A brief history of Telluride and its surrounding ghost towns

by Laurel Miller on

Telluride. The name alone conjures a variety of associations, from the debaucherous (Glenn Frey’s “Smuggler’s Blues”) to the elite (Tom Cruise is the other inevitable mention). But this isolated little town in Southwestern Colorado’s craggy San Juan range has a truly wild past and a lot to offer. It’s not the only mining-town-turned-ski-resort in the Rockies, but I think it’s the most well-preserved, photogenic, and in touch with its history. Apparently I’m not alone, because the town core (all three blocks of it) was designated a National Historic Landmark District in 1964.

Located in a remote box canyon (waterfall included) at 8,750 feet, Telluride and its “down valley” population totals just over 2,000 people. I’ve lived in Telluride off-and-on since 2005, and there’s something to be said about a place where dogs outnumber residents, and you can’t leave home without running into people you know. Longtime residents burn out on the small town thing, but I still get a kick out of it after years of city living.

Today the former brothels of “Popcorn Alley” are ski shanties, but they’re still painted eye-catching, Crayola-bright colors, and the old ice house is a much-loved French country restaurant. Early fall is a great time to visit because the weather is usually mild, the aspens are turning, and there’s the acclaimed Telluride Film Fest, brutal Imogene Pass Run (Sept. 10) and Blues & Brews Festival (Sept. 16-18) to look forward to. The summer hordes are gone, but the deathly quiet of the October/early-November off-season hasn’t begun.

According to the Telluride Historical Museum, the town was established in 1878. It was originally called Columbia, and had a reputation as a rough-and-tumble mining town following the opening of the Sheridan Mine in the mid-1870’s. The mine proved to be rich in gold, silver, zinc, lead, copper, and iron, and with the 1890 arrival of the Rio Grande Southern railroad, Telluride grew into a full-fledged boomtown of 5,000. Immigrants–primarily from Scandinavia, Italy, France, Germany, Cornwall, and China–arrived in droves to seek their fortunes. Many succumbed to disease or occupational mishaps; the tombstones in the beautiful Lone Tree Cemetery on the east end of town bear homage to lots of Svens, Lars’, and Giovannis.

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[Photo credit: Flickr user hubs]

The mining resulted in 350 miles of tunnels that run beneath the mountains at the east end of the valley; you can see remnants of mine shafts and flumes throughout the region. If paddling is your thing, you’ll see gold dredges runnning on the San Miguel, San Juan, and Dolores Rivers.

Telluride’s wealth attracted the attention of Butch Cassidy and his Wild Bunch, who famously robbed the town’s San Miguel National Bank in 1889 (trivia: I used to live in an upstairs apartment in that very building). But in 1893, the silver crash burst the money bubble, and almost overnight Telluride’s population plummeted. By the end of World War II, only 600 people remained.

Telluride is a part of the 223-mile San Juan Scenic Highway, which connects to the historic towns of Durango, Ouray, and Silverton. There’s only one paved road in and out of Telluride, and that’s Hwy. 145. The only other options are two high, extremely rugged mountain passes (which require 4WD and experienced drivers). There are also a handful of ghost towns in the area. Some, like Alta (11,800 feet) make for a great, not too-strenuous hike; you’ll see the trailhead four miles south on Hwy 145. There are a number of buildings still standing, and two miles up the road lie the turquoise Alta Lakes.

If you want to check out the ghost town of Tomboy, it’s five miles up Imogene Pass (13,114 feet). Don’t underestimate just how tough it is if you’re hiking; you’ll gain 2,650 feet in altitude; otherwise it’s an hour’s drive. The trail begins on the north end of Oak Street; hang a right onto Tomboy Road. Unless you’re physically fit and acclimated to the altitude, the best way to see these ghost towns is by 4WD tour with an outfitter like Telluride Outside. Another bit of trivia: every July, the “Lunar Cup” ski race is held on a slope up on Imogene Pass, clothing optional.

How to get there
Telluride is a six-and-a-half-hour drive from Denver, but it also boasts the world’s second highest commercial airport (9,078 feet) with daily non-stop connections from Denver and Phoenix. It’s closed in sketchy weather (if you’re flight phobic, just say “hell, no”), and it’s often easier and usually cheaper to fly into Montrose Regional Airport, 70 miles away. From there, take Telluride Express airport shuttle; you don’t need a car in town. Go to VisitTelluride.com for all trip-planning details. For more information on the region’s numerous ghost towns, click here.

When to go
Telluride is beautiful any time of year, but avoid mid-April through mid-May and October through before Thanksgiving, as those are off-season and most businesses are closed. Spring is also mud season, and that’s no fun. Late spring, summer, and early fall mean gorgeous foliage, and more temperate weather, but be aware it can snow as late as early July. August is monsoon season, so expect brief, daily thunderstorms. July and winter are the most reliably sunny times; that said, Telluride averages 300 days of sunshine a year. If you want to explore either pass, you’ll need to visit in summer.

Telluride tips
The air is thin up there. Drink lots of water, and then drink some more. Go easy on the alcohol, too. Take aspirin if you’re suffering altitude-related symptoms like headache or insomnia, and go easy for a couple of days until you acclimate. Wear broad-spectrum, high SPF sunblock, and reapply often on any exposed skin or under t-shirts. Wear a hat and sunglasses, as well.

[Photo credits: Tomboy, Flickr user Rob Lee; Mahr building, Laurel Miller; winter, Flickr user rtadlock]

Five national parks to visit in the fall

by Kraig Becker on

Labor Day marks the unofficial end of summer, and although the season will linger for a few more weeks, it is time to start looking ahead to the fall. Autumn brings crisp air, cooler temperatures, and shorter days, and along with it comes a rainbow of colors splashed across the trees. It is a perfect time to visit one of America’s national parks, as thinning crowds bring solitude and silence to those wild spaces. Here are five great destinations for this, or any other, fall.

Great Smokey Mountains National Park
On an annual basis, the Great Smokey Mountains National Park is the most visited in the entire park system. Each year, more than 9 million people pass through its gates, which makes this recommendation a bit of a cliche. But fall brings a dramatic transformation to the miles of forests that stretch out across North Carolina and Tennessee. The leaves first begin to change at higher elevations, then sweep down the sides of the mountains over a few weeks time, bringing bright golds and reds to the region. The colors are at their peak in late October and early November. Be sure to visit during the week to avoid the crowds.

Fire Island National Seashore
Located not far from New York City, the Fire Island National Seashore is a barrier island with 26-miles of protected coastline to explore. Accessed by ferry or one of two bridges, the park offers beautiful sand dunes, rolling ocean waves, and a surprising amount of woodlands. Visitors in the fall quickly learn where the island derives its name, as the copious amounts of poison ivy – a scourge during the summer months– begins to turn a deep scarlet. By late October, the trees take on traditional autumn colors as well, and the annual migration of birds and monarch butterflies from the island is in full swing. It is an amazing time to visit a place that is off the radar for many travelers. Glacier National Park
With its high mountain peaks, crystal clear lakes, and thick forests, Glacier National Park offers breathtaking scenery in any season. Fall is short in northern Montana however, providing a narrow window for visitors to enjoy the views before the early snows begin to fly. None the less, it is the perfect time to visit the park, which sees few travelers after the traffic of summer subsides. Early October turns the larch and aspen trees to orange and yellow before they drop their leaves for yet another year, and while they are awash in color, they are spectacular to behold. Those wishing to drive Glacier’s famous Going to the Sun Road had better hurry however, as it closes for the season on September 19.

Shenandoah National Park
Nestled between the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Shenandoah River Valley of Virginia, this park offers more than 500 miles of hiking trails through some of the most beautiful forests east of the Mississippi River. In the fall, the oak and maple trees, which are abundant throughout the area, assume fiery hues of orange and yellow, delivering a classic seasonal experience to the region. The park’s famous Skyline Drive offers 105 miles of autumn colors to enjoy from your car, although the Fall Foliage Bike Festival may be the best way to take them all in. The festival, now in its 21st year, features 12 different routes and three days of cycling from October 21-23, which is traditionally when the colors are at their finest.

Rocky Mountain National Park
The leaves have already begun to change at the higher altitudes of northern Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park, where the annual “Aspen Gold Rush” heralds the coming of fall. Over the next few weeks it will spread down the mountains and valleys before the colors reach their peak at the end of September and slowly fade throughout October. Until then however, visitors are treated to a spectacular display of nature’s beauty that is best taken in on one of the parks 359 miles of hiking trails.

While we may lament the departure of summer for yet another year, fall has its own unique qualities for us to enjoy as well. These parks, and a number of others, will give you plenty of reasons to welcome the change in season and enjoy the colorful months ahead.

[Photos courtesy of the National Park Service]

Reflections on Labor Day from Desolation Wilderness

by Kyle Ellison on

With the weekend festivities having come to a close, looking back, Labor Day really is a curious holiday. In comparison, Independence Day celebrates the birth of a nation, Memorial Day commemorates those who fought for our freedom, and Martin Luther King Day celebrates one of the greatest civil rights activists this nation (and world) has ever seen.

How many Americans, however, can give a definitive answer as to why we celebrate Labor Day? A holiday which has questionably lost sight of its original meaning (much like chocolate bunnies being associated with Easter), Labor Day in modern terms seems to translate into BBQ, boating, and the start of college football season, which don’t get me wrong, are all great things.

Somewhere between the third bratwurst and the fourth beer, however, I doubt very many of us take that moment to pause and reflect on what we’re actually celebrating. First signed into law as a national holiday by President Cleveland in 1894, it’s a day meant to honor and reflect upon that tireless bastion of success and freedom, the everyday American worker.

So this past Labor Day, in order to properly reflect on this, I knew I was going to have to remove myself from the social atmosphere, lest my reasoning be skewed by the ambiguous merriment. No BBQ. No beers. No boats. I was going to have to go someplace I could actually hear my thoughts.

Living on the shores of California’s Lake Tahoe, the swollen lakeshore that consistently drowns under inflatable rafts and EZ-up tents was not going to be the place. I needed somewhere removed from the crowds and the usual scene; somewhere where Labor Day was still just called Monday.

Somewhere, like Desolation Wilderness.

One of the West’s truly wild places, the name alone screams of empty solitude. 64,000 acres of glacially formed lakes and craggy granite peaks, it’s one of the few remaining areas you can still find the endangered sound of silence.

Grabbing an old pair of hiking boots, three bottles of water, and a hopefully unnecessary can of bear mace, I amble off down a Desolation Wilderness trailhead ready to get back to nature and properly ruminate on the concept of work.

About a mile up the trail on a scree filled switchback overlooking Fallen Leaf Lake, my gaze to the horizon is suddenly interrupted by a golden eagle gliding on the thin morning breeze. Above the rare predator, a commercial jet paints a long set of contrails across the gaping blue sky.

I think about the first settlers who walked amongst these hills, and wonder if they could ever have comprehended the speed with which we now travel. They arrived in this wilderness by wagon, train, horse, and steamboat, all willing to work towards achieving the American dream. A trip that once took weeks we now cover in hours, all thanks to hard working laborers on a factory room floor who piece together metal eagles that now race across the sky.

Taking a long quaff of water from my blue Nalgene, my eyes wander into the dense canopy of pine wrapping its way around the mountainside. Examining the thin dirt trail below, I reflect on the fact that even this stroll through the woods which I’m taking was at one point considered part of going to work. For the original Native American tribes who relied on this land to survive, a walk through the woods was all part of a greater task. Food, water, and shelter were all derived from these hills, and this mountainside high in the Sierra was all part of their greater office.

Startled by a loud knocking from above, I peer up the rotted trunk of a tree that’s in dire need of autumn rains. High atop the branches, a lone woodpecker repeatedly drives his face into the hard wood, which I realize, strangely enough, is all part of his line of work.

I realize that this far back in the forest the only sounds I hear are those of nature working all around me. The same sun that’s searing my shoulders is also melting the high mountain snows, in turn slowly feeding the stream I hear which has worked to carve this alpine canyon. Similarly, the spiderweb I walked through half a mile ago was the proud handiwork of an animal who has just seen his hard work instantly erased.

On a trek where I intended to leave labor behind, I instead find myself completely surrounded by it. I suddenly bask in the luxury of a day free of work, because as the forest has managed to bring to my attention, though we are all still a part of nature, nature isn’t given the luxury of rest. As strange as it all may seem, there is no Labor Day for woodpecker.

Gadling gear review: Polarmax AYG (All Year Gear)

by Kraig Becker on

When packing for an active trip, we often put a lot of consideration into the clothes we bring along with us. If we’re headed to a cold weather destination for example, we bring quality base layers, fleeces, and of course a good shell. If we’re setting out for a hot climate, its lightweight, breathable apparel that we put in our bags. One piece of clothing that we don’t always put much thought into however, is what goes under all of that other stuff.

That’s right, our underwear, skivvies, bloomers – whatever you want to call them – play a big role in our enjoyment of our vacation, even if we don’t always realize it. Like any other piece of clothing we take with us however, our underwear needs to perform as well as possible, which is where the Polarmax AYG line of clothing comes in handy.

Polarmax is a company that has made high performance base layers for more than 25 years. Their clothing has been used by mountaineers, arctic explorers, and athletes, and the company has focused all of that experience into creating a line of underwear that can be worn around town as easily as on a long hike. The result is AYG, which stands for “All Year Gear.”

AYG underwear uses a blend of high-tech fabrics, including TransDRY cottons, to be soft and breathable. Those fabrics are also designed to wick moisture away from the body, helping to keep you fresh and dry, no matter what climate or activity you’re exploring. All of that marketing speak means that AYG has been created to keep us comfortable in both the heat or cold, whether we’re on the trail or relaxing in the lodge.
I’ve had the opportunity to use AYG for the past couple of months, putting it through its paces in the extreme heat of Austin, Texas on a daily basis, as well as taking it with me when I traveled to a variety of destinations, both foreign and domestic. I’ve found that it is not only very comfortable to wear, but more than lives up to the performance promises from Polarmax. I’ve worn All Year Gear on long hikes, mountain climbing, and even mountain biking, and it has always exceeded my expectations. No matter what the activity, my AYG boxer briefs kept me dry without restricting motion in any way.

Because AYG underwear is so versatile, it is an excellent option for travelers looking to save room in their packs and travel a bit lighter too. AYG fabrics are designed to be fast-drying, as well as anti-microbial, which helps to keep them smelling fresh on extended trips. That means you only need to pack two or three pairs when heading out for your next adventure. Simply wear the underwear all day, then wash it in your hotel sink or camp stream at night, hang it up to dry, and throw it back in your pack the next day. Repeat throughout your trip, and you’ll always have a fresh pair ready for use.

Polarmax AYG is available for both men and women and comes in a variety of styles and colors. You’ll find not only briefs, but shirts as well and the line will soon expand to include more colors and prints. No matter which options you go with however, you’ll be glad you have them with you on your next trip.

Five uses for carabiners (besides climbing)

by Laurel Miller on


I’m a big multi-tasker. I’m also tiny, cheap, and a “lite” traveler. Even when I’m going on the road for a couple of months, I somehow manage to cram it all in my backpack. I use a daypack for carrying my essentials (passport, credit cards, cash, documents, sunblock, sunglasses, water, etc..), but it’s only so big. At 5’2″ I don’t like to haul around something the size of a parasitic twin.

This is why I love carabiners. These oval, pear-, or D-shaped metal clips–of the style used by rock and mountain climbers–are handy and versatile, and come in a variety of sizes, gauges, and prices. I never use professional carabiners, which are more weighty and costly than my intended uses (they also have screw, auto-, or triple-locks, rather than straight gates, which I find more handy for light use). I do, however, purchase heavier, stainless carabiners of the sort found at REI or other outdoor stores.

I seem to find a new use on every trip, and admittedly, I sometimes resemble either a pack mule or a bag lady after a day of exploring, shopping, or hiking. But who cares? It’s better than wrecking my back by using a bigger pack or traveling with shoulder bags that don’t don’t compress well (I do, however, keep a canvas tote rolled into the bottom of my big backpack so I can haul souvenirs home).

So what exactly can you do with ‘biners? Read on.

1. Carry your baseball hat or shoes on your backpack
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done this, both on my daypack and large pack. Sometimes I don’t have enough room to pack my running shoes, Chaco’s, or hiking boots, or maybe I need a spare pair of shoes for a day trip (apologies to former seatmates who have endured the stench of my sweaty shoes during flights). I also wear a baseball hat for sun protection if I’m doing any kind of outdoor recreational activity, but once I’m done with it, snap.

2. Clip on some shopping bags
I travel with a nylon shopping bag in a stuff sack (I recommend ChicoBags) so I can cut down on plastic if my daypack is full. But it’s a pain to carry multiple shopping bags, regardless of material–especially if, like me, you’re easily distracted and tend to leave them behind at every stop. Clip ’em on to your day bag and they’ll make it back to your accommodation. I also carry my travel coffee mug this way (obviously, you want to purchase one with a full handle, which can be tough to find for some reason).

[Photo credit: Flickr user chriscom]3. Air-dry your bathing suit
Knot the straps or, if you’re a guy, use that little waistband tie (many boardshorts also have key rings in their pockets). Um, don’t forget a change of clothes.

4. Key ring
I love travel-size tubes of sunblock that come with carabiners on them. Not only does it provide me with an accessible way to reapply when I’m paddling, hiking, riding, or skiing, but I get a free key ring out of it once I’ve refilled the tube to death. When I’m traveling, I snap my hotel keys (card keys are few and far between on the budget traveler trail) to a carabiner, and attach them to my body or within my daypack. Some people prefer to leave keys at the front desk, but the control freak in me likes to hang on to them.

5. Makeshift/emergency zipper
I discovered this one last week when I acquired a few too many ponchos and woolen hats in Chile. My tote bag was overflowing, so I snapped a large ‘biner onto the handles. It helped contain the alpaca within, and kept my souvenirs from scattering throughout the overhead bin on the plane. The same concept applies if you have a zipper break on a bag. It won’t solve things if it’s an item that requires checking, but at least it will help keep your belongings together until you find a replacement.

Got any cool travel uses for carabiners? We want to hear about them!