AUGUST 2022

 

LOOKING ACROSS THE MOORE PLACE AT BULL HILL
The "high country" - evergreens, aspens, meadows, afternoon rains and lightning. 

     This track is a shortcut from the Gold Camp road to the road leading down to Beaver Creek, and our summer dwelling - the cabin. Saves driving an extra couple of miles. Victor is just the other side of Bull Hill. Cripple Creek a few miles to the right.

THE WIDOW WOMAN'S PLACE

     When we first started summering the cattle in the "high country" in the early 1950's, this is where we stayed! (The disparaging name came with it.) While it was in a bit better shape then, it was pretty much the same as you see it. It's located in a pasture called "The Moore Place".

     Off to the right, behind the pole fence, is a spring-fed water tank where we got our water; the outhouse was about where the white boards are. We only used two rooms: the one with the window on the left side was the main room, and next to it a larger room which contained two beds. One for my sister and I, and one for my parents. They were covered with old time heavy waxed canvas tarps. The roof leaked, and it rained every afternoon.

THE (second) CABIN

The second summer we began working toward building a cabin. Timber was found on the back side of Cow Mountain, one of our main cow pastures. My father, with an axe, cut down spruce trees and trimmed off all the branches. My sister, my mother and myself then proceeded to peel the bark off with the aid of a draw knife. Below is a draw knife. In case you never had to use one; you straddle the log, which was elevated off the ground, pull and scoot! By the end of the day one's Levi's were soaked in pine sap. In the evening they would stand up in the corner by themselves! We did that every free day all that summer. 

DRAW KNIFE

     The logs were left to cure over the winter, and the next summer, with the help of a neighbor, we built a cabin. The cabin you see above is not the cabin my family built in 1954. Sadly, that one was washed away in a flood in 1965. Someone forgot to open the flood gates on the reservoir that was Victor's water supply during a heavy rain storm in June, 1965. The reservoir dam burst and the water rushed down the canyon. Our cabin was built next to Beaver Creek, the outlet for the reservoir, and when the water flooded the canyon, the cabin was washed away.  

CURRENT VIEW FROM THE GOLD CAMP ROAD

     The cabin above was built some years later, after the valley had somewhat recovered from the devastation of the flood.  While the logs were cut from our land, you can see they were cut with a chain saw. Not sure who peeled them. My father and cousin built it, but my sister and I were not a part of it. By then we were long gone from ranch life.

     A side note: We were notified of the flood on the eve of my flying to Lubbock, Texas to begin my Peace Corps training. Obviously, I was excited to be going on a new adventure, and I had never flown before. As I was to fly out of Colorado Springs, we circled through Cripple Creek to view the flood damage on the way to the airport. I wanted to see what had happened as much as my parents did. It was devastating.  This beautiful mountain valley, with a willow lined stream running through it, was a river of gravel and boulders and debris - including the place where we had built our cabin. No trace of it was left. I was shocked, I couldn't believe it. None of us could. My father was a tower of strength. He never showed his emotions. But I have to say, the only other time I have seen my father so undone was at my mother's funeral. 

     And then we drove to Colorado Springs, and I got on my first airplane; on the way to the beginning of one of the most important episodes of my life - the Peace Corps.