Tom raises the question of beer

Wednesday, August 1st

Beautiful morning, but cold.  Rose A.M. 5.  Breakfasted and left hotel A.M. 6:10, by hired conveyance arriving South Cheyenne Canyon we entered a gateway guarded by two “Rocky Mountain Canaries” (a black and white donkey).  Chipmunks were much in evidence here.  Climbing an almost perpendicular staircase we obtain a fine view of a waterfall of about 300 feet in height.  The clear water churning and sparkling from rock to rock lulls the senses to rest, but increases the coldness of the morning air.  At the top of the steps and near the falls is a rudely roofed shelter containing the remains of a camp fire.  Here among the hills this shelter may often prove a convenient refuge from sudden storms.  The sun is just beginning to peep over the rim of the cup!  At a stall we saw photos of Jack Dempsey  and his wife, the later riding a donkey, of Daddy Browning and “Peaches” (now divorced) and of Chaney. {pic}  But the chipmunks in their “ant hill” and the two donkey guardians of the gate in their acts of merry impudence and of insolence respectively were more pleasing to me than would have been the or indeed the actual presence of shall we all Hollywood.  At the bottom of the hill is the Broadmoor Hotel with a minimum charge of $15 per day for rooms. broadmoorSuch a place is surely sacred to greatness!  A long wire stretched from peak to peak of the hills above causes some discussion.  We find it is merely an “Elk stunt”.  We are shown the homes of millionaires, most of whom began life as miners and prospectors. We are now following a road winding among green fields.  The atmosphere remains chilly.  We pass some beautiful streams of clear water.  Maggie wants to bring one back to Beloit, but at present lacks the necessary convenience for packing.  We are on a cement road leading out of town through old Colorado City and presently turn to the right in the direction of the “garden of the Gods”.


Garden of the Gods. used with permission

“There is more pleasure in a log cabin than in the homes of many millionaires I have known,” the driver states.  Tom is not as tall as “Deception Rock”.  The summit of Pike’s Peak, with its hotel now clearly in view, is now nine miles away in a straight line, but looks not more than a couple.  We see Harry Lauder in red sandstone. {pic}  The driver tells a story about a Scottish motorist.  Why are the Scottish so often the subject of cheap jokes?!  How an Irish washerwoman in stone is in the limelight?  The balanced rock and the steamboat rock are worth noting.   We are shown the house in which Dr. Bell (an English doctor) once lived.  In approaching the village of Maniton I observe a great many saddled “burros” (donkeys).  We are entering Williams Canyon, through a one way road.  The path in places barely surfaces.  The grey rocks rise sheer over our heads.  Two young girls sit by a wood fire in a break in the rocks.  We turn left and curve up the precipice face to a red-roofed building marked “Wonderful Cave of the Winds”, where we greet the car.  I am not at present attempting any description of the Cave.williams-canyon-colorado101

After seeing the cave we resume our trip at A.M. 7:30.  The sun is now shining warmly.  The views are excellent as we wind slowly down what is named “Serpentine Drive”.  The visit to these caves has been well worthwhile.  Our driver, a different one from yesterday, is of Western extraction.  He is named Sinnott.  There are five Catholic churches in the group of towns. We are now in the Manitou mineral water room. The others of the party are buying odds and ends of presents.  There are here all the usual traps for visitors.  I am now told that the population of Colorado Springs and the adjoining towns numbers 37,000.  A great many Indians are here, as they appear at so many show placed.

Back in Colorado Springs A.M. 9:30.  Excursion about 30 miles.  Joyce Hotel.


Post card, Joyce Hotel. Used with permission

Cards to Dorothy, Jack, Jimmie Bradbury, Maggie Stack, Frank, Rhona, Margaret, Ellen, Patricia, Mary Stack, Bob Mills, Raymond Batten.  Nora sends cards to Mrs. Kerr, Mr. Westrop, Maggie Tyner, Mrs. Tosh.

We are off A.M. 10:20, passing what is described as the “world’s largest commercial aircraft factory”.  We return by the same road as outgoing.  A weirdly shaped rock surmounting a roughly conical hill suggests an old time fortification and apparently has given the name of Castlerock to the little town at its base.  A.M. 11:50 Fan belt off, short delay exactly opposite “Diamond K Ranch” entrance.  We are running parallel to the Denver and Rio Grande Railway, one track only.  P.M. 12:20 passed the State Capitol.  A few minutes later we stand outside the Post Office.  There are two letters for Maggie and one for Alma but nothing for us.  However, Kate mentions in Alma’s letter that a letter from Dorothy awaits us at Beloit.  At P.M. 12:50 we leave Denver and take the Greely road.  At P.M. 1 we draw up at a roadside restaurant for lunch.  “Hamburgers” being ordered, Tom raises the question of beer; but what is produced is of the “near” variety.  A chance remark of mine as to the nature of a “Hot Dog elicits form the waitress the explanation that a “Hot Dog” is a Hamburger in tights.  We move again P.M. 1:25.  At P.M. 1:50 we are through Brighton and are passing “The Great Western Sugar Co.” factory noted on the down journey.  At 2:40 we branch east by No. 39 highway at the outskirts of Greely.  We have had (with the exception of a short detour) cement all the way, 130 to 140 miles, from Colorado Springs.  There is now gravel, dust and bumps.  We are going 40 nevertheless.  This is good farming country.  We have now seen six horses yoked abreast in some sort of plough.  At P.M. 3, Tom was commissioned to get some cactus which his wife had observed by the roadside.  His selection of a Scotch thistle for the operation was not approved.  The country is prairie again.  A winding growth of trees to our left indicates water; a river can be seen occasionally.  The cattle are probably down there, they are not in sight.  At P.M. 3:40 we are sent through “Wiggins” instead of going around it as we would otherwise have done.  It is a poor little place.  Tom expresses his greetings to the village pump.  For myself, I see no pump, and I doubt if there is any such thing.  The appearance of Wiggins does not suggest that any water has been there since the Flood. Again there is cultivation as we approach Fort Morgan.  We are in irrigation land.  Fort Morgan is passed P.M. 4:30.  It is quite a good sized town.  At Hillrose we stop for gas, and the opportunity was availed of to obtain ice creams.  P.M. 5:15 we cross the South Platte River, leave the cement, encounter gravel and cross the railway just ahead of a Union Pacific train traveling west.  Presently we are on pavement.  Merino is a village with a grain elevator.  Bare prairie begins to show in the right distance.  At “Atwood”, Denver is six miles ahead but looking forward along the dead straight road these six miles hardly look one third of their actual distance.  We are in Sterling P.M. 5:35 and see a fine brick church bearing the name St. Anthony’s.  A good brick residence stands next door.  The city is quite imposing.  We leave by a gravel road, and are at once on the edge of rich farm land with the railway immediately on our left, the river (Platte?) indicated by trees is in the valley beyond, and further away the bare rolling hills.  “Iliff” P.M. 6 and “Ogolalla” is 85 miles ahead.  The road is consistently loose gravel, but we are maintaining a good “50” per hour.  The road bumps a little but is dead straight.  Crook P.M. 6:20 and what looked, on our approaching, like a cemetery turned out to be a honey farm.  This is great honey country.  There is now but little sign of cultivation; prairie like conditions prevail.  We pick up two well-dressed hiking school boys.  They are standing on the running boards.  The country is now of the good ranching type.  The road has reverted to very bad.  The boys on the running boards have been to Yellowstone and other places for what they call a holiday.  They go back to DeWitt High School, Iowa, in the fall, one for one year, the other for two years.  At a more convenient time I may have something to say in respect for the hiking, or bumming habits of American school and college boys.  P.M. 7:15 a farmer’s dog chasing a jack rabbit along the road is an interesting incident and immediately we enter Julesberg and drop our freight of hikers.  The days mileage is 310 miles excluding the 30 to 40 miles of hired driving during the morning’s sightseeing.  We are now standing at the hotel while Tom is making the usual inquiry.  We stay – Hotel Brown.