Listing Through Life

The west end of the park is less developed, but it wasn’t less busy. By early afternoon, when I arrived, the lots were full and the trails were crawling. I hiked to the water fall and then made a big loop up to the remains of an old house.

There was a young girl sitting on a ledge inside these ruins. She was maybe eight or nine — too young to be there by herself — but there were no adults around anywhere. I wandered around a bit to take photos, but stayed clear of her. That explains why there aren’t more interesting shots of the place.

In all, I’d done 10 miles. That’s plenty for the first full day at altitude. I was worn out, but feeling fine.

One other note. On Monday, when I told people at work where I’d hiked, their near-universal response was, “There are a lot of rattlesnakes there.” I had seen a lone garter snake, but that was all.

Castlewood Canyon State Park is halfway between Denver and Colorado Springs. It’s out on the prairie, but within view of the Rockies to the west. It took me about 40 minutes to get there. On the way I passed a herd of Pronghorn. (I saw another six or seven herds during my two week stay in Colorado, including three along the entrance road to the airport. I wonder how long it will take before that becomes routine.)

I arrived just as it opened and had the place pretty much to myself for the first hour. As the day wound on and warmed up, the park filled and I was rarely out of sight of other people.

The photos tell the story. I hiked most of the trails in the east half, from the bridge to the dam and back. I didn’t have my good camera or my binoculars, so my photos are grainy and most of the birds I saw are only guesses.

This was my favorite spot in the park, and probably my favorite photo from the trip. That’s Pikes Peak way off in the distance.

The chief historical feature in the park is the ruins of Castlewood Dam. It was build on Cherry Creek in 1890 to supply water for irrigation. In 1933, during a period of much rain, the dam burst and flooded Denver with “the second worst flood in Denver’s history.” Two people died and a bunch of bridges were washed out.

A Cooper’s Hawk mocking me for not having a good camera.

I was already tired, and I hadn’t brought nearly enough to drink. But it was only noon and the prospect of sitting alone in someone’s basement for an entire afternoon and evening wasn’t inviting. I drove east, stopped for refreshment at a gas station in Franktown, a small, quaint village about to be consumed by the sprawl of Denver, and headed for the west end of Castlewood Canyon.

On Sunday, I was footloose and fancy free. I started my day at Horseshoe Donuts in Monument.

As the woman behind the counter was putting my chocolate cake donut and apple fritter in a white box, I noticed that her T-shirt said, “Good things come in yellow boxes” … or words to that effect. When I questioned her about this, she told me that they’d come up with the slogan and ordered the shirts before they checked to find out if yellow boxes were available. 

The cake donut was good, but had a little too much chocolate on it. I didn’t know that was even possible. The fritter was delicious and huge and supplied the bulk of my sustenance for the remainder of the day as I hiked.

After lunch, coworkers took me hiking at Seven Bridges Trail in Cheyenne Canyon. The trail climbs uphill along a small creek which it crosses seven times. The hike was about four and a half miles round trip. We took our time and enjoyed the scenery.