Crested Butte Magazine / Summer 2014

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Summer 2014

Complimentary


Su s t a i n a b l e C u s to m Ho m es a n d Rem o d els M i c h a el We il

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S’14 CONTENTS SHORTIES 10 Churn, burn and turn by Sandy Fails Mountain bikers from around the world will pedal up and race down the valley’s classic trails in the cutting-edge Crested Butte Ultra Enduro. 12 Growing a solar garden by Erin English Sustainability fans can lease a photovoltaic panel in a new Crested Butte solar array. 14 Schooling the competition by Erin English This summer, teacher Stevie Kremer will chase her dream of setting a running record on every continent – before returning to her beloved second graders. 16 Mother, activist, writer, former spy… by Kathy Norgard This summer’s Public Policy Forum will highlight Valerie Plame, outed CIA agent and committed public servant.

18 Whence the water? by George Sibley Colorado’s Basin Roundtables tackle a 2050 water plan for a state that will only get thirstier. 20 When pigs sing by Arvin Ramgoolam This year’s books by local authors feature the Mafia, sonnets, pioneers, climbing, shamans and musical swine. 22 Throwing dirt at the pros USA Pro Cycling Challenge: the toughest cycling race in America finds its playful side in Crested Butte. 24 “Caring through sharing” by Sandra Cortner St. Mary’s Garage makes the world a little warmer by giving clothing to those who need it most.

26 Reaching across the fence by Shelley Read Having raised neither cow nor carrot, curious filmmaker Jack Lucido documented the wisdoms and worries of the valley’s ranchers. 30 Lofty blossoms Via the Silver Queen chairlift, Rick Reavis shows flora fans the rare, fragile wildflowers of the high alpine zone. 32 Making a run for it by Dawne Belloise Each fall the East River shimmers with orange as kokanee salmon return to their birthplace, the Roaring Judy Fish Hatchery, to spawn and die.

THE ARTS 106 Roll out the barrel! by Sandra Cortner Crested Butte has frolicked to accordion music since immigrants brought their polkas from the Old Country more than a century ago. 107 Polka, meet concerto A famed Ukrainian bayanist will bring his accordion across the ocean to play with its Western cousins. 4

108 Painting paradise The Crested Butte Plein Air Invitational feeds a nationwide resurgence in observational painting. 110 Cultivating creativity by Sandy Fails Why Crested Butte could become one of Colorado’s first Certified Creative Districts.

114 The ArtNest by Kathy Norgard New ideas just keep hatching in this gallery, studio, co-working space and artistic playground.


FEATURES & ESSAYS 38 Heron isles by Katherine Darrow In an unusual heron rookery near Crested Butte, busy parents tend their noisy, long-necked chicks.

43 Going for it by Shelley Read The amazing life of double-Olympian Jean Gaertner.

49 Homeward bound by Katie Onheiber With careful matchmaking, Oh Be Dogful’s rescue program turns abandoned animals into well-loved pets.

56 Olympic moms by Kelli Hargrove From infants to Olympians: three world-class athletes give thanks for their most steadfast fans – their mothers.

66 An altered fish tale by Molly Murfee The Lake Barnard Fishing Derby: Where Huck Finn meets Hunter S. Thompson.

76 Forever a Crested Butte girl by Cara Guerrieri Studying old photos, the writer imagines her Grandma Mary Sneller as a playful adolescent in 1920s Crested Butte.

83 Ax not by Sandy Fails “Extreme alpinism” versus The Golden Book of Camping.

88 From petticoats to pack saddles by Polly Oberosler The valley’s first wilderness ranger and 25-year packer: even with a few broken ribs, it’s been a grand ride.

96 Migrations by Molly Murfee Humans, beasts and water dance the yin and yang of movement and stillness.

102 Rock and revelation by Luke Mehall A climber gains wisdom and scar tissue at the Skyland Boulders.

120 Your Crested Butte entrance exam by Steve Church

122 Photo spread

126 Calendar | 130 Lodging | 132 Dining | 136 Photo finish Xavier Fané

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Vol. XXXVI, No. 1 Published semi-annually by Crested Butte Publishing & Creative PUBLISHERS Steve Mabry & Chris Hanna EDITOR Sandy Fails ADVERTISING DIRECTOR MJ Vosburg DESIGN/PRODUCTION Chris Hanna/ Tyler Hansen WRITERS Dawne Belloise Steve Church Sandra Cortner Katherine Darrow Erin English Sandy Fails Cara Guerrieri Kelli Hargrove Luke Mehall Molly Murfee Kathy Norgard Polly Oberosler Katie Onheiber Arvin Ramgoolam Shelley Read George Sibley

You Belong Among The Wildflowers SUMMER MOUNTAIN STYLIN’ BY: Free People • Johnny Was • Pendleton • Farrah B. Minnetonka Moccasins • Richard Schmidt Jewelry

PHOTOGRAPHERS/ARTISTS Matt Berglund Nathan Bilow Trent Bona Carol Connor Sandy Cortner Dusty Demerson Shayn Estes Mark Ewing Xavier Fané Braden Gunem John Holder Ben Hulsey Jeff Irwin Kevin Krill JC Leacock Katie Onheiber Kosmon Parran Jan Runge Lydia Stern Tom Stillo COVER PHOTO Braden Gunem ONLINE crestedbuttemagazine.com E-MAIL Sandyfails56@gmail.com

506 Elk Avenue >> (970) 349-7261

Crested Butte, Colorado ¤ Near the Intersection of 5th & Elk www.the-gypsy-wagon.com 6

ADVERTISING 970-349-6211 mj@crestedbuttemagazine.com Copyright 2014, Crested Butte Publishing. No reproduction of contents without authorization by Crested Butte Publishing & Creative.


Editor’s note

An inadvertent tribute

Bicycle entrepreneur and funster Ali Fuchs.

Trent Bona

Editing the Crested Butte Magazine works better if I leave room for a healthy dose of alchemy (do I sense a life metaphor there?). If I bring care and attention to the mix, each issue essentially creates itself – with story ideas woven together from exchanges at the coffee counter, on Facebook or during intermission at the Center for the Arts. Typically, as I compile and fine-tune each season’s story list, I find a satisfying balance – articles about Crested Butte’s people, adventure, lifestyle, heritage, nature and culture. Also, the articles in each issue seem to gather around their own theme. Looking over the contents for this summer, I realized we were creating an inadvertent tribute to the women of Crested Butte. I’ve heard people describe Crested Butte as a “masculine” town. True, it doesn’t hurt to have a trickle of testosterone and a strong set of shoveling muscles once the snow flies. And while the ephemeral oceans stir poets to the feminine pronouns, mountains generally evoke a more manly lexis. There’s also a myth that males hugely outnumber females in Crested Butte; actually, the last census tallied the genders within a few percentage points, though I know some eligible young men who’d emphatically deny that statistic, at least in their age demographic, at least in the bars on a Friday night. As masculine as this town may appear on the surface, it relies heavily on an amazing group of women. This issue highlights a few of those: grandmothers, world-class athletes, artists and pioneers. Meet retired teacher Jean Gaertner, a double Olympian in volleyball and high jump, 7


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and Stevie Kremer, four decades younger, who teaches second grade when she’s not setting international records in running or ski mountaineering. Polly Oberosler broke a few ribs as the valley’s first wilderness ranger and long-time horse-packer; and artist Kate Seeley serves as the town’s maestro of creative shenanigans. Though I’ve found competent, wise, funny women wherever I’ve gone, Crested Butte seems to have more than its share. I know so many strong, kind, bright women here who support each other, their families and community. When I moved here as a young woman and set about learning to ski, mountain bike and chop kindling, my husband and I hung out with feisty young guns, most of them guys. Three decades later, my life lessons are less about doing and more about deepening, and without noticing, I’ve started to spend more time with other women. I met many of my eldest “sisters” through a women’s educational organization that, like its members, does a lot with little fanfare. These women, from both Crested Butte and Gunnison, are mostly in the second half of life and have weathered both heavy seas and doldrums; they seem unaware of the steadfast wisdom they teach me as they help each other and live from a place of gratitude. My hiking buddies, with nests more recently emptied, love to laugh, walk and remind each other to trust more, fret less and drink more water. I see ever more inner beauty in them (needed early in this land where the elements suck both moisture and youth from once-supple skin). And Crested Butte’s young women… well, they inspire me. I sense confidence and strength in many of them, along with the more traditionally feminine propensity for friendship, creativity, compassion and openness. I see these women unafraid to wear frilly pink skirts when they want to – and equally unafraid to use their brains and biceps. Perhaps some day I’ll extol the virtues of Crested Butte’s males, when we whip up an inadvertent men’s issue. For now, I’m happy to accept alchemy’s offer and celebrate my Crested Butte sisters. — Sandy Fails, editor

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Churn, burn

By Sandy Fails

& turn

Just the beginning: the 2013 Crested Butte Big Mountain Enduro.

Mountain bikers from around the world will pedal up and race down the valley’s classic trails in the five-day, cutting-edge Crested Butte Ultra Enduro. Enduro racing, blending the best of backcountry touring and downhill racing, has become the fastest growing phenomenon in the sport of mountain biking. After helping to spawn that sport, Crested Butte will again make history in 2014 by hosting North America’s first five-day mountain bike enduro. The Crested Butte Ultra Enduro, slated for September 3-7, will bring riders into Crested Butte’s celebrated backcountry for four days and conclude with a fifth day at the ski area’s Evolution Bike Park. “This event will be cutting edge in what we’re doing with enduro here in the States,” said Brandon Ontiveros, owner of Big Mountain Enduro. He expects a “heavy pro field” with riders from Canada and Europe, and this final stop will offer the largest cash payout ($11,000) of the Big Mountain Enduro (BME) Series. In enduro racing on a mountain course, mountain bikers pedal their way up the trail at a relaxed pace, enjoying the beauty and the companionship of other riders. The game changes when they reach the start of the designated timed stages, which are generally long, high-speed, technical descents. These often have interval starts; in the Crested Butte Ultra Enduro, riders will jump into these “special” stages in one-minute intervals to help minimize passing. Each rider competes against the clock, not head to head against other racers. At the bottom of each timed section, cyclists can regroup, interact and then pedal to 10

Mark Ewing

the next timed descent. A day typically includes several hours on the bike, punctuated by two to four timed stages. The lowest cumulative time determines the winner of the enduro. “Because you’re only timed on the downhill sections of trail, it’s like cross-country and downhill combined, showcasing the fastest all-around trail rider,” Ontiveros said. Although pedaling the alpine trails between special stages requires endurance, “the relatively easy time cutoff on the uphills (‘liaisons’) allows people to somewhat relax and socialize, more than your typical cross-country or downhill style of racing.” Most enduro events span two or more days; the Crested Butte Ultra Enduro is the first five-day event in the United States (following the direction of the seven-day Trans-Provence in France). Enduro has taken off partly because it combines backcountry adventure, a supported, pre-scouted mountain bike tour and technical downhill racing on the best terrain in the respective areas. A Bike Radar writer commented, “You get a lot more riding for your entrance fee than at a downhill race.” The format appeals to a wide spectrum of riders with decent stamina and some technical downhill skills. With today’s lighter, full-suspension bikes, cyclists can ride the enduro courses on their regular all-mountain trail bikes. The Bike Radar writer concluded, “The other big thing going for enduro races is the friendly atmosphere. While the top guys are definitely in it to win it, further down the field it’s more about having a go and enjoying a bit of finish-line banter.” The Crested Butte Ultra Enduro will be far more demanding than most events, in both length and difficulty. The event website, bigmountainenduro.com, warns, “Crested Butte’s five-day enduro is not for the faint of heart. You must be in great physical condition and have expert-level bike-handling skills.” The trails aren’t announced in advance, so cyclists ride each course sight unseen, but the website does give this hint. “Expect to ride some of the most challenging and scenic trails in North America, several of


which are ranked as top-ten trails in the U.S.” Most stages will start around 9,000 feet in elevation, some days climbing to 12,500 feet. Organizers anticipate 20,000 total feet of descending over the five days of racing. On the final day, racers will fly down the trails of the Evolution Bike Park at Crested Butte Mountain Resort, also the site of the awards ceremony. Ontiveros knows the valley’s alpine trails well; he skied and biked these mountains while at Western State Colorado University in Gunnison in the early 2000s. Afterward, he managed events in Oregon for nearly eight years and helped usher in the rise of U.S. enduro racing (formerly called super D) before moving back to the Crested Butte area more than two years ago. Enduro started in Europe in the 1960s and ‘70s, he said, as multi-day, multi-stage motorized races across the Alps. That format spread to mountain biking and to North America. Ontiveros bought Big Mountain Enduro from Yeti Cycles and expanded the series throughout the Rocky Mountains. Enduro has been a natural progression from the lift-served downhill racing made possible by the profusion of bike parks. Like the “earn your turns” ethic of backcountry skiers, enduro adds strength-testing uphills and challenging backcountry terrain on the descents. “Bike companies are seeing that enduro is where the movement is, and they’re supporting that,” Ontiveros said. “It attracts a lot of different riders, so they’re hitting a higher percentage of their customer base.” Last year, Ontiveros brought a two-day Crested Butte Big Mountain Enduro to the Evolution Bike Park, while working with the Forest Service on future enduro plans. They agreed to cap the Ultra Enduro at 200 riders (most BMEs have 250-300) and worked for two years on the backcountry logistics, such as transporting athletes and staff, determining proper courses, risk management, pubic impact, environmental and ranching concerns. “Very few places have the terrain, accessibility and vertical descents we’re looking for in a true big mountain enduro,” Ontiveros said. “Here we have dozens of trails with more than 1,500 feet of descending. You can go north, west, south or east and have prime enduro terrain.” Ontiveros hopes the Ultra Enduro will put Crested Butte back on the world’s mountain biking map. “This has global reach,” he said. “I expect this to be the most exposed and popular mountain bike event to be hosted in Crested Butte.”

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11


Growing a

By Erin English

solar garden

Jessie Dean

You could lease this solar panel mounted atop a town utility building.

Sustainability fans can lease a photovoltaic panel in the Gunnison County Electrical Association’s new Crested Butte solar array. After two years of slow growth, an alternative energy idea has borne shiny, rectangular fruit. This summer, the Gunnison County Electric Association (GCEA) is showing off its new “solar garden” to the public. The twenty 240-watt photovoltaic panels, installed atop the Town of Crested Butte’s wastewater clarifier building on Butte Avenue, bear no likeness to a traditional community garden. The array is, however, expected to cultivate fellowship, especially among those who are passionate about reducing their ecological footprint. One of the panels will provide energy for the Town, and the other nineteen are available for lease by residents in the GCEA service area, which includes portions of Gunnison, Hinsdale and Saguache counties. Close partnership between GCEA (a consumer cooperative) and the Town of Crested Butte helped the project come to fruition. “The GCEA came to us about finding a good spot for a solar garden, and coincidentally, when we built our new clarifier building three or four years ago, we designed it with a 45-degree southern roof,” said Bob Gillie, the Town of Crested Butte’s building and zoning director. “Both of us had an interest in promoting sustainability, so it came together.” Participants will pay about $1,300 to lease a panel for 20 years. Mike McBride, CEO of the GCEA, said the new venture is not a 12

moneymaker for the electric association, nor for the residents who take part in it. He estimates that a leasee will net just $14 on his or her investment over two decades. Participants will see a credit on their energy bills each month, but it will be small. For some perspective: a customer’s average yearly bill is $1,274, while one of the 240-watt solar panels at today’s rate produces about $50 worth of energy a year. Subscribers to the program will likely be individuals who want to live “greener,” but don’t otherwise have the means to own a solar array. “This is an opportunity to meet the desires of some members who might live in an apartment building, or in the historical district, or maybe have trees on their property and don’t have a site for their own panel,” McBride said. The community solar garden concept has taken hold in numerous other Colorado towns, from Salida to Grand Junction. In the GCEA service area, interest in alterative energy sources appears to be on the rise. Sixty-one homes are currently using solar, wind and micro hydro energy sources, with nine of those homes adding systems in 2013 to meet some of their electricity needs. If the public demand for shared solar energy is high, the GCEA and Town would consider adding 30-40 more panels onto the clarifier building. “It’s exciting that we’re getting an alternative energy source off the ground,” Gillie said. “This is getting our toe wet. It’s a good place to start the learning curve, and hopefully over time it will expand.” A shared solar garden might not have people harvesting vegetables alongside their neighbors like the community garden, but McBride hopes it does encourage camaraderie and satisfaction. “I envision people walking by and saying to friends, ‘Hey, I own one of those panels,’ and taking some pride in it,” he said.

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Schooling

By Erin English

the competition

Kevin Krill

Stevie Kremer powers up a grueling Crested Butte ski-mountaineering course, then happily settles into her second-grade classroom.

This summer, teacher Stevie Kremer will chase her dream of setting a running record on every continent – before returning to her beloved second graders. Twenty-two second graders gather on the world-map rug in Stevie Kremer’s classroom, eyes on their teacher and the large photo she holds, showing a snowy mountain range. Kremer asks her students to describe the photo using all five senses, starting with smell. “It could smell sweet, like The Waffle Cabin,” a boy says, referring to the popular snack shack at the Crested Butte Mountain Resort base area. Other children offer their suggestions: “Cold wood,” “Evergreen trees,” and “Clean, fresh snow.” Kremer enthusiastically guides them through a few more senses, jotting their phrases onto a flip chart. Then she pauses. “Okay, second graders, stand up,” she says. “Jump up and down four times. Reach high up to the sky. Do six jumping jacks. Do six sit-ups. Give the person next to you a high five, and have a seat.” Just like that, the group is refreshed and ready to move on to “taste.” In her own life, 30-year-old Kremer strikes a healthy balance between intellectual and physical activity, and she brings this same sensibility to her energetic students. She holds a master’s degree in education from Colorado College and is a well-loved teacher at the 14

Crested Butte Community School, but is also a competitive runner and ski mountaineer who has racked up numerous first-place wins on the national and international level. One passion could not exist without the other, she says. “Having teaching, having something to focus on besides athletics, is super important to me,” she commented. Kremer moved to Crested Butte in 2007 with a friend from college, and at the time she didn’t consider herself particularly sporty. But after initially taking a job at the ski resort, she snowboarded every day on lunch breaks and eventually took up telemark skiing. In the summer she ran on local roads for fun and gradually started exploring the trails. Her first trail race was the Camp 4 Coffee Cart to Cart, which she entered with a friend during her third summer living in Crested Butte. “I was in an extra large men’s t-shirt and lacrosse shorts,” Kremer said. “I looked like a junk show, like a chubby 13-year-old boy running down the trail.” Despite coming in “dead last” in that first race, Kremer’s confidence as a runner picked up. She had no specific training plan and no coach, but she began to hit the trails more often. She got faster and stronger and started to win races. “I just found something I truly loved. It was all self-motivation,” she said. “I love getting up in the morning and going for a run. There’s nothing better for me to do.” Two years ago Kremer started competing internationally as a runner and secured first place at races in Italy, Switzerland, France and Germany, to name a few. She also took up ski mountaineering, a


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challenging sport that combines “skinning” uphill (using “skins” that adhere to the bottom of skis to keep them from sliding backward), skiing downhill and using mountaineering skills on steep, technical alpine routes. In this, too, she has won national and international titles. Among her many affiliations, Kremer is a member of the U.S. Ski Mountaineering Team and is a Salomon-sponsored runner. The sweet teacher turns into a fierce competitor in both sports. “No one else I know is as tough as she is and can endure such pain,” said Shari SullivanMarshall, one of Kremer’s running partners and a fellow teacher at the Community School. “She has raced through some physically uncomfortable situations. Some people might back off, but she can push through.” Dawn Howe, another running partner, said of Kremer, “At first I used to run in front of her, and now she runs in front of me. Her uphill has gone off the charts. She’s the best uphill runner in the world. She just keeps getting faster.” This summer, Kremer will head to at least six different countries for competitions, perhaps coming one step closer to her

dream of holding a running record on every continent. Her teaching schedule affords her the opportunity to travel and race all over the world, but she still looks forward to starting school in the fall and serving as a role model for her second graders. “They’re still innocent, but they’re getting a little more mature,” Kremer said. “You can joke with them on a higher level, but you can also do the fun, cutesy projects with them and they’ll still enjoy it.” In her class, Kremer’s students vie for her attention and obviously look up to her. Even during recess, students wander in and out of the classroom to chat, get treatment for a bloody nose or seek her guidance on matters big and small. Kremer has a big smile ready for each of them – and just the right advice to dispense. These small daily successes don’t show up in sports-section headlines or online race results, but they’re hugely meaningful to both Kremer and her adoring students. “Everyone who meets Stevie loves her,” Howe said. “You want to know her and be a part of who she is. You just want to be around that energy.”

contact:

Joe Garcia 970.209.4034 joe@redladyrealty Maggie Dethloff 970.209.7880 maggie@redladyrealty

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15


Mother, writer,

By Kathy Norgard

activist, former spy...

Public Policy Forum to highlight Valerie Plame, outed CIA agent and committed public servant. People are drawn to Crested Butte for its recreation, beauty and supportive community; we look out for one another. Valerie Plame, the first speaker in the Crested Butte Public Policy Forum summer series, looks out for us in a larger realm. Plame might be best known as a former covert American spy who was outed by senior officials in the Bush administration as political payback for her husband publicly questioning the intelligence used to get the U.S. into the Iraq war. She had been working to protect America’s national security by preventing the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, especially nuclear weapons. “Hopefully what happened to me was an 16

anomaly and won’t happen to anyone else,” Plame said when I interviewed her. Plame wrote a New York Times bestselling memoir, Fair Game: My Life as a Spy, My Betrayal by the White House, published in 2007. Sean Penn and Naomi Watts starred in the motion picture of the same name. Now Plame is writing her second book, a spythriller novel titled Burned. “There are those who refer to me as a liar and a traitor,” Plame remarked. A recent book by John Rizzo, acting general counsel of the CIA, claims that Plame’s outing has worked well for her by getting her book and movie deals. But the betrayal by her government was a terrible time, Plame

said. “My husband [former United States Ambassador diplomat Joseph Wilson] and I were both attacked.” Their kids motivated them through those dark times. “Our children were young, and small kids don’t care about how your day was. They just need your constant attention. We got through it by putting one foot in front of the other. We discovered we were more resilient than we knew. And we had support from our families and friends.” Plame hails from a family in which people care for one another and are committed to public service. Her father, a U.S. Air Force Colonel, fought for his country in World War II. Her mother taught school, and her brother, a U.S. Marine, was wounded in Viet Nam. Plame chose the Central Intelligence Agency. “The CIA selects people who can handle the pressure of having a dual life. It was never a hardship for me. I wanted to serve my country, and I felt honored to be in the CIA.” She elaborated, “If I had shared with others where I really worked or what I really did, the burden would be passed on and they would have to carry that secret, too. My expertise was the prevention of nuclear proliferation. I loved what I did and understood and respected the need for absolute secrecy. I didn’t find that to be a personal burden, just a little weird.” Since leaving the CIA in 2007, Plame donates her time and energy to Global Zero, the premier, non-partisan nuclear non-proliferation organization involving leaders from across the world: the military, politicians, diplomats and students. “I realize that much of what I had been doing may only have served to delay the inevitable,” Plame said. “My thinking on proliferation has evolved considerably since working for the CIA, and I now believe that the best way to ensure our national security for the long term is to advocate for total global elimination of nuclear weapons.” Plame exemplified great courage in her CIA role, but her bravery isn’t limited to her professional work. She speaks openly about experiencing postpartum depression (a mental health issue) after the birth of her twins in 2000. She explained, “I was highly educated, my babies were healthy and wanted, I had financial resources and a loving husband. But I still found myself at the bottom of a dark pit with no idea of what was happening to me or how to escape. When I finally sought help and found my footing again, it was clear to me women


without the advantages I enjoyed would find coping with this devastating condition almost impossible – and I wanted to do something about it.” Plame found help from Postpartum Support International, a non-profit organization that promotes worldwide awareness, prevention and treatment of mental health issues related to childbearing. She now serves on that board as well as other non-profit boards. The media rarely mentions Valerie Plame’s dedication to her family. She quotes Jacqueline Kennedy: “If you bungle raising your children, I don’t think whatever else you do matters very much.” Plame puts her family first. Parenting her adolescent twins and driving them to their various activities comes before her writing, consulting with Warner Brothers TV, speaking engagements, working as director of community relations for the Santa Fe Institute, and many volunteer contributions. A popular international speaker, Plame agreed to speak at the July 9 Public Policy Forum (which doesn’t offer an honorarium) because of Crested Butte’s beauty and its people. “Living in New Mexico, we appreciate the green, soothing Colorado mountains. And Crested Butte is a small community of educated, curious people who are interested in the world around them.” Betrayal and difficult times have not deterred Plame from working on many fronts to make this a better world. She promises to be an informative, inspiring, perhaps provocative speaker.

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Crested Butte Public Policy Forum Summer Series 7/9 VALERIE PLAME The NSA Revelation: It’s not about Snowden 7/16 MICHAEL BRUNE One Way Ticket: 100% Clean Energy 7/23 SUSAN HERMAN Is the Patriot Act Patriotic? 7/30 STEVE SCHMIDT Freak Show Politics 8/6 WES JACKSON The Upcoming Agriculture Revolution 8/13 CAROLINE ISAACS Crime Pays: For Profit Incarceration 8/20 ELIZABETH COLTON Global Imaging (Who determines who we think is our friend or enemy?) 8/27 KAI BIRD Spies, Lies & America’s Mideast Muddle 17


Whence the

By George Sibley

water?

Matt Berglund

Basin Roundtables tackle a 2050 water plan for a state that will only get thirstier. The year 2050 sounds far down the road to most of us. But for Colorado water providers and other big water users, it’s a little too close for comfort. The state demographer projects that Colorado’s population will grow from the current five million people to between eight and ten million by mid-century, with most of them in the ever-expanding metropolitan area. The new people, and the businesses and industries providing jobs for them, will all need water. In a region whose water resources are already stressed, where will it come from? The nine Basin Roundtables created by the 2005 Colorado Water for the 21st Century act are all working on that question. Last May, Governor John Hickenlooper ordered the state’s water planning agency, the Colorado Water Conservation Board (CWCB), to develop a Colorado Water Plan, starting with “bottom-up” basin-level plans from the Roundtables, to be assembled by the end of this year into a statewide plan out to 2050. The CWCB has already been developing and updating a Statewide Water Supply Initiative study since 2003. This study calculates that by 2050 the state may have an annual “gap” of 200,000 to 600,000 acrefeet of water between the anticipated municipal and industrial demand and the known supply. This does not include a much larger existing 18

chronic gap for agricultural water users of around two million acre-feet that will probably never be met. (An acre-foot is ~326,000 gallons, enough for two or three homes for a year.) Each of the nine basins has a portion of the growing municipal and industrial (M&I) gap between known supply and anticipated mid-century demand. But the worst-case gap for the Gunnison Basin, according to the CWCB study, is around 6,500 acre-feet a year, a modest one or two percent of the statewide M&I gap. The bulk of the overall gap is water for the metropolitan area, which has already been drawing extensively on water from the non-metropolitan parts of the state since the 1930s. Because much of that water has come from the Colorado River basins west of the Continental Divide, this is often portrayed as an East Slope-West Slope issue. But much of the metropolitan-area water has come from agricultural water transfers, too, and the real issue in Colorado water planning is more accurately described as how to supply adequate water for a relentlessly growing metropolis without eventually drying up the non-metropolitan parts of the state.

SO WHERE WILL THE WATER COME FROM? THE ROUNDTABLES AND CWCB HAVE ONLY THREE ALTERNATIVES: Conservation: Strategies to encourage or mandate careful, conservative and efficient use of water, through some public education, but more through institutional changes by cities and towns, their utilities, and eventually the state at large. These include programs like the “reuse to extinction” of water moved from another


basin, through pumping once-used water back up to municipal treatment plants; mandatory installation of water-efficient fixtures and appliances in new or remodeled structures; programs to reduce outdoor landscaping use through steeply tiered rate structures; and “upfront demand reduction” regulations for land and water planning. This will require a lot of public education – some of it pinpointed toward planners, politicians and developers. Some environmental groups argue convincingly that all of “the gap” can be met through strong conservation measures, although they are often vague on how the political will can be formed for that desirable goal. But assuming it will eventually be necessary to bring additional water into the metropolis, it will probably come from… Agricultural transfers: This idea sets journalists and alarmists off on a “buy and dry” scare. But since agriculture uses more than 80 percent of the state’s water allocation, even a doubling of the M&I demand (8 percent) would only require 15-20 percent of the metro-accessible agricultural water. Some of the planning effort thus involves strategies for cityfinanced efficiency measures, conservation fallowing, drought leasing, interruptible supplies and other programs for trading urban money for agricultural water without permanently drying up the agriculture. New supply: This would be new water projects like the existing municipal supply projects pulling water from the East and West Slopes to the metropolitan area – the only part of the state concentrated enough in people and wealth to finance such projects. Colorado River Basin tributaries (the Yampa, Upper Colorado and Gunnison rivers) are targeted for this. But there is serious concern – certainly on the West Slope – that there is no dependable water supply left to divert. Obligations to downstream states, plus discouraging projections about climate change impacts (already evident) raise the question: who is to bear the substantial risk involved with billion-dollar junior-right projects that might produce water only seven, or five, or two years out of ten? The 32 members of the Gunnison Basin Roundtable – including eight members from the Upper Gunnison valleys – will be grappling with these challenges and bringing them to the citizenry for input this year and into 2015, as the Colorado Water Plan goes from drafting to final form. It will ultimately shape broad policy strokes that we’ll live with for the next four decades.

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When pigs

By Arvin Ramgoolam

sing

For your library of local literature: This year’s books by area authors feature the Mafia, sonnets, pioneers, climbing, shamans and musical swine.

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In a divergent follow-up to last year’s Donn Piatt: Gadfly of the Gilded Age, Peter Bridges returns to the shelf with his Sonnets from the West Elk Mountains. Composed of meditations from travels during his tenure in the U.S. Foreign Service, his eloquent poetry spans the breadth of the earth, Cement Creek to Mongolia. He offers from his poem “Aspens”: “Quiescent now, the grove can sense the seasons, Stands quivering in the breeze before night, Awaits its latest of five thousand years.”

Almost A Wiseguy, by Bob Puglisi with Vince Ciacci, is the fast-paced story of Ciacci’s life in the Mafia, from the infamous Coxsackie Reformatory in New York to a salon in Hollywood. Narrated by Puglisi and written with the voice of Ciacci’s East Side neighborhood, it injects readers into the life of a young man who “wanted to be bad.” In street-raw language, Ciacci retells his genesis from brawler and shoplifter to heroin addict and mob minion. Almost a Wiseguy dishes up tough-guy elements with a side of tenderness seldom found in stories of mob violence and crime.

In the third installment of the Silverville Saga, professor and poet Mark Todd and his wife Kym O’Connell-Todd take readers on another fastmoving adventure in a Gunnison-like landscape that soon yields to wavers in time and space. The Magicke Outhouse defies conventional description, squeezing together time travel, an almost zombie, a pig that can sing “Happy Birthday,” and a cast of characters that keeps readers turning the page until the final plot twist.

David Rothman’s beautiful essays in Living the Life: Tales from America’s Mountains and Ski Towns range from the joy of drinking a cup of coffee after a long day of skiing with friends to the heart-pounding thrill of being an NCAA alpine ski racer. As the cover suggests (David sans helmet on a steep ski run), Living the Life captures the reckless abandon that comes with life in a ski town and in the backcountry. More than tall-mountain-tales, though, these ski stories unfold into universal truths about life, love, grief, sorrow, faith, comedy, tragedy and everything in between.

The Set Sun Blood at Dusk by Brady Snow tells a story of friendship in Crested Butte between skibuddies, separated and reunited with the help of an outcast, roof-shoveling ski-god. With locales such as Irwin, Kochevars and various ski runs and peaks, the familiar terrain of Crested Butte is rocked by the self-declared “shaman” Connor, whose visions foretell either doom or salvation. With heavy helpings of drinking, drugs and mysticism, The Set Sun Blood at Dusk encapsulates the twenty-something experience in a mountain town, taken up a few notches.

Dos Rios Memories: The Story of Alonzo Hartman, Pioneer Cattleman and One of the First Settlers on Colorado’s Western Slope, by Judy Buffington Sammons, is a thoroughly researched, lively account centered around the namesake of Hartman’s Rock. Using Hartman’s hand-written notes and some seldom-referenced books, Sammons weaves a short, beautiful tale of Gunnison, from an untamed land to a hub of westward development. Encompassing the railroad, the battle between sheepmen and cattlemen, visits from Chief Ouray, W.H. Jackson, Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday, Dos Rios Memories is a vital addition to any western history library.

After the success of his first book, Climbing Out of Bed, Luke Mehall returns to the cracks, crags and precarious holds of the West with The Great American Dirtbags. From giant cliffs to the streets of Gunnison and Crested Butte, Mehall looks at climbing and America through the lens of Kerouac and Abbey and finds a vision of freedom and hope. Quotes (from Gandhi to Jay-Z), poetry and song set the tone for his frenetic journey from drugs and suburbia in Illinois to the Colorado open spaces that save his soul. Dirtbags is at times serious but mostly fun, like having a beer with an old friend, whose tales leave you hungry for adventures and open roads.

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Throwing dirt at the pros

Kevin Krill

USA Pro Cycling Challenge: the toughest cycling race in America finds its playful side in Crested Butte. Cycling fans in Crested Butte and Gunnison will witness some of the most decisive action in the 2014 USA Pro Cycling Challenge. The August 18-24 race around Colorado, the most difficult bike race in America and the highest in the world, draws top international cyclists. And of the seven stages, the Gunnison Valley will host two of the most exciting. After a circuit race in Aspen on opening day, riders will tackle the first road stage on August 19, pedaling from Aspen, over Kebler Pass and through Crested Butte, then charging to a dramatic uphill finish in Mt. Crested Butte. In addition to the altitude, 100-mile course and steep final climb, they’ll endure a long section of dirt road on Kebler. “This creates extra challenges, from bike-handling skills to preventing flats, all while riders are flying as fast as they can toward the finish,” said Aaron Huckstep of the local organizing committee. “Our stage is the only one this year that includes dirt. It should make for unpredictable racing and challenging conditions.” On the following day, August 20, racers will blast off from Gunnison and finish atop the infamous Monarch Pass. “I’ve been lobbying for the USA Pro Challenge to add a mountaintop finish, so I’m thrilled,” said cyclist Tom Danielson of Team Garmin-Sharp. 22

“Colorado has some of the most beautiful mountains in the world, and the USA Pro Challenge draws some of the best riders in the world, so it makes sense to add a challenging mountaintop finish. I’ve ridden Monarch many times, so I’ll be ready when the race rolls around in August.” Fans in Crested Butte and Gunnison will be decking their streets with bicycle art and their bodies with costumes to cheer on the cyclists on race day. To lend even more color and involve people who aren’t quite ready for the pro circuit, Crested Butte organizers have added a few events to the festivities: On August 18, the eve of Crested Butte’s stage, the Last Sprint Block Party will return to Elk Avenue. The family-friendly affair will bring live entertainment, libations and games to downtown Crested Butte. The Women’s Night Out time trial will finish at the Block Party, drawing racers and spectators from across Colorado. On the morning of race day, August 19, the Townie Criterium will wind through Crested Butte, taking its traditional route through the Talk of the Town bar. “Costumes are pretty much mandatory,” Huckstep said. Following the criterium, a townie parade will roll through town and up the Recreation Path to the Finish Festival, where spectators can watch the brutal pro race unfold. Weeks before the race, on July 4th weekend, the committee will host a citizens’ ride (not a competition) for both mountain bike and road bike riders. “It’s a way to get people out, get them fired up about the Pro Challenge, and remind our guests to come back in August to see this great race,” Huckstep said.

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“Caring through

By Sandra Cortner

sharing”

Sandra Cortner

Recycling comfort: St. Mary’s Garage volunteers (L-R) Barbara Bartush, Maureen Young, Angie Kray, Diana Graves and Janice McElroy.

St. Mary’s Garage makes the world a little warmer by giving clothing to those who need it most. When you head into St. Mary’s Garage, find the clothing, footwear or bedding you need, and ask the price, you’ll be told, “Free.” Put a donation in the container on the table if you’d like, but if you’re pressed for cash, just walk out the door wearing your new duds and a big smile. Newcomers and longer residents, old and young, have found essential items at St. Mary’s Garage. But it was hatched in 2009 as a way to get warm clothing to the smiling, hopeful Hispanics waiting in front of True Value Hardware each morning, shivering in their thin jackets and ragged sneakers. The men, many newly arrived from Mexico, were randomly chosen as laborers by local contractors, but they lacked protection from Crested Butte’s cold weather. Nick Rayder, who observed them on his way to the weekly Queen of All Saints Catholic Church men’s group meeting, talked with his friend Jim Miller. Miller had noticed a group of men, similarly underdressed, working in his back yard for a landscaper. Jim and Nick came up with a simple idea to help these men and others in need: start a clothing ministry. They decided to find a storage space, ask parishioners to thin out their closets and give the clothing away. After a few phone calls, Bob Brotherton offered them free use of a garage on the old Rozman Motor Inn land on behalf of the property owners, the Fifth Street Group. An announcement by Father Steve Murray at Queen of All Saints encouraged the formation of a small group of volunteers. Over time, the other religious organizations 24

in town came on board to make it a faith-based cooperative effort. Clothing collection began, and Vanessa Popik set up racks and organized the items as they began to come in. And the name? Mary is the namesake of the Queen of All Saints Church. The mother of Rudy and Richard Rozman, long-time owners of the initial garage building, was named Mary, as was Nick Rayder’s mom. “She had to be a saint to put up with me,” Nick joked. The first year, Carol and John Stroop ran the Garage in the unheated, cinderblock structure. With cracked windows and little insulation, it could only open between May and Thanksgiving, when the weather was warm enough for both volunteers and customers. The space was cold… but it was free. In 2010, Diana Graves, retiring after 13 years on the local Mental Health Board, agreed to throw her energy and skills into the project and manage the operation. Initially, volunteers spread the word about St. Mary’s Garage via local publications, KBUT Radio and notices at bus stops. They informed all the social services departments in Gunnison County. Gradually, according to Angie Kray, who helps to sort clothes, “The young worker bees living in Crested Butte and Gunnison found us.” Diana describes St. Mary’s Garage as an emergency source for those who have moved here without warm apparel. “We tide them over until paychecks start coming regularly. We accept clothing, from infants to adults in all sizes, as well as bedding and any type of footwear from hiking boots to children’s bedroom slippers.” Only clean garments, shoes and bedding in useable condition are taken. “We can’t keep enough children’s clothing in stock, because there is such a demand for it. It goes out almost as soon as it comes in,” she said. Diana keeps a special-needs signup sheet at the Garage. Through


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that, she was able to find boots for a physical therapy patient to wear during her exercises. The Garage also helped a man at New Adams House (a residence for people recovering from addictions) who arrived in town with only the clothes on his back. When Diana hears of a particular need or knows of a family expecting a baby, volunteers set aside items for those purposes. “Our community includes many who have clothing to spare, and this seemed like a good way to recycle used clothing instead of it going into the landfill,” said Angie. “And there are those in our community just scraping by.” “A lot of people give really nice things,” Diana said. “People come, take a few items and then come back a while later and bring a clothing donation. Twice we have received fur coats, which we took to consignment stores. But every other piece of clean, useable clothing goes to someone who needs it.” If things don’t “sell,” the volunteers send them to other agencies to give away. “We have a whole network of people helping to transport the donations around the state,” she said. For example, St. Mary’s Garage sent bags of clothes to the Boulder flood relief effort last year. The Garage also partnered with the Gunnison County Electric Association to help distribute 50 of the gently used and new winter jackets collected in the association’s Christmas drive. Ed Rayder, Nick’s brother, drives donations to Grand Junction. “He goes to where homeless people hang out and hands out clothes three or four times a summer,” said Diana. “They recognize his truck.” Last November, St. Mary’s Garage moved from its free space to a heated unit at 310 Belleview (alley entrance) and began paying $400/month rent. Now it is open all year, 4-5:30 p.m. each Thursday, the same day the food bank opens at the Oh-Be-Joyful Church. Depending on the season, between 15 and 30 customers come to the Garage each Thursday, seeking clothing, sheets, blankets or towels. The motto of St. Mary’s Garage is “Caring through sharing.” A core group of 22 volunteers takes turns sorting, organizing and collecting items and supplying special requests during off hours. Thus far, generous donors have helped pay the rent, but that will not last forever. Money is always needed for office supplies, bins, shelving and electricity. “Donations are crucial, especially for the monthly rent,” said Diana. “If you can afford to pay for clothing or make a donation, please do.”

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Reaching across

By Shelley Read

the fence

Greg Smith

Jack Lucido, associate professor of communication arts at Western State Colorado University, teaches a class in film studies and production.

Having raised neither cow nor carrot, curious filmmaker Jack Lucido documented the wisdoms and worries of the valley’s ranchers. Talked with a rancher lately? Most of us would answer, “No.” Granted, ranchers don’t tend to be a chatty bunch. Glimpses of working cowboys in distant fields might be as close as we get to the mysteries and histories of cattle ranching. Yet our area’s rich, 150-year-old ranching heritage helps defines the unique culture and natural environment we cherish, and our ranchers care for what is widely believed to be the best grazing land in the world. We might want to get to know them. Filmmaker Jack Lucido hopes valley residents will reach across the fence. His recently released documentary, Across the Fence: Ranching and Sustainability in the Gunnison Country of Western Colorado, offers a rare glimpse into the hearts and minds of local ranchers and, most notably, gets this stoic bunch of dedicated land stewards talking. Lucido deftly approaches the film without agenda, letting the ranchers speak for themselves about their values and

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desires. Their words reveal generations-old wisdom, commitment to both environmental and economic sustainability, and a wish that might surprise some: more communication and understanding between the agricultural community and other factions of land users in the valley. “I didn’t know anything about agriculture,” says Lucido of his motivation to make Across the Fence. A long-time filmmaker and a Western State Colorado University associate professor of communication arts, Lucido was intrigued by a local culture so removed from his own. “I never made a living raising anything — not a cow or a carrot — so I wanted to learn about a social group that’s so different from me. I found them fascinating.” Lucido “borrowed rapport” from friends and colleagues with connections to ranchers, enlisted a few student helpers, and started a three-year project of shooting, writing and editing. After several rough-cut screenings and revisions resulting from valuable colleague input, Lucido’s completed film debuted at the prestigious independent film festival Durango Film in March 2014. Across the Fence features a mosaic of four local ranching families: the Irbys, Parkers, Petersons and Trampes. Each family has cattle ranching in its blood. Dale and Stan Irby, for example, are fourth generation, and the Peterson family boasts the oldest


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continuously used brand in Colorado, dating back to 1863. All four families speak with reverence about their visionary ancestors and the inherited land ethics that allow the current generation to run successful operations. “If you do it long enough, it gets into your blood and you don’t want to do anything else,” Stan Irby says in the film. “And everything you’ve learned over the generations becomes a part of you.” Bill Trampe is shown carrying on his grandfather’s tradition through his love of working the land in the upper portions of the valley. He says with his characteristic crooked smile, “I do it because I like to raise the best cattle in the world. I like to see the hay grow. I love to get on a horse and go out through the countryside, watching the cattle, taking care of the cattle. That’s what makes me tick.” Kathleen Curry, a member of the Peterson family, points out this “might sound romantic, but what it really is, is 24/7. They are working hard, and that’s what’s making these places either succeed or fail.” As Kelli Parker also makes clear, “Raising food is hard business.” Lucido is careful not to idealize ranching, choosing instead to open Across the Fence with the ranchers’ concerns about threats to their way of life and the repercussions of losing ranches to development. “It looks kind of bleak to me ‘cause I just don’t think that a lot of ranchers will be able to keep going,” says Dale Irby in one of the film’s initial shots. “It’s so much harder for the younger generation to take over with the fuel prices and the taxes and the insurance.” The ranchers emphasize that losing ranches will not only impact food production for our nation, but, as Curry points out, “locally we’d also lose all the benefits of open space, of having the wildlife habitat, of making sure that we promote a lifestyle and the family-oriented approach that these guys use for running their business. That will all be gone.” Through hundreds of images and multiple interviews, the documentary builds an understanding of what ranchers do and why they do it. Some viewers might be surprised at the ranchers’ extraordinary dedication to sustainability. Others might better grasp the need for summer grazing on public lands, watching the ranchers use their own land to grow, harvest and store enough hay to get their cattle through the long 28

winter. As Stan Irby points out, ranchers are not “land barons” and “not the cow/ calf operations that people might think.” Instead, he states, “We are in the business of harvesting green grass…one of the most renewable natural resources on the planet.” Ultimately, the film’s take-away message is the interdependence of varying factions in the Gunnison Valley and the need for enhanced communication. “We need to try to understand each other better,” says Greg Peterson. “That would be a big help toward keeping ranching viable in this community and also for allowing other businesses to thrive because of the things that ranching provides.” Trampe’s niece and passionate young rancher Shelby Rundell adds, “If we can educate each other, we can help each other.” An avid local-food proponent, Bill Parker says in the film, “We need more people to understand what’s going on, that we are necessary in our culture. There needs to be more of us producing food, more people working the land.” Lucido hopes his film inspires that dialogue. “If you feel strongly for or against cows on open land, if you feel strongly for or against recreational use or ranching or development, or if you don’t really know much about these issues, watch the film and talk with a tree hugger, talk with a rancher or agricultural advocate or developer or filmmaker. I want the film to generate discourse above all else.” This type of impact drives Lucido as a filmmaker and as a professor. “I’m most interested in creating meaning,” he says. “I’m interested in story, emotion, character… meaning. I set the bar high for my students; no one is going to do something fluffy. In their work and mine, it’s got to be meaningful.” Thrilled by the film’s acceptance at the selective Durango Film, Lucido plans to also screen Across the Fence locally and at other festivals and to make the DVD available at area libraries and video stores. Regardless of how broadly the film is distributed, he cites his most important screening as the day last November when he invited the featured ranchers to preview the final cut. “They roared with applause. They loved it,” says Lucido with a satisfied grin. “It was so important to me that I was representing them accurately. Luckily, everyone was thumbs up.” For more information on Across the Fence or to join the conversation, contact Professor Lucido at jlucido@western.edu.

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Lofty

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blossoms

John Holder

Via the Silver Queen chairlift, flora fans can find the rare, fragile wildflowers of the high-alpine zone. Crested Butte’s status as Wildflower Capital of Colorado isn’t just a PR ploy. This area’s snowfall, soil and the unusual orientation and sun exposure of its mountains (many of which are stand-alone peaks) conspire to create a rare profusion of flowers. Fans can ogle the brilliant, prolific blooms of lower meadows or climb to find the smaller, uncommon and fragile plants of the high-alpine zone. The Silver Queen chairlift on Crested Butte Mountain allows more people – from youngsters to elders – to venture into these loftier reaches. That delights Rick Reavis, a retired landscape specialist, college instructor, horticulturist and overqualified flower guide. Reavis leads weekday Summit Hikes for Crested Butte Mountain Resort, tailoring each outing to his guests (generally a half-dozen people or fewer). He can talk about rocks, flowers, marmots, mining, or the last Ice Age – or just help people enjoy the experience. From the top of the Silver Queen lift, hikers follow a defined trail that winds about a mile to the mountaintop. The final approach involves scrambling over rocks to the dramatic summit at 12,162 feet, with striking views in every direction. “It can be quite an accomplishment,” Reavis said of the hike to the peak. “Last year I took a man who’d survived cancer. This was on 30

his bucket list. A few years ago he didn’t even know if he was going to live. When he made it to the summit, it was very, very special.” On Saturdays and Sundays all summer, Reavis also leads Alpine Flower Hikes here on behalf of the Crested Butte Wildflower Festival (for which he serves as president of the board). Though the actual festival is July 7-13, the board has added activities throughout the summer, and the flowers can be magnificent well into August. The Wildflower Festival board is also expanding its educational efforts, publishing materials like its Handy Dandy Bloom Guide and developing a phone app to help identify flowers by their appearance and their location on some common trails around Crested Butte. Reavis, also a ski instructor, biker, hiker and photographer, leads the tours because he loves sharing information with people. And he loves flowers, especially the high-altitude ones. Beleaguered by harsh conditions and short growing seasons, alpine plants grow slowly and are easily damaged. A plate-sized cushion of delicate, pinkblossoming moss campion could be decades old. “If you wander off the trail, you might step on a plant that has taken 60 to 70 years to grow,” Reavis said. “It’s a very special environment, and very fragile.” One of his favorite flowers is Old Man of the Mountain, an alpine sunflower that only blooms once before dying. The plant grows above 10,500 feet, “and it may take years for it to reach the right conditions to flower,” Reavis said. “It’s not a big plant, but it has blooms the size of my hand. When you see that, it’s a treat.” For information on Summit Hikes or riding the Silver Queen chairlift, see skicb.com. For Alpine Flower Hikes, see crestedbuttewildflowerfestival.com.

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Making a

By Dawne Belloise

run for it

Kosmon Parran

East River kokanee salmon on the long trip back home.

Each fall the East River shimmers with orange as kokanee salmon return to their birthplace, the Roaring Judy Fish Hatchery, to spawn and die. Springtime in Crested Butte brings an undeniable change in birdsong, the air turns a warmer kind of crisp, the fragrance of the earth starts to surface, and the sun reflects brilliantly off snow and melting waters. At the Roaring Judy Fish Hatchery 15 miles south of town, it’s time to free the kokanee salmon fingerlings into the icycold East River. Released into the river in mid-April at dusk, the fingerlings journey 40 miles downstream to the Blue Mesa Reservoir to spend the next three or four years growing up. When they’re mature and ready to spawn, their upstream return to their hatching waters can take a couple of months, and they can be seen heading home in the East River as early as August and as late as November. By autumn, the ponds and waterways of the hatchery shimmer with orangey salmon flashes. With their elongated snouts and flicking tails, the adult salmon wriggle, splash and jump up the “steps” of the trough-like moats to their birthplace in the final throes of spawning. By the time they reach the hatchery, many have splotches of white fungus and they’re on their last leg... or fin. After spawning, both male and female kokanee live another few days, maybe a week, and then die. 32

Less than one percent of the hatchlings make it back for the spawning party, even though the inbound kokanee are protected once they reach the East River fork into the Roaring Judy; fishing is restricted during their run. The salmon miraculously find their way into their home waters, where the hatchery’s expert spawning crew takes over, fertilizing the gathered female eggs with the milt from male kokanee. The eggs then go through a process called water hardening, sitting for an hour in a large blue and green tub called a Montana Jar before being disinfected with iodine to ensure there are no parasites or bacteria. Because the eggs are hardened, the disinfection doesn’t affect or alter them. In 30 days they’ll have tiny eyes and will go though yet another ordeal called bumping. It’s not a dance. The hatchery crew physically “bumps” the eggs to separate out the unfertilized ones, which break on the inside and turn white. An egg picker, a mechanical wheel that uses water to shoot the eggs past a light, determines if each egg is translucent, which means it’s a good egg. Light can’t pass through the bad eggs, so they get kicked to the side. In 2012 the hatchery crew collected more than 13 million eggs, and in 2013 they gathered 7.5 million. That count reflects how the overall kokanee population is doing in the lake and how many of them were taken by anglers or predators. Kokanee are a favorite food of lake trout and perch. In the wild, a salmon will bury her eggs in a shallow hole and carefully top it with gravel. The incubators and hatching jars at Roaring Judy simulate those conditions, aerating eggs by circulating fresh water and oxygen. Once the little guys hatch, little more than eyes, spine and a bit of tail, they’re called sac-fry because they still have their yolk sacs, which they absorb


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Roaring Judy Fish Hatchery crew collects and fertilizes kokanee eggs.

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as nutrients until they swim. The water temperature controls their metabolism, so if the water is too cold it takes them longer to “eye up.” The sac fry are kept in 50-degree spring water, but Roaring Judy also provides eggs to other hatcheries, and those eggs are chilled down to 39 degrees to slow the process, extend incubation and keep the fry small, enabling more of them to live uncrowded in the tanks. Kokanee are different from trout, which spawn multiple times and are also raised at Roaring Judy. Kokanee can’t be raised to adulthood in a hatchery, and it’s much less work to simply send them downstream to Blue Mesa to feed on natural food sources and grow until they’re ready to come back upstream. The mystery of how the fish find their home waters is simple – they follow their noses. Fish can actually smell the waters in which they were raised. When the hatchery decided to give the fish a truck ride down to Blue Mesa one year, the returning numbers and the spawn a few years later were way down, because the salmon couldn’t find their way home. When they swim downstream, the route biologically imprints and enables their return. By the time the fingerlings are released in mid-April, they number about three million, and the hatchery staff is somewhat relieved to see them go, having cleaned 22 troughs and tanks daily all winter; crews can now turn their focus to stocking lakes and streams with other fish. Since the fingerlings are fair game for a lot of fish in the river and reservoir, they’re released as the light is waning to give them a better chance at

survival. It takes the kokanee only hours to get to Blue Mesa with the current pushing them downstream, so they go with the flow and arrive by daylight. While ensuring that the kokanee’s cycle continues, the Roaring Judy Fish Hatchery also makes sure the dying fish don’t go to waste. At the end of each week, when the spawning is completed, the live fish are given away to those who show up with a valid Colorado fishing license. On a single Friday in mid October last year, the hatchery gave away about 2,000 fish to 250 people whose cars were lined up from the Highway 135 entrance. People come from as far as Denver and even other states to get the free fish, since it’s a sure catch as opposed to... well, fishing. Of course, fishing isn’t just about the fish; it’s about being in paradise with the sun on your shoulders and the sound of the river in your ears. For the magnificent kokanee, the river is their pathway to the reservoir that will feed and shelter them until their amazing return to their birth waters, where they’ll play their role in the continual cycle of death and life. The Roaring Judy Hatchery, located between Almont and Crested Butte, is a cold-water facility and home to the largest kokanee salmon run in the U.S. It raises fingerlings and catchables of kokanee salmon, cutthroat and rainbow trout. Part of the hatchery property is an 840-acre wildlife area that is popular for fishing, hunting and wildlife watching. For information about the hatchery’s Great Salmon Giveaway, guided tours, fishing ponds and “Feed the Fish” dispensaries, call 970-641-0190.

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Shrouded in morning mist, silhouettes of lodgepole pines waver in and out of focus like a mirage in the middle of the Slate River wetlands. Water flows all around, still in the ponds, rippling through beaver dams. Peering through binoculars, you can make out steel gray shapes of herons hunkered in their nests high in a small grove of trees, long legs folded beneath them, beaks tucked under wing. All is quiet. As sun grazes the valley, herons also rise. A sentinel watches from the highest perch, ready to alert the colony to aerial predators. Others stretch and preen. Below in the willows, neighbors trill and call: whitecrowned sparrows, swallows, red-winged blackbirds, ducks and snipes. The nose of a beaver pierces the glassy surface of a nearby pond. Mule deer graze at the edge of the forest. Then the young herons wake, the first adults swoop in with breakfast, and the peaceful scene transforms into a feeding frenzy. By Katherine Darrow Photos by Ben Hulsey

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Slow, steady wingbeats and a six-foot wingspan make herons easy to identify in flight.

Just a few miles upstream from the town of Crested Butte, the Slate River heronry is unique for being the highest of more than seventy colonies documented in Colorado and one of only a few known to be established in pines. Herons have gathered here each spring for decades; no one knows how many. The records are as dim as the dawn light. Each May they return, first the males to claim and repair old nests, and then the females, who are courted with lusty flight displays, seductive neck stretching and ardent twig offerings. Once a female accepts a male heron’s advances, it is not long before she lays a clutch of four or five eggs. The pair shares the important task of brooding for about a month until the first eggs hatch in mid-June. From then until late August, mornings and evenings are raucous events as the parents work hard to keep up with the increasing demands of their long-necked chicks. By early September, the young 40

have fledged, and the islands are silent again until the following spring. Herons migrate to warmer waters during the winter months, returning about the same time that chorus frogs are announcing their own courting rituals in nearby ponds. Local resident Denis Hall witnessed the annual return to these heron isles for more than 30 years from his former home half a mile downstream. “I’ve seen the birds return in spring while there was still four feet of snow on the ground, and they would be hunting at the river’s edge in a blizzard,” he remembered. Later in the season, he was often awakened by the squawks of hungry herons clamoring for food delivered by doting parents. “The birds make a ratcheting sound that reminds me of a bulldozer,” said Hall, half amused and half annoyed. “They are saying ‘Hey! Feed me!’” Once he found a skeleton of a heron at the bottom of a tree, a victim of either competition in a crowded nest or fledgling flight gone awry.


Two heron chicks watch attentively for parents to return with food.

When you share a nest with three or four siblings, plus your parents, it’s probably not uncommon for a youngster to fall over the edge before they’re ready to fly. The nests are huge rambling assemblages of twigs up to six feet across, accumulated from years of use by returning birds. This is plenty of room for a couple of weeks when lanky chicks are still covered with gray fuzz, but they rapidly grow to a full height of three or four feet plus a six-foot wingspan that needs to be tested before their first flight. A combination of river meandering and beaver damming helped to create the lodgepole islands. Most nesting sites across the continent are established in cottonwoods and willows, which are more common in wetland areas, so the Slate River site is very unusual. Some people speculate that years of roosting and subsequent accumulation of guano killed many of the trees, but it is more likely that the pines simply drowned, since their roots are not equipped to breathe under water

like cottonwoods and willows can. What matters most to a heron, though, is that the site is well protected from predators and has easy access to shallow water to hunt for frogs, fish, large insects and even the occasional small mammal. In the pine groves at Slate River heronry, there are a couple dozen nests, though not all of them are active every year. In a good year, about three-dozen herons will fledge. You can best view the heronry from Slate River Road, about three miles up from the junction with Gothic Road. Just after dawn and before dusk are optimal times for viewing, since mornings and evenings are prime feeding times, and the light is best then if you are inclined to photograph the scene. A pair of binoculars or a spotting scope is necessary to get a good look at the action, but a good set of ears is all you will need to hear them.

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The amazing life of double-Olympian Jean Gaertner. By Shelley Read Jean Gaertner doesn’t like to brag. Getting the accomplished athlete and world adventurer to talk about her extraordinary life is a bit like asking a Crested Butte mud season to reveal the full splendor of July. But once Jean starts telling stories, even she must admit she’s a hell of a go-getter. “I’ve never been afraid to try pretty much anything, I realize as I look back,” she says with a twinge of well-earned satisfaction. “I always figured, if something’s not going to kill me, I’ll give it a try.” As a young athlete in the 1950s, fueled by her natural talent and bold spirit, Jean aimed her “go for it” attitude toward the Olympic Games. By 1959, she had played several seasons and won national championships with the Santa Monica Mariners, the most celebrated competitive women’s volleyball team in her

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native California. She had also won a silver medal as a member of the U.S. National Volleyball Team at the 1959 Pan-American Games and twice been named an AllAmerican by the U.S. Volleyball Association. There was one slight problem with her Olympic goal, though: women’s volleyball had not yet been inaugurated as an Olympic sport. Luckily, Jean had an innate ability to leap, both athletically and metaphorically. “I wanted to go to the Olympics, but I wasn’t sure how,” she says. One day she sat in the stands watching a volleyball teammate try out for Team U.S.A. in track and field and thought, “Well, gee whiz, I can do that.” So she walked down on the field and signed up. “I tried everything, and finally I wound up a high jumper.” Though volleyball remained her primary passion, she found track and field “kind of fun” in those early, less challenging years of the sport. “I really wasn’t much of a high jumper,” she says with characteristic humility. “But I won a few things and then a few more and started going to more local meets, then a national meet and an Olympic tryout. And suddenly I was on my way to Rome.” She took her first trans-Atlantic flight as an unlikely new member of Team U.S.A. traveling to the 1960 XVII Olympiad. “I was too young to really quite get it,” she says, recalling the enormity of her first Olympic experience. “My focus had been this major goal – on getting there –- and then suddenly I just kind of went. It was all a bit overwhelming. “But I’ll never forget walking into that stadium in Rome,” she continues. In the age of stricter formalities, the athletes were required to march into the opening ceremony four abreast, ordered by height, which put 5’10” Jean and famed sprinter Wilma Rudolph front and center for Team USA. “It was really unbelievable. The ovation was incredible. Those Italians just went nuts for the opening ceremony. It’s one of those moments that still brings chills.” That taste of the Olympics whet her appetite for more. She returned home to focus her athletic talents exclusively on volleyball, competing in the 1960 World Championships, winning a second silver medal in the 1963 Pan-American Games, and playing for two renowned California teams, the Ahern Shamrocks and the L.A. Renegades. She also received numerous national and regional awards, including four more All-American titles, all while earning a B.A. in education from Cal State University


Jean Gaertner was the first American woman to enter the Olympics in two unrelated sports: high jump (1960) and volleyball (1964). Shown here in the Cascades, she also trekked and traveled the world.

Tom Stillo

From cliffs to fairways: Gaertner at the Club at Crested Butte.

Los Angeles, pursuing graduate studies at Whittier College, and leading volleyball clinics for young female athletes throughout Southern California. Through it all, Jean never took her sights off an Olympic return. That dream came true when the International Olympic Committee introduced women’s volleyball in the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. Jean was a shoe-in for the trailblazing U.S. team and instrumental in its impressive fifth-place finish at the Games. This second trip to the Olympics also landed Jean in the record books, making her the first American female to compete in two Olympiads in two non-related sports. But in that era before obsessive record keeping and zealous sports commentary, the record-setting feat went unnoticed for more than a decade. “No one quite realized it for some time.” Jean laughs. “Later, evidently, someone figured it out. The only reason I found

out about it was I saw it in an Olympic Committee newsletter. I was reading along, and there was my name, so I backed up and read it again.” Jean was publicly honored for the record years later as an inductee to the National Volleyball Hall of Fame, celebrating her as “one of the first great competitive women’s volleyball players and overall female athletes in the U.S.” Looking back, Jean supposes she could have kept her history-making streak alive by playing in one or two more Olympics, but the insatiable go-getter was ready to move on. “I looked at it and thought, ‘Gee, I’ve done all of this — do I just keep piling it on? What for?’ I was more interested in, ‘What’s next?’ In life I like to just give it a go and see what happens.” She smiles as she adds, “I should mention I’ve made some really big mistakes with that attitude.” She began what would become a 15-year career as a physical education teacher in Southern California and started traveling the world during school breaks. One of her first trips was a 1974 trek through the Himalayas, where she didn’t see another Westerner for weeks. Her passion for trekking high mountains later took her on several more excursions to Nepal, as well as to the top of the world in Kashmir, India, Bhutan, Argentina, Peru and Scandinavia. She even ventured into the heart of Tibet with a government-mandated “minder” from the Chinese Mountaineering Association, whom she admittedly “made crazy” by not following all the rules. She recounts adventures via foot, boat, rail, car and plane (and even a short stint as her own pilot after she learned to fly), exploring Tanzania,

Botswana, South Africa, Tahiti, Thailand, China and countless remote locations in Europe, Central and North America. “I wanted to go to all of these places before they disappeared, even if the trips were dangerous. I figured I’d sign up and go and hope for the best,” she says. “Maybe I was adventurous; maybe I was just stupid. But it all worked out.” She adds, “To me, ‘going and doing’ seems so natural. All anyone needs is time, a little money, good health, fitness and desire. Some street smarts can also come in very handy, especially for women. It also helps to be born in this country. How lucky we are.” Among her favorite adventures was a random turn up Colorado Highway 135 during a cross-country road trip with a friend in the summer of 1979. “It was one of my good ‘go-for-its,’” says Jean. “We were traveling across Colorado, and it was time to camp. I said, ‘Let’s drive up that way,’ having no idea what we’d find. We pulled into Crested Butte with all its beauty and beat-up hippie vans, and I said, ‘This has just got to be the place.’” The place for what, she wasn’t yet entirely sure, but Crested Butte lodged instantly and permanently in her heart. She returned the next year during a teaching sabbatical, working at Butte & Co. and living in the Ore Bucket Lodge. She remembers fondly the little ice-skating rink where the Treasury Center now stands, back when the main base area activity was “just a bunch of locals playing broomball.” Back again in the summer of 1980, Jean bought property in Meridian Lake. A few years later, while driving into a thick layer of L.A. smog, she decided to leave teaching and her other 45


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ties in California, sell everything, move to Crested Butte and build the house she still calls home. Since then, Crested Butte has been Jean’s spiritual sanctuary and home base for a still active and adventurous life. She spends much of her time hiking and photographing the local area; one of her spectacular nature photos was chosen as a Crested Butte Wildflower Festival poster. Though Jean was once an avid rock climber and skier, several orthopedic surgeries have convinced her to get off the cliffs and slopes and onto the golf course. She now spends part of the winter in Phoenix, but she’s far from a typical “snow bird.” Jean still explores her beloved mountains both near and far and savors time in her Meridian Lake home, where, as she puts it, “I chop wood and carry water just like everyone else around here.” And what has happened to her trademark gumption? “I decided that my idea of ‘go for it’ needed to be somewhat tempered,” she says with a laugh, “so I’ve been tempering.” Still, her plans don’t include knitting needles and rocking chairs. As she says, “I’ve always been a mover.”

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35.13 Acre 35.13 Acre 35.22 35.22 Acre 45.9 Acre 45.9 Acre 1.03 1.03 Acre 2.58 2.58 2.55 Acre 2.55 Acre .64 Acre .64 Acre .29 .29 .81 Acre .81 Acre

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25 Walking Deer, Mt. Crested Butte 25 Walking 5 Bed – 5.5 Deer, BathMt. – 4,582 Crested Sq. Ft.Butte Amazing 5 BedViews – 5.5Ski-In Bath –Ski-Out 4,582 Sq. $3,950,000 Ft. Amazing Views Ski-In Ski-Out $3,950,000

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Lefty the lucky dog in his new home in Crested Butte.

Nate Page

HOMEWARD BOUND With careful matchmaking, Oh Be Dogful’s rescue program turns abandoned animals into well-loved pets. By Katie Onheiber

Nate Page

The bond began forming the minute Lefty’s dark chocolatebrown eyes met Karen Kubarek’s sky-blue ones through the window at Oh Be Dogful Rescue. “Lefty rescued me,” said Karen. Just three weeks before Lefty tilted his floppy-eared head at the first sound of Karen’s voice, she and fiancé Nate Page lost a baby born very prematurely. Adopting Lefty from Oh Be Dogful Rescue helped Karen and Nate in grieving the loss of their child. “Being young and very active, Lefty motivated me to get out of the house and gave me something positive to focus on,” said Karen. “He helped fill the void I was feeling.” Lefty (so named by a droll vet because the dog’s right testicle never descended) was found abandoned, along with a kitten, in a Mt. Crested Butte condo garage. To make sure Lefty was a good fit for them, Nate and Karen took him home for a “test drive.” Early on, they brought him to the home of a couple who had recently adopted a dog similar in age. “Lefty and their dog hit it off right away, a good sign since we really wanted a well-socialized dog,” said Nate. “Lefty also seemed so happy to be with 49


Katie Onheiber

Karen Kubarek and Nate Page saved Lefty – and vice versa.

Katie Onheiber

Oh Be Dogful Rescue board members with one of the available pooches.

us in our home. He never went back. We just kept him from day one.” Oh Be Dogful Pet Ranch’s blossoming non-profit rescue program strives to connect people to pets and provide “forever homes,” like in Lefty’s case. The Rescue, which sprouted in December 2012, complements the pet care offered by Oh Be Dogful, as adoptable cats and dogs mingle with customers’ pets. Many of the cats and dogs arrive at the Rescue from overcrowded, large city shelters that euthanize a huge population of potential pets. The Humane Society of the United States reports a heartbreaking 2.7 million healthy, adoptable cats and dogs are put down in shelters across the country each year —about one every 11 seconds. “All the animals that have been brought to us from shelters have been very well-mannered, sweet and healthy,” said Leigh Butcher, Oh 50

Be Dogful Rescue director and board president. “Although this seems insane that such animals are put down, it happens daily, and we wanted to prevent it as much as possible.” Cats and dogs are shuttled to the Rescue by generous volunteers committed to saving their lives. “These people drive hours through poor weather conditions and over dark passes,” Leigh said. “They do it all for the sake of the animals, with a mere ‘thank you’ in return.” Through the Rescue, Melissa and Tim Essig adopted Rosie, an energetic and petite pooch who came to the Gunnison Valley from Texas. Likely a Staffordshire terrier and Jack Russell terrier mix, she was affectionately dubbed “Rosie Russell.” “There’s something about Rosie that feels like we’ve had her all along,” said Melissa. “She fits into our family so seamlessly, it feels like we’ve known her forever.” Last August, Animal Control found Rosie roaming around a golf course in the Lone Star State. “They tried to locate her owner and discovered a woman who used to own Rosie but claimed she had given her away months earlier,” Melissa said. “The woman said she couldn’t remember who she gave Rosie to. That’s just so sad to me.” Rosie was placed in a shelter, and euthanization loomed as no one claimed her. Leigh found out about Rosie and offered her sanctuary in Crested Butte. Some of the Rescue’s residents arrive because their owners simply aren’t able to care for them any more. For some of the elderly relinquished dogs, the Rescue becomes their final home. “We had


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two dogs in this first year that spent their remaining time with us,” said Leigh. “It allowed them to live out their lives with the dignity and love that all beings deserve.” A pair of calico cats came to the Rescue from a woman moving into a nursing home. No longer able to care for the friendly felines, the woman requested they remain indoor cats and be adopted as a two-for-one deal. Leigh and the crew at Oh Be Dogful Rescue are honoring her wishes in finding the ideal home for the duo. In fact, the Rescue takes a no-rush adoption approach with all of its residents. There is no immediate pressure to find homes for the animals. “They can live in our fun and caring environment until just the right home comes along for them,” said Leigh. “Although we want all our animals to get adopted, it feels nice that they have a place until the exact fit comes along.” The adorable photos of frisky fidos and curious kittens on the Rescue’s Facebook page, website and around town may lure pet lovers to grab the leash and walk down the adoption path. The first step is an appointment to meet the animal. The Rescue requires that folks fill out an application for that cat or dog and embark on a trial. “This is where you bring the dog or cat into your home and see if, in fact, the pet is the right fit for your family,” said Leigh. Sometimes this takes weeks; for others, a few hours. “I’d known for a long time that I was ready to have a dog in my life, but I waited for the right opportunity to come along rather than settling for the first dog that came up to me and wagged its tail,” said Mike Hans, who adopted Budweiser, a mutt who may have a bit of German shepherd, chow and lab. “I’m glad I took a chance on Bud and fostered him for a while, because that time allowed me to see how he would behave in all kinds of situations. I was able to see him make tremendous progress during that foster care period, and we both gradually became really comfortable with each other.” If a person decides that a cat or dog is their perfect match, he or she makes it official by signing an adoption document. “In signing the agreement, not only is the adopter taking responsibility for their new addition, but we also want to ensure that if they can no longer keep the animal, it is returned to our care,” Leigh said. “It’s important to us as a rescue that our animals don’t return to the shelter system again. Once we commit to an animal, we’d like to

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make a commitment for the entire life of that animal.” Where does Oh Be Dogful Rescue fit in with the valley’s other animal rescue efforts? They all support each other, Leigh said. “We have helped them, and they help us when they can as well.” Oh Be Dogful Rescue fosters animals for other shelters when space is available, and those shelters return the favor. “There can be a misconception that rescue animals have issues and require a lot more work,” said Karen. “Regardless if a dog or cat is rescued or you get a puppy or kitten from a reputable breeder, all pets require work. They need exercise, structure, boundaries, consistency and discipline, as well as love and affection. Sadly, some rescue animals have a history of abuse or trauma, which can take a lot of time and patience to overcome. However, responsible ownership is more important than where a pet is from.” In Crested Butte, our pets play alongside us. They bound through the snow as our skis carve magnificent lines on Coney’s. They paddle next to our canoes at Lake Irwin. And when we’re done with our adventures, they are there to snuggle up on the couch and lick our tired feet. Providing love and companionship while the animals are at Oh Be Dogful Rescue, the staff forms strong attachments to each new dog or cat. Like loving parents letting a child fly the coop, watching an animal leave can be difficult. But each departure means that dog or cat has found a dedicated, full-time home. “That is the most incredible feeling ever,” said Leigh, “when you see the dogs in their new homes and their bond with you as their caretaker shifts to their bond with their new family. It’s very rewarding to think that an animal that was moments away from being thrown away is now being loved and cared for.”

OBD-6, waiting for her “forever home.”

b

Photo: Trent Bona

Katie Onheiber

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Olympic moms

Emma Coburn splashed on the giant screen at the 2012 Summer Olympics.

From infants to Olympians: three world-class athletes give thanks for their most steadfast fans – their mothers. By Kelli Hargrove

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Courtesy Photos

Aaron Blunck as a toddler learning to ski with his mother; hitting the freestyle groove that catapulted him to the Olympics; and celebrating his seventh place finish in Sochi with brother Nolan, mom Lisa and father Michael.

Our beautiful little valley seems far removed from “the world stage.” But these idyllic mountains fostered the raw talent and radical drive that earned three locals the chance to represent our town – and our country – as recent members of the U.S. Olympic Team. Runner Emma Coburn, freestyle skier Aaron Blunck and alpine racer David Chodounsky can all trace their roots back to Crested Butte’s trails – be they snow or dirt. They also agree their success is rooted partly in the sacrifice, commitment and support of their biggest fans: their moms.

AARON BLUNCK AND MOTHER LISA Aaron Blunck was born with skiing in his blood. His grandfather, raised on the slopes of Switzerland, was Crested Butte’s first ski school director and his mother Lisa a ski instructor for 26 years. Introduced to the sport at 18 months old, Aaron began competing at age eight, and people quickly realized he was something special. Skiing all day with big brother Nolan every chance he got, Aaron progressed rapidly. The wins began to add up, and it became clear to the Bluncks that Aaron needed a bigger arena to showcase his talents. At 15, Aaron decided to attend the Vail Ski & Snowboard Academy. Lisa said of the move, “It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but we had to let him pursue his dream...it was what he was born to do.” Though she struggled with seeing her youngest leave home, Lisa was adamant that his dreams trumped any reservations she had. From his new base in Vail, Aaron hit the competition circuit, snagging five podiums over the 2011-12 season and taking third at the Youth Winter Olympic Games. Soon he was sporting sponsors

like Monster and The North Face and competing in the Dew Tour and X Games. Through every stage of Aaron’s career, from child prodigy to Olympian, “My mom has been there to support me in every way,” he said. She was there when he fell, when he won, when his manners needed a little coaching. “As I’ve grown up, my mom and I have become closer and closer,” he added. “I feel safe telling my mom anything, and she can help me. A lot of kids get farther from their parents but I’ve done nothing but get closer.” Though she often wished Aaron could spend more time in Crested Butte, Lisa’s focus has been in fostering his dream. Last January, her sacrifices paid off. After a grueling week of five back-toback Olympic qualifying contests, Aaron earned a spot on the firstever Olympic halfpipe ski team. Watching her son being named to the team, Lisa was overwhelmed and “so proud… he worked so hard and gave up a lot. To see his dream come true was amazing.” Halfpipe skiing is a dangerous sport, plagued by injuries and fatalities. Lisa admits that watching Aaron twist and flip off the walls of an unforgiving 22-foot pipe is nerve-wracking, but she willingly goes through it time and again, cheering for her son. “No matter how bad the weather or how long the drive, she’ll find a way to be there,” Aaron said. “Having my mom at every contest is the best thing in the world.” Lisa flew to Sochi, husband Michael and eldest son Nolan at her side, to watch as Aaron dropped first into the halfpipe, a historic moment not only for Aaron, but for the sport as a whole, as halfpipe 57


Knowledge and Experience

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Journey’s End Homesite

0.22 acre building lot in Town with open space on 2 sides and very open and quiet location. Elevated, protected, views over CB and to the mountain horizon. Only a short walk to the Nordic Center and all of Crested Butte’s amenities. $975,000

Sam Lumb 970.275.2448

Sam.Lumb@SothebysRealty.com

BensonSothebysRealty.com


Courtesy Photos

Kevin Krill

Anna Chodounsky cheered her son David as a precocious skier, graduate of the Crested Butte Academy (2003), NCAA slalom champ for Dartmouth, and 2014 Olympian.

skiing made its Olympic debut. “I was so totally proud of Aaron and all he stands for,” Lisa said. “He’s not just a boy skiing from Crested Butte, but a boy from Crested Butte skiing for the United States of America.” Aaron earned an impressive seventh place in his Olympic debut. And at age 17, Aaron’s career has just begun. He has the talent, tenacity and support system to continue thriving on-snow.

DAVID CHODOUNSKY AND MOTHER ANNA With wooden skis strapped to his twoyear-old feet, his parents guiding him down a small hill behind his house, David Chodounsky’s ski career began. Though they didn’t know it at the time, his parents had just introduced their toddler to the sport that would define his life. With their son already focused on slalom skiing by age seven, the Chodounskys relocated from the small rollers of Buck Hill, Minnesota, to the steeps of Mt. Crested Butte. Here, David experienced his first powder days and extreme terrain, a whole new

world of skiing. David’s mother Anna loved skiing with her son, but credits his father Martin with his early ski coaching. The Chodounskys had emigrated in 1980 from Czechoslovakia, where Martin ski raced for the Czech Army, so he brought the ski expertise – “and I brought the sandwiches,” Anna said. David grew up watching the Olympics on VHS, and moments like Alberto Tomba’s silver medal performance at the 1994 Lillehammer Games stuck with him. He long harbored his own Olympic dream, though he never thought it would become a reality. Anna described David as a laid-back but disciplined young man. “He loved skiing, and he was very determined,” she said. David’s breakthrough came his freshman year at Dartmouth College, as he became the Eastern Intercollegiate Ski Association leader in slalom and won the 2005 NCAA championship. Over the next few years, David racked up another NCAA title and topped a host of podiums, making that Olympic dream less of a stretch. A few disappointing races and a

dislocated kneecap in 2011 threw some obstacles onto David’s road to Sochi. Those bumps simply made his comeback story even sweeter, and 2013 proved to be his best season yet. When he secured a spot on the U.S. Olympic Team, Anna teemed with pride that her son’s dedication had so richly paid off. Unfortunately for David, during his first Olympic run, he straddled a gate and was disqualified – a crushing moment for Anna, who was watching long-distance from Crested Butte. “When I went out in the first run, it was as tough for her as it was for me… probably more so,” David said. Year after year, emotionally and financially, Anna made sacrifices to keep her son’s dream alive, in a sport that’s both expensive and dangerous. Though it often made her nervous, Anna pushed her fears aside and cheered on her son every chance she got. She found ways to show her constant support, giving David small good-luck charms to keep with him when he competed. In 2009, David carried a little frog, since that was his childhood nickname, for a full year — the year he won his first national title and earned 59


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his way onto the U.S. Team. After the Olympics, David rebounded quickly, hopping back onto the World Cup Tour and earning another national title. He still has a clear-eyed focus on what really matters, including his mother and father. “My parents were huge in my success as a skier,” he remarked. “My dad taught me how to ski, and they are still absolutely my biggest fans.”

years later, she was a natural. Behind the scenes, mom Annie played an incredibly important role, taking care of the oft-overlooked but critical details that go into a runner’s development. When Emma was in high school, Annie brought her lunch every day (e.g. a Greek salad from Pitas in Paradise, tofu, no olives), had healthy snacks ready for her the moment she got home from practice, and put thought into cooking healthy dinners every night. Annie’s steady support and effort motivated Emma then and inspires her now. Through Emma’s prolific collegiate running career, Annie attended every race

crisscrossed the state time and again to support their daughter. Though Emma was a leader in every sport, dominating the field as a runner, stomping school records and becoming one of the top talents in the state, an athletic career wasn’t on her radar. In her junior year of high school, that began to change. Her dad had driven her to New Mexico for a track meet and decided that for a drive that long, Emma should compete in more than one race. There was an opening in the steeplechase, a race Emma had never heard of, let alone run. As she would show the world in London a few

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Courtesy Photo

Young Emma and mom/fellow campfire chef Annie at the Coburn family cabin in Tincup.

EMMA COBURN AND MOTHER ANNIE Emma Coburn’s Olympic dream began when she was ten years old. Laying on her stomach, glued to the television, she watched her favorite documentary, “Do You Believe in Miracles: The Story of the 1980 Olympic Hockey Team,” on repeat. Fast-forward 11 years, swap summer for winter, replace hockey with the steeplechase, and Emma’s own Olympic moment took shape. Emma grew up playing a host of different sports. Following in the footsteps of her older siblings, Willy and Gracie, Emma played volleyball and ran cross-country in the fall, pulled on her hockey pads once the ice set, and ran track through the spring. Growing up in Crested Butte was a huge asset to her athletic prowess, the small team sizes giving her the opportunity to try any sport she wanted. Playing for the Crested Butte Community School, however, meant her parents, Bill and Annie, had to travel hundreds of miles to watch Emma compete. But the sacrifice hardly fazed them; they

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Emma and Annie Coburn: pro runner and proud mother.

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possible. From East Coast to West, South Korea to Tokyo, the Coburns made sure Emma had a cheering squad. As Emma noted, “My parents have traveled tens of thousands of miles to support me… I can’t thank them enough for that.” With clammy hands and nerves on high, Annie watched as her daughter won the 2011 U.S. Championships in Oregon. Suddenly, the Olympics became a real possibility. The entire Coburn clan cheered on Emma as she raced in the 2012 Summer Olympics in London. Though Emma managed to keep stress at bay and her focus on-point, Annie remembers the overwhelming nerves she felt as her daughter stepped onto the track, “USA” prominently displayed across her chest. In the whirlwind of excitement, Annie recalls a specific moment, the climax of years of travel, stress and sacrifice. Annie saw the image of Emma splashed across the immense Jumbotron hanging over the track, and suddenly the outcome of the race didn’t matter. “She was there, we were there. It was the best,” Annie said. Emma reached the Olympic finals and took ninth place in the world, then returned to Colorado glowing and ready to jump-start her career as a professional runner. She’s more focused than ever, and her fan club hasn’t budged an inch. “My mom is always proud of me – and I’m so proud to call her my mom,” Emma said.

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By Molly Murfee

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I won’t claim that any resemblance to real people, places or events is coincidental. It’s not. Stories are made from life. However, this tale is tempered with exaggeration, mismatched stories and plain ole made up stuff – let’s say. As one of the valley’s great storytellers says, “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.” Of course, in some cases, the truth is better than fiction. Let’s just call this… an altered fish tale.

Illustrations by Carol Connor

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“In the days of the Utes, it was all about size,” winds up the Anonymous Official Judge. “Ute women chose their men in the Days of the Budding Aspen based on their [he gives a small cough] size. In a town like Paradise, size matters.” The Anonymous Official Judge perches ceremoniously on a lifeguard-esque stand, cobbled together from scraps, that wobbles precariously in the mud at the lake’s edge. Beneath his tan suede sport coat, he brandishes a stained and loosely knotted necktie and a black t-shirt lettered with “Occupy This” atop a lewdly gesturing hand with a conspicuous middle finger. The ensemble is topped with a rumpled bucket hat speared by a neon yellow fishing lure. His cheeks (the ones on his face) are not baby-bottom smooth; in a mountain town, too much shaving arouses suspicion. In his pocket are a bag of fungi, a strip of little paper squares, a fistful of cocoa leaves and some certifiably legal Rocky Mountain grown marijuana fresh out of his closet at 12,000 feet. Around his neck swings a pair of dime-store binoculars, which he rarely uses, unable to decide which eye to squint – or not. At a certain point the focus bar ceases to work. Whether that point is mechanical or mental is up for debate. The Anonymous Official Judge continues, his voice gathering steam like a sluggish locomotive. “In the mining days, it was all about size – the size of the ore, the size of the mine, and the women still chose their men on the basis of size.” Before the Anonymous Official Judge, a crew of Fisher People lean, sit and loiter around the Official Flatbed (littered with wood chips, a horribly odoriferous dog bed, a chainsaw and a six pack’s worth of crushed aluminum beer cans) attached to a beat-up old Ford. Many of the loiterers also sport bucket hats, bedecked with fishing lures and flies bobbing off the brims like the swinging pompoms on the dashboard of a Tijuanabound bus. They pass a joint, chuckling at the Anonymous Official Judge and listening with mock-sincere silence. They are barechested and bare-footed. It’s a lusty event, flaunting a rare opportunity to expose so much skin. Boobs push against bikini tops. Men’s short bands swing low, two hairs shy of full exposure. These Fishers are ripped and pierced, buffed from the lifestyle of romping in the dark forests and alpine meadows of the southern Rocky Mountains on all manner of toys. Toys with wheels. Toys attached to ropes. Floating toys. Toys


fashioned out of spare snowmobile parts. Today, however, on one of those preciously few summer days when all the world’s glory seems to spill languorously from the golden beads of sunshine, this motley crew is gathered to fish – in some of the toughest alpine waters reported by man, woman or beast. These fish are wary and wily. They have not survived nine months in a frozen lake at treeline to be caught by some drunken hooligan in a make-shift watercraft – boobs or no boobs. The legality of the event could be up for discussion, although later at a local bar the Anonymous Official Organizer claims loudly, through a breath of bourbon and beer, that if any Forest Service representative raised an eyebrow to the event, he would enrapture the gent with a filibuster about the rules and regulations concerning a friendly wager. A filibuster elongated enough to put our crooked Congress to shame. “A. Friendly. Wager.” He pounds his fist on the bar for emphasis. “Hell, I’ll even sell him a pole and loan him my lawn chair.” He gives me a high-five, offers to buy me a drink and takes advantage of my boyfriend’s absence to touch me on my bare, sun-dressed back.

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The annual Lake Barnard Fishing Derby: If Huck Finn had grown up, if Hunter S. Thompson hadn’t had his ashes shot out of a cannon, and if their two worlds had collided across time barriers, it might have been here. There is no annoying marketing campaign for this event. No posters, no radio announcement, no PR person waxing on about how “quirky and funky” it all is. No sponsor list, no sponsored athletes, no goodie bag full of crap from China. News of the event is spread solely by word of mouth, and by one crude Buddha with a teeny-weeny willy tattooed on the men’s bathroom wall in the aforementioned barroom with a date and the caption, “Size matters.” The rules are simple and, as the story plays out, somewhat malleable. Ten dollars a pole. Five-hour time limit. Fisher Person who catches the biggest fish, measured Officially from nose to tail, wins the pot. It all begins at high noon. All Fisher People must heed any Official Warning Bells, such as bullhorns, fireworks or blasts from homemade black powder bombs. This year, the pot, meticulously tallied on the back of a worn manila envelope as each participant hands over his/her hard-earned ten bucks, is $300. “It’s still about size,” bellows the Anonymous Official Judge, then, slowly forgetting his point and meandering into a daydream involving loose mermaids, he wraps up his inaugural speech rather abruptly. “So do your recreationals early, and may the best pole win.” The Anonymous Official Organizer trumpets a wrangly couple of notes from a brass instrument that looks like it lost a fight with a tuba, orders the Anonymous Official Judge from his perch, pitches the lifeguard stand into a canoe without a plug, and paddles vigorously to the Official Judging Area a quarter turn around the lake. The Anonymous Official Judge pauses a moment before digging in his laden pockets for his treats, doling out a few choice items to a few choice observers who seem to be glued strangely to his side. The competition now officially begun, the Lake Barnard Fishing Derby athletes saunter to their crafts like a battalion of slugs, while the recipients of the party favors wash the foul-tasting fungus remnants from between their teeth. The Fishers launch in oar boats and canoes. Paddle boards furnished with coolers and umbrellas, fishing line lolling


in their slow wake. A rubber river raft. There are no lifejackets worn to help brave the 33° water. Warmth comes in the joyful oblivion of a polished-off 30-pack of PBRs. It is an all-day event, after all. Tippiness from both craft and captain are expected. From the observer’s shore, all seems peaceful. Garnet and St. George Peaks loom in glory over the lake. Waterfalls pregnant with the bounty of winter pour from snowfield to snowfield. The lake sparkles with diamond-tipped waves, reflecting all the green and blue water can muster. Sprinkled across the surface are the Fisher People, arching long fly casts seductively over the water in curves that put Marilyn Monroe to shame. There is little sound. Wind in the trees. The flutter of a fly’s wings. The sun shining so brightly it seems to hum with vibration.

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EVERYONE!” WHEN THEY MAKE IT BACK TO TOWN. Competitors cluster around an inlet pouring into the lake from the ridge above, reputed to have a lingering of nippy fish. Nothing. For two hours. Nothing. Poles and their operators grow antsy. The Anonymous Official Co-Judge flips his measuring tape in and out of its metal slot with a resounding “swish” and “click.” His napping Rottweiler rolls over to expose her near furless belly to the sun. Suddenly, the paddle boarder sitting on top of his cooler tips into the drink, despite the protective nature of his bright yellow, rubber raincoat. A couple of Fisher People lay down their poles to pirate the floating bounty of PBR cans. At last…hot sports action. An Official Spectator pops his lake booty of stolen PBR from the sunk slicker-wearer, sits back in his lawn chair, and yawns a deep, satisfied yawn. Finally, “Fish on!” someone yells, and the Anonymous Official Co-Judge rushes in, tape in hand. Eleven-inch rainbow. A veteran derbyer scoffs. He’s only baited for

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the native brown trout and begins to spew about the over-fishing of the native fish, and the demand for foreign species, something about the 1800s and the disgusting nature of fish farms. A purist he is, he claims, through the namesake gap between his teeth, and he mutters something about the rules needing to be changed. But then he smiles, cracks a beer, and silently snips the line of a competitor paying more attention to packing his bowl than watching his indicator. Another hour passes. Someone from shore trumpets the beaten trumpet just for fun and discovers a gasket missing. The Anonymous Official Judge yells through his bullhorn, “One hour before the onehour cut-off!” and giggles at his own voice resounding over the water. Another competitor decides it’s more interesting to try and fish the cap off of his neighbor in the oar boat. Thirty-packs wane. Tippy boats grow tippier. A firework blasts over the gaggle of boats; announcing the final hour. “Fish on!” someone finally yells. A 13-incher. Game on. Now there’s some real competition. Another 13-incher gets pulled in. Then another. The final firework blasts over the water. An unsuspecting tourist floating by comments to his little girl that these people must not know about the fire ban. The Official Shoreline Spectators guffaw in delight – at the thought that someone among this crew would obey the law if they knew it. Slowly, weaving, the Fisher People return, in a slightly more advanced state than when they left, broad smiles lazing on their faces as if swinging from facial hammocks. “It’s a three-way tie,” pronounces the Anonymous Official Organizer from the Official Judging Perch. Forgoing the tug-of-war on paddle boards (the tie-breaker of the year before) or the hatchet toss (from the year before that), the Anonymous Official Organizer, Judge and Co-Judge decide in a surprisingly civilized fashion that the three finalists will be sent back to the icy waters. First fish caught wins. The crowd goes wild, sidling up to tree stumps, boulders and grassy spots to watch. Within ten minutes, a voice echoes across the lake: “Fish on!” Roaring furiously to shore, the potential champ brandishes his fish. The Anonymous Official Judge nods, turns and yells with an open-armed flourish as if declaring the Kingdom of Heaven: “We have a winner!”


Everyone whoops and hollers and makes obligatory merriment to cheer the success of their Friend, knowing they’ll reap the benefits of the $300 that will become “Shots for everyone!” when they eventually, finally, make it back to town, at some point. The last of the beer and bourbon is scavenged, and the crew settles into the end of the day. The sun splashes the peaks with shocking grenadine, bruising to sexy purple, blushing around the edges in pale rose like a day well had. No one speaks, and the silence is as comfortable as any can be among friends who have spent the day fishing together. One breathes deeply and smiles mischievously. “You know, we do have the most fun.” “Ye-up,” replies Another, tugging his hat over his eyes at the final glint of sun, which sucks the last of the day’s color, sip by sip, into the night. “Damn him, though; he always wins,” the First complains amiably. “Bastard,” agrees Another. They know; none of it was really about the money anyway. Or even the fish. Maybe the bragging rights, but only for a day. It was really about. This.

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Forever a Crested Butte girl

Sylvio Carricato (sitting, on left) plays his accordion for July 4th dancers in a field outside Crested Butte, 1926.

Studying old photos, the writer imagines her Grandma Mary Sneller as a playful adolescent in 1920s Crested Butte. By Cara Guerrieri

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Independence Day revelry: teen Mary Sneller (second from right) and her little brother Tom (far right) celebrate with friends, including Anna Muffich, Martin Spritzer (fiddler) and Sylvio Carricato (in ball cap).

the photos in front of me, taken on july41 , 926, show stout italian and austrian women dancing with their smiling coal-miner husbands. the accordion player sits on the ground and plays, and one man holds a baby as he dances with his wife. the families have driven into the hills behind town in model ts, bringing their own homespun band along. in these photos, my grandmother, marija “mary” Sneller, looks sweet in a sweater and overalls. She is17years old.

The photos are just a few of the nearly two hundred my cousin unearthed a year ago, all taken in Crested Butte between 1913 and 1926. While they are a fascinating record of the town in those years, more importantly for me, they shed new light on my grandmother’s early years. She looks happy in most of the photos, though I know her childhood wasn’t an easy one. She wears the same sweet, tucked-in smile I remember her having decades later, the one I still get to see on my cousin Kathy Simillion. When I look at the images, I also hear Grandma’s quiet giggle, as if the photos themselves captured sound. Her laugh would never be described as hearty, but instead implied that the things she found funny were a special, private joke. Not long before she died at age 92, Grandma told me that deep inside she still felt like the same young woman she was before she got married. I didn’t have the wherewithal right then to ask her more about her life, her teenage years in the 1920s, her friends and her family. After she died, the window into that world seemed to be closed — until this long-forgotten photo album pulled back the curtain shading those early years. Now, for the first time in my life, I get to see her as a fresh-faced adolescent 77


Mary Sneller in 1920s Crested Butte: with friend Mamie on Elk Avenue; on far right with siblings Tony, Katherine and George; and in a solitary portrait a few months before her marriage to Gene Guerrieri.

wading in Coal Creek with her sisters, as a teenager piled onto a toboggan with her pals for a fast slide down The Bench, and dressed as a classy flapper on the boardwalk that led to the train depot. Mary is the tallest girl among her friends, taller even than some of the guys. Although she was shy and reserved her whole life, it sure looks like she was popular, holding hands with a well-dressed Tony Kapushion in one picture, and goofing around with Sylvio Carricato and an unidentified fellow in another. Apparently they are trying to give her pecks on the cheek. In these photos, her hair is short and dark, crimped in twenties fashion, though in her later years it was long, white and always caught up in a bun. Her skin looks pale and pretty in the pictures, and I bet it felt like delicate silk then, as it did her whole life. I’ve scanned the images from that photo album and now those small 3x3 prints seem huge on my 24-inch screen. The sheer size enhances expressions, clothing and settings. Each photo tells a bit of Grandma Mary’s story, and I study them all, but it is the July Fourth pictures that fascinate me the most. In them, the people gathered to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the country include 78

the Sneller, Carricato, Mufich, Guerrieri and Spritzer families, their surnames reading like an abbreviated roll-call from the Crested Butte Cemetery. The band included Sylvio Carricato playing the accordion and Martin Spritzer, Jr. on the fiddle. The folks dancing almost certainly swirled to the oom-pah-pah of a polka, a specialty of the Carricatos. Sylvio came from a family of eight handsome brothers, most sporting beautiful Italian rolloff-your-tongue names — Ernesto, Marsilio, DeSylvio, Francesco, Ottavio. The family was known for their musical ability, and I remember them playing at events well into the 1980s. It was bright and warm that day, as we expect July days to be in this town of abundant sunshine, and the 1926 celebration in the Crested Butte hills most certainly took place among a familiar explosion of wildflowers — sunflowers, lupine, columbine and larkspur. It was a time of optimism both in Crested Butte and in the country. The U.S. economy was roaring along with no hint of the market crash that would rock the country three years later. Unemployment was low, under two percent. Women had

been given the vote six years earlier, and the Crested Butte coal mine was on its way to becoming the most productive in the state. Prohibition was the law of the land, though one presumes a little moonshine contributed to the dancing mood that day. Mary Sneller, however, was a serious girl and a lifelong teetotaler, and she wouldn’t have partaken. Having grown up in the harddrinking town of Crested Butte, she was well aware of the pitfalls of consuming alcohol. She would have been there just for fun, and as it turns out, these were the last pictures of her before her marriage a short four months later to Geneali (Gene) Guerrieri. For the next 20 years, there are fewer than a handful of photos of her. Not only were she and Gene struggling to make their way as a young couple, but pressures from the outside changed their world. In the first year of their marriage, the CF&I mining company cut wages by 20 percent and the men went on strike. As in past strikes, however, the miners got no concessions from the company. In 1930 Mary gave birth to a son, my father Richard, and five years later to twin girls, Lucille and Pauline. In those years of young motherhood, Mary may have taken


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part in the Crested Butte Fourth of July celebrations, which by then had become big local events featuring raucous foot races, drilling and sawing contests and fierce baseball games. As a mother of three with a husband who worked two jobs to make ends meet, it’s doubtful, however, that she went dancing to the sound of the Carricato band at the annual Independence Day dance in the hall above Mattivi’s bar on Elk Avenue. Later, when the U.S. entered World War II, she saw nearly 140 of Crested Butte’s men go off to serve in the war. So many of the little town’s population got drafted that CF&I officials were concerned that there wouldn’t be enough men left to run the mine. Mary’s lifelong friends, including Frank and Otto Carricato, Rudy Malensek, Jimmy Christoff and Johnny Krizmanich, went off to war. White stars displayed in windows throughout town symbolized that a member of the household was in the service, and even youngsters like my dad felt the anxiety of the time and played in the dirt streets with less exuberance than they had before. Most of the Crested Butte men came home safe, including Frank, Otto, Rudy, Jimmy and Johnny, but four gold stars hung heavy in the windows of the families that had lost a loved one and in hearts throughout the town. By then the mine production in town was slowing down, and families whose parents had come to Crested Butte from the “old country” to set down roots began leaving town. Mary and Gene moved to Gunnison and eventually bought a house right next door to their old friend Ernest Carricato, where they lived until their deaths. Although in their later years, Gene loved to talk about the old days in Crested Butte, Mary was a private person, happy to defer to her charismatic, storytelling husband. She rarely talked about her early years. She never showed me her photo album or talked about hamming it up in a flapper dress on the boardwalk. She never told me about the lazy summer days playing in the creek. Grandma Mary never explained exactly what she meant when she said she still felt like a young woman. But I think I know that always, in her heart, she was the tall, pretty 17-year-old who celebrated the Fourth of July in 1926 by dancing the polka with her friends in the wildflowers of Crested Butte.

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By Sandy Fails A huge expedition achieved the first ascent of K7 in Pakistan’s Karakoram Range in the 1980s, advancing over several weeks, fixing 9,000 feet of rope and drilling 450 bolts along the way. Twenty years later, Steve House made the second ascent, climbing nonstop for 29 hours, solo, with a seven-pound backpack. Showoff. House, a fabled Durango climber, is an “extreme alpinist,” climbing fast and light, carrying minimal clothing and gear. This new alpinism has spawned what gear-shop employees near Mt. Rainier call “gram geeks” – mountain climbers so weight-obsessed that they ditch their band-aids, crop their fingernails and cut the tags from their clothing. It has also spawned debate, as wannabes, lacking House’s experience, fitness and speed, barrel ill prepared into serious mountains and get themselves into serious trouble. “In the fast and light approach, ‘fast’ has to come before ‘light’,” wrote mountaineer Scott Johnson on the website traditionalmountaineering.org. Still, this appears to be where advanced alpinism is headed, with humans moving over the terrain with instinct, confidence and little else. I’ll admit this makes me feel wimpy for my day hikes lugging in my pack a change of wardrobe, snacks to nourish the multitudes, and weather gear to protect me should the jet stream take a sudden 2,000-mile detour. And what would those alpine minimalists say about our family car-camping trips over the years, the Subaru crammed to its hatchback with lawn chairs, cast-iron skillets, coolers, down booties and stuffed toy raccoons?

Ah, but you have to consider the roots from whence we came. My husband Michael and I were born in the fifties, when nature was still something to be conquered. Famed alpinist Maurice Herzog described his 1950s first ascent of K2 as though it were a military assault: massive troops, vast tonnage of equipment and food, strategic advances over several months, the unfortunate but “necessary” casualties, and finally the conquest of man over mountain. What a brave and noble quest it was to battle the wilderness and plant the victory flag of civilization. One December when Michael was a youngster growing up in suburban Dallas, he found under his family’s artificial Christmas tree a gift that would change his life – and eventually mine. The Golden Book of Camping and Camp Crafts, copyright 1959. One glance at this illustrated children’s book and young Michael knew the heart of a mountain man beat beneath the Izod logo on his pint-sized golf shirt. Half a century later, this book still graces Michael’s bookshelf. The introduction paints a compelling vision: cavemen, knights, Spanish vaqueros… all advancing the progress of culture into a crude natural world. “When you go camping,” the book proclaims, “you are reliving the early days of our civilization when each man… had to pit his skills against the forces of nature.” (There are no females mentioned until page 33, when the drawings show proper girls’ attire for camping – from Girl Scout dresses to fashionable bathing caps.) According to The Golden Book of Camping and Camp Crafts, the most essential tool for a satisfying outdoor experience is the ax. The book includes a whole section on felling and dismembering 83


Third Eye Photography

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The Golden Book of Camping and Camp Crafts: choose a campsite with lots of nice trees… so you can cut them down and turn them into shoe racks, lounge chairs, wardrobe hangers, dining furniture and comfy sanitary facilities.

trees to turn them into something useful. Under the heading “Selecting a Campsite,” the writers advise a location with ample wood supply both for fire building “and for the construction of camp improvements.” After all, if a guy’s gonna pit his skills against the forces of nature, he needs to be comfortable. Take, for example, that most essential of comforts – the latrine. The book’s latrine-building instructions call for two lengths of a halved log from which the bark has been removed, supported by legs made of smaller branches (see illustration). The tidy toilet paper holder might require the demise of another sapling or two. While you’re at it, why not hew a few trees into a twine-lashed kitchen cabinet, racks for drying pots and clothing, and a picnic table? Also, as a safety precaution, the book warns of low branches on trees around camp: “If they protrude across the trail, better cut them off.” Finally, having whittled the forest into furniture and hatcheted any dangerous woody protrusions, you can relax on your newly chiseled lounge chair, knowing the forces of nature are no match for the skills you’ve brought to bear. Hey, those Spanish vaqueros have nothing on you. For youngster Michael, this book was the stuff of fantasies. He cast aside his topsiders and put up first ascents of the shelves in his walk-in closet, about the only vertical in his flatland life. He wielded rubber-band slingshots against marauding squirrels and wished he could assert his manly dominion over a more formidable opponent than the manicured lawns of his neighborhood. In grade school, his mother nixed his brief foray into Boy Scouts when she deemed the craft projects too effeminate. Dutifully Michael returned to the golf course, but watched “Daniel Boone” without fail on Tuesday-night TV. Meanwhile, a couple of suburbs away, I grew up on Tarzan reruns, in which the handsome ape-man sought to create domestic ease in the jungle for his bride Jane. He didn’t yet know he was 85


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When our son Chris was born, actually the orphaned Lord we entered the era of car camping. Greystoke rescued and raised After we’d set up our camp chairs, by apes, but we viewers sensed Coleman stove, circus tent and nobility in his civilizing instincts: cushy sleeping bags, our campsite e.g. installing bamboo water was better furnished than our tiny pipes and palm-frond ceiling old miner’s house in downtown fans. I also loved reading about Crested Butte. the shipwrecked Swiss Family In our growing youngster, I Robinson re-creating the comforts watched the emergence of that of home on their island, from familiar, innate drive to assert coconut-shell water conveyors to one’s will over one’s environment: pedal-powered washing machines. What a calm, still pond… let’s (These media-inspired visions pummel it with rocks. of living in the wilds, of course, What a beautiful flowing presumed that each family got its brook… let’s dam it up. own wilderness, jungle or island, What a magnificent old aspen… with no neighbors competing let’s chop it down and make it into for palm fronds or griping about a canoe. the razing of a little extraneous Like his parents and their vegetation.) post-fifties society, Chris had As a child inspired by Tarzan to move past a species-centric and the Robinsons, I littered our viewpoint. Oh, so that’s not backyard honeysuckle vines with just our tree; it belongs also to popsicle-stick treehouses for that bird, that fungi, that bear my miniature dolls. And as an scratching its back. adolescent, I dreamed of a bareGrowing into adulthood in torso’d man swinging through the Crested Butte, Chris met nature jungle canopy with me tucked on its own terms. He learned blissfully under one bronzed arm. to ski almost anything frozen, Years later as a college coed to ascend rock and ice, and to in Austin, far from the nearest What a super-cool camping-buddy dad looked like in 1959, according to find his way across a tumbled ape-man, I met Michael the latent The Golden Book of Camping and Camp Crafts. landscape. Last summer, climbing mountain guy. Love blossomed with mountain-guide friends in Chamonix, he discovered he could as I watched him chop a backyard tree into kindling for the rickety bring less water and instead keep a straw handy to sip the rainwater wood stove he’d installed in his rental home. That tree indeed collected in high stone crannies. looked sickly; he was surely saving his landlord the cost of having it From Chris, I heard about Steve House and the “new alpinism,” professionally removed. And the temperature in Austin was forecast dancing lightly over the land, using speed and know-how rather to plummet below 60, so fueling the wood stove was almost a matter than gear to deal with nightfall, storms and other dangers. On his of survival (the electric baseboards notwithstanding). I’d found my website, House talks about carrying and wearing so little that he isn’t outdoor hero. buffered against the elements but rather becomes part of them: “the Michael eventually proposed that we move to Crested Butte, feeling of having left the physical world behind, to be focused on the Colorado. There we could pit our collective skills against some more experience itself.” substantial forces of nature. So we stuffed his ax and our motley House and his wife a few years ago created Alpine Mentors belongings into his VW bus and motored north. “to share the view toward climbing that counts ethics, courage and Alas, we were too late. aesthetics among its virtues.” They want to inspire young alpinists By the early eighties, the human-nature ethic had changed. No “to communicate their experience with humility and integrity” and more pitting, conquering or gratuitous lumbering. “to redress the environmental impacts of climbing.” This is not Instead we heard: “Take only pictures, leave only footprints.” something Tarzan or The Golden Book authors would have written. What? What about “camp improvements”? And House mentions nothing about teaching his young charges to Ah, but we were young. We read Emerson and Thoreau. Instead transform trees into camp improvements. of exerting our will on the mountains, we let them exert their beauty I’m glad Michael got The Golden Book of Camping and Camp on us. Crafts for Christmas 50 years ago; I might otherwise be married to We adapted into happy campers, especially when our spartan a Dallas golf pro (nothing wrong with that, except that I’d have to budget allowed for the occasional gear purchase. Wielding our REI learn how to wear lipstick without smearing it on everything). I’m membership card like it was a VIP credential, we collected tents, equally glad that today our most respected alpinists meet nature not water filters and carabiners. We backpacked and prided ourselves with axes but with “humility and integrity.” Still, I sometimes look on returning each campsite to its almost-pristine state. Michael wore at those Camp Craft drawings and think a little wistfully: that would out his climbing shoes becoming one with the rock on some of the have been one very stylin’ latrine. country’s classic climbs.

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By Polly Oberosler

The valley’s first wilderness ranger and 25-year packer: even with a few broken ribs, it’s been a grand ride.

88


Jan Runge

As a child I preferred playing as a cowboy as opposed to any other makebelieve character. My mother tried to get me to wear petticoats and play with dolls, but they were too frail and prissy, and they couldn’t get dirty; not for me. Besides, who ever heard of Barbie the cowgirl? No, I knew I was destined for a saddle on the back of a big horse, riding into the sunset, guns a-blazing. Well, it didn’t turn out quite like that, but thanks to small-town ways and a chance conversation in the restroom of a local restaurant, I was offered a job interview with the United States Forest Service. Unconventional as it was, to be asked to apply for a job where I could ride my horse was a dream come true. I had worked for and even managed dude outfits, but that occupation typically pays little in terms of money or appreciation. It did provide me some of the experience I would need to hire on as the first wilderness ranger on the Gunnison National Forest. All I needed was another horse, which my friends loaned me because their horses needed to be used, and a horse trailer, which to my loan officer seemed like a fine investment. My job description was to gather trash from

Courtesy Polly Oberosler

the woods and pack it out. That sounded simple, but they weren’t talking about gum wrappers. I was soon in the packing business, carrying on a global tradition nearly as old as the horse. People have been packing horses, mules and donkeys for centuries, in nearly every country and era. Mules are even mentioned in Homer’s “Iliad,” and of course we know Genghis Khan used horses extensively across Asia. Packing was a way of life in the United Kingdom, where “pack horse roads” crisscrossed the

The author, Polly Oberosler, above Baldy Lakes.

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isles for hundreds of years, many of them in use today as hiker trails. Sailors made great packers, because of their ability with the knots that were used almost interchangeably; it’s no wonder that once in the Americas, many sailors went right to packing stock. Locally, packers were indispensible as the lifeline to the outside world for many mining camps, especially in the Crested Butte area. They packed ore over high mountain passes to distant railheads, hauled mine timbers and transported mail and groceries to all the remote mines of the area. There was a legendary freighter named David Wood mentioned by Dr. Duane Vandenbusche in his wonderful book The Gunnison Country. Dr. Vandenbusche told me about a time David Wood could not haul a particularly long mine cable in one of his freight wagons because of the cable’s sheer weight. So he lined up a huge string of mules and looped a coil of cable around the pack saddle of the first mule, then the next mule’s saddle another coil, and the next, until he reached the last mule. From there, he came back along the opposite side of the string, repeating the process of looping one coil for each animal with slack in between them. It’s one of the most innovative pack feats I’ve ever heard of. After my 25 years of packing, mostly in the West Elk Wilderness, you could put what I know in a thimble compared to Dave Wood and some of the oldtimers I’ve been around. However, I’ve packed out some interesting loads on our horses and mules. It was onthe-job training, being faced with soggy tents, carpet, thousands of glass bottles and cans, boots, grills, coffee pots, barrels, kitchen stoves and, ah yes, furniture foam. The loads were often precarious and nearly always hard to balance. The trash I packed most often had been there since the 1940s, from an era when packaged goods were on the rise and Forest Service policy called for burying your garbage. Those trash stashes are now surfacing as the earth expels them from their tombs. The rest of the spoils were hunter stockpiles that the bears tore apart. When I’m packing, I typically surround myself with all that we have to carry for that day and start pondering what can be consolidated, scrunched, smashed or disassembled. Old tarps or small pieces of foam can be used as padding to stop the rattles, as we say in the packing industry, or to wrap really sharp metal. It’s amazing what you can fit inside four panniers if you pull your hat off and scratch your head


Courtesy Polly Oberosler

Courtesy Polly Oberosler

After the backcountry debris is collected, it takes skill to package and balance the loads for the trip out (above, with Dave Oberosler). Right: Mike Fahrlander in Cataract Gulch.

a while. It’s time well spent, sitting on a mountainside breaking glass with a Pulaski so 30 whiskey bottles will fit into a fivegallon bucket, keeping it away from the horse’s hide. One of the hardest things I had to do was to tell my friend after I borrowed her horse that I wore a hole in its side with an ill-placed coffee pot. A horse or mule can’t hitch its load from left to right to change the balance, so the panniers must be as close as possible in weight so the animal is comfortable and the saddle doesn’t tip. Being in the Rocky Mountains, the local trailheads are always covered with loose rock, and some of those stones got there honestly – emptied from some packer’s panniers whose load was a bit out of balance. It’s a practice no one likes doing because we take pride in our packing, but sometimes you just have to add a rock to one side or the other to balance a weird load. Once the panniers are balanced in weight, the load is lashed with a 30-foot or longer, medium-weight rope to hold the load to the animal’s sides. The “hitches,” as they’re called, are very precise, and all packers do them nearly the same. If they’re done right you can easily undo them in a wreck or in the dark. That rope doubles as a tether line in camp, strung high between

Jan Runge

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two trees to tie the stock to so they’re free to move underneath it or even lay down. Often you need more than one or two animals, so you string them together to lead them. Between them you leave just enough rope so they can drink, but not enough for them to get a foot over. The lead rope is tied to a small twine loop that hangs from the back of each pack saddle, so when you do have one of those aforementioned wrecks, the animals break the string instead of taking the whole works over a cliff. More often, the second or third horse back will get his head around the wrong side of a tree, and the twine breaks before the animal gets hurt. Over time I added six more horses and mules to do my job more efficiently and to keep the animals fresh. We have young horses, and packing is the best thing they can do to learn the ways of the trail and what’s expected of them. They’re exposed to just about everything out there, including bicycles, motorcycles and even hunters in the dark with headlamps. The way a horse or mule sees things, backpackers look like walking boxes and are very suspect trail adversaries. Horses are afraid of two things: things that move, and things that don’t. They are animals of flight when the going gets iffy, so when you encounter a horse and rider or a string, the best thing you can do is talk to them and slowly step off the trail as you keep on talking. Somehow between those ears, they do get a flicker of reason when they hear you speak. Packing affords us the ability to take meals fit for kings and other comforts, but it’s also a lot of work. Sometimes I envy the backpackers, who have no horses to graze and water and no illness other than their own to tend to; but I admit I do like my fullsized mattress. As I worked or volunteered for the Forest Service over the years, I had a sidekick or two, and most recently my husband; and I’ve valued my time spent with them all, riding the trails and eating the gourmet meals we prepared. These days, my husband and I do some packing for the Bureau of Land Management and Forest Service, but we spend most of our time day riding in this county. Despite being born here, we’ve seen very little of it, and we want to explore more than just the West Elks. There’s been a lot of water under my horse’s feet and many a broken rib inflicted on me, but I wouldn’t trade my time on my horse at the top of the world for any amount of makeup and petticoats – and most certainly not for a Barbie doll.

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Humans, beasts and water dance the yin and yang of movement and stillness.

96

By Molly Murfee


Xavier Fane

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A Ute Mountain Tribal Council elder explains how anthropologists think the Utes first came to the Rocky Mountains — Bering Strait land suppositions and all that. “They are wrong,” she says, her eyes clear and assured. “We emerged from a spot in the earth just over there.” She points to an unknown place in the distance where the cloudless sky cleaves apart over secret, sandy arroyos and high-topped pinyon pine forests, somewhere between the sagebrush and the subterranean home of the desert rat, where red rock ribs against the spine of North America. The Ute name for home is kan-ne-ga, meaning a sitting or staying place. The Ute people were migratory, traveling in small 98

bands throughout their homeland, which is now Colorado, Utah and New Mexico. In cold climates like the high West Elks, few species tough out the winter without some sort of modification. The marmot and black bear burrow down and nap to conserve energy during the months of no food. Others modify their very bodies – like birds’ massive fluffing of feathers and the ingenious running of veins and arteries together in elks’ legs so blood stays warmed even while the animals stand in snow or icy water. The vast majority of species, however, simply get the hell out of Dodge. The mountainous Utes took the latter option, and so their lives depended on movement, driven by cold and the corresponding lack of food. They foraged and hunted. Meticulously they gathered grass seed, crickets, berries and pinyon nuts, and they feasted on the vast


Even in our apparent isolation and stillness, the spicy, sweet, watery world swirls and pauses and passes through us.

Mark Ewing

herds of elk and bison, following the food source as it slipped up and down the hills with the temperature and length of sunlight. Journeying for days, they would come to pool in the bottoms of valleys, spilling into the red rock, meandering like water constantly flowing toward the great Colorado River. The Utes traveled light and owned little. Horses dragged their shelters, bundles of branches and hides, erected in less than a day by the women of the tribe. Their constant quest for survival kept them in top physical condition. An elk was shared among all families in the group, although the hunter received the honored organ meats. One who did not know how to share was said to have a small heart. Theft was an unpardonable crime. Just as the extremes in terrain and weather, of mountains and thunder and week-long snowstorms and bluer-than-bluebird days and soul-splitting wildflowers hurl us against a different form of starvation and gluttony, the Utes lived on a constant edge of feast and famine as their radical environment dictated their every move. Yet through all of this movement, their tales told around winter campfires do not tell of migrating to this place. They simply have always been here. Even from an archeological standpoint, the earliest evidence of humans in Colorado is 14,000 years B.C., remains found alongside a mammoth kill, from the ancestors of the Ute. And so, kan-ne-ga (“staying place”) and movement form a full circle, one not possible without the other. A home so eternal and permanent that its beginnings are not seen. Yet, within that home, the paths the ancient Utes beat in their seasonal migrations are so ingrained, they have become our own pathways. As the slush of spring soggies our spirits, we pack up our trucks instead of horses, climbing and dropping over passes into the plains seeking warmth, red dirt under our fingernails and grit in our teeth. Ute. Utah. Misuse of ATVs, sprawling development, and careless hikers and bikers who pilgrimage to this land of spirits destroy the cryptobiotic soil, the tiny castles of cyanobacteria and microfilaments that hold the desert together. Without this living glue, desert soil becomes sand dunes. When the snow moisture of winter dries in the spring, pieces of Utah are picked up and blown into Colorado and onto our snowpack. In periods of significant drought, the Colorado Plateau billows vast clouds of pink dust, a phenomenon that has increased four times in intensity and frequency since the 19th century. As much as we crave that red color after a heavy white winter, it becomes disastrous when blown onto our snow, reducing the snow’s ability to refract light and causing it to melt more quickly. As the desert is ripped up one grain at a time, at 9,000 feet and

above, hundreds of miles away from the hoodoos and grottos, the phenology, or timing sequencing, of our blooming plants is disrupted by water from the snow cache being released too early. Seemingly unrelated, a tiny creature barely over three inches long suffers in this wake – hundreds of miles to the south where the air is punctuated with staccatoed Spanish. The hummingbird is exclusive to the Western Hemisphere, with more than 300 species flitting about in the humid lushness of the tropics, where ferns and bromeliads drip with warm moisture and the bioluminescence of glow worms lights up the velvety night. Of these 300, only 13 are neotropical migrants, leaving their squishy climes, moving through the cordòn and ocotillo of the Sonoran Desert of northern Mexico, the pinyon pine of the Sierra Madre. Only a handful venture into the crags of our West Elks to sip on the red ripeness of scarlet gilia and the opulent purple of the larkspur. The iridescent flashes and divebombing whirrs of these sprites are the signs that tell us summer has arrived in Crested Butte. The feisty rufous hummingbird is one of these. Wintering in Mexico, the rufous has the longest migration of any bird in terms of body length – 3,900 miles one way, equivalent to 78,479,000 stretches of its three-inch body. It flies fast and furious, 62 wing beats per second, from Mexico through California to the Pacific Northwest, sometimes to southeast Alaska, giving it the northernmost breeding range of any hummingbird in the world. Once there, among the branches of the Sitka spruce, western red cedar and hemlock, it weaves a jigger-size nest of soft plant down and lichen, bound together by spider webs. Inside: two bean-size eggs. After raising its young, the rufous takes flight again, continuing its clockwise migration south down the great peaks of the Rocky Mountains. We see the rufous as it stops to refuel along this circular journey, a visitor come to feast on our proliferation of summer wildflowers, for which it offers the gift of pollination. Hummingbirds pollinate 300 species of plants throughout Mexico, the United States and Canada. Their importance in plant propagation is so strong, it has brought the three national governments together to strategize how 99


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to save hummingbird nesting grounds and food sources, and how to maintain the important plant-blooming phenology in danger of being decoupled by climate change (and in our case, the double whammy of dust melting our snow). The rufous hummingbird, like the Utes, perhaps even like our modern-day selves clinging to this life no matter what it takes, lives perilously close to the limits of its energy reserves. When it arrives here, it needs those wildflowers, and those wildflowers need it. Species migrate because of bounty. Somewhere, wherever they are going, is full of something they need, mostly food, and the expanding daylight of northern climes in the summer. They feed on the best bounty of that particular region at that particular time, even if it takes thousands of miles to get there. The rufous hops across us like a boulder in a stream crossing. The sandhill cranes fly so high above us on their way to Alaska, they appear as sprinkles of pepper in our skies. Their great squeaking pries the doors off of spring as we wallow in our mud boots searching for glacier lilies at Peanut Lake. The shock of the bluebird arrives with breath that has inhaled the scent of chilies and cordon. It stays a while to enjoy the summer with us. Migration is always balanced with a staying place, a momentary kan-ne-ga, creating the yin and yang of movement and stillness. Our weather spins and sucks from the moisture of the Pacific like a top, bringing with it molecules that have been pierced by the thorns of pineapple, rounded over green coconuts, ridden the patterned backs of the sea turtles. On her thousand-mile journey to the north, the great gray whale mother arcs through drops that will ride thrusting currents to later brush our cheeks with wispy snowflakes. Visitors from Connecticut, California, Texas. The migration of workers. The migration of souls seeking their home. The migration of food. Of elk. Of sap and seeds and water. Of planets and moons and our own throbbing blood. Seeking abundance, running from scarcity. Even as we believe we are so isolated, here where dirt roads mimic Ute paths, here at the headwaters of the Gunnison watershed that leads to the Colorado River, here, even in the stillness of our kan-ne-ga, the spicy, sweet, watery world swirls and pauses and passes through us.

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A CLIMBER GAINS WISDOM AND SCAR TISSUE AT THE SKYLAND BOULDERS. By Luke Mehall

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The Skyland Boulders here in Crested Butte represent a secret garden, a sanctuary – a portal to a forgotten, simple world where a man or woman can play like a child. On summer days, after morning coffee but before the inevitable episodes of lightning, the approach up Tony’s Trail is guarded by a thousand flowers. Where Tony’s meets the Upper Loop, the Hone Stone looms, then more boulders rise alongside the trail, with even more nestled in the aspen trees. Memories are bitter of my first experiences at Skyland, before I developed the finger strength necessary to climb there. The young man never realizes how important the taste of failure is to future successes, but because the boulders were there, and I was here, I returned – again and again. Soon I hiked up nearly every summer afternoon, before the thunderstorms and my job moonlighting as a Zen dish diver at a local restaurant. In those days, a character named Zach lived among the boulders, with a makeshift camp in the hills above the main area. Like many other climbers, he toiled in the restaurants for the summer, making his money and avoiding rent… living an honest

life for an honest wage, saving pennies for excursions in the off-season. Within his spirit, an energy that exists in many dirtbag climbers, there seemed to be answers. He was so happy, with just enough to survive but an abundance of freedom in nature. When I come across someone like that, it makes me want to be like they are. Crested Butte is full of these renegade adventurers. Being around Zach, I finally had an answer when I pondered what I wanted to be when I grew up. My answer: I didn’t want to grow up. Climbing is equal parts art and sport, and the act of climbing is meditation. Climbers are both ballerinas and martial artists. The Skyland Boulders demand that combination of precision and power – especially when you reach for the realm of the highball. I’ve seen climbers dance perfectly up 25-foot highball boulder problems with calm and ease, and seen others locked in fear like they might remain stuck on that face forever – locked in a battle within, with no easy escape. I twisted my ankle falling from 20 feet up on Joint Rock, a jutting boulder alongside

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the Upper Loop, and the scar tissue is part of the mark these boulders left on me. These days when I try that climb, called Longshot, I take special care latching onto that hold, with all that air beneath me. There’s no room for the mind to wander, just -there- in that moment. Summer after summer, for years and years, these boulders were my training ground, my place of meditation to be alone or with like-minded companions. At times I would think of the cliffs above on Mt. Crested Butte; long ago, these boulders had fallen from those stone faces. Was the rock quality up high as good as the boulders? Everyone had an opinion, but few had ever ventured up. One day I decided to hike up and see for myself. I made it about five minutes into the forest. Suddenly, I heard rustling. A bear. Primal fear surged through me. I looked back, and he stood up on his hind legs; he seemed ten feet tall. I remained calm for about a minute, backtracked, and then ran like hell to the boulders. A year later I returned with my buddy Shane. It felt strange walking past the perfect boulders with a pack full of gear – even stranger as we got higher and navigated the scree rockfields. We roped up at the base of the cliff. I led the climb, feeling insecure on fragile, large chunks of rock stacked on one another. Not feeling the vibes, I backed off. We ended up finding a nearby crack that went for 80 feet and did the first ascent. It was terrible really: loose rock and dirty holds. We left a sling around a tree and rappelled back down. Months later a climber took a massive fall on the same scree fields and was saved by the mountain rescue team. I felt compelled to let go of my dream of climbing the main face. I’ve moved away from Crested Butte, but I still visit in the summer. I grew up after all, and became a writer. But in those moments when I’m on the rock, I still feel simple, honest, in tune with my strengths and weaknesses. Last summer, beginning my climbing circuit at the Warmup Boulder, I danced from hold to hold, so psyched to be back at this home of rocks. As I finished, I looked up to see a strong climber I recognized from my college days, ten-plus years ago. He had returned with his two kids. The kids were running around, playing on the rocks, and he seemed happy. And that made me happy, to see such joy in simplicity at this sacred place.

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Roll out the barrel!

Sandra Cortner

The celebrated local accordionists of “Musette Internationale” in 1983: Frenchman Jean Paul Simille, Czech restaurateur Milo Von Louda, Crested Butte native Botsie Spritzer (of Yugoslavian descent) and Swiss-born ski school director Robel Straubhaar.

Crested Butte has frolicked to accordion music since immigrants brought their polkas from the Old Country more than a century ago. By Sandra Cortner The news leapfrogged through town: Frankie Yankovic was playing his accordion at the polka party on Saturday. My friend Robbie and I, as hot to polka as the rest of Crested Butte in the late 1980s, arrived at Rozman’s Motor Inn to find the place packed. This wasn’t just any polka band. This was “America’s Polka King,” playing in the Slovenian style of his ancestors. He’d won a Grammy for Best Polka Recording in 1986 with his album “70 Years of Hits” and during his short gig at Rozman’s, he surely played all 70 years’ worth. The dancers sang the lyrics to his Platinum single “Just Because” as we swung and twirled. Almost everyone had the lyrics memorized, as well as those of another favorite, “Beer Barrel Polka.” The next morning Robbie and I compared notes: “Did we really spend $12 on a Frankie 106

Yankovic t-shirt with his photographic likeness plastered across the front?” “Gonna wear yours?” “Uh, well, not right away, maybe for something special.” Thirty years later, it’s still in my drawer. Accordions and polka go hand in hand in Crested Butte, where the first immigrants arriving from Croatia, Serbia, Germany and Italy brought polkas and waltzes with them. The accordion was popular because it could be heard above the shouts and singing of the dancers. Portable one-man orchestras supported by leather shoulder straps, accordions have buttons that play chords in majors, minors and sevenths of the different keys, as the black and white keys do on a piano. This allows all ten fingers to play at once. Behind each button or key, there are reeds, operated by air pulled in by the bellows, that create the toe-tappin’ sound. During the 1920s and ‘30s, Crested Butte was home to several musical groups, playing saxophone, tamburitza, drums, piano, fiddle, trumpet and accordion. Among them were the Bill Bailey, Spritzer and Carricato orchestras. Willard Ruggera played his sax with the Salingers. Joe Saya’s saxophone led the Merrymakers. World War II broke up many of the bands as their members went into the

service. Then, after the Big Mine closed in 1952, others left town seeking work. Trudy Yaklich, a fourth-generation Crested Butte native, remembers the great music that was part of their lives during the years after the mines closed. “We had our Saturday night dances at the then-vacated Company Store. We all sat on chairs around the edge, the babies slept on the coats in the back, and the men would go outside to have a drink from their bottles. The entire community turned out. They played a wide variety of dance music from waltz to foxtrot to jitterbug and, yes, polka.” The Mraule Brothers were a favorite at the Grubstake’s Saturday night parties during the 1960s when the ski area started. By the time Robbie and I learned to polka dance, only a few accordionists still played for the dances: Emil Lunk, Botsie Spritzer and John Panian. Emil, Botsie and John have died; John and Tom Mraule retired to Paonia. Because accordion isn’t taught much in music schools, fewer master the instrument. Luckily, we have a replacement. The Pete Dunda Band plays at Crested Butte’s Memorial Day, July 4th and Flauschink celebrations. Pete’s father, a steel mill worker in Pueblo, started his son on a small, 12-button instrument at age five. Pete took formal lessons until he was 16 and got


his first “big” accordion at age 13. He was schooled in classical style and didn’t know polka music until he was in his early teens, when he started going out to dances in Pueblo, where polka was the dance music of the day. There were three or four accordion schools in the then-small town of Pueblo, and Frankie Yankovic made appearances there. “The 1950s were the heyday of accordions,” explained Pete. “It was happy music.” After he and his wife Susan retired to the Taylor River area, he would sit in occasionally with Botsie. “Sometime in the late 1980s when I was playing at the Talk of the Town,” Pete recalled, “Frankie Yankovic sat in and played

with us. Frankie’s popularity was partly due to his showmanship. There were great bands out of Cleveland (Frankie’s home town), and Yankovic was the best marketer and promoter.” Pete, a talented musician, gave a concert several years ago in Gunnison composed of strictly classical music. Once during a lull in a polka party, I listened to him launch into “Malaguena,” impressing those with formal musical training. When Alexander Hrustevich performs at the Crested Butte Music Festival, no doubt Pete and I will be among those in the front row. For that special occasion, I will wear my Frankie Yankovic t-shirt…maybe.

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Polka, meet concerto A famed Ukrainian bayanist will bring his accordion across the ocean to play with its Western cousins. Each year the Crested Butte Music Festival presents a special instrument to educate and entertain audiences, and this year’s choice, the bayan, has particular relevance. The bayan is in the accordion family, which has played a huge role in Crested Butte’s musical heritage since the town’s founding in the 1880s. (See accompanying story.) To honor the town’s musical roots, the Music Festival and the Crested Butte Mountain Heritage Museum will host a gathering at 5 p.m. on July 23 at the museum. Ukranian-born Alexander Hrustevich, the best bayanist in the world, will demonstrate his concert instrument and compare notes with local musicians. Museum Director Glo Cunningham will talk about accordions in Crested Butte’s history, and Almont musician Pete Dunda, who plays an accordion more familiar to local polka fans, will add his perspective. Their discussion should reveal some colorful local history and expand the audience’s perception of the depth of the accordion. Music Festival board members have also invited Crested Butte’s oldtimers to the Off the Record concert the following day, July 26, at the Center for the Arts. This

will be “fast and furious” music to “make your jaw drop in astonishment,” said Alexander Scheirle, the Music Festival’s director. The music, including Daniel Schnyder’s Concerto for Chamber Orchestra and Friedrich Gulda’s Cello Concerto with wind orchestra, will feature Hrustevich on his bayan and Scheirle on cello along with other renowned musicians. The bayan in Hrustevich’s hands produces a world of rich, sophisticated, symphonic music. He has performed at major venues around the world: Poland, Austria, Germany, Italy, Spain, Serbia, Brazil and many other countries. Listeners will have the chance to hear him in the intimate setting of a private home during a Home Soirée on July 29. The bayan is a “button” accordion (with chromatic buttons instead of a pianotype keyboard) that offers a much greater right-hand range. Its internal construction gives the bayan a different “tone color” from Western instruments, with a purer sound and much fuller bass. Developed in Russia, the bayan is used as a solo, ensemble and orchestral instrument. For more information visit: crestedbuttemusicfestival.org.

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Lydia Stern

The Crested Butte Plein Air Invitational feeds a nation-wide resurgence in observational painting. By Sandy Fails Painter Shaun Horne is working on a very big picture: putting Crested Butte on the leading edge of what he calls “a sea change in American art history – a long-term return to observational painting.” Horne created the Crested Butte Plein Air Invitational, slated for June 10-July 12 this year, to entice artists from around the country to come “paint paradise” – and to entice art patrons to come enjoy and purchase those paintings. The event boasts 25 nationally acclaimed invited artists, ten “jury class” artists and an unlimited number of “open class” painters. During the month-long painting period, artists can join painting excursions, workshops, and gatherings such as art lectures featuring historic and contemporary landscapes. Mostly, they will paint – in wildflower meadows, on mountain slopes and in Crested Butte’s picturesque streets and alleys. “Crested Butte sits at the center of a wheel of valleys, each with its own distinct character – pastoral to the most rugged Rocky Mountains,” Horne wrote to potential participants. “There’s painting for everybody: flowers galore, colorful mining-era architecture and a lifetime worth of backcountry exploring.” The Crested Butte Plein Air Invitational will culminate in a series of openings in and just outside Horne’s Oh Be Joyful Gallery: a ticketed Patrons Preview on July 11, a Quick Draw (with artists painting on-site early in the day, then selling those paintings in the afternoon) on July 12, and openings for the various artist exhibitions, also on July 12. Horne and his wife Dawn Cohen are dedicated, rising-star plein air painters – often seen in neighborhoods or in the wilds, well 108

bundled against the seasonal elements, capturing town and mountain scenes on canvas. While shaping his career, Horne is developing his gallery into a notable collection of what he calls “investment-caliber artists from a range of career points,” from young and driven to acknowledged masters. He also wants to build Crested Butte’s identity as an arts destination: for artists to find inspiration and for patrons to find collectible art. To fit into that plan, he noted, the Crested Butte Plein Air Invitational must attract high-caliber painters by also attracting high-level patronage, encouraging friendships and connections between artists, and giving them great opportunities to paint. “Crested Butte as a painting location is nearly unparalleled for mountain beauty in Colorado,” Horne said. “It combines a vast backcountry (with generally kinder roads than towns like Telluride) with a variety of town and agricultural scenes.” Horne senses “a great return to observed American landscape painting.” An unprecedented number of people are painting landscapes on site, and the clientele for that art is growing as well. In Crested Butte, he sees the market expanding through art-loving second home owners and visitors, and a growing fine art awareness among the town’s populace. “I take the heritage and practice of plein air painting seriously,” Horne said. “I want to create an event that collects, serves and respects the most renowned and inspired plein air painters, so people can come to know the full beauty and power of the plein air bloom occurring around them.”

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June 29 - August 10, 2014

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Cultivating Commentary by Sandy Fails

Why Crested Butte could become a Colorado Creative District… and why we should care.

photography gallery

Crested Butte recently took steps to become a certified Creative District in Colorado and will make its final application after completing a two-year candidacy. The program was initiated in 2011, and only seven communities have been certified so far (Downtown Salida and the Denver Arts District on Santa Fe were the first). Curious about why we might qualify – and why we should bother – I read the recent legislation. Put simply, a Creative District is a definable area with a high concentration of arts and creativity, cultural events and organizations, artists and creative industry. But you can’t just plop some galleries, performance halls and artists in close proximity and call it a Creative District. The certification was designed for “storied”

From the simple to to the sublime, collectible fine art prints and canvases of Crested Butte and Colorado. Visit the gallery on Elk Avenue for a personal tour.

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Photos by: Lydia Stern

settings: places with history, character, a unique identity or style, where the arts feed and are fed by that story. In its letter of intent to Colorado Creative Industries (CCI, a division of the Colorado Office of Economic Development), the Town of Crested Butte made a compelling case for a Creative District here. This town certainly has character and a colorful story: western coal mining town to skiing and mountain biking haven, National Historic District and official Wildflower Capital of Colorado. And we specialize in creativity; last year, ArtPlaces named Crested Butte one of America’s top small towns for the arts because of its concentration of arts nonprofits, arts-oriented businesses and workers in creative occupations. CCI looks for diversity not only in types of art, but also in levels, from professional to emerging artists to creative opportunities for non-artists. Then people are engaged not only as spellbound audiences but also as hands-on participants. That diversity might be Crested Butte’s strongest attribute. The Crested Butte Music Festival and Center for the Arts showcase world-class performers. Painter Shaun Horne draws collectible landscape artists through the Crested Butte Plein Air Invitational. But in the nearby ArtNest, established and emerging artists brandish their brushes, torches, sewing machines and a dozen other tools in a constant carnival of creative shenanigans. And through the Art Studio of the Center for the Arts, even the artistically insecure are lured into “Cocktails and Clay” or “Canvas and Cabernet” play sessions. The proposed Crested Butte Creative District includes 16 artist-owned studios and galleries, three co-op galleries and ten performance venues (including restaurants, bars and coffee shops that host entertainers and/or local art exhibitions). The cornerstone Center for the Arts welcomes more than 31,000 people through its doors annually. As for cultural events, the calendar can barely hold them all, like the Arts Festival,

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one of the nation’s best; six-week Crested Butte Music Festival (opera, bluegrass and gypsy jazz) with internationally recognized musicians; Crested Butte Film Festival; Singer Songwriters Festival; art exhibits and openings; dozens of classes and gatherings through the Art Studio; and weekly outdoor concerts. Some of our arts organizations have been around for decades, like the Crested Butte Mountain Theatre, Crested Butte School of Dance and KBUT Community Radio. Others, like the Crested Butte Dance Collective and Artists of the West Elks, show the rising interest in the arts in recent years. Fourteen art nonprofits joined forces through a new Arts Alliance. All of those proper nouns certainly support the case for Crested Butte as a Creative District. But part of what I enjoy about Crested Butte is the informal, impromptu, random creativity that’s part of life around here: street performers jamming on Elk Avenue, lavishly bedecked Vinotok mummers, fabric dancers, poets — and college-kid Jackson Melnick, who raised enough capital last year to travel and interview place-based musicians for his radio series, Colorado Sings. I love the decorated bikes for the 24-hour townie tour, and the town bridges turned into art installations, and the ten-minute themed plays written and staged by locals. We’re a creative bunch, no doubt. But why bother with this Creative District certification? Candidates get technical help from CCI in fostering and marketing their cultural offerings, and certified districts have greater access to artdevelopment expertise, grants and funds. In the mean time, being a Creative District candidate tells the world Crested Butte isn’t some generic destination, but a place where playful, imaginative people make lively things happen. That expands our economy by attracting people to participate in, consume and enjoy what we’re creating. And it inspires us to keep on honoring our home, being inventive and having fun.

photo courtesy of John holder

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po Box 4403 | mt. crested Butte, co 81225 970.349.4769 | www.mcbpac.org 113


Colorful canvas: artists Janet Tooke (at the easel, joined by a miniature JoeBob Merritt) and Kat Cook entertain patrons on a typically whimsical ArtNest afternoon. 114


The ArtNest New ideas keep hatching in this gallery, studio, co-working space and artistic playground. By Kathy Norgard

Xavier Fané / with art by Kate Seeley

When Crested Butte artist Kate Seeley visited her mother in Boston, she searched for studio space there to use during Crested Butte’s slow season. Some of Boston’s old warehouses had been converted into spaces where artists encouraged, stimulated and collaborated with each other. Kate had always wanted such a work place. When she couldn’t quite find a way to leave Crested Butte for an entire off season, she brought that studio vision back with her. “I was envious and inspired,” said Seeley, who’s known for her whimsical art and creative mind. “I realized I enjoy being around other artists. I get too isolated spending lots of time working solo.” After returning to Crested Butte, Seeley talked to some friends at the Paragon Gallery, a cooperative where she and other 115


Courtesy photo

artists display and sell their work. “I also needed a place to actually work shoulder to shoulder with others,” she said. Minutes after those conversations, Seeley was riding her townie bike on Elk Avenue and looked up to see an empty retail space with a sign advertising two months free rent. “I began talking to others. One thing that is unique about art in Crested Butte is that art is created here, not in China,” Seeley said. “Everyone I talked to was excited about the possibility of creating a space, a nest of artists. We could have studio space, inspire one another and collaborate.” With no kids or significant other, “I have a lot of time to myself,” Seeley said. “It affords time for introspection and mind wanderings.” Those wanderings led to her vision for the ArtNest. “I like to be part of positive change,” she said. “My hope for the ArtNest is that artists of all levels can experiment with what they create to find out if their work will sell and at what price point. I want the Nest to be educational and magical, with inspiring events and exhibitions open to the masses.” Benefitting from two months of diminished rent and collaborative artists’ labor, the building of the ArtNest began. With his keen eye, artist/architect Joe Bob Merritt altered the initial layout and whipped out a sketch utilizing the old doors, windows and odd pieces of wood that Seeley had been collecting and piling in her backyard for years. 116

An enhanced glance inside the ArtNest: studios, gallery, events and co-working.

Doors, doors, doors, repurposed into passageways for creativity.

Courtesy photo


Kate Seeley, mastermind of artful merry-making.

“Merritt invented a shanty-town kingdom of wonderful work spaces. It was free material and better than plywood,” said Seeley. The ArtNest put those free materials to formerly unimagined uses. Fired up by the vision, participating artists hung doors and built and painted walls. It was all volunteer labor. Seeley was the visionary and creator; others became co-creators with a vested interest. The ArtNest officially opened its nine doors (eight of which are individual artist’s studios within the space) at a community party in December of 2012. “We’ve been working out the kinks, pulling our resources together, and developing a strong group. We hope to host workshops and initiate an artist-in-residence program,” Seeley said. The public is welcome to browse 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. seven days a week, with member-artists staffing the ArtNest. Janet Tooke, a Louisiana transplant, serves as the assistant manager. Tooke came to visit her sister in Crested Butte six years ago, loved it here and never left. Sometimes identified by the splotches of colorful acrylic paint on her arms and hands, she is also a participating artist at the ArtNest. “I’ve earned my living as a cook, another form of art where you can taste the love,” she said. “I started drawing covers of Nancy Drew books when I was a kid.” Tooke met Seeley through a mutual friend and was invited to become a member

Robert Lussier

of the ArtNest. “Meeting Kate was a lifechanging moment for me. I had never had my art in a gallery before. I love that there are individual studios and other artists in the ArtNest. My studio mates and I go there late at night and paint. I’m inspired being around other artists. It’s like a family, in the good sense of the word. We talk to each other like brothers and sisters. We help each other. I am supported and nurtured.” She continued, “Artists can come in any time and work on their art. My door has a big open window in it. Sometimes I turn around and there are people watching me paint. A lot of my stuff gets commissioned that way. I paint snowboards as well as pictures.” Photographer Mollie Carson remarked, “My first choice for a venue for my photos was the ArtNest. I was welcomed there with much encouragement and enthusiasm. It was a scary step for me to make, and other Hatchlings [a term of endearment members of the ArtNest call one another] made me feel welcome. The energy in the Nest is great, and I love being in a gallery and workspace 117


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environment. I’m proud to be a Hatchling.” The ArtNest also welcomed Steve “Barney” Barnett, who discovered a passion and talent for carving small sculptures out of antlers and hardwoods while recuperating from knee surgery. Barnett now displays his work at the ArtNest. Longtime resident Jennifer Rose commented, “The ArtNest has given me a beautiful venue to sell my hand-bound journals and jewelry. It has fueled my fire for entering into other expressions of creativity. I’ve learned that in the face of adversity, as artists we can passionately embrace our mission and beat the odds. I’m honored to be a part of it all. It’s been a wild ride but worth every twist and turn in our quest for survival. I’m thankful to Kate Seeley and all the other Hatchlings.” The ArtNest squeaked through its first year with moments of panic, moments of glory, and lots of creativity. When the ArtNest nearly had to close its many doors, generous friends pitched in financially, and Seeley believes, “Now there is even a stronger commitment to hold the space for artists and to reach in new directions.” Seeley plans to open the ArtNest space for special events – cocktail or birthday parties and fundraisers. She also wants to start “experiential art” where, for example, “we can dress people up, even paint them like a troupe of lounge lizards, create a set in the front windows and provide a catered experience where visitors can be incognito and dance above Elk Avenue.” Another idea of Seeley’s is to set up a photography studio to take photos of pets, families or friends. Seeley can superimpose those shots into altered, surreal backgrounds of Crested Butte. Bruce Eckel, a computer-world wizard and Seeley’s close friend, suggested that she consider creating co-working space. The ArtNest will officially launch this idea for the summer, teaming up with Green Spaces in Denver. Members of each space have passage to the other. Seeley hopes “this will create a ‘cross pollination’ of sorts by bringing Denver residents to Crested Butte and affording Buttians a way to leave the mountains for a metropolitan fix.” Change is the constant with the ArtNest and its Hatchlings. Nurturing artists and displaying their work remains the focal point, even as the Nest explores new directions, flexes, grows and collaborates with the Crested Butte community. As Seeley summed it up, “It’s organic and ever evolving!”

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Your Crested Butte entrance exam By Steve Church

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1. ARE YOU...? A. crazy B. rich C. on the lam D. all of the above

4. DO YOU ENJOY...? A. dogs B. marijuana C. large electric bills D. no oxygen

2. DO YOU HAVE ANY...? A. sisters B. communicable diseases C. liquid assets D. none of the above

5. DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF...? A. easy B. a free spirit C. male D. female

3. COULD YOU...? A. have your expenses double B. have your income disappear C. date your best friend’s girlfriend D. wear a tutu in public

6. THOUGH YOU HAVE A MASTERS DEGREE, WOULD YOU...? A. never mention it B. act like an idiot C. wait tables D. shovel out Lacy’s barn

Next, take a glance at the local’s pledge. I [your name] do hereby, heretofore and forthwith accept full responsibility for my own financial devastation, my dog’s behavior, following the Six Points dress code, maintaining in due time my bar tab, parking on the prescribed side of the street, skipping work for powder days...and any other day that seems necessary. I [your name] further agree to share my personal secrets, girlfriend and/or boyfriend, car, clothing, food, trust fund and tutu with any and all certified Buttians.

Lydia Stern


I promise to be nice to all tourists, second home owners and loan officers. I will not approve of any project in this valley, unless it is my own. I will never promote the idea of a Chuck E. Cheese, traffic light or recruitment office. I further promise not to complain when it hits 30 below (in the living room), my free dog runs up $3,000 in tickets, I can’t find my car, the big one gets away, there’s a line at Teo, my dinner bill seems $300 too high, my long underwear stands up by itself, my skin dries into scales, my antifreeze freezes, my girlfriend refuses to shave, and my trust fund dries up. I will loan out my chainsaw, snowmobile and dirt bike – and accept a box of parts in return. I will reveal all secret powder runs and trout pools. I will smuggle (and share) as much wine as possible into all non-drinking outdoor festivities. I will not put “My kid is on the honor roll” or “Eat more spotted owl” stickers on my car, nor will I ever wear a tie, except on Halloween. I will deny on pain of death that your puppies look like my dog, that I voted Republican, or that I love Hostess Twinkies, cats, Justin Bieber or Priuses. I agree to wait at least 12 years before calling myself a “local,” and further agree to forget everything I was taught about what is “important” in life. I will never take for granted how close the stars are from the top of Paradise Divide, or fail to see the magic in a breezy autumn aspen grove. I will treat every Crested Butte kid like my own. I will never get over the electric rush when a brook trout detonates on my fly, or when I realize the large dog on my porch is actually a larger bear. I will always be humbled by a sideways January snowstorm and a cracked oil pan on Pearl Pass. I will not judge my fellow Buttian for dreads, gender, financial position or skiing ability, but for his/her character. I will aspire to be honest and straightforward in all dealings, for it is a small town and karma shall come back quickly to bite me on the ass. If you [your name] do hereby agree to the above inscribed, then please leave your razor, new car, inhibitions, good clothes, attitude, desire to succeed, alarm clock and cat back in the real world and... welcome to Crested Butte.

b

121


JC Leacock

122

Matt Berglund


BREATHING ROOM

123


124


BREATHING ROOM

John Holder

Dusty Demerson

125


Summer events 2014

Mark Ewing

JUNE

Matt Berglund

126

5-8

Crested Butte Writers Conference

6-7

CB Mountain Theatre: Reader’s Theatre “Hate Mail”

8, 15, 22, 29

Crested Butte Farmers Market

10-July 10

Painting Paradise: Plein Air Invitational painting

14-21

Taste of Crested Butte

16-July 2

Summer Theatre for Youth, Mtn. Theatre workshops

19

CB Film Festival monthly film series

22,29

AWEfest, Artists of the West Elks

23, 28

Tour de Forks events

26-29

Crested Butte Bike Week

26

ArtWalk Evening, Crested Butte studios and galleries

27-28

Kelty/Oskar Blues Campout/Music Festival

28-29

Bridges of the Butte 24-hour townie tour for Adaptive Sports

29-Aug. 10

Crested Butte Music Festival

30

Alpenglow concert


Nathan Bilow

JULY All month

Crested Butte Music Festival

2

Black & White Ball, CB Mtn. Heritage Museum

4

Pancake breakfast, Pump Room (fire department)

4

Gothic-CB Run, Walk or Crawl 1/3 Marathon

4

Independence Day parade, street games, concert, fireworks

4-5

Bluegrass in Paradise

5-13

Cattlemen’s Days in Gunnison

6, 13, 20, 27

AWEfest, Artists of the West Elks

6, 13, 20, 27

Crested Butte Farmers Market

7, 14, 21, 28

Alpenglow free outdoor concerts

7-13

Crested Butte Wildflower Festival

7, 15, 16, 20, 29 Tour de Forks events 9, 16, 23, 30

Live! from Mt. Crested Butte free outdoor concerts

9, 16, 23

Public Policy Forum (see page 16 for speakers)

9-13

Crested Butte Wine & Food Festival

11

Patrons Preview, Plain Air Invitational

11-12

Caddis Cup fly fishing tournament, CB Land Trust

11

Monet’s Garden Plein Air Painting Workshop

12

Exhibition Opening and Quick Draw, Plein Air Invitational

14-21

Anne Kinder at the Piper Gallery

18-19

Epic Rocky Mtn. Relay, Cañon City to CB

18-19

Cutting Horse Classic

21-28

Joe Newton at the Piper Gallery

23

Accordions then and now (CBMF), museum

23-Aug. 3

“The Fantasticks,” Crested Butte Mountain Theatre

26

Living Journeys Summit Hike & Mtn. Half-Marathon

28-Aug. 4

Janet Tsou and Cora Lagrange at Piper Gallery

31

ArtWalk Evening, Crested Butte studios and galleries

Lydia Stern

Lydia Stern

127


Summer events 2014

AUGUST 1-10

Crested Butte Music Festival continues

1, 28

ArtWalk Evening, CB studios and galleries

1-3

Crested Butte Arts Festival

2-7

Mountain Ultra Extreme, ultra distance footrace

3

Rubber Duckie Race

3, 10, 17, 24, 31 Farmers Market, Elk Avenue 10, 17, 24, 31

AWEfest, Artists of the West Elks

3-4

Crested Butte Open/Gala for Adaptive Sports Center

4, 11, 18

Alpenglow free outdoor concerts

6, 13, 20, 27

Live! from Mt. Crested Butte free outdoor concerts

6, 13, 20, 27

Public Policy Forum (see page 16)

7, 9, 14, 17, 21, 27 Tour de Forks events 8-10

Gypsy Jazz in Paradise, CB Music Festival

19

USA Pro Cycling Challenge stage 2, Aspen to CB/Mt. CB

20

USA Pro Cycling Challenge stage 3, Gunnison to Monarch

21

CB Film Festival’s monthly film series

22

KBUT Radio bingo night/campout

22-24

Crested Butte Mushroom Festival

29-Sept. 1

Sidewalk Sales and Paragon People’s Fair

31

Dave Wiens West Elk Bicycle Classic

Kevin Krill

John Holder

Also check out the historic walking tours (Crested Butte Mountain Heritage Museum) and programs for adults and children at the Art Studio of the Center for the Arts, Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory, Roots & Shoots Summer Field Studies for kids, Crested Butte School of Dance, Crested Butte Mountain Heritage Museum, Yoga for the Peaceful, Crested Butte Mountain Theatre, Trailhead Children’s Museum classes, Gravity Groms for Kids Who Rip, Munchkins Music and Dance, Crested Butte Dance Collective, Crested Butte Spirit/Mind/Body, and recreation programs through the towns of Crested Butte and Mt. Crested Butte. For the latest info, see www.Gunnison-CrestedButte.com/events. 128


Nathan Bilow

SEPTEMBER 1-30

September Splendor in the Rockies

3-7

Crested Butte Ultra Enduro (see page 10)

5

Tour de Forks

6

Chili and Beer Festival, Mt. Crested Butte

7, 14, 21, 28

Farmers Market on Elk Avenue

7-8

Wooden Nickel Golf Classic

11-14, 17-20

“In the Next Room� by Crested Butte Mtn. Theatre

13-14

Pearl Pass mountain bike tour

14-20

Vinotok Fall Harvest Festival

18

CB Film Festival film series

25

ArtWalk Evening

25-28

Crested Butte Film Festival

28

Closing day for Adventure Park and Bike Park

OCTOBER 5, 12

Farmers Market on Elk Avenue

31

Halloween Parade presented by KBUT Radio

Mark Ewing

129


LODGING

Dusty Demerson

ALPINE GETAWAYS

CRISTIANA GUESTHAUS

ELK MOUNTAIN LODGE

Crested Butte’s premium vacation rentals. We work with each client to provide the perfect vacation -- arranging accommodations, activities, tours and more.

Cozy B&B with European ski lodge charm. Homemade Continental breakfast. Hot tub with mountain views. Private baths. Near free shuttle; walk to shops & restaurants.

Historic inn located in a residential neighborhood of downtown Crested Butte. Just two blocks off the main street. 19 rooms individually decorated. Some with balconies.

1.800.824.7899 cristianaguesthaus.com info@cristianaguesthaus.com

1.800.374.6521 elkmountainlodge.net info@elkmountainlodge.net

Vacation Rentals 510 Elk Avenue Crested Butte

1.800.260.1935 alpinegetaways.com

Bed & Breakfast Hotel 621 Maroon Avenue PO Box 427, Crested Butte

AD PAGE 64

Bed & Breakfast Lodge PO Box 148 129 Gothic Avenue, Crested Butte

AD PAGE 131

AD PAGE 131

IRON HORSE PROPERTY MANAGEMENT

OLD TOWN INN

PIONEER GUEST CABINS

Specializing in highly personalized property management and vacation rentals. Expect more.

The warmth of a family inn; value, convenience & amenities of a hotel. Home-made afternoon snacks, yummy breakfast. Rooms with two queens or one king bed. On shuttle route, stroll to shops, restaurants & trailheads.

Established in 1939, inside National Forest, only 12 minutes from town. 8 clean and cozy cabins, with Cement Creek running through the property. Fully equipped kitchens, comfy beds, fireplaces and more. Dog friendly, open year round.

1.888.349.6184 oldtowninn.net info@oldtowninn.net

970.349.5517 pioneerguestcabins.com pioneerguestcabins@gmail.com

Rental Homes PO Box 168, Crested Butte

1.888.417.4766 ironhorsecb.com AD PAGE 23

Hotel & Family Inn PO Box 990 708 6th Street, Crested Butte

AD PAGE 131

Cabins 2094 Cement Creek, South of CB

AD PAGE 131

THE RUBY OF CRESTED BUTTE

Luxury Bed & Breakfast PO Box 3801 624 Gothic Avenue, Crested Butte Luxury B&B with full breakfast, private baths and concierge in historic Crested Butte. Also pampers pets with in-room dog beds, crates, home-made treats and dog-sitting service. 1.800.390.1338 therubyofcrestedbutte.com AD PAGE 63

130

Shayn Estes


A Distinctive, Unique, Historic Inn Downtown Crested Butte

800.374.6521 ElkMountainLodge.com

The warmth of a family inn...

Recommended by : Sunset Magazine The Denver Post Houston Chronicle Delta’s Sky Magazine The Guardian Denver’s 5280 Magazine Colorado Guide

...the value and convenience of a hotel Complimentary WiFi and continental breakfast Hot tub • Designated pet-friendly rooms • Non-smoking

(888)349-6184 • www.oldtowninn.net A TripAdvisor GreenPartner and 2013 Certificate of Excellence winner

Tripadvisor Certificate of Excellence #1 out of 27 Specialty Lodging View cabins inside and out at

pioneerguestcabins.com 970-349-5517 OPEn YEaR ROunD

Pooches Welcome 131


DINING

Nathan Bilow

BUTTE 66 • 349-2998

The all-new Bacchanale is a modest Italian restaurant from the team that launched django’s. Our fresh and light menu will re-introduce you to simple flavors, colorful salads, artisan flatbreads and handmade specialties. Join us daily at 7am for coffee and breakfast, and come back for dinner nightly from 5-10pm. Reservations accepted and can be made online.

American dining at its best with our classic roadhouse menu, burger, salads and shakes. Sit on the sunniest deck on the mountain with an unobstructed view of the mountain. Butte 66 is the perfect spot for your special event. See you this summer at Butte 66.

Breakfast / Dinner

Lunch / Dinner

209 Elk Avenue, Downtown - Bacchanale.net

Ad pg. Back Cover

Treasury Building, Ski Area Base

Ad pg. 117

Courtyard of Mountaineer Square, Mt. Crested Butte Enjoy award-winning cuisine in a relaxed modern setting. Our small plates have captured national attention and combine Spanish and southern European flavors with the freshest seasonal ingredients. Join us apres ski from 4 p.m. every Tuesday-Sunday, with dinner served 5-10 p.m. Reservations recommended.

Dinner

Ad pg. Back Cover

DONITA’S CANTINA • 349-6674

KOCHEVARS SALOON • 349-7117

LAST STEEP • 349-7007

Mexican. Down-to-earth eatery specializing in good food, ample portions and fun service. Fabulous fajitas, enchanting enchiladas, bueno burritos. Local favorite for over 30 years!

Kochevars is Crested Butte’s local, friendly bar. Come in for a game of pool or darts or to watch the game. Great food, great drinks and the best atmosphere. Open everyday. Happy hour and special events. Come have a beer at the most welcoming spot in town.

Sandwiches/soup/salads. Casual family dining. Affordable menu with Caribbean island flair; Cajun chicken pasta, curry shrimp and coconut salad, artichoke-cheddar soup in bread bowl. Happy hour and daily specials.

Dinner

Dinner

Lunch / Dinner

4th & Elk, Downtown

Ad pg. 133

127 Elk Avenue, Downtown

Ad pg. 134

208 Elk Avenue, Downtown

Ad pg. 135

LIL’S • 349-5457

MAXWELLS • 349-1221

MCGILL’S • 349-5240

Serving the best sushi in town as well as meat, seafood, and options for the kids. We take pride in serving our guests the highest quality of fish which is why we get it delivered 6 days a week! We offer a nightly happy hour at the bar from 5:30 to 6:30. Open 7 nights a week at 5:30. Reservations are recommended but not necessary.

Fine Dining. CB’s newest steakhouse. HDTVs for watching the games. Hand-cut steaks, seafood, pastas, lamb, pork, burgers, salads, appetizers, kids’ menu. Extensive wines & beers.

Old-Fashioned soda fountain. Malts, shakes, sundaes, banana splits, libations, home-cooked breakfasts and lunches prepared to order. Historic locale, casual atmosphere.

Dinner

Lunch / Dinner

Breakfast / Lunch

228 Elk Avenue, Downtown

226 Elk Avenue, Downtown

321 Elk Avenue, Downtown

Ad pg. 118

Ad pg. 133

Ad pg. 135

PITA’S IN PARADISE • 349-0897

SOUPCON . 349-5448

WOODEN NICKEL • 349-6350

Gyros, kabobs, sliders, fresh made hummus and baba gannoush, pita nachos and homemade soups. Greek and tahini salads, spanokopita and curly fries. Outdoor dining. Happy hour specials. Serving everyday.

Romantic, petite bistro featuring traditional French technique using local ingredients married with the finest cuisine from around the world. Open seven nights a week. Two seatings nightly. Reservations recommended.

Steaks, prime rib, king crab. USDA Prime cuts of beef, Alaska King crab, ribs, pork and lamb chops, grilled seafood, burgers, chicken fried steak and buffalo burgers. Reservations recommended.

Lunch / Dinner

Dinner

Dinner

3rd and Elk, Downtown

132

DJANGO’S • 349-7574

BACCHANALE • 349-5257

Ad pg. 133

Off Elk Avenue on Second, Downtown

Ad pg. 134

222 Elk Avenue, Downtown

Ad pg. 84


Bar and Grill Join us for Crested Butte’s Finest Made-From-Scratch Mexican Food.

Vegetarian Dishes • Gyros • Shrimp, Chicken & Tofu Pitas Hummus, Pita Nachos, Salads & More!

OUTDOOR PATIO

Visit

SOUP BAR

DONITASCANTINA.COM

Featuring 5 homemade soups

for specials, hours, reservations, menus, gift certificates and the

BAR MENU

POPULAR CANTINACAM!

Wings, Burgers, Potato Skins & Queso

4th & Elk, Downtown Crested Butte

Drink Specials • Rootbeer on Tap

970.349.6674

Daily Happy Hour: $1 PBRs, $2 Wells, $2 Beam Shots, $3 Drafts, $4 Wines

OPEN MIC NIGHT MONDAY AT 8:00 PM

970-349-0897 • TAKE-OUT AVAILABLE 3RD & ELK AVENUE • DOWNTOWN CRESTED BUTTE Open 7 days a week for lunch & dinner

seafood

pasta

salads

wines from around the world

beer on tap

trent bona photo

hand cut steaks

226 elk avenue crested butte 970.349.1221

133


EXPLORE CRESTED BUTTE ON YOUR PHONE! Use the FREE Explore Crested Butte mobile app to find out more information about dining options in Crested Butte and so much more!

Killing ‘em Softly Download the app and start exploring Crested Butte today!

Two Seatings Nightly. Reservations Required. 970.349.5448

SoupconBistro.net 970.349.5448 CB, CO 81224

OPEN THIS SUMMER! American dining at its best with our classic roadhouse menu, burgers, salads, and shakes. Soak in the sunshine with views of the Butte and a drink on the deck. Open for lunch, après, dinner and special events.

970.349.2999

134

SLOPESIDE, TREASURY CENTER - MT. CRESTED BUTTE

Elk Avenue w 127 w 970.349.7117 Late Night Food until 1:30 am every night


sushi bar happy hour 5:30 - 6:30 p.m. patio happy hour 4:30 - 5:30 p.m. (starting June DinnEr nightly 5:30 p.m. reservations recommended

27 - End of august)

Trent Bona Photography

cB’s onE And onlY sushi BAr

321 Elk Avenue | 970.349.5457 | l i l s s u s h i B A r A n d g r i l l . c o m

970.349.7007

208 Elk Avenue, Crested Butte

www.TheLastSteep.com

The Last Steep Bar & Grill

135


PHOTO FINISH

Jeff Irwin

136


invited artists:

rAy roBErts | WALt GonsKE | KAtHryn stAts rALpH oBErG | JiLL CArvEr | Don sAHLi BryAn MArK tAyLor | GAy FAuLKEnBErry | pEGGi KroLL roBErts JiM WoDArK | BiLL GALLEn | DAvE sAntiLLAnEs stACEy pEtErson | niCHoLAs rEti | CAroLyn LorD | sHirLEy novAK CHris MorEL | EriC MErrELL | DAvE BALLEW | sHELBy KEEFE Lori putnAM | DAWn CoHEn | sHAun HornE

...and more

slate High Water, shaun Horne (detail)

For Art pAtrons: - twenty-five invited artists: some of America’s best plein air painters, painting in Crested Butte for 7-10 days. - ten juried artists from a range of career and price points. - Limited access patrons’ preview, Friday, July 11 at 5 pm. - preview purchasing for 10 “At a Distance” patrons. - Full Exhibit online 12 hours before the patrons’ preview. www.crestedbuttepleinairinvitational.com Grand opening: July 12, 2014 p r E s E n t E D

For Artists: -open Class: • Any painter can participate, register at the gallery. • opportunity for individual paintings to be juried into the event. • May paint in the Gunnison plein Air open, sunday, July 6. • May paint in the Crested Butte open Quickdraw, saturday, July 12. - Forty gallery-led painting excursions from July 10-July 10. - painting workshops. - presentation by scott Ferris, World’s foremost academic on plein Air painter rockwell Kent.

B y :

purE LAnDsCApE 409 third street Crested Butte, Co | 81224 • (970)349-5936 • www.ohbejoyfulgallery.com • ohbejoyfulgallery@mac.com


Be Italian tonight. ‘Ski Country Hot Spots to Try Now’ “Kate and Chris Ladoulis’ year-old Bacchanale revamp means crowd-pleasing fare... nestled into a twinkling modern Italian dining room.”

Tasting Tuesdays Sample Italian wines, taste new menu items and help us select new cocktails. B-Happy Hour prices, starts 5pm Peroni on the Patio Dine ‘al fresco’ on Elk Avenue nightly The ‘BFD’: Bacchanale Family Dinner Fun, seasonal fare served family-style! Three-course meal every Sunday, just 20/pp

Bacchanale Italian Kitchen

209 Elk Avenue | Downtown Crested Butte

970-349-5257

http://www.thebacchanale.com

Seasonal, globally-inspired & delicious! ... and the wine’s pretty tasty too

“Kate Ladoulis is giving travelers a major reason to visit Crested Butte—and it has nothing to do with the ski slopes. Her artful Mediterranean-inspired small plates, supplemented by her husband Chris’s clever wine pairings, have all the locals and visitors talking.” - James Beard Foundation

Mountaineer Square Courtyard | Mt. Crested Butte 970-349-7574 | http://www.djangos.us

django’s

Happy Place Ltd.


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