|Written by Sherry|
|Sunday, 07 September 2008 18:06|
Where I spent my weekend: Westcliffe, a Victorian mining town in the Wet Mountain Valley (just under 8,000 ft high) at the foot of the magnificent Sangre de Cristo Mountains.
n 1719, Spanish explorer and governor of New Mexico (which was then part of New Spain - the border between Spanish and Anglo America runs along the Arkansas river) saw the mountains at dawn and named them "Blood of Christ" mountains.
The Sangres from Westciffe (left over morning mist and moisture in the air made them look fuzzy)
I'm waving at you from just above treeline, third peak over! I don't usually notice the attitude but I quickly become breathless while climbing 4+ miles up to 11,500 ft. Sitting down seemed like a really good idea.
Saturday morning, I thought I heard the clop-clop of a horse's hooves on the street and dashed outside to see an Amish woman driving her buggy to the grocery store. I got this picture just as a gigantic motorhome drove by.
Westcliffe is the county and seat and only town in one of the last unspoiled areas in Colorado. Unspoiled because there is no skiiing nearby. People still ranch and farm as they have for generations. A few more glimpses.
Look carefully at the faded printing: