Gold Rush

Rain drops smacked into the Jeep's windshield as Savage Garden blasted from the speakers and we made our way to the valley of old mining equipment. Torrents of pouring rain fell onto the abandoned buildings and cascaded down rusted valleys of corrugated metal into the remnants of gutters. After a short hike the rain had poured itself out and clouds started to give way to blue sky. I made my companion laugh when I put the camera timer on 10 seconds and then ran up to some shrubs in the foreground and laid on them to get them out of the picture. I almost always work alone in the field, so I forget what loon I look like when I’m laying in mud or standing in water or huddled over the camera to shelter it from wind.

After spending a bit of time in the valley we made it into the town of Cripple Creek, a previously rustic, rugged, authentic little town nestled behind Pikes Peak that has since lost its charm to an enormous casino going up smack dab in the middle of it all, obscuring the views of… well, everything.. For a few coins they sold their authenticity and joined the hive. The people have definitely changed since the casinos have come to town too. On the way through a casino to the Jeep we walked behind two massively overweight ladies that slowly waddled widely from side to side, in the way the Mondoshawans from Fifth Element move.

Mountain Bluebird seeing what’s up.

We made our way to a local bar and grabbed some medicinally hot bar food after being in the cold rain. The bartender directed us to an old hotel not far away when we asked about things to see. I imagine there isn’t a person left on this planet that is older than the Cripple Creek Hospitality House & Travel Park hotel. These old boards and brick have outlasted billions. The proprietor came and talked with us and shared his story of being married for 20 years and now he has 3 daughters. But now he's married to another man and excessively expressive and flamboyantly gay. He’d casually utter "grrrr" through conversations, which I think was a verbal tic because he'd say it in the middle of anything. His madness kept me guessing and I loved it. After spending some drinks in the bar we explored the empty upper floors which felt like the setting for a ghost story. The haunting floors were quiet, empty, dead, lovely. I realize there are refuges of authenticity still tucked away, off the beaten path, still true to their heritage. These old things that haven’t fallen to time yet stand straight and stiff with weathered trees, groaning as they sway like old men. But leaves and men alike fallen to the final destination of earth.

And empty harbors of wood, of branches and old buildings, most return for another season but some are gone.

And in a moment before the gold rush is over, you can see that heaven exists on earth, before it all comes to pass.