(If you received this blog by email, you might want
to visit the actual site. The pictures work much better there.
Just click on
the title “Golden Copper.”
This
past weekend, a conference of the Colorado Psychological Association drew us to
Copper Mountain. Typically, this weekend would have been about a week too early
for the aspen and other foliage to be in full autumn garb, but the season
change seems to have come early this year.
So, after snapping a few photos along
various roads and trails around Copper, I took some time before we headed home
for a hike up Mayflower Gulch on nearby the road toward Leadville, home of the
legendary Unsinkable Molly Brown, the famous “Leadville 100” endurance run (100
miles, all above 10,000 feet) … and, thanks to lots of abandoned mines, more
toxic waste sites than you can imagine.
The
Mayflower Gulch trail is very close to the huge Climax molybdenum mine,
and some gulches in this area used to be tailing ponds. By my recollection, a couple of decades
ago, they were designated for reclamation as part of the cleanup from this mine.
If this gulch is one of those, they did quite a job, because the valley is filled with a dense stand of willows, turning shades of gold even as I hiked. A couple of miles up the trail I found a collection of old mining ruins, the remnants, I learned, of the Boston Mine. Mayflower Gulch, Boston mine ... hmm ... maybe transplants from the East coast seeking wealth in the Rockies. The combination of these ruins, the proximity of Climax, and the presence of the mining town of Leadville just over the hill reminded me of Colorado's "boom and Bust" economy. One after another resource extracted from the land promises instant wealth. Colorado has had a lot of these: gold, silver, and molybdenum among them, and now oil and natural gas removed from deep beneath the earth by fracking. Each cycle of booming wealth enriches a few, and when it all goes bust, each leaves behind assorted messes. Evaporative ponds and abandoned mines, polluted streams and poisoned land, poverty among those who were unable or unwilling to cash in. And these old buildings ... what stories do they hold?
As I continued climbing, I drew nearer to the top of the valley. The gulch descends from a glacial cirque, a hollow carved into the
solid rock eons ago by one of the glaciers that filled these mountains. Often,
these cirques are home to small lakes, fed all year by the runoff from
snowfield high on the slopes. I located the telltale stream—enough hint of a
lake to inspire me to climb up the old mining road all the way to the cirque.
I’d hoped to have lunch by the lake, but found instead a flat plane of alpine
tundra with more old mining structures near the cliffs. Most of the tundra has
already gone dormant, so I saw only dried traces of the alpine flowers
that would cover this area in the summer.
Nevertheless,
lake and flowers or not, it was a totally lovely climb on a totally beautiful Colorado fall
day. On the way down, I took in the view back toward the trailhead, down the
long valley of willows. The afternoon clouds were rolling in as I headed downhill, delighted at having caught the colors before fall slipped into winter.
Folks
in Colorado, take note: next weekend is likely the end of the fall colors. Go!
Quick, before they’re gone for another year!
© Janis
Bohan, 2010-2014. Use of this content is welcome with attribution and a link to
the post.
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