Rear view volume II
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| Entertainment facilities in the East River valley and surrounding Elk Mountains were unlimited for outdoors aficionados like us. Mountain hiking, biking, and Jeeping trails were abundant, trout fishing was great, snow fields in the upper peaks usually lasted most of the summer, prowling the forests for glimpses of wild animals was stimulating fun, rafting trips on an inflatable rubber raft down the lower sections of the East River were exciting, and hunting for and exploring old abandoned silver mines was especially entertaining for geologists like myself.
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Chica But no one ever enjoyed life at the cabin more than did our canine companion Chica, the (presumed to be) Border Collie who was an orphan of dubious ancestry obtained in 1960 by Jerry M. and Kappy from a SPCA shelter in Tulsa.After a background of early dog years in city environments in Tulsa and Houston, her initial experience in getting acquainted with cabin life was an obviously joyous adventure. Without any confining fences or leashes, the complete freedom to explore the Colorado forests and chase rabbits was an exhilarating experience. And her first encounter with snow during one of our Jeep trips high in the mountains was an entertaining act to behold. Her first steps into it amazed her! Then, as she got used to it, she could not decide if the most fun was to eat it, romp in it, or roll in it,--so she alternately did all three. Her Colorado experiences were not all problem-free, however.On one occasion Kappy decided to take her along on a climb to the summit of Mt. Gothic, a precipitous peak a half mile west of the cabin, which rears into the sky over 3,000 feet above the cabin property. The route is rough and rocky, requiring sturdy footwear, and takes nearly a day for the round trip. Poor Chica's feet were in bad shape by the time they reached the crest, but she did manage to leave her paw print in the record book at the top, according to Kappy. But by the time she got back to the cabin her pawpads were so shredded that she had to spend the next three days recuperating on her blanket inside the cabin. Another time we made the mistake of leaving her outside when we all went into Crested Butte for the evening. We didn't return until about 10 p.m., and when our Jeep entered the trail off the main road into our cabin site, Chica came bounding joyously out to greet us. Just before she reached us, ahead of us a large porcupine came waddling down the trail, which stopped and hunkered down as our headlights illuminated it. Just as we stopped the car Chica also galloped into view, and momentarily froze as she spotted that unfamiliar looking animal. She doubtless presumed the bristly creature was a threat to us and our vehicle, and attacked. Just as she opened her mouth close to porky to deliver a challenging bark, that animal deftly switched its needle-laden tail into Chica's mouth. We were horrified as we followed the poor whining dog back to the cabin. We were up until about 2 a.m, as I recall, pulling dozens of needles out of poor Chica's mouth and tongue. Jerry M. and Kappy took turns holding Chica between their knees and keeping her jaws open with their hands while I removed needles with a pliers. I'm sure the pain must have been excruciating since those needles have fishhook-like barbs on the pointed ends. Needless to say, everyone was exhausted but glad when the operation was over! And, as anyone might suppose, Chica stayed on a liquid diet for several days. Chica's presence at the cabin had certain asset values. Before she became somewhat hard of hearing in her old age, she was very good about reporting the approach of strangers outside the cabin, by suitable growls or barking. But her best use occurred during the late summer when ranchers below Crested Butte would drive their herds of cattle into the upper East River valley, to graze in national forest land after pasture land at their ranches had been grazed out. Once the herds have been headed up our valley the ranchers forget about them until winter sets in, and in the meantime the herds are free to roam about at will. They would inevitably wander into our property, destroying small trees, bushes, and our garden plantings during their lumbering about, and constantly defecating everywhere at a rate suggestive of cases of chronic diarrhea. I would assume cattle would be accustomed to the presence of dogs on their home ranches, but for some reason they always seemed terrified of Chica's vigorous barking and chasing them. So whenever we heard or saw several of the animals wandering into our territory, we would open the cabin door, say "sic 'em!" to Chica, and she would happily dash out the door, barking fiercely. The critters would promptly turn around and high-tail it away. Chica always enjoyed car riding. She was an admirable passenger on our two-day auto trips to and from the cabin. She would stay in her assigned portion of the back seat, and never required any more pit stops than the other riders. In her younger days in Colorado she enjoyed scampering behind the Jeep during our expeditions into the mountains But as she grew older we began letting her ride with us, so that it became customary that as soon as she'd hear the Jeep start she'd tear out and leap into her usual location on the floor in front of the passenger seat. In later years, as age stiffened her joints, we had to lift her into that position, but she still greatly enjoyed the rides. Chica died in the spring of 1973 in Houston, about 14 years old, and is buried in our backyard. Her legacy is the many happy memories of laughs and love she inspired, which none of us will soon forget. * * * * Visit to an old mine Geologists are rather peculiar people.They like to spend much of their time wondering about such things as how the earth was formed, and how it has been bent, squeezed and broken into its present shape during hundreds of millions of years. This of course requires a lot of thinking about the rocks and minerals that form the earth's outer crust. So, when they can, they like to wander around the mountains to admire and collect rocks. And old mines are of considerable interest to them, both from a historical interest and for an examination of the mineralized veins within that may or may not have produced good ore. Our cabin's location, adjoining territory that once was the site of a silver mining boom, is a great locale from which to search for and explore old mines, which was one of my hobbies. One time I had found a prospector's old map of our region that showed the general location of several old mines unknown to me. So one morning, when our guests had planned to go fishing, I decided instead to see if I could locate a mine the map showed to be somewhere off a trail up Copper Creek canyon.
artifacts such as old bottles, crockery, or whatever. I finally became aware of some thunderstorm clouds that began rolling in off the mountain tops, and decided it might be advisable to head back to the cabin before the storm broke. As I scrambled down the rock debris below the adit cave-in I noticed what appered to be the leg bone of some animal at the base of the slope. I picked it up, continued back down the foot trail to the Jeep, and returned to the cabin. I thought that Kappy, who was a college biology expert, might be casually interested in the bone and perhaps be able to identify what kind of animal once owned it. (J.M. was working that summer on his first job in the M.D.Anderson clinic.) And she was indeed interested. After a brief inspection of the bone, during my account of the mine discovery, she suddenly interrupted me. "Daddy!", she said excitedly, "this isn't an animal bone,--it's a human bone!" This got the undivided attention of everyone, including our house guests, John and Lillian Boland and 9-year-old son Mike (who were the Kyles' former neighbors in Oklahoma City). After much examination of the bone by all present, and comparing the measurement of it with their own legs, the consensus of opinion was that it was indeed a human bone,--the shin bone of an adult. "My God!" said John, "There must be a body nearby!" "John, please don't swear in front of Mikey," sid Lillian. "Daddy, were there any more bones around?" asked Kappy. "I don't know", I replied, "I didn't see any more, but I was in a hurry to get out ahead of the storm, so I wasn't really looking. Maybe we should all go up there and hunt around tomorrow." That suggestion met with unanimous approval, and next morning a picnic lunch was prepared, the Jeep loaded with three Kyles and three Bolands, and we took off on a bumpy and jolting ride up Copper Canyon. We finally parked at a point from which the foot trail led up the mountain to the mine. The search for more bones began at the base of the rock slide below the adit, with everyone slowly climbing up toward the few open gaps in the entrance. Very soon someone hit "paydirt", and the subsequent cries of "I found one too!" and "Here's another!" made it sound like an Easter egg hunt. I eventually clambered up to the largest gap in the adit --the dimensions of which were no larger than that of a bed pillow--- and peered into the dark hole with the aid of a flashlight. I was stunned to see, not more than two or three feet from the entrance, a human skull lying beneath a rotted wooden mine beam! With some effort, using a short pole for leverage to lift the beam a bit, I was able to extract the skull intact, which generated a high degree of excitement among the expedition members. Later, after the rock slide slope had been combed thoroughly and an assortment of bones accumulated which ultimately proved to be about half of an adult skeleton, another skull was found buried near the ruins of one of the buildings. But further search in that area was unproductive, and the bone prospectors began loading the skeletal loot in a duffle bag, in preparation for returning to the Jeep. Both Carol and Lillian had earlier tired of the search, and had proceeded back down the path to the Copper Creek trail to get the picnic lunch ready. Shortly after they disappeared from sight we at the mine became aware of the voices of men who were apparently climbing up the path toward the mine, and who had met the women coming down. Only snatches of the brief conversation could be heard, but enough to deduce that the men were forest rangers who had previously been unaware of the mine but had spotted the parked Jeep and thought they perhaps should investigate to be sure the passengers weren't in trouble.We also heard Carol make some comment that her family and friend's husband were up there "looking for bones". It occurred to us that some sticky legal problems could develop if it was revealed to the rangers that we had discovered and were removing portions of human skeletons from a U.S. National Forest. So I said, "We better get a move on and get outa here." John nodded and asked, "What should we do,--cache the duffel bag somewhere?" "No, they might spot it, and know it was our bag. Let's see." I handed the bag to Mike. "Mikey, listen. I want you to carry these bones for us down to the Jeep, but when we pass a couple of men coming our way, we don't want them to know we have bones in that bag, O.K.?" Mike, who had been quite excited by the bone search, was very enthused and proud to have this assignment, and nodded vigorously. We all started down the path and shortly, as expected, met the two rangers coming up. After brief polite greetings on both sides, one ranger conversationally said, "One of the ladies said you folks been collecting bones?" I had anticipated this sort of question and had the foresight to retain in my hand a small unidentifiable bone, with which I gestured casually and replied, "Oh, yeah, we saw some deer bones back up there, but nothing of much interest." The ranger made no reply to this, but as they stepped aside to let us pass it was obvious that they were very interested in the bag Mike was carrying with some effort. As Mike was passing the rangers and noticed their curiosity about his load, he suddenly blurted out, "I ain't got no bones in this bag! I ain't got no bones in this bag!" As he strode down the hill past the rangers I, John and Kappy choked up with a mixture of embarrassment and suppressed laughter, and followed Mike down the path with never a glance back at the rangers (who probably also had a case of the chuckles). Back at the cabin the bones were laid out on the floor, totalling two skulls and about half a body skeleton. Following much long and enthusiastic discussion and speculation, it was concluded in view of the location of the first skull and the scattered distribution of the bones below it, that they were the remains of some miner or prospector who had been inspecting the property long after the mine had closed, and had been trapped and killed by the falling timber beam near the entrance. "I bet it happened during a landslide," said Kappy. "That would explain that big mass of rock covering the entrance." "How awful!", exclaimed Carol, visualizing the scenario in which the prospector, inside the mine, hears the landslide rumble, rushes in panic toward the entrance, and doesn't quite make it as the cascade of rocks and soil crushes the timber beams framing the entrance and pins him underneath. "But why were the bones so scattered?", asked Lillian. "Only a few were with the skull." I said, "My guess is that those remaining gaps in the adit, where the skull was located, were probably initially larger, and that wolves or coyotes found the body and made a meal of him, scattering the limbs and bones down the landslide slope. But I'm more puzzled by the other skull,--what happened to him? He obviously wasn't trapped in the mine." No one had an explanation for the second skull. It was jokingly decided, since it was the smaller of the two, that it had belonged to the prospector's wife who died of shock after the landslide took her husband's life. Or maybe the landslide was part of a huge snowslide which trapped and smothered her while she was waiting near one of the buildings for her husband to return. "I think we ought to name them," said Carol."Any suggestions?" Kappy briefly closed her eyes and looked thoughtful. "How about --ah, hmm--, Herman and--ah, let's see-- Mamie!?" "Suits me," I said. The rest nodded their approval, and the deceased were thus informally christened. Carol was initially quite insistent that the discovery be reported to someone in the county courthouse or police station. But I demurred, pointing out that the weathered and yellowed condition of the bones indicated they had been where they were found for thirty or forty years at least, and couldn't possibly have been still listed as missing, nor could be identified. "Besides," I added, "I imagine that my reporting them would entail a morass of legal hoopla and reports, none of which would be of any substantial value to anyone. I say let sleeping dogs lie." "That aphorism about dogs isn't too appropriate," said John, but I agree with you on principle. Keep 'em here and keep it quiet." So the bones and skulls remained at the cabin for several years, with Herman being occasionally decorated with sunglasses, caps, or a pipe on party occasions. Ultimately Herman was given to Kappy when she became a science teacher in Indianapolis, and Mamie was finally given to Mike after he became a teenager. Their final resting places are probably not ideal, but Herman and Mamie would doubtless consider them preferable to their exposed environment at the mine. * * * * Lost and found An interesting but disturbing event occurred in our area one summer when Carol and I were alone at the cabin. Our knowledge of it began early one July morning. Carol was busy in the bedroom and I was making the morning coffee. I was about to call her and take her breakfast order when I heard a vehicle coming into the cabin driveway. Another fisherman, I thought; fishermen often drove into the cabin property and asked permission to walk through to the East River just below the cabin, since that route was an easy access. I finished starting the coffee to perk and headed for the front door but before I got there someone was already rapping on it. I was surprised to see a man in a brown military type jacket with a star badge on it. "Morning, sir." The man lifted a couple fingers to the brim of his western hat in an informal salute. "I'm deputy sheriff Johnson from Crested Butte. Sorry to be disturbing you so early." "Oh, uh, that's OK --we're up and about. What, -ah-, what can I do for you?" I backed into the cabin and motioned the deputy to come in, but he shook his head. "No sir, thank you. I just wanted to ask you,--did you have an overnight visitor here by any chance?" "Nope,--nobody here but my wife and I. Why? Can I pour you a cup of coffee?" The deputy paused; I thought he might accept. But he shook his head, said "No thanks.", then added, "Well, there's a feller missing. Some relative of Willard Ruggera, --nephew or cousin, or some such. A young man named Olstad, lives in Denver I think, had come to spend the weekend with the Ruggeras. He asked to borrow their Bronco so he could come up the valley here and do some fishing. Left town about four o'clock yesterday, and never came back. Willard asked me to come up here and look for him, and I found Ruggera's Bronco parked on the road just a few hundred yards south of the entrance into your place. The only other cabin in use right now near here is the Sedmak's, and they ain't seen him. Thought maybe he took sick, or had car trouble or something, and mighta come down to your place for help. Do you happen to remember seein' a young feller around these parts yesterday?" "Gosh, no, sure didn't. But we could easily have missed him. Did you look in his car?" "Yeh, but it's locked. I looked in, but there wasn't much there. No fishing gear that I could see, so I figure he must have started fishing somewhere." "That's very plausible". I nodded and added, "From where you say his Bronco is parked, there's a trail down into the canyon to the river that's pretty steep with tricky footing, but it's a quick way down. Trail reaches the river just above those high falls." I stepped out the door and pointed north. "That old ghost town of Gothic has people there now that operate a summer school for college biology students. Have you checked with them?" "Well, no." He rubbed his chin reflectively. "I know about that Gothic setup, of course. But I figured if Olstad had had car trouble or took sick or anything he woulda stopped first at your place or Sedmak's before walkin' all the way up to Gothic.But I guess I'd better go up there and check 'em out anyway." "Glad to talk to you. Let me know if you find out anything." He left, and Carol and I proceeded with our breakfast. Just as we were finishing Johnson returned and as I opened the door and before I could speak he shook his head. "Nobody there seen him. One of the professors said they'd organize a search party with some students this afternoon after classes, if Olstad ain't showed up by then. Guess I'd bettter get back to C.B. and get some help from there to comb the river. Maybe he's sittin' down there somewhere with a busted leg." "Yeah, well,--maybe we'll take a look too." I returned to the breakfast table, where Carol was still sitting and had heard all of our discussion. "What do you think we should do?", she asked. I was momentariy lost in thought. Suddenly I tapped the table with my fist."I wonder--Judas! I know what could have happened to him. If he got to the river just above those high falls, and tried to wade-fish there where the current's so swift and the bottom so full of slippery rocks,--my God, he could have gone over the falls!" "Oh no!" Carol clapped her hand to her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. "If he did," I continued, "and landed in shallow water or on rocks he'll be either unconscious or dead. That fall's forty or fifty feet high." I jumped up and headed for the bathroom. "Get a couple blankets, Carol. I'll get some first aid equipment, and we'll take the Jeep around on the other side of the river near where we can climb down into the canyon below the falls. We can't get down there from this side. Hurry!" Ten minutes later we drove over the bridge enroute to Gothic, then swung around onto a trail which paralleled the river on the side opposite the cabin. After a half mile south on the trail, I headed the Jeep off on to a rocky and brush-strewn hillside for about another hundred yards before we stopped and got out. We could hear the muffled roar of the waterfall's cascading torrent as we clambered ahead through the dense aspen thicket at the edge of the canyon, burdened by blankets, canteens, first aid supplies, and a thermos of coffee. When we reached the edge of the canyon we were about a half block's distance from the falls, and the panoramic view of the falls at the head of the canyon lay before us, impressive as ever. The torrent of water, wide as a paved street, was still near its earlier seasonal peak, with the river being fed by a record volume of melting snow from the mountain crests. We stood a moment, admiring the scenic display. "Can't see much below the falls from here", said Carol, "Guess we'll have to climb down, won't we?" I pointed to a nearby slope of rock rubble."That's probably as easy a way as there is, if we take it slow. Carrying this luggeage will make it a bit tricky. Come on--and watch your step." With some effort we made it to the canyon bottom, and moved cautiously along the rocky shore upstream toward the falls. Spray wafted over us as we inched to within several yards of it where we could easily scan both banks and the churning pool of water beneath the waterfall. "Nobody been here lately", I said, laying down my load. "No,--nobody and no body", replied Carol with a smile. "No way a person could survive a straight drop like that, unless he happened to land just right in a deep part of that pool. But if something had happened to him above the falls and he fell and stayed there, wouldn't we see some of his equipment or fishing gear down here below?" "Sure would think so. I guess it's pretty obvious he stayed above the falls. We'd better go look there.-- maybe he broke a leg getting down to the river and can't get out." As we gathered up our equipment and prepared to leave, we both heard and paused to listen to what sounded like a distant yell from above the canyon level, almost inaudible and muffled by the roar of the falls. I said, "Sounds like it might be him or someone who's found him in the valley above the falls. Let's go!" We clambered back up the canyon bank, returned in the Jeep to the main road, and proceeded south until we reached the parked Ruggera's Bronco. We left our equipment in the Jeep, since the trail down to the river was precarious enough without carrying loads.We climbed down, eventually reaching river level about fifty yards upsteam from where the rushing water disappeared over the edge of the falls. To our surprise no one was there, and our search revealed no more than we'd found below the falls, with the exception of a candy bar wrapper. That was inconclusive evidence; it could have been left by Olstad or any other fisherman in a recent period. So we laboriously climbed back to the Jeep and returned to the cabin, winded and tired from our strenuous exertions. Download 0.54 Mb. Share with your friends:
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