We left the bustle of Cripple Creek and drove to the almost-empty Victor. Our first stop was The Victor Trading Company, known for hand-made brooms, an old hand-operated printing press, and various other crafts and goods.
The inside was packed with more stuff than one could possible take in during a single visit.
A couple weeks ago, a coworker told me about the Cripple Creek Ice Festival, but I didn’t think we’d make it this year. We were halfway to Cripple Creek when I saw a sign advertising the event. It worked out perfectly. We arrived after the vendors set up their booths, but before the big crowds arrived.
There was one block of carvings. Many of them were designed to be “interactive,” with slides and steps and photo ops.
This was our favorite.
We stopped in this store .. .
… where my wife bought this old magazine page …
… and where none of us bought this.
In another old store, I took a red chair photo.
It was about 55° and felt warmer. There was snow on the fields, but the roads and sidewalks were clear. A guy in one of the stores told me the ice sculptures were all melting on the first weekend of the festival.
By the time we left, there were no parking spaces left in town and the crowds were huge.
We spent an hour or so exploring the regional park nearest to our new home (or, to be more precise, to where our new home will be. We expected a pleasant walk through the Ponderosa Woods, and that’s what we got — for about a quarter mile.
We then entered an area burned by the 2013 Black Forest fire, the most destructive forest fire in Colorado history. Almost 500 homes were destroyed and two people were killed in the disaster that spread over 14,000 acres.
The area cleared by the fire did give us a view of Pikes Peak we wouldn’t otherwise have had.
When we got to the “hut,” we studied the informative trail map and decided to turn around. We basically explored the entire white trail.
It was a pleasant-enough hike, and better than walking sidewalks through a housing development. But the woods have been cleared to reduce the risk of future fires that it didn’t really feel like a natural setting.
This museum wasn’t high on our to-do list, but we were given free passes by a friend so we gave it a try. We were pleasantly surprised — not that we found the art moving, but that we found it entertaining.
For example, there were 2 (two!) sculptures on the front lawn of women playing disc golf!
We had the galleries almost to ourselves. There were five or six rooms that exhibited the permanent collection.
This beaded papoose is from the 1870s.
Each of the canvases in this piece were covered with the sediment from a different Colorado river.
There were six or eight original Audubon prints. This one is of Passenger Pigeons.
And a lot of religious artwork from Hispanic missions in New Mexico.
One room was lined with sculptures that we were allowed to touch …
… so I had one of them hold our gift-shop bag.
There were three special exhibits upstairs that I wasn’t allowed to photograph — huge paintings of migrant farm workers, photos of rock-and-roll musicians, and collages.
And while we probably won’t make a second visit anytime soon, we weren’t sorry we went, which is high praise coming from us.
It wasn’t fast, and it wasn’t pretty. But I made it to the top of Mount Herman. I went with Young, coworker, friend, and landlord (we’re living in her basement until our house is built). She climbs mountains in her sleep and could have made it up and down at least twice in the time it took me just to get up. Here’s what it looked like from the trailhead. We were already 20 feet higher than the top of Spruce Mountain, the greatest elevation I’d reached on a previous hike.
The first third of a mile climbed gradually, and I actually found myself thinking this might not be too tough.
Right. For the next mile, it went straight up, first through Ponderosa Pine.
And then through Aspen. In that mile, we gained 1,614 feet of elevation.
It wasn’t long before I was bushed. My legs held up pretty well, but I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. I began stopping every 30 or 40 feet, but as soon as I stopped, I got dizzy. It really wasn’t a lot of fun. Toward the top, I surrendered all dignity and climbed while bent over, using my hands to pull myself up on everything that offered a hold.
The trees were more stunted near the top, and the trail wasn’t quite as steep. I’d thought the dizziness was because of the altitude, but as soon as I made it to the top and didn’t have to gasp for breath, I felt fine.
It took me an hour and 20 minutes to climb that mile, but the views were worth it. If you zoom in, you can see the parking lot where I took the first photo.
Looking north-northeast with Palmer Lake and Ben Lomand Mountain in the middle distance and Spruce Mountain behind that.
Looking east, with Monument Lake and Woodmoor Lake in the middle distance.
I found the Chase’s home and took a close up. The house itself is mostly hidden behind another house, but I can find our car in the driveway.
Looking south along the Rampart Range, with Colorado Springs on the left and Pikes Peak on the right.
Looking north
Me on the peak of Mount Herman.
The hike back down was easier on the lungs but harder on the knees. My descent reminded me of the line from toy story, “That wasn’t [hiking]. That was falling with style.”
Near the trailhead, a flock of Mountain Chickadees came to visit. This one approached to within two feet and investigated us.
I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to run up Mount Herman, but I’d like to get to the place where I can climb it with dignity.
