The next morning we left heading north for fuel and food which we got at Four Corners, Mt. After forty eight miles of Interstate 90 we left the slab rejoicing for the calm of the back roads leading to Dillon. We stopped in Twin Bridges at the Mercantile for lunch and a few items. The locals sitting around the table near the checkout register were having a discourse using colloquial terms like: “Yeah, it was down there by the ‘crick'” or “We chased ’em a ‘fur’ piece” and in its other form: “Remember the two forks ‘fur’? It musta’ burnt over 5,000 acres up ‘er’. To which the gentleman across from him responded, “Yasser, I remember that, it was ’92 right?””.
Turning up the Pioneer Mountains Scenic Parkway had an immediate calming effect on us both. There was very little traffic on the road other than an occasional vehicle and now and then it was punctuated by cyclists slowly climbing or streaking rapidly down the mountain roads. As we made our way along following the winding Wise River north we checked out the various campgrounds. Finding nothing to our liking we opted for dispersed camping. Just off the road on a point above the Wise River near Lacy Viewpoint we snagged our spot right on the river. However, we were forced to retreat to a point above the floodplain after being surrounded by a horde of savage mosquitos.
Breaking camp the next morning we had a plan for our day. First was a visit to the ghost town of Coolidge then we were bound for the Elkhorn Hot springs.
Coolidge was a precious metal mining town of over 350 people from 1914 until 1932 boasting a school, post office, electricity, telephone service, railroad, dining hall, and a boarding house. It was named for president Calvin Coolidge by William R. Allen who was a personal friend of the president.
The ruins were strung out along the only road for about a fourth of a mile on the opposite side of the Crik’ below the mine.
Some were tar paper shacks completely collapsed others were well built homes still standing in the face of this harsh environment.
Another collapsed house resembled the bow of a ship grounded near the road.
Numerous cast iron stoves were scattered around the grounds having outlived the structures that they once warmed.
In the middle of the crik’ there was what appeared to be the remains of a church, its bell tower now empty and water flowing in the back of the structure and pouring out the front remains of the front door. Straining you could almost hear the ghostly voices singing the chorus:
“Will you come to the fountain free?” “
Will you come ‘tis for you and me?”
“Thirsty souls hear the welcome call.”
“‘Tis a fountain open for all.”
Listening closer perhaps what we were hearing was just the rapids garbled singing as they flowed out of the front door.
Crossing the crik’ and climbing the hill up to the mine high above the town leads to the entrance of the mine shaft. Locked up behind steel bars the dark tunnel oozes rust colored water flowing out and down the hill to the town below staining the rocks and dirt a rusty brown no longer producing the blessings of wealth and prosperity. It is a grim reminder of the Great Depression that turned Coolidge into another ghost town of the west.
Then it was on to the Elkhorn Hot Springs to luxuriate in a hot pool. The pools were divided into two swimming pool areas. The larger one was cooler than the smaller one. Inside the building housing a concession stand, showers, changing areas, and a laundry room was a “Sauna” pool. It was the hottest of the pools with small grottos in an enclosed area off the hallway leading to men’s changing area. The compound also had a restaurant, bar, cabins, and Maverick Mountain Ski Resort. The entire operation was being run by a collection of folks that appeared to be the remainders of a traveling carnival.