=41012&o_lid=41012&o_sch=Web+Property</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Web. 8 August 2017.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"When the Swiss made America." Swissinfo.ch. Retrived from </span><a href="https://www.swissinfo.ch/eng/when-the-swiss-made-america/6784658" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.swissinfo.ch/eng/when-the-swiss-made-america/6784658</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Web. 8 August 2017.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/find-a-grave-prod/photos/2009/253/41831488_125270869467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="308" src="https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/find-a-grave-prod/photos/2009/253/41831488_125270869467.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo from findagrave.com.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span></span>Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Emmaline Lake, Colorado 80512, USA40.542905 -105.6619646000000340.5413965 -105.66448610000003 40.5444135 -105.65944310000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-8377365919235108752017-07-24T12:07:00.001-06:002017-07-24T12:34:24.544-06:00Lake Isabelle and women who live their livesWhat I love about this project is the sleuthing (and the hiking, of course). I love the question: Who was ___? I love the beginning search, the simple typing of a name into Google. With these women's names, it has not yet been easy or straight-forward, not the way it would be if I were researching for and writing a book about Stephen Long (Long's Peak) or Nathan Meeker (Mount Meeker). Those men have Wikipedia pages, clear book references, whole histories. Not so with the women. The naming convention is part of the problem -- with only a first name, Google has difficulty proceeding. "Who was Isabelle?" "Who was Helen?" "Who was Molly?" I have to add geographical details, key words: "Who was Rosalie, Mount Evans area, Colorado history?" I have to hope I will crack the mystery.<br />
<br />
As my wife, our daughter, and my wife's mother Elaine drove from Evergreen to hike to Lake Isabelle last Friday, I learned that the lake (and the glacier remnant that feeds it) was named by Boulder County engineer Fred A. Fair, to honor his wife. However, though I crouched in the backseat of the car and searched on Google until the curvy roads made me sick, I could find nothing else. No record of Isabelle Fair. No indication of where she was from, who she was, or when she died. I found quite a bit of information about Fred, who had discovered both the Isabelle Glacier and the Fair Glacier in 1908, but none of the sites that detailed his biography mentioned anything about Isabelle. "It looks like Fred married two other women after Isabelle," I called to the front seat. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/Late_September_View_of_Isabelle_Glacier.jpg" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="800" height="252" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/Late_September_View_of_Isabelle_Glacier.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/Late_September_View_of_Isabelle_Glacier.jpg" target="_blank">A Wikipedia Commons photo</a>, taken by Junius Henderson in 1910, of Isabelle Glacier</td></tr>
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My mother-in-law nodded. "She probably died in childbirth. Women so often did."<br />
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And so, as we set out from the Brainard Lake Trailhead, I started to brainstorm a blog post about women's fragile lives, about medical advances, maybe about child-bearing. I gazed at Lake Isabelle and wondered if Fred had lingered on its shore and mourned his wife Isabelle. I know about grief. I would add some of those thoughts to my blog post.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4whXJq4k03cAu7j1aBdKyMLPUPPUwnArMzJl8XGUyEeyxPbNOvaEXfxO54ysZrDkscB3C0GGpSgjau9SZLxW8sgU2O4vrZ_I-JAFn1vxYo-l8j85A4AB0gZB-xfK5N2egqr09pIVu0k/s1600/IMG_8239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4whXJq4k03cAu7j1aBdKyMLPUPPUwnArMzJl8XGUyEeyxPbNOvaEXfxO54ysZrDkscB3C0GGpSgjau9SZLxW8sgU2O4vrZ_I-JAFn1vxYo-l8j85A4AB0gZB-xfK5N2egqr09pIVu0k/s320/IMG_8239.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meredith and Mitike on the Jean Lunning Trail, on the way up to Lake Isabelle</td></tr>
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But I am never content to guess. When we returned, happy, from our hike through glorious wildflowers to the stunningly beautiful Lake Isabelle, I tried Google again. Nothing. It was as if Isabelle Fair had entirely disappeared.<br />
<br />
Finally Meredith, who had been watching my frustrated search from the other side of our bed, suggested I try <a href="http://ancestry.com/">Ancestry.com</a>. Lately, I've been interested in building my family tree (and Meredith's) on that website, but I hadn't yet thought of it as a research tool for other purposes. I kissed her and then created a new tree entitled "Isabelle Fair," and began. <br />
<br />
Ancestry.com is a little bit magical. It pulls from birth records, census records, military records, marriage records, and death records to help people build their family trees. I merely pretended I was Isabelle, added my spouse Fred A. Fair, and waited for the Ancestry.com green leaf, which indicates "hints" about connections to that person. And the mystery of Isabelle began to unfurl.<br />
<br />
The first document Ancestry.com found was a U.S. Census record from Boulder in 1920. In that year, ten years after University of Colorado Museum of Natural History professor Junius Henderson named Isabelle Glacier and Fair Glacier in Fred Fair's honor, Fred lived with his wife "Isabell" and two roomers, a Leo and Helen Golden. No children. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSFerJA1OwJBPTRMEx_M13aHrfoK1db635Ut00jzTp5KZ9YSY81i0ITNc8b0alD7n4OuWoTW-8Q3_LpfQkXJcWIX-31jJhClo3NK7VHy4Rz6d5lea-VgXCsDc2odDapxyvbx9iwxDiig/s1600/Screen+shot+2017-07-24+at+11.24.07+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="463" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSFerJA1OwJBPTRMEx_M13aHrfoK1db635Ut00jzTp5KZ9YSY81i0ITNc8b0alD7n4OuWoTW-8Q3_LpfQkXJcWIX-31jJhClo3NK7VHy4Rz6d5lea-VgXCsDc2odDapxyvbx9iwxDiig/s400/Screen+shot+2017-07-24+at+11.24.07+AM.png" width="302" /></a></div>
<br />
Because I loved the romantic vision of Fred mourning on the edge of Lake Isabelle, I thought maybe Isabelle had died just after that. I found birth records for Fred Adam Fair (1926), John Henry Fair (1927) and Marion Jay Fair (1930), and noted that all three were the children of Fred and a woman named Mary Jane Burger, who died in 1932. I found a 1932 marriage record to Ruby Goodwin.<br />
<br />
And then I found a death record of a Leo Francis Golden, who was born on April 27, 1921. I assumed his parents were Helen and Leo Golden, the roomers who lived with the Fairs -- until I learned (more Census records) that Helen was Leo's sister.<br />
<br />
Finally, a 1930 Census record solved the mystery. In 1930, 8-year-old Leo lived with his parents in Los Angeles, California. His parents were Leo Elbert Golden, age 46, and Isabel Golden, age 46.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3R7yorhJfJC1VlgAIjp_7Zcgx0KkCy-J7BUlxdJNuekwuilYTboxs5xRie6h4R7o5uYDNROufzYA3VMN4wMfP4vBpPgJ9z2vz5Fqm7QVhTIbctJxEcZMYX1FhsBJ9DHkO5kn5qwsUjE/s1600/Screen+shot+2017-07-24+at+11.35.23+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="615" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3R7yorhJfJC1VlgAIjp_7Zcgx0KkCy-J7BUlxdJNuekwuilYTboxs5xRie6h4R7o5uYDNROufzYA3VMN4wMfP4vBpPgJ9z2vz5Fqm7QVhTIbctJxEcZMYX1FhsBJ9DHkO5kn5qwsUjE/s320/Screen+shot+2017-07-24+at+11.35.23+AM.png" width="313" /></a></div>
<br />
Sometime between the 1920 Census and the 1930 Census, Isabel (Isabelle? Isabell?) had divorced Fred, given birth to Leo F., married Leo E., and moved to California (it's not clear what order she did all of that, as I can't find her marriage record to Leo or her divorce record from Fred).<br />
<br />
She did not die. In fact, she lived a long life in California, maybe happily, until the age of 83. Her son Leo Francis lived until the age of 92, dying in Sitka, Alaska, in 2014 (interestingly, I worked in Sitka in 2001 and visited often after that, and may have crossed paths at some point with Leo). <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0kZjMXiPQmCJWQU4QSfizREFXWPkM8Yz_A43aVTmtSOoUPp_AHM1as7zpzF9YNn60T1zdhnRbcDvwVNwxyf9gEOgEgVxCjSqk00XzolZ3YJNescLP5dZSFtHYp8uuCp1DmQm8vwuUqO4/s1600/Screen+shot+2017-07-24+at+11.45.04+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="771" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0kZjMXiPQmCJWQU4QSfizREFXWPkM8Yz_A43aVTmtSOoUPp_AHM1as7zpzF9YNn60T1zdhnRbcDvwVNwxyf9gEOgEgVxCjSqk00XzolZ3YJNescLP5dZSFtHYp8uuCp1DmQm8vwuUqO4/s400/Screen+shot+2017-07-24+at+11.45.04+AM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The family tree Ancestry.com built for Isabel (Frances Isabel Womack)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The story of the Isabelle of Lake Isabelle and Isabelle Glacier is not one of death in childbirth, but one of a woman who married young (in Missouri, at age 20), moved to Colorado with her engineer husband, and fell in love with another man. It's the story of a woman who lived her life bravely, though her world must have frowned upon her boldness.<br />
<br />
Fred may have brooded on the edge of Lake Isabelle, but out of anger or despair at his wife's departure, not at her death. Did they have children together? I can't find any evidence that they did, though they were married 18 years. That might explain Isabel's attraction to the new engineer, Leo.<br />
<br />
What I do know: Professor Junius Henderson did not know how to spell "Isabel" when he marked the name on a lake and a glacier.<br />
<br />
What I also know: I want to be a woman who lives my life as fully as I can, like I think Isabel did.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6An9-hVa0wUaTznSwRLQjoAvWzH4jTyRyFpXqQmDs5cEZAGzdmDGhWwimL18fTl56f7SJFQzpEJyCGr9a80UZBcBtgyR1ymQnpzXsga7zvWiLc3nq4qyKNsh9GAuddUfiBNYcgUgvbx8/s1600/IMG_5559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6An9-hVa0wUaTznSwRLQjoAvWzH4jTyRyFpXqQmDs5cEZAGzdmDGhWwimL18fTl56f7SJFQzpEJyCGr9a80UZBcBtgyR1ymQnpzXsga7zvWiLc3nq4qyKNsh9GAuddUfiBNYcgUgvbx8/s320/IMG_5559.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Four women working to live their lives as bravely and boldly as possible.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><u>How to hike to Lake Isabelle and Isabelle Glacier:</u></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
1. Drive to the Brainard Lake Recreation Area, which requires a National Parks pass or the $11 day-use fee to enter. Note: even on a week-day in the summer, visitors who arrive later than 9 am will need to park in the day-use lot at Brainard Lake instead of at the Long Lake or Niwot Trailheads, which adds an extra mile round-trip to the hike.<br />
<br />
2. Hike either the Niwot Cut-off Trail from the Niwot parking area or the Long Lake Trail from the Long Lake Trailhead. At the southern edge of Long Lake, you have a choice to hike the trail on the east shore or the Jean Lunning trail on the west shore -- in July, the flowers and the views on the Jean Lunning trail are magnificent. <br />
<br />
3. At the end of Long Lake, take the Pawnee Pass Trail to Lake Isabelle. The trail zigzags steeply up to a shelf just before the lake, but the climb is well-worthwhile. People who want the expansive views hike all the way up to Pawnee Pass.<br />
<br />
4. From the lake, the trail continues up to the remnant of Isabelle Glacier.<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUazG_cXWSOL5RItMSe5ui4SC5l9WVDbSt0qCyh09nqdozK8wBNxuaYfcDKws4_L5DtB-AuWyrexajQohRLoGTMYCFI5CMXaSR0f3IawlRtJwK8GXqzJx261Xj82j-tFA3R-f5hgCsZEk/s1600/IMG_3851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUazG_cXWSOL5RItMSe5ui4SC5l9WVDbSt0qCyh09nqdozK8wBNxuaYfcDKws4_L5DtB-AuWyrexajQohRLoGTMYCFI5CMXaSR0f3IawlRtJwK8GXqzJx261Xj82j-tFA3R-f5hgCsZEk/s400/IMG_3851.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail along Lake Isabelle toward the glacier.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<u>Sources:</u><br />
<br />
Cockerell, T.D.A. "Junius Henderson." <i>The Nautilus. </i>51 (3): 97-99. Retrieved from https://archive.org/stream/nautilus51amer#page/96/mode/2up. Web. 24 July 2017.<br />
<br />
"Fair Family." Rootsweb.ancestry.com. 22 January 2016. Retrieved from http://wc.rootsweb.ancestry.com/cgi-bin/igm.cgi?op=GET&db=press&id=I613. 24 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
"Glaciers of Colorado." Portland State University, 2009. Retrieved from http://glaciers.research.pdx.edu/Glaciers-Colorado. 24 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
"Isabel Frances Womack Golden." Findagrave.com. Retrieved from https://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi/page/gr/%3Cbr%3E..http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=177467606. 24 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
"Leo F. Golden." www.tributes.com. Retrieved from http://www.tributes.com/obituary/show/Leo-F.-Golden-99393224. 24 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
"Womack, Frances Isabel." Ancestry.com. 22 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsaxy5L1bAE-tDD3IC9MpJ67dMGa6mIg84WobtxlyRbMcbHTz4W55DxyJkRBTRVGirqI119_LHZONKZC64BAKB38AYPqecxz1uQIPQBLbNCDwqXqYlX3dip3ED9bQwBZimPe64HuhBLEE/s1600/IMG_3850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsaxy5L1bAE-tDD3IC9MpJ67dMGa6mIg84WobtxlyRbMcbHTz4W55DxyJkRBTRVGirqI119_LHZONKZC64BAKB38AYPqecxz1uQIPQBLbNCDwqXqYlX3dip3ED9bQwBZimPe64HuhBLEE/s320/IMG_3850.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bluebells and Lake Isabelle (July 2017)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Lake Isabelle Dam, Ward, CO 80481, USA40.0699862 -105.6155577000000140.0639102 -105.62564270000001 40.0760622 -105.6054727tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-909396073944494802017-07-23T13:25:00.002-06:002017-07-23T14:19:00.220-06:00Lady Moon, and being "good enough"My sister Katie and I are women who worry, constantly, about how to be good enough. At 37 and 40, we are both women with graduate degrees, lovely Colorado houses, children, and loving spouses -- and yet we both become easily consumed by anxiety that we are not good enough wives, good enough mothers, good enough friends, good enough daughters, good enough artists, good enough people. Our worry weighs on us, threatening us, unbalancing us.<br />
<br />
We talked about this as we hiked the Lady Moon Trail near Red Feather Lakes last week. What has made us this way, when other people evidently waltz through their lives with very little worry at all? Why do we feel so responsible for everything and everyone? Was it our upbringing on an Iowa farm, in a culture that praised children primarily for their contributions and hard work? Was it the model of our mother and our aunts, our grandmothers and our great-grandmothers, who hurried to please and do and fix? Or did we simply inherit a chemical propensity to be anxious?<br />
<br />
And how can we teach our daughters, Elida and Mitike, to relax into who they are, to live fully in the moment, to take responsibility for only what is theirs? Even more importantly, how can we unlearn all this worry and <i>model</i> more confidence for them?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAA5Zh3dOGjSFdKzesR7K5fWzYF3FiZ5Ik2FCDqOs3duvKXhD27kAbMJOSqONBFk5jKIIIWviFFqYkTKEE85idrRu94i-4B1Oazy4x2ZxM0wqY0k3reDHdzPkPbz8JPMm94cSvBzHuK3U/s1600/IMG_3809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAA5Zh3dOGjSFdKzesR7K5fWzYF3FiZ5Ik2FCDqOs3duvKXhD27kAbMJOSqONBFk5jKIIIWviFFqYkTKEE85idrRu94i-4B1Oazy4x2ZxM0wqY0k3reDHdzPkPbz8JPMm94cSvBzHuK3U/s320/IMG_3809.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lady Moon Trail to Molly Lake (July 20, 2017)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We talked about Chimamanda Adichie's 2016 book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Ijeawele-Feminist-Manifesto-Fifteen-Suggestions/dp/152473313X" target="_blank"><i>Dear Ijeawele</i>, <i>or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions</i></a>, in which Adichie advises women to teach their daughters to be <i>kind</i>, not "nice." We talked about a parenting book Katie had just read that warns against only praising children for what makes the adults proud, lest they learn that they are only loved when they please us. We talked about our childhood on that farm in eastern Iowa, which always felt idyllic, with its barefoot summers in the long cool grass, and which maybe was. We talked about Elida and Mitike, about what we love about the strong little women they are becoming, and about how we worry about them.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, the Lady Moon Trail wound its way through stands of aspens on an old road overgrown with yellow Golden Banner, blue Harebell, and deep pink Horsemint. And the longer we walked, the better it was to just hike together in the sunshine, to photograph some Wyoming Paintbrush, to strike silly poses with a moose antler, to watch the clouds build over the Mummy Range. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoe_NTeFxJD47lIEih7f_men0R83Zkk8mZLDfEMpjaplBGZiTaQg9-QNIOcSL8q8PBNN0pLQtB6yXZbdeeKoHOVENkY6_A5gWbsGh6xoi-HIglRaQachA7k-yse3I35Ro-9Aue2QduLSg/s1600/IMG_3824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoe_NTeFxJD47lIEih7f_men0R83Zkk8mZLDfEMpjaplBGZiTaQg9-QNIOcSL8q8PBNN0pLQtB6yXZbdeeKoHOVENkY6_A5gWbsGh6xoi-HIglRaQachA7k-yse3I35Ro-9Aue2QduLSg/s320/IMG_3824.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lady Moon Trail winds through purple Horsemint here (July 2017).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
By the time we reached Molly Lake (a lake named for a Molly I cannot find in any histories of the area), we had laughed quite a bit, too, and that tension we each hold too much of our lives had eased. We agreed that we can (and do) teach Elida and Mitike this. Get outside yourself, literally. Walk for miles with a beloved person who knows you well. It becomes easier and easier to just <i>be</i>, to forget the anxiety about what we <i>should</i> do.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHi1e_2bZL4eG0El1xoJ_Vl32NZKEBQTX1VrInOl2M4SOMV1lOpDg3l-fhRaPuP6Jx_MzhYP3esGf1QKNkjcGvVFHaoqvVXNzXn1EyU6uCMjROmS3UIIsy3PUBit0g38U_GFU6Jelcpw/s1600/IMG_3815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHi1e_2bZL4eG0El1xoJ_Vl32NZKEBQTX1VrInOl2M4SOMV1lOpDg3l-fhRaPuP6Jx_MzhYP3esGf1QKNkjcGvVFHaoqvVXNzXn1EyU6uCMjROmS3UIIsy3PUBit0g38U_GFU6Jelcpw/s320/IMG_3815.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister Katie being wonderfully silly with a moose antler (July 2017)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
*<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, that awareness (for me, and I think for Katie) only lasts a moment. As I drove south back to Denver, I fell quickly into ticking through all the "shoulds": I should get groceries, I should take Mitike to more museums, I should be a better communicator with my far-flung friends, I should start planning my lessons for the next school year, I should work more on that novel, I should be a better house cleaner, I should. . . The "shoulds" overwhelm. They threaten to choke me.<br />
<br />
Then I started to think about Lady Moon, for whom the trail Katie and I hiked (and the inaccessible private lake that trail parallels) was named.<br />
<br />
Catherine Gratton Lawder Moon did not worry, ever, about being good enough. <br />
<br />
When, orphaned after her Irish parents' deaths in St. Louis, she worked for a physician as a servant, she did not try to speak properly, but earned the nickname "Cussing Kate." <br />
<br />
When she turned 18 in 1883 and struck out for the West, finding work as a laundress, maid and waitress at <a href="http://coloradopreservation.org/programs/endangered-places/endangered-places-archives/elkhorn-lodge/" target="_blank">Norman's Elkhorn Lodge</a> in Larimer County, Colorado, she did not try to preserve a reputation, but earned money from male visitors in whatever ways she could.<br />
<br />
When Cecil Moon, a son of an English baron, fell sick and needed nursing on the ranch she and her new husband, Frank Garman, ran, she did not worry about what was morally right or socially permissible. She fell in love with Cecil, divorced Frank, and became "Lady" Moon.<br />
<br />
When Cecil pleaded with her to don dresses, speak quietly, and behave demurely at his family's estate in England when they visited in 1889, she refused. She wore her cowgirl clothes, rode Western style on her horse Moses (whom she had brought to England on the ship from America), and flouted her Irishness in Cecil's parents' faces. <br />
<br />
When the Larimer County authorities accused Catherine of burning down her own house on the Moon ranch above the Elkhorn to collect the insurance money, she shrugged, continuing to ride into Fort Collins clad in the fine clothes, furs, and jewelry she had supposedly lost to the fire.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/find-a-grave-prod/photos/2011/48/62379125_129805790900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="401" height="400" src="https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/find-a-grave-prod/photos/2011/48/62379125_129805790900.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catherine Grattan Lawder "Cussing Kate" Moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In 1909, when Cecil filed for divorce so he could claim his title and wealth from his family, who refused to accept Catherine, Lady Moon did not fall to his feet weeping; she did not beg him to stay. She laughed in his face, because he had signed over all of his properties and wealth to her on his many drunken nights. She became the first woman west of the Mississippi to pay a man alimony.<br />
<br />
When the U.S. government outlawed alcohol in the Prohibition Act of 1920, Catherine brazenly distilled her own bootleg whiskey on her ranch, which she and her men then sold in Fort Collins. She sewed a special lining into her bloomers to hide her stash. One night at a party on her ranch, she fell down drunk and glass bottles of whiskey clattered out. She was arrested, but then acquitted because no authority was willing to search her bloomers.<br />
<br />
She ran her ranch like a man. She held raucous parties; she kept over twenty dogs at a time; she swore and caroused with her ranch hands and various boyfriends.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoPZn6a-9mymGuSlEvDzy_9rwhPQbH311hjPKhA8JO_-r_Ho4NCnAzGkIT1E6ZjZayOQwGyva0N7GbT0_i2ANdKUSRUuu1K_DE0VkCahatvfCEZ8_zPGXzIje11ueDDuQmU0iNdIfs6o/s1600/IMG_3828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoPZn6a-9mymGuSlEvDzy_9rwhPQbH311hjPKhA8JO_-r_Ho4NCnAzGkIT1E6ZjZayOQwGyva0N7GbT0_i2ANdKUSRUuu1K_DE0VkCahatvfCEZ8_zPGXzIje11ueDDuQmU0iNdIfs6o/s320/IMG_3828.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harebell and Golden Banner on the old Lady Moon Ranch.</td></tr>
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Again and again, the cattle ranchers in Red Feather Lakes and Livermore pleaded with Lady Moon to close and chain the cattle gates after she rode her horse, Lady West, through them, but she shrugged off their pleas. It took the ranchers weeks to separate their own cattle from the mixed-up herds. (In stark contrast, my sister and I dutifully re-latched each of the three cattle gates through which we passed on our hike.)<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26i6T_mp-IaItarpTyI1M8MZiQ2DMDpTgZ2t3aAQ5pUM43AZxKlH00Z2uFj3igS-638aOHB97kcIhLO-7z8BZaBajdMth-6Ln2VPYoNzJnZwMVNplsfOQ7-3mXnXdoOBLrUcEyf5kjx0/s1600/IMG_3814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26i6T_mp-IaItarpTyI1M8MZiQ2DMDpTgZ2t3aAQ5pUM43AZxKlH00Z2uFj3igS-638aOHB97kcIhLO-7z8BZaBajdMth-6Ln2VPYoNzJnZwMVNplsfOQ7-3mXnXdoOBLrUcEyf5kjx0/s320/IMG_3814.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Two women who always latch cattle gates.</td></tr>
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In 1925, at age 61, she did not even <i>die</i> politely. Some say she died of uterine cancer; some say she died of alcohol poisoning, and some say she was the woman found murdered in the Livermore Hotel, maybe by her own bootleggers. It's true that her will revealed a good heart: she left the bulk of her remaining money ($500) to the St. Vincent's Orphanage in Denver. But she lived hard, and always against what society thought she <i>should</i> be.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/find-a-grave-prod/photos/2010/333/62379125_129117379549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="458" height="320" src="https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/find-a-grave-prod/photos/2010/333/62379125_129117379549.jpg" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady Moon's gravestone in Fort Collins, CO</td></tr>
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Her refusal to obey convention -- to obey anyone, actually -- made Lady Moon famous. Her life inspired a Broadway play, <i>Sunday; </i>the radio soap opera, <i>Our Gal Sunday;</i> a one-act play, <i>Lady Moon</i>; a novel, <i>The Lady from Colorado</i>; and an opera, <i>The Lady from Colorado</i> (revised as <i>Lady Katie</i>). <br />
<br />
Wow.<br />
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But. . .do my sister Katie and I want our daughters to be like <i>that</i>? NO. <br />
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Do we want Elida and Mitike -- and ourselves -- to gain a little more of that I-could-care-less fire? Yes. I'm certain Lady Moon never lay down in her bed at her ranch worrying about whether she had done enough that day, or whether she had offended anyone. She did not care. She believed, deeply, that she was good enough exactly as she was.<br />
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And maybe that's why I want to research all these women Colorado has honored on the maps. I want to learn other ways to be a woman. I want to whisper those ways into Mitike's and Elida's ears; I want to tell those stories to myself and to my sister. I want us all to know that sometimes, it might be important to hide whiskey pints in our bloomers and swear with the men.<br />
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And sometimes, it might be okay to leave the cattle gate unlatched. Maybe.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibx4J1P46PgRGEt4-tYz_rjPgCgylm-r2MlMGMBvJqQub35yWHFtVJ-7X3oY2Ep7Eq_R5CFjUOtONhf_tmTJI4c78H4KbaGwYsMaj6gs6SJ1_urtwQdaKw2S0baRWBsnooGD0aEvgMKjA/s1600/IMG_3829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibx4J1P46PgRGEt4-tYz_rjPgCgylm-r2MlMGMBvJqQub35yWHFtVJ-7X3oY2Ep7Eq_R5CFjUOtONhf_tmTJI4c78H4KbaGwYsMaj6gs6SJ1_urtwQdaKw2S0baRWBsnooGD0aEvgMKjA/s320/IMG_3829.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Red Dome Blanket Flower in the aspens on the Lady Moon Trail (July 2017)</td></tr>
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<b>How to hike the Lady Moon Trail to Molly Lake</b></div>
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1. Drive to the Lady Moon Trailhead, just south of Highway 74E (across the road from the Mount Margaret trailhead). <i>Note: Lady Moon Lake is on private property, so it is not possible to hike there (thus the hike to Molly Lake -- I've emailed the Red Feather Historical Society hoping they can give me insight into who Molly was). I DO appreciate that, like Lady Moon herself, Lady Moon Lake defies societal rules, but it's not worth the fine/trouble of striking out across private ranch land to get there.</i></div>
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2. Hike about 1.1 miles from the trailhead to the junction with the Granite Ridge Trail, and turn right toward Manhatten Road (it's clearly marked with a sign). In July, the wildflowers on this route were stunning. Note the Horsemint, the Mariposa Lily, the Golden Banner, and the several varieties of paintbrush.</div>
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<br /></div>
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3. Hike for 2.7 miles (through two cattle gates) to a clearly marked junction with the Molly Lake trail. A very short trail leads to the placid Molly Lake, which is surrounded by lovely smooth stones perfect for lunch spots. We saw quite a bit of evidence of moose -- scat, an abandoned antler, and hoof prints in the mud -- but we never saw the moose himself. </div>
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<br /></div>
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4. Return the way you came, or get someone to pick you up at the Molly Lake Trailhead, just under a mile from Molly Lake. No matter what, enjoy the solitude. In our 7.6-mile hike, Katie and I saw only three people (all at Molly Lake).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0O_WqZB5t-1BO5ucWJIB8DFxzkWemQV5OWseRi9EgLvwBEMUlVMkURiifAS13W5EIQQKjCId8GbW_f9u0JRnYOYRSggYvMMOVeEkHBNumq2ABobGRhfyioh81lQox89blVfZ4ZX7Xe4/s1600/IMG_3817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0O_WqZB5t-1BO5ucWJIB8DFxzkWemQV5OWseRi9EgLvwBEMUlVMkURiifAS13W5EIQQKjCId8GbW_f9u0JRnYOYRSggYvMMOVeEkHBNumq2ABobGRhfyioh81lQox89blVfZ4ZX7Xe4/s320/IMG_3817.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who was Molly? I haven't figured that out yet, but Molly Lake is a peaceful place (July 2017).</td></tr>
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<u>Sources:</u><br />
"Catherine Lawder -- Fort Collins' 'Lady' Moon." Fort Collins Historical Society. Retrieved from <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/fchistoricalsociety/ladymoon">https://sites.google.com/site/fchistoricalsociety/ladymoon</a>. 22 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
Fleming, Barbara. "Lady Moon left riches-to-rags story in Fort Collins." 19 September 2015. <i>The Coloradoan</i>. Retrieved from <a href="http://www.coloradoan.com/story/news/2015/09/20/lady-moon-left-riches-rags-story-fort-collins/72418632/">http://www.coloradoan.com/story/news/2015/09/20/lady-moon-left-riches-rags-story-fort-collins/72418632/</a>. 22 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
"Lady Moon." Retrieved from <a href="http://operapronto.info/mementos/exh_moon/exh_moon.html">http://operapronto.info/mementos/exh_moon/exh_moon.html</a>. 22 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
"Lady Moon Ranch Tour." Retrieved from <a href="http://redfeatherhistoricalsociety.org/tours-events/historical-site-tours/lady-moon-ranch-tour/">http://redfeatherhistoricalsociety.org/tours-events/historical-site-tours/lady-moon-ranch-tour/</a>. 22 July 2017. Web.<br />
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Livermore Woman's Club History Committee. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Among-these-hills-Livermore-Colorado/dp/0964938936" target="_blank">Among These Hills: a History of Livermore, Colorado</a>. </i>Double DJ Enterprises, 1995. Print. <br />
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Looney, Robert C. "The Story of Fox Acres." October 1978. Retrieved from <a href="http://www.foxacrescommunity.com/picture/looneyfoxacres_part1.pdf">http://www.foxacrescommunity.com/picture/looneyfoxacres_part1.pdf</a>. 22 July 2017. Web.<br />
<br />
"West of Lady Moon." Groundspeak, Inc. Retrieved from <a href="https://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC4CJJ6_west-of-lady-moon?guid=029898d3-ec5c-4628-850f-3a73bb3fb3b4" target="_blank">https://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC4CJJ6_west-of-lady-moon?guid=029898d3-ec5c-4628-850f-3a73bb3fb3b4 </a>. 22 July 2017. Web.<br />
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"Wrangler Trail Stories." Retrieved from <a href="http://www.sundancetrail.com/staff/dude-ranch-jobs-staff-orientation-articles/wrangler-trail-stories/">http://www.sundancetrail.com/staff/dude-ranch-jobs-staff-orientation-articles/wrangler-trail-stories/</a>. 22 July 2017. Web.<br />
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<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com1Lady Moon Trailhead, 20199-20893 Red Feather Lakes Rd, Red Feather Lakes, CO 80545, USA40.7779009 -105.53820610000002-33.809335100000006 89.227418899999975 90 59.696168899999975tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-23738037353898465922017-07-22T14:08:00.000-06:002017-07-23T14:20:14.220-06:00Update on re-naming Squaw MountainAfter readers of this blog submitted their "votes" for the re-naming of Squaw Mountain, I decided Mistanta/Owl Woman had the most support, since she is a notable Native American woman who worked to bridge differences in one of Colorado's first and most important trading forts (before the era of expulsion and massacre). I have just submitted a proposal to the US Board on Geographic Names to change Squaw Mountain in Clear Creek County (I guess I'll work on Routt County's Squaw Mountain and Teller County's Squaw Mountain later) to <b>Mount Mistanta</b>. Wish the proposal luck!<br />
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<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-18086336703530996112017-07-17T23:34:00.000-06:002017-07-17T23:46:46.136-06:00On Squaw Mountain -- and renaming it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Although it is not named for a specific woman, I have to discuss Squaw Mountain, which is an 11,773-foot mountain near Idaho Springs, and which I love for its surprisingly astounding view and for the little fire lookout tower on its summit. I love it, but its name twists my heart every time I hear it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyHEodD-DyMwBTMXL-pdH3Z95tMsVsE14LNJHfyozDP9ts-R9GBl3U3gX4oFUwSsyfY_bgeNiapyMdXstSk5tLCfsJ-NvuaaSvrTGnghhEk11Io3gUi4Qiu2Q_AbnZx_bN2xBd3by4WA/s1600/IMG_3724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyHEodD-DyMwBTMXL-pdH3Z95tMsVsE14LNJHfyozDP9ts-R9GBl3U3gX4oFUwSsyfY_bgeNiapyMdXstSk5tLCfsJ-NvuaaSvrTGnghhEk11Io3gUi4Qiu2Q_AbnZx_bN2xBd3by4WA/s400/IMG_3724.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squaw Mountain is the perfect triangle on the left -- viewed from my mother-in-law's house in Evergreen, CO.</td></tr>
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The origin and the appropriateness of the word "squaw," according to <a href="https://indiancountrymedianetwork.com/history/events/the-word-squaw-offensive-or-not/" target="_blank">an article from <i>Indian Country Today</i></a>, has been much debated. Some historians (including Dr. Marge Bruchac, an Abenaki historical consultant) argue that, in the Algonquin languages, the word merely means "woman" or "wife". However, others have argued that the English word came from a French corruption of the Mohawk (or Iroquois) term for "vagina," which gives sexual meaning to the word. Suzan Shown Harjo, a Cheyenne and Hodulgee Muscogee American Indian rights activist insisted <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmPWOAoExzk" target="_blank">on the Oprah Winfrey Show in 1992</a> that squaw was certainly an Algonquin word meaning vagina, that it was the equivalent of the "s-word," and that continuing to use it only reinforced a shameful cultural heritage of sexual abuse of Native American women (a reality that <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/23/us/native-americans-struggle-with-high-rate-of-rape.html?mcubz=2" target="_blank">continues in today's America, where 1 in 3 Native American women will be raped in their lifetimes</a>). Harjo's adamant stance inspired many campaigns to rename places in the U.S. that had been named "squaw." In fact, in the first four months of 2008, the <a href="https://geonames.usgs.gov/" target="_blank">U.S. Board on Geographic Names</a> omitted the name "squaw" from sixteen valleys, creeks, and other sites. Most notably, the USBGN renamed Arizona's 2,612-foot Squaw Peak <a href="https://www.alltrails.com/trail/us/arizona/piestewa-peak-summit-trail-300" target="_blank">Piestewa Peak</a>, to honor Lori Piestewa, a Hopi/Hispanic soldier from Arizona who was killed in Iraq in 2003. <br />
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And yet, Colorado still has a Squaw Mountain in Clear Creek County. Worse: Colorado has a Squaw Pass in Clear Creek County, a Squaw Pass in Hinsdale County, a Squaw Creek, a Squaw Gulch, a Squaw Point, a Squaw Canyon, and two other Squaw Mountains (one in Routt County and one in Teller County). <br />
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If Harjo and others are correct, we have Slut Mountain, Slut Pass, Slut Creek, Slut Gulch, Slut Canyon. The ugliness of the word -- of its import -- becomes clear.<br />
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If Harjo and others are correct, we have places named not to honor the Ute, Cheyenne and Arapaho women who walked in these woods and camped in these meadows and canyons, but places named to "honor" the dishonorable and violent ways in which those women were regarded and used. <br />
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If Harjo and others are correct, we have places named to commemorate massacres like <a href="http://sandcreekmassacre.net/sand-creek/" target="_blank">Sand Creek</a>, in which over 400 women, children, elders and disabled Cheyenne and Arapaho people were raped, murdered, and mutilated. <br />
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If Harjo and others are correct -- and I believe they are -- we must rename all the places that still retain "squaw." We must choose names that allow us to tell our children honorable, not horrific, stories.<br />
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My wife's cousin Amber asked in a comment on my last post how we can convince the powers that be to rename the places we love, to honor the good and not the shameful. I did some research on this, and I found an answer in <a href="https://geonames.usgs.gov/domestic/faqs.htm" target="_blank">number 6 on the the FAQs on the U.S. Board on Geographic Names site</a>. The proposed change of name must be for a "compelling reason," and the name must be for someone who has been dead at least five years. A "compelling reason" includes changing a "derogatory name". I do not think I will have much luck proposing a change to Mt. Evans' name, but I do think I could successfully propose a change to Clear Creek County's Squaw Mountain. What name should I propose? Please vote in the comments section, and explain <i>why</i> you think that name should be the one I propose to the USBGN (note: I did not mention the Ute Chipeta here, since she already has Mount Chipeta named for her -- more on that someday).<br />
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1. <b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mochi_(Cheyenne)" target="_blank">Mochi</a> (1840-1881),</b> the 24-year-old Southern Cheyenne survivor of the Sand Creek Massacre who became a warrior to avenge her people (see my post on Mount Rosalie). She participated in several raids -- the most notorious of which was the attack on the German family on a stagecoach route in Kansas. Shortly after, Mochi, her husband Medicine Water, and 33 others were caught and incarcerated as prisoners of war of the U.S. (Mochi is the only Native American woman to ever be held as a POW in the U.S.). <br />
2. <b><a href="https://coloradoencyclopedia.org/article/mistanta-owl-woman" target="_blank">Mistanta (Owl Woman)</a> (1800-1847), </b>the wife of William Bent, who ran Bent's Fort in eastern Colorado. Owl Woman was a Southern Cheyenne leader who helped negotiate trade between the many groups who traded at Bent's Fort, and helped maintain good relations between the white people and the Native people. As the eldest daughter of the powerful Cheyenne leader White Thunder, Mistanta worked as a translator and important bridge between the indigenous tribes and the newcomers, in an era before the military-ordered massacres and removals.<br />
3. <b><a href="http://www.cogreatwomen.org/project/helen-white-peterson/" target="_blank">Helen White Peterson</a> (1915-2000), </b>who was part Cheyenne and part Lakota Sioux, and who moved from Denver to Washington, D.C., in 1953 to become the first Native American woman director of the National Congress of American Indians, and later returned to Colorado to start an ethnic studies program at Colorado College.<br />
4. <b>Dr. S<a href="https://truewestmagazine.com/singing-of-the-wrongs-and-heroism-of-the-indians/" target="_blank">usette "Bright Eyes" La Flesche</a> (1854-1903)</b>, who was of the Omaha tribe (the daughter of an Omaha chief), attended a Historically Black College (Hampton), earned her medical degree, and returned to practice medicine on the reservation, working to improve the situation of Native Americans. Again, no direction connection to Colorado, but a Native American woman to be honored.<br />
5. <b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Winnemucca" target="_blank">Sarah Winnemuca </a>(c. 1844-1891)</b>, a Northern Paiute activist and writer, who traveled across the United States (certainly through Colorado, and definitely to D.C.) speaking about the rights of Native Americans.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/ce/Owl_Woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="233" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/ce/Owl_Woman.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A watercolor/sketch of Mistanta/Owl Woman done at Bent's Fort by Lt. James Abert in 1845. Squaw Mountain could easily be re-named Mount Mistanta or Mount Owl Woman, to better honor a specific Colorado Native American woman.</td></tr>
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We can better name the lovely pyramid between Evergreen and Idaho Springs. It's true that a re-naming will also require a re-naming of the pass, of the fire lookout, and of the road -- and maybe of the neighboring Chief Mountain -- but a beginning seems important. <u>Which Native American woman should we honor?</u><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil20Rr2B9J-20IOVszOot8cASyTlWoBs00Eu6omCZK4NTSXLQuCXhY3AZL9UtK-XLH7Wa5NbYT0WjcyoHDnMb_PP7FfrBtnHu2HBVHgGZcMuSWLCcpPYvwULhL21Ikp1diqOyiHaCaq2Q/s1600/IMG_2611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil20Rr2B9J-20IOVszOot8cASyTlWoBs00Eu6omCZK4NTSXLQuCXhY3AZL9UtK-XLH7Wa5NbYT0WjcyoHDnMb_PP7FfrBtnHu2HBVHgGZcMuSWLCcpPYvwULhL21Ikp1diqOyiHaCaq2Q/s400/IMG_2611.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sign near the top of Squaw Mountain, May 2016 (note the fire lookout at the summit, just barely visible in the fog)</td></tr>
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<b>How (and why) to hike this mountain (4.1 miles RT):</b><br />
1. Drive on Squaw Pass Road (also called Highway 103) west from Evergreen (or east from Echo Lake) to a clearly signed place to the south of the road. 4WD vehicles can drive up another 0.7 miles to a gate, but only in the summer. In the winter after a heavy snow, the road/trail is barely passable for people wearing snowshoes. <br />
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2. Hike past the gate up the wide road, following clear signs to Squaw Mountain. Toward the top (about two miles from the parking area on the road), the trail/road begins to zigzag up to the fire lookout tower, which is available to rent overnight -- click <a href="https://www.recreation.gov/camping/squaw-mountain-fire-lookout/r/campgroundDetails.do?contractCode=NRSO&parkId=113589" target="_blank">HERE for the reservation site</a>. It's very popular; reserve months in advance.<br />
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3. The summit of Squaw Mountain affords lovely views of Mount Evans and Rosalie and of Pikes Peak to the south. It's a beautiful place to sit for awhile -- even better, it's a perfect place to spend the night. Although my wife and I saw only snow and fog from the 360-degree windows in the fire lookout, we loved the silence of the deep snow (and noted that many others had written about a howling, threatening wind in the cabin log). <br />
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4. How much better would it be if we could say we had spent the night in the fire lookout on the summit of Mount Mochi, or Mount Mistanta, or Helen White Peterson Peak? <b>Remember to "vote" for your favorite re-naming option of Squaw Mountain -- just leave a comment.</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRySz_5hTmAFwOB6hPRFhKQJBLe3Os4pm4jguV4aESgLbLNS_oUmpF3XOr-6qI6KbETWDlSzud1UdwakcxjeW611KqS2wI8cMPeUosxnZszbP49zc-lp3k13yTAUnjT7Hly9gf3P5uEPY/s1600/IMG_2609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRySz_5hTmAFwOB6hPRFhKQJBLe3Os4pm4jguV4aESgLbLNS_oUmpF3XOr-6qI6KbETWDlSzud1UdwakcxjeW611KqS2wI8cMPeUosxnZszbP49zc-lp3k13yTAUnjT7Hly9gf3P5uEPY/s320/IMG_2609.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My wife on snowshoes in front of the fire lookout on Squaw Mountain (May 2016)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our "view" from the fire lookout, May 2016</td></tr>
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<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com6Squaw Mountain, Colorado 80452, USA39.6794327 -105.4927746999999814.1573982 -146.80136869999998 65.2014672 -64.184180699999985tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-9815369910529824532017-07-13T15:57:00.000-06:002017-07-13T16:39:46.458-06:00Mount Rosalie and Rosalie BierstadtI love to look at Mount Rosalie. From my sister-in-law's deck in Pine, Colorado, it's a pleasingly rounded summit, a dome blanketed in snow until late in the summer. Beside its 13,575-foot gentle rise, Mount Evans and Mount Bierstadt, both 14ers, appear harsh, craggy, forbidding. And yet Rosalie is deceptive. It <i>is</i> easy to summit Mount Rosalie from the Mount Evans road -- merely drive up the zigzagging road to just above Summit Lake, park, and hike south up and over Epaulet Mountain and then to Rosalie. But I'm not sure this counts as "climbing" Rosalie any more than parking at the lot on Evans and walking the final half mile to its summit counts as climbing that 14er.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIs8QaafH1vawjwDxzq_WBcLWL0hJ0C5-87EFwNM-lA3GyusgF1P__rIckZSqBGVLo6pHwbqjTx9-W6MhS5xW4gqdaW2VYRRYrrj6FezIgGOsP5vMqIUAWYerfMSWWSvwuAYbkxK35kA/s1600/IMG_3677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIs8QaafH1vawjwDxzq_WBcLWL0hJ0C5-87EFwNM-lA3GyusgF1P__rIckZSqBGVLo6pHwbqjTx9-W6MhS5xW4gqdaW2VYRRYrrj6FezIgGOsP5vMqIUAWYerfMSWWSvwuAYbkxK35kA/s320/IMG_3677.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dome of Mount Rosalie from the Hwy 285 junction in Pine, CO</td></tr>
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To climb Mount Rosalie, and say you've really done it, you must begin at the bottom -- and you must know the history of the person for whom the mountain is named -- and the controversy that surrounds it still.<br />
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<u style="font-weight: bold;">Who was Rosalie</u>?<br />
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In 1863, when the painter Albert Bierstadt climbed the mountains known today as Evans and Bierstadt, Rosalie was not yet his wife. In fact, Rosalie was the wife of Bierstadt's friend, the American author and journalist Fitz Hugh Ludlow, whom Bierstadt had invited to accompany him on the trip west. Bierstadt did not even know Rosalie except from Ludlow's detailed descriptions. However, in just three years -- after mutual accusations of infidelity -- Rosalie and Ludlow would divorce and she would marry Bierstadt. Bierstadt's brazen honoring of her on the maps three years before, in the company of her husband, might lead us to wonder if their romance had already begun, at least in his artist's mind.<br />
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For me, this dramatic scandal helps interpret Bierstadt's "A Storm in the Rocky Mountains, Mt. Rosalie," which he painted from sketches he did on that 1863 hike. I've always been a bit perplexed by Bierstadt's paintings, because, though I appreciate the light and grandeur and the clouds in them, they never represent the Rockies as they actually look, depicting them as far more jagged, more Eden-like. But if this painting is meant to convey Bierstadt's tumultuous love for his friend's wife, then it makes more sense.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b5/A_Storm_in_the_Rocky_Mountains%2C_Mt._Rosalie%2C_by_Albert_Bierstadt%2C_1866%2C_oil_on_canvas_-_Brooklyn_Museum_-_DSC09396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="800" height="230" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b5/A_Storm_in_the_Rocky_Mountains%2C_Mt._Rosalie%2C_by_Albert_Bierstadt%2C_1866%2C_oil_on_canvas_-_Brooklyn_Museum_-_DSC09396.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"A Storm in the Rocky Mountains, Mt. Rosalie," 1866, Albert Bierstadt (Brooklyn Museum -- <a href="https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/objects/1558/">https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/objects/1558/</a>)</td></tr>
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Rosalie was lovely, people said. Rosalie was a flirt, people said. Rosalie was popular and rich, people said. That she divorced a prominent journalist and art critic for a prominent painter seemed to only increase her celebrity status. In England, she and Albert met Queen Victoria; in Canada, they were the honored guests of a costume ball; in their winter home in Nassau and in their homes on the Hudson and in New York, they were regarded as American royalty.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c0/Rosalie_Osborne_Bierstadt%2C_seated%2C_unknown_date%2C_William_Kurtz_(restored).jpg/220px-Rosalie_Osborne_Bierstadt%2C_seated%2C_unknown_date%2C_William_Kurtz_(restored).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="220" height="320" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c0/Rosalie_Osborne_Bierstadt%2C_seated%2C_unknown_date%2C_William_Kurtz_(restored).jpg/220px-Rosalie_Osborne_Bierstadt%2C_seated%2C_unknown_date%2C_William_Kurtz_(restored).jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosalie Osborn Bierstadt</td></tr>
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However, Rosalie was not a strong woman. Diagnosed with tuberculosis in 1876, she became increasingly frail and died in Nassau in 1893, at the age of 52. Her husband Albert Bierstadt would live only another nine years, to die at age 73.<br />
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<b><u>Why is the mountain named Rosalie?</u></b><br />
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Rosalie the woman was nothing like the gentle dome that is currently named for her. This is particularly interesting when one realizes that the <i>original</i> Mount Rosalie -- in fact, the Mount Rosalie in Bierstadt's 1866 painting -- was what we call Mount <i>Evans</i> today. It's true: for three decades, Colorado had a 14er named after a woman. However, in 1895, the Colorado legislature changed the name of that peak to Evans to honor John Evans, who had been governor of Colorado from 1862-1865 and who had collaborated with the U.S. military's Colonel John Chivington to carry out the horrific November 29, 1864, Sand Creek Massacre against the Cheyenne and Arapaho. Too many places honor this despicable man on maps: Evanston, Illinois; Evanston, Wyoming; Evans, Colorado; Mount Evans (and Colorado's highest peak, Mount Elbert, honors Evans' son-in-law). <br />
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In 1865, the Colorado legislature assured everyone that Rosalie Bierstadt would still be honored: the unnamed 13er near Bierstadt and Evans would be named Mount Rosalie. However, <a href="http://www.denverpost.com/2017/06/17/mount-evans-should-be-restored-to-its-original-name/" target="_blank">a campaign continues to restore Rosalie's name to its original peak, to honor an artist's wife and not an architect of genocide</a>.<br />
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I thought about all of this as I climbed the five miles from Deer Creek Campground to the summit of Rosalie last summer. From the saddle between Rosalie and Pegmatite Points, as I trudged west up Rosalie's sloping tundra side, I watched Mount Evans, the cars flashing on the road that winds up its side, and I thought about how shameful it is to give a beautiful mountain the name of a murderer. Privately, I re-named the peak known as Mount Evans Mount <a href="http://www.cpr.org/news/story/cheyenne-woman-becomes-warrior-after-sand-creek-massacre" target="_blank">Mochi</a>, after the 24-year-old Southern Cheyenne woman who became an avenging warrior after she survived the Sand Creek Massacre Evans had ordered. We should honor people like Mochi with our mountains' names.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mochi, a Southern Cheyenne woman warrior, for whom Mt. Evans SHOULD be named</td></tr>
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In fact, I think we would do far better to honor women like Mochi than women like Rosalie Bierstadt, whose fame stemmed from the wealth into which she was born and the men she happened to marry, not anything she accomplished or endured.<br />
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<b><u>How to climb the mountain currently named Mount Rosalie:</u></b><br />
1. Drive 4.4 miles southwest of Pine Junction on US-285 (toward Bailey), and take a right at the gas station. This is Deer Creek Road. Drive 8.3 miles (note the lovely views of Rosalie as you drive) past the Deer Creek Campground and park at the road's end (and note, with the bafflement that I felt) that some people pitch their tents in gravel parking lots when there are ample beautiful sites in the woods along the creek. Start hiking on the Tanglewood Trail. <br />
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2. After about a mile, you'll reach the junction with the Rosalie Trail. It feels counterintuitive, but stay on the Tanglewood Trail (the righthand fork). <br />
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3. The trail switchbacks up through a lovely meadow and forest, and then through bristlecone pines to the tundra. About 3.25 miles from the trailhead, you reach the broad saddle between Rosalie and Pegmatite Points. The view here is lovely (I shared it with a pair of curious young deer with velvety antlers), and the Tanglewood Trail ambles invitingly onward into the Evans Wilderness. However, to hike Rosalie, leave the trail and hike west (to your left) toward Rosalie's summit.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6bgiKRvl9gKbPbnkSwruRbTuhDhL0aTYheIi2Yf0x3u-CL5CHAMi2ivDXpxqmIfCuRCSflrEpItGe5ddimfm-t26d4oenOsI5ysWDqnh7poMNSnhrzibJM4uXSU5ZdUdDJ8Jzfvj4Rgw/s1600/IMG_3766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6bgiKRvl9gKbPbnkSwruRbTuhDhL0aTYheIi2Yf0x3u-CL5CHAMi2ivDXpxqmIfCuRCSflrEpItGe5ddimfm-t26d4oenOsI5ysWDqnh7poMNSnhrzibJM4uXSU5ZdUdDJ8Jzfvj4Rgw/s320/IMG_3766.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back down the east ridge of Mount Rosalie (August 2016)</td></tr>
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4. The dome look of Rosalie translates to many false summits. Enjoy the views and the soft tundra, and examine the flowers as you catch your breath. The summit <i>is</i> up there.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An alpine succulent in Rosalie's tundra slope</td></tr>
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5. From the top of Rosalie, the view is stunning, and the flat rocks are a perfect place to recline awhile in the silence and the solitude. In the hours I hiked Rosalie, I met only two other hikers. Compare that to the hundreds of hikers on Bierstadt and Evans each day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGtwWJYgP0TCfQwgxC0VXtwsUPvmpezqlDOKQJmuWsT8qncV6C_xRnN_7eNXs7n5PS9hmSivNTNl0t6r5kBfqpTuKi1_cdL22iM5e7jn28PGZl_m7uDqdMH3pT_8iwSCJpnXUXHIzEPY/s1600/IMG_3764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGtwWJYgP0TCfQwgxC0VXtwsUPvmpezqlDOKQJmuWsT8qncV6C_xRnN_7eNXs7n5PS9hmSivNTNl0t6r5kBfqpTuKi1_cdL22iM5e7jn28PGZl_m7uDqdMH3pT_8iwSCJpnXUXHIzEPY/s320/IMG_3764.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the summit of Mount Rosalie (August 2016)</td></tr>
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<b><u>Sources:</u></b><br />
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"At home in the huddle: Watertown, New York." Retrieved from <a href="http://athomeinthehuddle2013.blogspot.com/2013/03/its-garbage-day.html">http://athomeinthehuddle2013.blogspot.com/2013/03/its-garbage-day.html</a>. Web. 13 July 2017.<br />
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Enss, Chris. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mochis-War-Tragedy-Sand-Creek/dp/076276077X" target="_blank">Mochi's War</a></i>. TwoDot, 2015.<br />
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"Mount Evans." Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Evans. Web. 13 July 2017.<br />
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O'Neill, Tam. "Albert Bierstadt, Great Art, True Love!" Retrieved from <a href="http://www.tamoneillfinearts.com/albert-bierstadt-mt-rosalie/">http://www.tamoneillfinearts.com/albert-bierstadt-mt-rosalie/</a>. Web. 13 July 2017.<br />
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<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com1Rosalie Peak, Bailey, CO 80421, USA39.5560991 -105.6063907999999914.034064599999997 -146.91498479999998 65.0781336 -64.297796799999986tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-53738253658792101312017-07-10T00:37:00.000-06:002017-07-10T01:34:02.815-06:00Mount Lady Washington and Miss Anna DickinsonBy now, I know Anna Elizabeth Dickinson so well it's as if I knew her personally. Before the summer of 2013, I had never heard of her (have you ever heard of her?), and yet in the prime of her career, in the 1860s and 70s, Dickinson's name was a household name in America. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/98/Anna_Elizabeth_Dickinson_cph.3b20702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="696" height="320" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/98/Anna_Elizabeth_Dickinson_cph.3b20702.jpg" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna E. Dickinson, sometime in the early 1860s</td></tr>
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People flocked by the thousands to hear her speak. She was the first woman to speak on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives, in 1863. By 1865, she earned $20,000 (the equivalent of about $280,000 today) per year from speaking fees, first as an abolitionist and then as an advocate for laborer's rights, for equality for all, and for women's rights. Affectionately called "America's Joan of Arc," Dickinson was far more famous than her contemporary, Susan B. Anthony. She was a celebrity. Although several wealthy, high-profile men proposed to her, she never married; her letters reveal that she immersed herself in passionate love affairs with women in various cities (sometimes a few women at the same time, and for some months, Susan B. herself). <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She once wrote to her lover Olive Logan, “Someday, some of us will become so overcome with passion that we will become men, and we will make furious love to our beloved women, and then we shall be married, and live happy forever more.” </span>She played Hamlet on Broadway, and she spoke boldly to anyone who would listen, preferring great rapt crowds.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna E. Dickinson, probably in the late 1870s or 1880s (when she exchanged her sombre Quaker dress for fancier clothing)</td></tr>
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Anna E. Dickinson, small Quaker woman born in 1842, was <i>astonishing</i>.<br />
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But how did the 13,281-foot peak to the northeast of the Long's Peak summit (Rocky Mountain National Park's highest, at 14,259 feet, and one of Colorado's most challenging non-technical hikes) come to be named for Anna Dickinson? And why did the mapmakers on the 1873 Hayden Survey call the peak "Lady Washington," Dickinson's nickname in mountaineering circles because she had climbed New Hampshire's Mount Washington at least 28 times, and not "Mount Anna"? Why did they, in fact, name <i>two </i>peaks for Miss Dickinson -- Mount Lady Washington and Mount Dickinson, a remote 11,814-foot summit in the Mummy Range to the northeast? Did Miss Dickinson, notoriously outspoken and hyper-aware of her public persona, push the Hayden surveyors one way or the other?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnmSgmVkPgc6UypfBpaTfhOCmEh7tY8vTDlqkPWfgybomnvvEBowu11kz19EK39W5LnCOpdSAKSA9fcn5PHuk9kg78NWpZPKCgTsDfO6BXfnfOP7G9dPzaRHGzSIEGTBiQYm69iNYWnA/s1600/image3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnmSgmVkPgc6UypfBpaTfhOCmEh7tY8vTDlqkPWfgybomnvvEBowu11kz19EK39W5LnCOpdSAKSA9fcn5PHuk9kg78NWpZPKCgTsDfO6BXfnfOP7G9dPzaRHGzSIEGTBiQYm69iNYWnA/s320/image3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In this evening view of Long's Peak from the Moraine Park Campground (taken July 5, 2017), the twin-humped mountain to the left (west) of "The Beaver" rock formation is Mount Lady Washington (13,281 ft). The triangular 13er to the east of Long's Peak is Storm Peak which is another straight-forward climb from the Boulderfield.</td></tr>
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<br />
Dickinson was radiant on her tour of Colorado's summits: she rode to see the sunrise on Gray's and Torreys; she pushed boulders off the top of Elbert (a popular pastime for 19th century mountaineers); she raced to the summit of Long's in pants she had made her brother John purchase in Longmont (to the chagrin of the local newspaper); she rode happily to the top of Pikes after an invigorating ride on the cattleguard of the train from Denver. However, though she was only 31, her journey to the Colorado Rockies in 1873 marked the pinnacle of Dickinson's life. Shortly after that, her popularity and fame declined as the speaking circuit declined, and then her mental health declined strangely (maybe as a result of alcohol-induced psychosis, maybe because of depression, or maybe her sister Susan wanted her out of the way and so institutionalized her). After a few months in a mental institution in Pennsylvania in 1891, Dickinson disappeared from the public eye, living in relative anonymity with friends for the last four decades of her life.<br />
<br />
Why? What happened? For the past four years, since I discovered Anna Dickinson in my work on <a href="http://www.flatironsliteraryreview.com/2014/08/15/a-woman-on-longs-peak-by-sarah-brooks/" target="_blank">an essay about my climb up Long's Peak</a>, I have been working to fictionalize her story (last summer, I rented a cabin in Allenspark for a week and made myself write 5,000 words a day), but it doesn't quite work -- not yet. I'm missing something, even after all my research, even after creating a 95,000-word manuscript. I haven't found out what I need to about the elusive Anna yet. But. Look for <i>that</i> book someday, too.<br />
<br />
I can't tell you all the secrets to AED yet, but I can tell you how to hike Mount Lady Washington. It's straight-forward and well worth it. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dW3y77Pyh0AOyzoisF6DG_ADvxbvNKtHoNrw7XpeOZuTDGMcmV6eM-uCiYNUwd_yPZh164XmzehbsHLRrEd-0JK87VEuF2hNqa14uJGRGoGzJfnfsQQkJeiUmpHtLIfmJtDynbAbh_Y/s1600/image2+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dW3y77Pyh0AOyzoisF6DG_ADvxbvNKtHoNrw7XpeOZuTDGMcmV6eM-uCiYNUwd_yPZh164XmzehbsHLRrEd-0JK87VEuF2hNqa14uJGRGoGzJfnfsQQkJeiUmpHtLIfmJtDynbAbh_Y/s320/image2+%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The route up Mount Lady Washington diverges from the Long's Peak trail on the northern edge of the Boulderfield, up to the left (that's Lady Washington rising in the lefthand corner). There is no trail up to the summit of Mount Lady Washington; it's a steep and obvious scramble up boulders to the top. (My photo, July 12, 2016).</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<u style="font-weight: bold;">How (and why) to climb Mount Lady Washington</u>:<br />
1. Start at the Long's Peak Trailhead (the Long's Peak Ranger Station). You don't have to leave at 2 or 3 am with the Long's Peak hikers, but I did (habit, I guess), which meant I summited Mount Lady Washington at about 6:30 am and still had ample, relaxed, pre-thunderstorm time to hike over and up to Chasm Lake, too. I loved hiking down past baffled Long's Peak hikers at about 8 am, too, who all asked, "Did you already summit?" My answer (true): "Yes!"<br />
<br />
2. Follow the Long's Peak trail through Goblin's forest, past tree-line, and right at the junction with the Chasm Lake spur trail. (Note: some people do choose to climb Mount Lady Washington's east slope from here, but that seems like needless effort and danger to me. I recommend continuing toward the gentler north slope.) From that intersection, the Long's Peak trail curves for 1.1 miles along the northeast slope of Mount Lady Washington, providing a good opportunity to admire the mountain on its own (it obscures Long's for much of that time, anyway). At Granite Pass, the Long's Peak trail climbs in switchbacks toward the Boulderfield. You'll have to pause to catch your breath often here; admire the red-orange light of the rising sun on the Diamond Face of Long's and the rosy purple of the plains, if you left early enough. <br />
<br />
3. At the third switchback, leave the Long's Peak trail and strike out to the south toward the summit of Mount Lady Washington. I should clarify: all the trail guides recommend leaving the trail at the third switchback, but I did not count. I merely hiked watching Mount Lady Washington and then left the established trail when the slope I needed to climb looked most reasonable. Note: avoid stepping on those tundra plants and flowers; it's easy to boulder-hop here (a skill my dad taught me on my first successful ascent of Long's at age 14). <br />
<br />
4. From the point you leave the trail, the "route" up to the summit of Mount Lady Washington is up to you. No cairns mark the way. I chose boulders that did not rock when I stepped on them, and I remembered to pause to breathe in the increasingly incredible views.<br />
<br />
5. The summit of Mount Lady Washington is astonishing (like Miss Dickinson herself). One final pull to the top boulders brings a sudden, dramatic view of the Diamond Face of Long's -- and the steep drop to Chasm Lake to the south. It is a <i>luxury</i> to relax on that summit and actually rest on the views, to recline on a flat boulder and eat breakfast, with no more work of climbing to do for the day. I know some people like to attempt the so-called "Grand Slam" (Meeker, Longs, Pagoda, Storm and Lady Washington in one day), but I wonder if they are missing the point. I found perfect shelter from the wind and enjoyed my perch for a long time, and was happy. Note, though: Anna Dickinson herself would have certainly attempted -- and completed -- the Grand Slam, had someone proposed the idea to her. Regardless, Lady Washington is a dramatic and worthy summit all on its own.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfx4ffpvvvka6Y5lXrHpaAdNlot2z3pEgTyBIU0OVNJY3gTKytFUsg3hBoBhP5Yik60lzJHLq2Pn5Y0tCwU_qFVLhPfs7ppMYHxzqdzP0GD6FsLpolAEeycGfWavhyphenhyphen5UIu1krHEsZiWow/s1600/image1+%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfx4ffpvvvka6Y5lXrHpaAdNlot2z3pEgTyBIU0OVNJY3gTKytFUsg3hBoBhP5Yik60lzJHLq2Pn5Y0tCwU_qFVLhPfs7ppMYHxzqdzP0GD6FsLpolAEeycGfWavhyphenhyphen5UIu1krHEsZiWow/s320/image1+%25284%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the windy summit of Mt. Lady Washington -- July 12, 2016</td></tr>
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<br />
6. As I said, if you start early enough, it is relaxing to pair a hike up Lady Washington with a hike over to Chasm Lake, which is a riot of columbine and bluebells in July and August. Just be cautious on the steep snowfield crossing on Lady Washington's southeast slope (Anna Dickinson was as dangerous as she was prominent).<br />
<br />
NOTE: in total, the hike to the summit of Mount Lady Washington is about 11 miles round-trip.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOiUOHgGxXU_zsUClcjR0Q28rrCNSCXAwNFemKZauH5_7r7mHulbaxKUCMTEPtWujdLg8Kl34fKpkpXA_TdFbI3_M6w_vbnGd2Noq6rkRjWQnN2NfnYf8YTSaNzeuWUATHpokzZgXEMiE/s1600/IMG_2876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="157" data-original-width="640" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOiUOHgGxXU_zsUClcjR0Q28rrCNSCXAwNFemKZauH5_7r7mHulbaxKUCMTEPtWujdLg8Kl34fKpkpXA_TdFbI3_M6w_vbnGd2Noq6rkRjWQnN2NfnYf8YTSaNzeuWUATHpokzZgXEMiE/s640/IMG_2876.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 6:30 am sun on Mount Lady Washington, July 12, 2016.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<u><b>Sources:</b></u><br />
<br />
Chester, Giraud. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Embattled-maiden-life-Anna-Dickinson/dp/B0006ASUHO" target="_blank">Embattled Maiden: The Life of Anna Dickinson</a>. </i>New York: Putnam, 1951.<br />
<br />
Dickinson, Anna Elizabeth. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Ragged-Register-People-Place-Opinions/dp/055973624X" target="_blank">A Ragged Register (of People Place and Opinions).</a></i> New York: Harper & Bros, 1879.<br />
<br />
Faderman, Lillian. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Believe-Women-Lesbians-America-History/dp/0618056971" target="_blank">To Believe in Women: What Lesbians Have Done for America -- a History</a>. </i>New York: Mariner Books, 2000.<br />
<br />
Gallman, J. Matthew. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Americas-Joan-Arc-Elizabeth-Dickinson/dp/0195339266" target="_blank">America's Joan of Arc: The Life of Anna Elizabeth Dickinson</a>.</i> London: Oxford University Press, 2008.<br />
<br />
Robertson, Janet. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Magnificent-Mountain-Women-Second-Adventures/dp/0803289952" target="_blank">The Magnificent Mountain Women: Adventures in the Colorado Rockies.</a> </i>Lincoln, NE: Bison Books, 2003.<br />
<br />
<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Mt Lady Washington, Colorado 80517, USA40.2633178 -105.6072249999999714.741283300000003 -146.91581899999997 65.7853523 -64.298630999999972tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-70624230575930326852017-07-09T18:33:00.005-06:002017-07-10T00:44:50.695-06:00On finding Aunt Clara Brown HillAfter my research into Clara Brown (see <a href="http://remembermorethantheirnames.blogspot.com/2017/07/the-women-maps-neglected.html" target="_blank">this post</a>) -- and my discovery of Aunt Clara Brown Hill, a mountain in Central City (re-named from its previous, racist, name in 2012) -- I had to climb the hill. My mother-in-law, Elaine, and my daughter and I drove to Central City and then above it, following Eureka Street, which becomes Upper Apex Road and leads to several historic cemeteries. We parked on the side of the road in view of the Central City Cemetery -- and in view, just through the wrought-iron arch, of Aunt Clara Brown Hill.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDjWFwhPT1lDqH8g_z9_i7fNrzJ-Ir-IdZexnwdrikmSwPKBuSLHLHWtI6Gi8AgmlK84vM6aAQSfKXiRFLsxWUhDxUbm4dD66a4TOg6UElf4It9jkuyH8cIZyWLxaeX6qzDpLC5rYGRA/s1600/image4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDjWFwhPT1lDqH8g_z9_i7fNrzJ-Ir-IdZexnwdrikmSwPKBuSLHLHWtI6Gi8AgmlK84vM6aAQSfKXiRFLsxWUhDxUbm4dD66a4TOg6UElf4It9jkuyH8cIZyWLxaeX6qzDpLC5rYGRA/s320/image4.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Clara Brown Hill, 9,088 ft, is the gentle rise just visible through the cemetery gate.</td></tr>
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To reach the top of the hill, we had to walk through the cemetery, which Mitike did not appreciate, imagining ghosts, skeletal hands reaching, haunted souls. Elaine reassured her, saying that these quiet stones resting in the wildflowers and long grasses were stories waiting for us to listen.<br />
<br />
We followed criss-crossing and increasingly steep mining roads no more than 1/2 mile to the hill's summit, passing sunken holes and abandoned mining equipment and taking care to keep our dogs and ourselves on the solid road. People have fallen into forgotten mine shafts in these kinds of places.<br />
<br />
And then, suddenly, we stepped onto the summit of Aunt Clara Brown Hill. It's a restful place in the aspens, red paintbrush growing beside sage and cinquefoil, a view of the mining country and, beyond, Mount Evans and Mount Rosalie. We talked awhile, the three of us, about how we wished for a plaque or a stone to commemorate Clara Brown, and we talked of how both the words "aunt" and "hill" cheapen the honor. We privately renamed the place Mount Clara Brown, wondering what that tough, persistent pioneer would have thought of any summit that bore her name on maps. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJ9eilsYQXjvx4hJiqKK60lxg2eqDTY4T6a2TChKUcvmki643r7Pe8CzlJXMW760xyZ-lTSwukZWuEFMficTgnwDrAA8ijYEW2ZvNQ9pd6vHhUlZw66mL99ONQSQsp1WZ4fM9mRPIBNY/s1600/image1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJ9eilsYQXjvx4hJiqKK60lxg2eqDTY4T6a2TChKUcvmki643r7Pe8CzlJXMW760xyZ-lTSwukZWuEFMficTgnwDrAA8ijYEW2ZvNQ9pd6vHhUlZw66mL99ONQSQsp1WZ4fM9mRPIBNY/s320/image1.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paintbrush on the summit of Aunt Clara Brown Hill</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCS6LaPKRm_MZirizpWcG4PGdj8QhmhNP0MO1rQ7-NzprD8Zv_PlW-eUdcLFKtMWWMJHWKiOXDCkHvxU4OfHehq8K_sxbDsbixZgjQnuPMHcaGYLcXZvf_F7Iv0SHSd_Ob0OLYM3M-fXc/s1600/image3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCS6LaPKRm_MZirizpWcG4PGdj8QhmhNP0MO1rQ7-NzprD8Zv_PlW-eUdcLFKtMWWMJHWKiOXDCkHvxU4OfHehq8K_sxbDsbixZgjQnuPMHcaGYLcXZvf_F7Iv0SHSd_Ob0OLYM3M-fXc/s320/image3.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of the Evans massif from Aunt Clara Brown Hill</td></tr>
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Indeed, what would Clara Brown have made of two white women and a child adopted from Ethiopia, picking their way among the stones on a mountain named for her? What would she have said to us? What would she have thought of my confident, grinning daughter in her pink New Balance tennis shoes and her purple rain jacket, of how she spread her arms to the world she could see from the summit of Aunt Clara Brown Hill?<br />
<br />
The worn and lichened gravestones in the cemetery did not answer our questions. Only the wind whispered in the grasses there, and the wild rose and the paintbrush and the bluebells nodded.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9l1ZsAMUaKJYSe_CIFrx5ReDaXC8JpNRXC5ghJuWOwyMqTWU02_ssPKxLiKDqFnkkhP4GEr1o4QdPLAfgWRygIdS2PU_VcYEYMTy2J5Sgm8a_po2gZvJFTLdkl9g0tBHBYocdm0Eigkg/s1600/image2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9l1ZsAMUaKJYSe_CIFrx5ReDaXC8JpNRXC5ghJuWOwyMqTWU02_ssPKxLiKDqFnkkhP4GEr1o4QdPLAfgWRygIdS2PU_VcYEYMTy2J5Sgm8a_po2gZvJFTLdkl9g0tBHBYocdm0Eigkg/s320/image2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mitike on Aunt Clara Brown Hill -- July 8, 2017</td></tr>
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<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Aunt Clara Brown Hill, Colorado 80422, USA39.8080433 -105.525275414.286008800000001 -146.8338694 65.3300778 -64.2166814tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-48433018931497163092017-07-07T16:05:00.000-06:002017-07-10T00:45:13.808-06:00A few notes on Belle Turnbull<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFS4aCmtWi5agXZsQj0v53lfYfoHjM-4JxnlCWxFykNWYbbexnLM1F5pzqhAjZV16ps89ENO8CnO99NS-wiXwaNxzTlLRDyr2H8fNdvAi5OuUJqyxLVukVtSK_BUVWaRh7XayNH4hR7KA/s1600/IMG_3629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFS4aCmtWi5agXZsQj0v53lfYfoHjM-4JxnlCWxFykNWYbbexnLM1F5pzqhAjZV16ps89ENO8CnO99NS-wiXwaNxzTlLRDyr2H8fNdvAi5OuUJqyxLVukVtSK_BUVWaRh7XayNH4hR7KA/s320/IMG_3629.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Mt. Helen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When I hiked Mount Helen (sometimes called Helen and Belle Peak) in Breckenridge on June 27, I didn't know I was about to discover one of Colorado's best poets, Belle Turnbull. Why have we forgotten her? The excellent <a href="http://pleiadespress.org/books/belle-turnbull-on-the-life-work-of-an-american-master/" target="_blank"><i>Belle Turnbull: On the Life and Work of an American Master</i>, edited by David J. Rothman and Jeffrey R. Villines</a>, has been my writing material in the past week, and I'm in love with Belle. I appreciate her poetry about early 20th century mining life in the Breckenridge area -- she works to capture dialect like Mark Twain did, and the concerns and descriptions are evocative. But I <i>love</i> her poetry about the landscape, and about the ways the rough landscape of the Colorado Rockies demands we reflect on our relationships with others and with ourselves.<br />
<br />
I love the unbridled and perilous passion of "Chant" (listed in Turnbull's papers under the heading "Not to be Published [During My Lifetime]"):<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #999999;">Chant</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="color: #999999;">Now at last I have eaten</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">that dark and pungent honey</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">which is distilled</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">out of blue-black monkshood,</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">marsh-child of forbidden beauty</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">together with sky-bright mertensia</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">dwarf-born on the high mountains</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">and too sweet -- </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Now at last have I eaten </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">and am consumed. </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span>
(Rothman and Villines 123)<br />
<br />
I love the meditative aspect of "What is your religion?":<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #999999;">What is your religion?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="color: #999999;">To tend my house, my body, and my spirit:</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">this is beauty.</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">To live as best I may with those whom my life</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">touches; to nourish them and to be nourished by them:</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">this is love</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">to contemplate, to search, compare, to winnow:</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">this is wisdom.</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span>
(Rothman and Villines 122)<br />
<br />
And I love imagining the cozy (but always vulnerable) vision of home with Helen Rich that she presents in "Dialog":<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #999999;">Dialog</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="color: #999999;">Let's step outside in the mountain night, renew</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Whole vision of this integer of cells:</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">This house, in separate amber shining so,</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Uniquely seen, as though another self:</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Unit in space, now for a time clearly</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Walled, roofed, warmed: now for a time. . .</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #999999;">How little, how long? Whisper it flawless, dare we?</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Shout it, and count the neighbor rays that shine,</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Digits of oneness, careless into space. . .</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #999999;">Yet if tomorrow, yet if tomorrow shaken,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #999999;">Lightless, forlorn?</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #999999;"><i> </i>Therefore. Look, while the eyes</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Know this for ours, and the amber word still spoken.</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Though wood shall rot and light shatter, though</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">Self dissolve on a breath, this house is now.</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span>
(Rothman and Villines 86)<br />
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Thank you, Mount Helen, for leading me to Belle Turnbull's poetry.<br />
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<i><br /></i>Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-77975577205676999632017-07-07T10:19:00.002-06:002017-07-10T00:45:43.636-06:00The women the maps neglected<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSczce2gvdBQGP0JOQypvV4CWAwhf-AThch5L8BItEv8xlJ1N6d_hKahj_DudxBNltwQIyDYaeSmFRpFt94KZxGiaV9P0tETqF5_Xk4qCHX2SuD-MkkiIgj-rHcwgX-Z8PRRllFIZ0Xyc/s1600/19748826_10154529650491906_7393050355388497803_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSczce2gvdBQGP0JOQypvV4CWAwhf-AThch5L8BItEv8xlJ1N6d_hKahj_DudxBNltwQIyDYaeSmFRpFt94KZxGiaV9P0tETqF5_Xk4qCHX2SuD-MkkiIgj-rHcwgX-Z8PRRllFIZ0Xyc/s320/19748826_10154529650491906_7393050355388497803_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mitike walking fast ahead of me on the Flattop Trail -- July 5, 2017.</td></tr>
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My daughter, age 10, stands on the edge of a dusty trail, her feet in their pink New Balance shoes neatly together. As she observes Emerald Lake far below, she chews thoughtfully on a blue Sour Patch Kid, then holds out the yellow box to me. "Want one?" <br />
<br />
I shake my head, embarrassed that she has turned to me just as tears have welled up in my eyes. <br />
<br />
"Mom? Why are you crying?"<br />
<br />
"Because six years ago, I carried you on my back all the way up to Black Lake, and now you're hiking Flattop all by yourself, and I can barely keep up! You're growing up so fast!"<br />
<br />
Mitike grins at me and then steps forward to pat my arm. "It's okay, Mom. You're okay." Beneath the brim of her light blue hat ("NORWAY" stitched in flowery letters), her brown eyes are the same brown eyes into which I loved to gaze when she was a sleepy toddler, but every day, she is more awake, more aware, more a person all of her own.<br />
<br />
Ever since the days her legs got too long for me to carry her strapped to my back, she has been a reluctant and sometimes petulant hiker. But not today. Today, confidence from her recent week away at camp in Keystone still simmering in her blood, she chooses to climb Flattop Mountain, a 4.4-mile trail that climbs 2,849 feet to 12,335 and views of the Mummy Range, the Never Summer Range, and the Indian Peaks. She strides forward as if she has just discovered her long legs. Once, I have to ask her to stop so I can catch my breath. This shocks her. "Are you okay? Do you need medicine?" <br />
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*<br />
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As I hike behind Mitike on the trail that zigzags through the alpine, I think about this blog and the challenge I have set for myself to identify, hike, research and map (with my words) all the peaks and lakes named for women in Colorado. I believe in this goal. Already, I have encountered several people -- most of them women -- who light up when I tell them about my project. They want to know who those great women were. They want a guidebook that will tell them how they can hike to those places where those women have been honored by the mapmakers and the U.S. Board on Geographical Names. But puffing to keep up with my suddenly strong and determined daughter, I understand all at once, with something akin to grief's electricity, that too many strong women who passed through or resided in this state never received any recognition at all. And like my daughter, many of those unsung women were women of color. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clara Brown, for whom no mountain or lake is named, but who has been memorialized in many other ways in Colorado.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a>
Colorado's most famous African American woman in the 19th century was <a href="http://www.womenhistoryblog.com/2015/03/clara-brown.html" target="_blank">Miss Clara Brown</a>. Born into slavery in Virginia in 1800, torn from her husband and children by a slave auction in 1835, and freed by a slave master's will at age 56, Brown traveled west to Denver and then to Central City, working as a laundress, cook, and midwife. She managed to save an astounding $10,000 of her earnings (with inflation, that would be about $270,000 today), which enabled her to invest in mining claims and land. She became a respected pillar of the Central City community, but she longed to find the family from which she had been torn in 1835. She attempted to use her considerable resources and influence to locate her husband and children back in Kentucky, but she could only discover that her husband and a daughter had died and that another daughter and a son were lost. Instead, she used her money and her knowledge to help sixteen other former slaves travel west to Colorado, serving as support for them as they got settled in Central City. Then, in 1882, Brown received word that a black woman named Eliza Jane -- the same name as Brown's lost daughter -- was living in Iowa. Brown traveled to meet the woman, and found it <i>was</i> her daughter; they were re-united after forty-seven years. Eliza Jane moved back to Colorado to live with Brown until Brown's death in 1885. At her funeral in Denver, attended by a crowd that included the Colorado governor, James B. Grant, the Denver mayor John L. Routt said Brown was "the kind old friend whose heart always responded to the cry of distress, and who, rising from the humble position of slave to the angelic type of noble woman, won our sympathy and commanded our respect." <br />
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Brown <i>has</i> been honored: the Central City Opera dedicated a chair to her in the 1930s, and a stained glass depiction of her life as a pioneer has been displayed in the Colorado state capitol building since 1977. Brown was inducted into the Colorado Women's Hall of Fame in 1989, and <i>Gabriel's Daughter</i>, an opera about Brown's life, was produced in 2003.<br />
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Finally, the map-makers honored her, too. I<a href="http://www.westword.com/news/negro-hill-official-name-of-spot-near-central-city-finally-changed-to-honor-aunt-clara-brown-5837945">n 2012, the manager of Gilpin County convinced the U.S. Board of Geographical Names </a>to change the name of "Negro Hill" in Central City (a hill named for the 1870 lynching of a man named George Smith who had been convicted of the 1868 robbery and murder of William Hamblin in Quartz Valley) to "Aunt Clara Brown Hill" to honor Clara Brown. I'm bothered by the "aunt" part, and wonder why they couldn't have just named it "Clara Brown Hill" (or "Clara Brown Mountain," since the "hill" is 9,089 feet! But there it is. Clara Brown has her name on the maps, and maybe, for a woman as involved in her community as Clara Brown was in Central City, a mountain that watches over the dead in the cemetery and the living in the city is far more fitting than a solitary mountain somewhere above the mining claims.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTAx2ZTGD0rfCT9uckNKtLtyQ3ucrh2IdNpSyXqZMGhGMJH2riUS0Czn3iYAwQeaA7YJjtoJs7JQlx8hHwjyZR5d166DWswfx1Nli2oNAXnXoj6FysIpFp4BYpcC0-hklkrerSqn-NJe4/s1600/Screen+shot+2017-07-07+at+9.24.41+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="560" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTAx2ZTGD0rfCT9uckNKtLtyQ3ucrh2IdNpSyXqZMGhGMJH2riUS0Czn3iYAwQeaA7YJjtoJs7JQlx8hHwjyZR5d166DWswfx1Nli2oNAXnXoj6FysIpFp4BYpcC0-hklkrerSqn-NJe4/s320/Screen+shot+2017-07-07+at+9.24.41+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A topo map showing the 9,089 ft "hill" to the northwest of Central City, which was re-named "Aunt Clara Brown Hill" in 2012.</td></tr>
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*<br />
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<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/02/28/a-look-back-at-colorados-_n_1311366.html?slideshow=true#gallery/209452/10">Other women of color</a> who could have been honored by the map-makers, but were not, include Sarah Breedlove, who arrived in Denver in 1905 as a cook and laundress, starting mixing hair products and marketing them, and soon found herself a millionaire (America's first self-made millionaire woman) who made products that were in high demand. I would (of course) like to hike to a Sarah Lake. <br />
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Or Justina Ford, Colorado's first black female doctor, who moved with her husband to Denver in 1902, and who never turned a patient away, even though segregation denied her hospital privileges for many years. The Fords' home now houses the <a href="http://www.blackpast.org/aaw/black-american-west-museum">Black American West Museum</a> (open 10-2 on Fridays and Saturdays). I would like to hike the long steady way to a Mount Justina.<br />
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I look to southern Colorado, which only became the United States in 1848, when one morning, the ancestors of the people who live in Conejos and Costilla and Dolores and Las Animas counties woke up and lived not in Mexico, but in the U.S. There they have Lake de Nolda, Lake Annella, Dolores Mountain, Mariquita Mountain. But what other Latina women were never honored? I'm excited to dive into research into who Cimarrona might have been (for Cimarrona Peak near Pagosa Springs), but I wonder. Whom did the map makers ignore? Whom did they miss?<br />
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Chipeta, the second wife of the Uncompahgre Ute chief Ouray, was honored by the map makers -- Mount Chipeta stands beside Mount Ouray in Chaffee County -- more on that when I successfully hike Mount Chipeta. However, as far as I have researched so far, no other mountains or lakes honor specific Native American women in Colorado.<br />
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My objective in this project is to uncover the women who were honored once by the maps, but who have been forgotten, but I see suddenly that my other work is to uncover the histories of women who should have been honored but never were.<br />
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*<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7fO106Anhj5jeXVWMFqAkO-Wy9P3riWto5U8b1HEcvGvdArw6bPVrzrrBcgIvBMovYbSR96EFPVIVrykLxujbNad8afD_j3FWz7NiYjhMyHQik4MAwyrbvx2S2vfG0GpoFvJTN1F-Sc/s1600/19756366_10154529650571906_668927363226471235_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7fO106Anhj5jeXVWMFqAkO-Wy9P3riWto5U8b1HEcvGvdArw6bPVrzrrBcgIvBMovYbSR96EFPVIVrykLxujbNad8afD_j3FWz7NiYjhMyHQik4MAwyrbvx2S2vfG0GpoFvJTN1F-Sc/s320/19756366_10154529650571906_668927363226471235_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the summit of Flattop Mountain -- July 5, 2017</td></tr>
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As Mitike and I pull ourselves up and over the final snowfield onto the eponymous summit of Flattop, she climbs onto a broad boulder and turns in a slow 360-degree arc. "This," she says, "is <i>beautiful</i>." It is beautiful, as these Rocky Mountain vistas always are, but what I am admiring most is my strong and capable and kind and lovely daughter -- the kind of girl who will change the world -- the kind of girl who should be honored on maps or in stained glass art someday. And yes, I feel like crying again.<br />
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Another hiker, a woman, interrupts my admiration to ask Mitike how old she is. When Mitike answers, the woman gawks. "Ten!" A man nearby comments that when he was ten, he would have barely made it a mile up the trail before he would have collapsed into a tantrum. Mitike smiles quietly, glowing. The woman asks respectfully if she can have her photo taken with Mitike at the summit marker sign, and if she can post it on Facebook. Briefly, I wonder if it's Mitike's age or her difference that makes people want to document themselves with her presence, and I know I should wonder about it more, but I nod my ascent, snap the photo, and then glance at Mitike, who is gazing out at the Never Summer range again.<br />
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We eat our lunch on a flat rock in view of the top of the world. I observe to Mitike, after we have watched several other hikers crest the summit, that she is definitely the youngest person here today.<br />
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"Why does that matter so much to you, Mom?" She has eaten so many bing cherries that her lips are stained red. She looks happy.<br />
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I shrug. What I don't say, but we both notice: she is also the only person of color to stand on this summit today. She is the only person of color in the Moraine Park Campground. She was the only person of color at our family reunion a few days before. She was the only person of color at Keystone Science School camp last week. We live in Denver so she is not the only person of color at her school or among her friends, but when we hike out into the mountains, where most places are named for white men (around us loom Long's Peak, Hallet's; below us is Bierstadt Lake and the town of Estes Park), her difference is noticeable.<br />
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Does she feel relief when we reach Bear Lake at the end of our hike and see some diversity among the tourists there? An Indian family passes us; an African American family is packing their picnic into a cooler in the parking lot. I do not ask her. Maybe I should. Instead, I keep telling her how proud I am that she hiked to the top of Flattop, that she was the youngest to complete that goal.<br />
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Later, we eat ice cream in Estes Park, and I gaze out toward Flattop. My job here, as a woman and as Mitike's mom, is to tell the stories of women who have been forgotten -- and to keep raising a daughter who believes she can become a woman to be remembered. <br />
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I say something to this effect to Mitike, and she doesn't respond at first, working to contain the drips of her double scoop of raspberry and strawberry ice cream with her tongue. Then: "Mom, let's enjoy our ice cream. We don't have to think about all that right now." She gestures with one graceful hand toward the mountains. "Be in the moment!"<br />
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And of course, she's right.<br />
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<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-90417346824815887212017-06-30T17:43:00.001-06:002017-06-30T17:46:01.273-06:00A map of the places named after women -- and a plan<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc00i9hb5xRct2PGYOYeoBTeUbvmqycPLYqizH9O_iMZ8zGii20p3Tnyjgv7mVhEtPWafPizr7ilt_IRf62-xhOgQnXEUit6q9fGZLmIzAA-nQscycv56S02HHc1KPnSmwmoAekkkhVHY/s1600/Screen+shot+2017-06-30+at+5.36.31+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="1180" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc00i9hb5xRct2PGYOYeoBTeUbvmqycPLYqizH9O_iMZ8zGii20p3Tnyjgv7mVhEtPWafPizr7ilt_IRf62-xhOgQnXEUit6q9fGZLmIzAA-nQscycv56S02HHc1KPnSmwmoAekkkhVHY/s400/Screen+shot+2017-06-30+at+5.36.31+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a screenshot. Click on the link below to go to the actual interactive map.</td></tr>
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This afternoon, I spent significant time creating an interactive map of the mountains and lakes named after women. I used the wonderful website batchgeo.com to create <a href="https://batchgeo.com/map/ad0f38eec0a9bd11e4a32e39b69482c2" target="_blank">THIS</a>. You can click on the little markers to find the locations, but I've only mapped peaks here. For the WHOLE updated list of all 60 lakes and mountains named after women in the state of Colorado, please look at <a href="https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1B4FvVBAiZ5A4202RzPeA2oYXLfGiyFFtwt19NGsoGys/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">this spreadsheet,</a> which I also created today. <br />
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I did decide to exclude mountains named for vague references to women (e.g., Twin Sisters, Sisters, Hermosa, Nipple). I also decided to exclude the mountains named for Native American tribes, since those are not references to specific women. That said, I'm excited that I discovered Mount Chipeta is named for the second wife of the Ute chief Ouray. More on that when I hike Mount Chipeta sometime in the next ten years. I also decided to exclude passes, mines, ridges and creeks. I'm still not sure about whether to include Columbia and Zenobia, who were both mythical figures -- but were decidedly women. <br />
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Basically, I've created a hiking plan for myself for the next ten years (I'll start with the mountains and lakes nearest Denver this summer). I contacted the <a href="https://theautry.org/" target="_blank">Autry Museum of the West</a>, hoping they would be interested in posting this blog on their website (they merged with Boulder's Museum of Women of the West in 2002). They responded promptly and kindly, complimenting the contents of the blog, but saying they can only publish blogs their own staff writes. But maybe they'll carry my book someday.<br />
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Stay tuned for posts on my hikes up Mount Rosalie, Squaw Mountain, and Mount Lady Washington last summer. Haven't you always wondered for which women those peaks were named?Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-32854019189948246372017-06-27T18:04:00.000-06:002017-07-10T01:01:01.561-06:00Mount Helen (aka Belle and Helen Peak), Breckenridge, CO<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEUOnpSK-y5S_C_YmF82aEeeOOKhqModaLA8aYiB3uWE4WC0aD_HchIuQUhUQtuux1nlEPJb53hM5tLXdwI7Q5_eDvzvTgLig2iGSrzTVzaU_HV_0xn7stGqMdij3pH1QJ4xZsJq6xEk/s1600/IMG_3643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEUOnpSK-y5S_C_YmF82aEeeOOKhqModaLA8aYiB3uWE4WC0aD_HchIuQUhUQtuux1nlEPJb53hM5tLXdwI7Q5_eDvzvTgLig2iGSrzTVzaU_HV_0xn7stGqMdij3pH1QJ4xZsJq6xEk/s320/IMG_3643.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My backpack at the Wheeler Trail, where I walked into the woods and started the steep ascent up Mount Helen, pictured here. The snowfields were incredibly vertical!</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.summitpost.org/mount-helen/154078">SummitPost.org</a> claims Mount Helen (also written on some maps as Belle and Helen Peak) is a straight-forward ascent: only 5.1 miles round trip, just one steep section that involved bush-whacking with no trail. Somehow, when I planned to hike the mountain, I ignored the hefty elevation gain (2,700 feet in 2.5 miles), and I didn't examine the topo map carefully enough. My cousin Brian told me he had "run up there" before; he said it was a great mountain. I was in Breckenridge staying with my aunt, anyway, so I decided I would wake early and "run up" to the summit of Mount Helen, too.<br />
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It was not so easy. But the more I read about the Helen and Belle for whom the peak had been named -- Helen Rich, a journalist and novelist, a Summit County social worker for 22 years, a humanitarian; Belle Turnbull, a poet and novelist, reviewed by the <i>New York Times</i> and published by <i>Saturday Evening Post</i> -- the more I appreciated this relatively small mountain (13,171 ft) that stands sloped and lovely green south of Breckenridge, apparently accessible. Helen and Belle, too, held secrets. One: Helen made a life with Belle, 13 years her junior. Two: While Belle wrote her poetry about the mining lives she observed in Summit County, Helen spent the last decade of her life attempting to write the story of Silverheels, that gorgeous dancehall girl who supposedly contracted disfiguring smallpox and then disappeared. Three: Helen died exactly one year after Belle, in November of 1971. <br />
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I'll tell you more about Helen Rich and Belle Turnbull in a moment. First, the mountain.<br />
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<b><u>How to hike Mount Helen:</u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFS4aCmtWi5agXZsQj0v53lfYfoHjM-4JxnlCWxFykNWYbbexnLM1F5pzqhAjZV16ps89ENO8CnO99NS-wiXwaNxzTlLRDyr2H8fNdvAi5OuUJqyxLVukVtSK_BUVWaRh7XayNH4hR7KA/s1600/IMG_3629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFS4aCmtWi5agXZsQj0v53lfYfoHjM-4JxnlCWxFykNWYbbexnLM1F5pzqhAjZV16ps89ENO8CnO99NS-wiXwaNxzTlLRDyr2H8fNdvAi5OuUJqyxLVukVtSK_BUVWaRh7XayNH4hR7KA/s320/IMG_3629.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful green tundra is STEEP, hiding at least 3 false summits.</td></tr>
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<b><u><br /></u></b>
1. The SummitPost.org directions are good, as long as you remember that "taking the Wheeler Trail" means hiking the bit that stretches between the 4WD road toward Mohawk Lakes (#800) and the 4WD road toward Crystal Lakes (#803). It is a bit easier to walk up #800 than #803, and I think a bi shorter.<br />
2. Just as recommended, I left the Wheeler Trail when I thought I spied a place I could trek up through the forest to treeline on Mount Helen. For a while, though, I stood on the Wheeler Trail and stared at Mount Helen, utterly intimidated. It looks <i>steep </i>from every angle. Finally, I took a deep breath and strode forward into the forest, but not before I took a screenshot of my iPhone's compass reading, just in case. The way up to treeline is one of the steepest hiking ascents I've ever done (and I've climbed Long's Peak a few times). The fact that it's trees and plants and grasses does not help, as I'm certain it would still hurt to fall down that wall. I was relieved when I got to treeline and saw the great green slope of Mount Helen's summit stretching away from me. <br />
3. From treeline, it's just a tundra trudge up to the Mount Helen summit. It took me about an hour, which included some cursing at the three false summits, several breaks to appreciate the scenery (which just improved as I climbed), and a greeting of a busy pika. <br />
4. The summit is a surprise after all that tundra -- it's rock, and sheer on its north side. Considerate (or desperate) people have built rock shelters up there, so I nestled into the one on top to admire the surrounding peaks (Father Dyer Peak, Crystal Peak, Peak 10) and the frozen Upper Crystal Lake. Beautiful wildflowers grow up there (at least on June 27, when I hiked the mountain). It was windy, but not in my cozy shelter. <br />
5. The hike down is harder, as hikes on very steep mountains usually are. I proceeded slowly, admiring and photographing perfect forget-me-nots on my way. I was glad to find the Wheeler Trail again.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj39mGvsSeXt-bPZsn8T7IZ_6aKnne9Y1OnmEgywdfhEyMiohqkMW7KkdvtuhS_YHkixSAjJcoyxu7wLe7JG3ElS_kbHAqLaC7f6rAv9IWBRLKyh8BcYAI7quD1MsQ48nZVwcZoWJ-oNHw/s1600/image1+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj39mGvsSeXt-bPZsn8T7IZ_6aKnne9Y1OnmEgywdfhEyMiohqkMW7KkdvtuhS_YHkixSAjJcoyxu7wLe7JG3ElS_kbHAqLaC7f6rAv9IWBRLKyh8BcYAI7quD1MsQ48nZVwcZoWJ-oNHw/s320/image1+%25283%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the summit of Mt. Helen on June 27, 2017</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9IKPpiniu95ZYCjJiHVLcGOcw9lxkYPpQ146Oz1wQYofyZrfv53504Oh3T2KjLDXx4j63F29c5-vXh-nwt4X9-ICiQ6auNctbulZwreuTR7zt-gyjJ7pJwc3Xnj5t9Hogs93RQHG9GE/s1600/image2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9IKPpiniu95ZYCjJiHVLcGOcw9lxkYPpQ146Oz1wQYofyZrfv53504Oh3T2KjLDXx4j63F29c5-vXh-nwt4X9-ICiQ6auNctbulZwreuTR7zt-gyjJ7pJwc3Xnj5t9Hogs93RQHG9GE/s320/image2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forget-me-nots showing off the Colorado blue.</td></tr>
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<br />
<b><u>Who Helen and Belle Were:</u></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://history.denverlibrary.org/sites/history/files/HelenRich01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="567" height="320" src="https://history.denverlibrary.org/sites/history/files/HelenRich01.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helen Rich</td></tr>
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<b><br /></b><a href="https://history.denverlibrary.org/news/wild-woman-west-author-helen-rich" target="_blank">Helen Rich and Belle Turnbull</a> (the historians, of course, provide no help for how to characterize their relationship) moved to Frisco in 1937, and then to a cabin on French Street in Breckenridge in 1939. Rich worked as a social worker for the Department of Public Welfare of Summit County, where she handled job placements and welfare payments, but she also concentrated on her writing: she published her first novel, <i>The Spring Begins</i>, in 1947, and her second novel, <i>The Willow Bender</i>, in 1950. Belle, meanwhile, who had won the Harriet Monroe Memorial Prize from <i>Poetry</i> Magazine in 1937, concentrated entirely on her writing (though she did serve as a clerk typist for the War Price and Rationing Board in Breckenridge during WWII). Belle published several volumes of poetry and a novel. A <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Belle-Turnbull-Life-American-Master/dp/0964145499" target="_blank">2017 book, <i>Belle Turnbull: On the Life and Work of An American Master</i>, by David Rothman and Jeffrey Villines</a>, illuminates Belle's work, demonstrating that, in her quest to capture mining and mountain life, she remains one of Colorado's most important poets. Her most well-known books are the verse narrative <i>Goldboat</i> (Houghton, Mifflin, 1940) and <i>The Tenmile Range</i> (Prairie Press of Iowa City, 1957), a collection of poems. <br />
<br />
But none of that history adequately explains who Helen or Belle <i>were</i>. As I hiked Mount Helen, I longed to discover more about them. What was their relationship like? Did the residents of Breckenridge consider them a couple, a Boston marriage, or? Did the two of them hike together? Did either of them every hike Mount Helen? What was it called then (note that an alternative name for the peak, according to the U.S. Geological Survey is Belle and Helen Peak)? I plan to read the <a href="http://eadsrv.denverlibrary.org/sdx/pl/toc.xsp?id=WH348&qid=sdx_q5&fmt=tab&idtoc=WH348-pleadetoc&base=fa&n=14&ss=true&as=true&ai=Advanced." target="_blank">Helen Rich papers</a> and the <a href="http://eadsrv.denverlibrary.org/sdx/pl/doc-tdm.xsp?id=WH414_d0e33&fmt=text&base=fa" target="_blank">Belle Turnbull papers</a> (both collections available in the Denver Public Library collections) to find out more. I've ordered the Belle Turnbull book, too, and I've added Helen and Belle to my list of strong women couples to admire.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljj6CSDV377SQgezvgZ_2xDfryUWj_6ey9mgSzX1CD2Ej5PCmmhwGkdQqt_nKzT9i0sE31svkh7VJ-nUNXx-YXc2kftD9zVGTNvMqXbGyFh4UBvz_BlopSOmSDY4d1hoocjaQIrnfpXor/w1200-h630-p-k-no-nu/TurnbullCoverMedium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="189" data-original-width="360" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljj6CSDV377SQgezvgZ_2xDfryUWj_6ey9mgSzX1CD2Ej5PCmmhwGkdQqt_nKzT9i0sE31svkh7VJ-nUNXx-YXc2kftD9zVGTNvMqXbGyFh4UBvz_BlopSOmSDY4d1hoocjaQIrnfpXor/w1200-h630-p-k-no-nu/TurnbullCoverMedium.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belle Turnbull</td></tr>
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***<br />
<br />
From t<a href="http://copia.posthaven.com/belle-turnbull-colorado-poet" target="_blank">he beginning of <i>Goldboat </i>(1940),</a> by Belle Turnbull:<br />
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<div style="color: #666666; font-family: Oxygen, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px; margin-bottom: 24px; margin-top: 24px;">
Over the Great Divide unrolls the highway<br />
And cars go wagging their tails among the thunders,<br />
Range to range stitching, weather to weather.<br />
In half a day you can hem up the watershed<br />
And rush on the prairie or race on the desert again<br />
Unaware of the infinite clues of legend,<br />
The featherstitching of roads that thread the meadows,<br />
Follow the gulches, follow the mountain pattern.</div>
<div style="color: #666666; font-family: Oxygen, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px; margin-bottom: 24px; margin-top: 24px;">
Or a man may twist his wheel where a wild road feathers<br />
Under a range that marches on a valley,<br />
Turn and be gone away to Rockinghorse country,<br />
Wind through a park beside its swaggering river,<br />
Creep on a shelf around a rocky shoulder,<br />
Check in a pasture, by a waterpit<br />
Under a rocksnake of cold blue cobbles mounded.</div>
<div style="color: #666666; font-family: Oxygen, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px; margin-bottom: 24px; margin-top: 24px;">
Still pond, no moving. And a wooden bird,<br />
A squat hightailing monstrous waterwidgeon<br />
Diving its chain of spoonbills down and under<br />
Red-rusted in the turquoise pit.<br />
No moving. And no sound from the grotesque<br />
Impossible of vision.</div>
<div style="color: #666666; font-family: Oxygen, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px; margin-bottom: 24px; margin-top: 24px;">
Only the wind,<br />
The long, the diamond wind disturbs that water.</div>
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<br />Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0Mt Helen, Colorado 80424, USA39.428598699999988 -106.0872421000000313.906564199999988 -147.39583610000003 64.950633199999984 -64.778648100000026tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5333520733953885696.post-6138736758885778092017-06-27T17:58:00.005-06:002017-06-27T18:23:09.673-06:00#Buythebookin2027 (An Introduction to this Blog)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdohG2kseB3B9G72-SE3IBwovN1gunHwZDnx4JGwfjVq85Md8WQ-QssBmuVdcLT-0zDzToUk4xKFoOpiorXQKxUwdeCKJOvj7KmFz-kn-cN-Bh429r6WuFNGc1eTYdO3Ld5zS674rrLw/s1600/IMG_2896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdohG2kseB3B9G72-SE3IBwovN1gunHwZDnx4JGwfjVq85Md8WQ-QssBmuVdcLT-0zDzToUk4xKFoOpiorXQKxUwdeCKJOvj7KmFz-kn-cN-Bh429r6WuFNGc1eTYdO3Ld5zS674rrLw/s320/IMG_2896.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Last summer, by accident, I realized I needed to write a book that would be part trail guide and part history (or "her-story", actually): a book that reveals the forgotten stories of all the strong women for whom some of Colorado's peaks and lakes are named. <br />
<br />
I realized this in the midst of my summer 2016 research on and writing about the abolitionist and writer Anna Dickinson, for whom two Colorado peaks are named: the remote 11,814 ft Mount Dickinson and the accessible but rarely-climbed 13,281 ft Mount Lady Washington. I am still working on my hybrid manuscript about Dickinson (part fiction, part list, part biography), but it led me to this other idea. Every time I told people I was writing about Anna Dickinson -- even people hiking on the trail at Mount Lady Washington's base -- they looked at me blankly. <i>No one </i>knew who Anna Dickinson was. When I hiked Mount Rosalie later in the summer, I asked people I knew if they knew who Rosalie Bierstadt had been. Some of them guessed Albert's wife (correct), but no one knew anything else about her (nor did I). I wished ardently for a trail guide that would tell me about these women who were deemed famous/important enough for the men in the geological surveys to name peaks for them.<br />
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And then I realized I needed to write that guide. <br />
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My goal, then, has become to hike as many of the mountains and to reach as many of the lakes as I can in the next decade, to blog about my hikes and the research I do on the women, and then to assemble all that writing into a book by 2027. YOU can help by following this blog, by hiking the trails, and by reading the histories and links I post about each woman namesake. The point is to keep the memory of these incredible women were alive. <br />
<br />
It's going to be challenging. Do I include the mountains named for Native American tribes, which, of course, included women? Do I include the mountains named for women's body parts (Nipple Mountain, Iron Nipple)? Do I include the mountains and lakes named "Flora" or "Bonita" or "Hermosa," when those were as likely to refer to the beauty of the place as to specific women? The U.S. Geological Survey gives places named after men the men's last names but places named after women first names (or nicknames), which makes the job of tracing exactly <i>who</i> that name was intended to honor even more difficult. Who was Eva? Edith? Helen? Dolores? Isabelle? We know who Governor Evans was (and we know what he <i>did</i>); we know who Stephen Long was; we know who Albert Bierstadt was. It's easy to find copious history on these men, and -- not accidentally -- it's relatively easy to access the places named for them (that does not mean it's easy to <i>climb</i> them -- Long's Peak, for example, has a perfectly accessible trailhead on Colorado Highway 7, but it remains the most difficult mountain I have ever climbed). It is often difficult to get to the trailheads for these peaks and lakes named after women. . .but it is <i>not </i>impossible.<br />
<br />
As my readers, you can help me decide. I'll hike and then blog; you comment and add ideas. Then you can see your feedback in action in the book in 2027. . .<br />
<br />
<b>A quick note on my credibility: </b>I'm an avid hiker, a lover of mountains since I climbed Deer Mountain in Rocky Mountain National Park at age 9 (and Long's Peak at age 14). I am from flat-land Iowa, but we vacationed in Colorado every summer, and I worked in Colorado as a camp counselor and hiking guide in college. I've lived in the mountains of New Mexico, Alaska, Guatemala, and now Colorado, where I've lived and hiked since 2011. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NR7yvhpk9n_Tm7LgEKEdqfH0aqi9aOPey2gbGyPa_8t-ROILGb4MtuYC5CJjAbEYfCeYf6QPEQYS0ZGP2OCAP37qY4_BfzjG58qPR1j-cMxqM9g1e16o8pot70f7-ilzndlxB3ySXbE/s1600/IMG_3632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NR7yvhpk9n_Tm7LgEKEdqfH0aqi9aOPey2gbGyPa_8t-ROILGb4MtuYC5CJjAbEYfCeYf6QPEQYS0ZGP2OCAP37qY4_BfzjG58qPR1j-cMxqM9g1e16o8pot70f7-ilzndlxB3ySXbE/s320/IMG_3632.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the top of Mount Helen, June 27, 2017</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>Here's the rough list (with places I've already visited in bold, places I'm uncertain about in italics -- stay tuned for retroactive blog posts on Mount Lady Washington and Mount Rosalie from last summer's hiking) -- compiled from <a href="https://history.denverlibrary.org/sites/history/files/Place_Names_of_Colorado.pdf" target="_blank">the excellent database HERE:</a></b><br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><u>To climb/explore and then write about:</u></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">--</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> Sisters Peak (Hinsdale Co.)??</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Amherst Mountain (Columbine Peak Quad)???</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Anita Peak (Routt Co.)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Apache Peak?</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Arapaho Peak? Arickaree? (origin of Native American names</span><a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=5XfxzCm1qa4C&pg=PA47&lpg=PA47&dq=origin+of+arickaree+peak+name&source=bl&ots=ZTkAk1kptl&sig=k6qo-yj3qdB9DOlxAayqhaD2p9o&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwix-NrM8pfUAhXLv1QKHYsFAXwQ6AEIJjAA#v=onepage&q=origin%20of%20arickaree%20peak%20name&f=false" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> here)</span></a></i></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Augusta Mountain (Gunnison Co.)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Betty Lake (Boulder Co.)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>- Calico Mountain (Chaffee)??? (commentary)</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Calypso Cascades (RMNP)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Carrol Lakes (El Paso Co.)???</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Carroll Creek (Fremont Co.)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Celeste (Stunner) Pass (Conejos Co.)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Chapeta Mountain (Gunnison Co.)?</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Cherokee Lake? (Hinsdale Co.)</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Cheyenne Lake? (El Paso Co.)</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Cimarrona Peak (Hinsdale Co.)?</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Columbia Mtn (Clear Creek Co.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Dolores Mountain (Dolores Co.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Dora Mtn (Gore Range) -- also Dora Mtn in Custer Co. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Dyke Col (???) Pass</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Edith Lake (Clear Creek Co.) -- privately owned</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Edith Mountain (Hinsdale Co.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Electra Lake (La Plata Co.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Emma Burr Mountain (Chaffee/Gunnison) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Ethel Lake (Clear Creek Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Ethel Peak (Jackson/Routt Co) -- near Fort Collins, about 50 min drive to TH</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Florence Lake (Garfield Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Geneva Peak?? (Montezuma quad)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Georgia Pass?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Hagar Mountain (Clear Creek Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Hermosa Peak? (just means “sister”)</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Imogene Pass (Ouray Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Iron Nipple Peak (Sangre de Cristos -- ha)</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Isabelle Glacier (Boulder Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Jenny Lake (Boulder Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Josephine Lake (Eagle Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Kelly Lake (Eagle Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- La Garita Peak?</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- La Grulla Lake? (Conejos Co)</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Agnes (Grand Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Ann (Chaffee Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Annella (Conejos Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Caroline (Clear Creek Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake de Nolda (Conejos Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Dorothy (Boulder Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Esther (Eagle Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Evelyn (Grand Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Isabel (Boulder Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Meredith (Crowley Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Nanita (Grand Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Rebecca (Gunnison Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Lake Verna (Grand Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Marcellina Pass (Gunnison Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Marion Lake (Custer Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Mariquita Peak (Culebra Range)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Mays Peak (El Paso Co)???</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Minnie Mountain (Hinsdale Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Miranda Peak (Culebra Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Mount Aetna??? (Chaffee Co)</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Mount Alice (Boulder Co) (</span><a href="http://www.summitpost.org/mount-alice/151575" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">18 miles RT</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, from Wild Basin in RMNP)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Mount Ashley (Larimer Co)???</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Mount Dickinson (Larimer Co -- 11,000 ft)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Mount Emma (Sneffels Range)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- </span><a href="http://www.summitpost.org/mount-eva/154728" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mount Eva </span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Clear Creek Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Mount Eve (Eagle Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- </span><a href="http://www.protrails.com/trail/680/summit-county-eagle-county-clear-creek-county-mt-flora" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mount Flora</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (Clear Creak Co)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Mount Helen (Breck quad)</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Mount Ida (Front Range)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mount Lady Washington (Longs Peak quad)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Mount Rhoda (Howardsville quad)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Mount Susan (Clear Creek quad)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Navajo Peak???</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Palmyra Peak? (Telluride)</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rosalie Peak</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Saint Sophia Ridge (Sneffels Range)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Santa Maria Pass (Mineral Co)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Squaw Mountain (Routt)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Stella Mountain (Gunnison)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- The Dyke (Gunnison) -- ha?</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Uneva Peak (Summit)???</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Victoria Lake (Conejos)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-- Virginia Peak (Sawatch)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Widow Creek (Ouray)??</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>-- Zenobia Peak (Moffatt)???</i></span></div>
Sarah Hahn Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01115386865445715952noreply@blogger.com0