Summer of 1975

The fun and games started out innocently enough in the Menscher’s driveway down on Meadows Drive.   Mark, Steve and I were busy crash testing the Corgi toy cars on the cement and gravel in their driveway.  I am not sure whose idea it was but one of us brilliantly came up with using firecrackers and gasoline for the next round of tests.  That was when things went horribly wrong.

We made a few small puddles of gasoline and put the cars in the middle.  All we had were a few “Lady Fingers” so the gas was intended to make the demolition more spectacular.  As anyone with common sense, which we seriously lacked that day, would know a lit firecracker would soon go out when tossed into a pool of gas.  After repeated attempts with the firecrackers we decided matches would work much better.  With matches in hand we tossed our first lit one into the pool.  With a flash as the vaporized gases went first, followed by some serious flames off the surface of the pool, the cars quickly turned to plies of melted plastic and metal.

As we watched the carnage ensue none of us noticed fast enough that the trail of gas that led back to the gas can was quickly igniting along its path.  In my rush to move the can the flames arrived at the same second as my hand and I was now on fire.  My grasp of the can was poor at best and with the ensuing heat I dropped the can and took a few steps back.  Unfortunately, it did not land on its base and it fell over spilling out the rest of its contents onto the driveway.  Equally as unfortunate was the fact that the spill went directly to the base of the garage door.  In a matter seconds the entire front of the garage was now ablaze.  This multi-million dollar house was headed for oblivion as the three of us tried to throw rocks and dirt at the flames to no avail.

I am not sure how long it took, seemed like hours, before the Aspen Volunteer Fire Department arrived on scene.  In reality it could not have been too long as the flames never penetrated into the garage or the rest of the house.  Jinx Caparella was the first volunteer on scene and with a couple bursts from his fire extinguisher the flames were gone.  Moments later the rest of the crew arrived in two fire trucks with their sirens blaring, and a couple of local police cars and a number of personal cars belonging to the rest of the responders.  It quickly turned into circus with the three of us in the center ring.  Being one of quick wit and willing to stretch the truth I proceeded to tell them what had happened but not entirely factual.

I explained how we were trying to open the metal G.I.  gas can and I was using a big rock to pound on the screw top when all of the sudden a spark from the rock ignited the gas fumes as they escaped from the can.  The minor explosion caused me to drop the can and the flames followed the spilling gas to the front of the garage.  They bought it!  In hind sight I am not sure why they believed my story as there were no big rocks anywhere near us to verify my claim.  Whether they believed me or not we lived in a small town where everyone kind of watched out for one another and my story would put an end to the whole event nicely.  Insurance paid for the damage and life in Aspen went on as usual.

Late 1960’s

Was there ever something you said as a child that you spent the rest of your life trying to forget, or worse; live down while your friends and family refused to let it go?  Well this story is about one of those moments in time that should never have happened.

In the 1960’s travel across Colorado was a slow process.  The roads throughout the state still had sections that were gravel or poorly paved.  The interstate system was still inching its way to the Midwest having begun on both coasts.  Colorado was one of the last states to have its interstate run from border to border culminating with the completion of the Glenwood Canyon corridor in the early 1980’s.

My grandmother lived in Grand Junction at the time and trips to see her were frequent and usually took four or more hours to drive there (takes just 2 hours today).   With four very busy kids in the car my parents would stop along the way for us to “burn off some energy” and for refreshments.  One of our favorite stops was in Silt at the Dairy Queen.  At the time, Silt and the surrounding area was a large Alfalfa growing region.  Along highway US 6 and the Rio Grande Railroad tracks stood a large processing plant for the locally grown alfalfa.  In fact, Silt did not have the most pleasant aroma during the harvesting seasons back then. 

The Dairy Queen was on the east end of town and provided plenty of space to run around.  It was also a great place to watch the trains pass by and the kids often begged my father to stay long enough to see one go by.  This left a lot of time to sit around and visit which we were all pretty good at, talking that is.  The sitting around part was monumentally more difficult.

On this fateful day the conversations ranged from the smell of the alfalfa to the paving of the interstate that was inching its way through the western Colorado.  I am not sure how things went so horribly wrong but at last count my parents and sisters were in a conversation about our horses.  The next thing I knew they were talking about the asphalt the road crews were putting down for the highway.  I innocently enough inquired about what I thought I had just heard them talking about, “what part of the horse do they make asphalt out of?”  After the initial laughter had abated I was informed that I had participated in parts of two different conversations, but the damage was done. 

Ever since then, any time I am in a conversation with my family members and get confused about what is being discussed one of them will utter, “what part of the horse do they make the asphalt out of?” followed by another round of laughter.

Will I ever live that down?  Probably not!

That Can’t Be Good!

She was the 5^th or 6^th love of my life and I was her first kiss.  It was the winter of 1975 and we were inseparable except for the fact that we each lived with our parents and her dad was a former Tight End for the Detroit Lions.  Blond and beautiful, she was captivating with a sense of humor to match.  With no cars to steal away with one-another, we were relegated to long walks or forced to ride on the recently inaugurated RFTA free buses.  She lived on Silver King Drive in the area known as “Snowbunny” and my family lived in the west end.  It was really no more than a mile but it seemed like ten miles.

Our relationship lasted about as long as your average school romance, three months to be exact.  But those three months were special.  After school we would hang out at my house or hers, as long as her dad was not there to scare me off.  In reality he actually liked me but I did not know it at the time. 

Then it happened… we were spending the afternoon hours after school one day and found ourselves in the Martinelli’s back yard with friends.  Being the consummate practical joker that I have always been I decided to bury her in the snow and no I did not stop there.  I proceeded to fill her mouth full of snow.  The shock of it all was that the snow was not as white as I thought.  Much to my surprise and hers, she came up with a mouth full of dog poop and a little snow to go with it.  Under any other circumstance that would have been the end of our budding relationship but let’s not forget I was her first kiss and that meant something.

Then it happened, the three-month mark quickly arrived and without warning.  We were at the Sunday matinée with just about everyone else from our middle school.  We foolishly went to see Barbara Streisand in “Funny Lady” and everything seemed to be going just fine.  She headed up to the bathroom with the usual cadre of girls and never came back.  She sent emissary after emissary to keep me posted on the collapse of our courtship.  I never did see the end of the movie and vowed to never see Barbara Streisand in another movie again.  I was convinced my choice of movie was what caused the end of our romance.  To this day we still remain friends and she always reminds me of her first kiss and in return I never remind her of our little snow adventure.

I have also kept my other commitment and have boycotted Barbara Streisand ever since.

Circa 1968 Before and after

The big three-story building was not warning enough, some people had to test gravity first, then blunt force trauma next.  It was all in the name of fun!

As a very young child I remember waiting for the lifts to shut down for the evening, with the sun making its final appearance for the day in order to begin the next phase of fun.  My brother and sisters and I were never alone on the bottom half of Little Nell on those evenings.  There was always a pretty good crowd of locals and visitors alike.  We would all walk half-way up the hill or beyond and get on all manner of sledding devices.  We used worn out truck tubes my father provided and slide down the hill, screaming every inch of the way.  Prior to 1968 our journey would often take us past the base of the mountain, across vacant lots and north on Hunter Street past Cooper Avenue and beyond until we either ran out of road or speed.  

The end of our journey was only the start of the next one and this would go on almost every evening until mountain security, Ben Dorman and his ilk, or the local police would stop it, always reminding us that we were not allowed to be there.  The next night the whole play acted itself out once again almost as if it were choreographed or scripted.  I suppose they were really watching out for our safety but if we wanted to be safe we would have stayed home.

In the winter of 1968 the rules of the game changed.  That summer into the fall and winter, construction on the North of Nell Condominiums was under way.  That presented the sledders with a very big challenge, one they had never faced before, “How to stop a speeding sled or thread it between the old Little Nell building and the new condominiums?”  Although the gap between the buildings was large, with upwards of 20 or 30 sledders coordination and timing was difficult at best.  For everyone else abandoning ship before impact was the only option and not everyone timed that very well.

The old Little Nell building also added additional risk.  Although sledding on that side of Little Nell was not common, the building had a thriving bar at the time and collisions between sledders and drunks were common.  Often the drunks would be the losers in that game.   Over the years following the completion of The North of Nell building a number of sledders were badly injured.  With the added risk of bodily injury, one tourist sledder even ended up in the basement of the building, came added security.  Before long our Little Nell sledding days were over.

Years later prior to the building of the gondola, people would once again try to sled there but without much success.  So we headed to Buttermilk with Ski Company security not far behind…

Circa 1960’s – 1980’s

In my early years old skis and worn out wooden barrels found new life on the slopes each year.  This was back before looking good on the slopes was just as important, if not more, as being a good skier.  Back then the local ski companies imposed no rules on the quality or type of equipment it permitted on their slopes.  I have often wondered if snow boards would have had any issues back then and I seriously doubt it.

Aspen Mountain was always the favorite meeting place of the local kids, partly because Snowmass was just getting started and Buttermilk was too easy.  Highlands on the other hand was gaining ground.  But I digress; this memory is more about the equipment than the place.

With wooden skis still commonplace on the slopes in the early 1970’s, their days were numbered.  New skis were made of metal or fiberglass and were thin at their thickest points and could make a bad skier good.  For many of us, new skis every year were not an option and we would keep them as long as we were told we had to.  Eventually, our parents would relent and let us upgrade our skis, boots and bindings at the annual ski swaps.  Sometimes Aspen Sports, Sporthaus Lindner, Sabatini’s and the lot would even sell last year’s unused or barely scratched models at the Ski Swap and they would go fast before the doors even opened to the public.  The luck of having your mom or dad working on the staff, you got to shop early and then hide your treasures until the first register opened that cold Saturday morning.

Even with new skis in hand there were still plenty of uses for the old equipment.  I am not sure who first brought the idea to town but sometime in the late 1960’s the kids of Aspen had a new toy extracted from their old gear.  These new toys were often called “Goonies” and they were made from worn out skis and bindings.  All you had to do was cut your old skis in half or even less, and then attach an old set of bindings somewhere in the middle of the 2-foot long skis.  If the mounting screws went all the way through you could grind down the ends and melt a little P-Tex around them and you were off to the slopes.

Before long, just about all the kids in town had a set of Goonies.  They were even good for “Skitching” or “Hooky-Bobbing” on the bumpers of the cars downtown until being caught by the police or eventually falling and letting go.  Some of us even ended up underneath the backs of cars  when they unknowingly came to an unexpected stop.

Not to be outdone, an earlier version of skis resurrected on the slopes as well.  These were known as Stave Skis and were made from the slates or staves from old oak barrels.  With no edges and curved up on both ends, these were a major challenge to use but we were all willing to try if we could get our hands on a pair.

By the mid-1970’s one of the more progressive or enterprising toy companies might have even been Ron Popeil of Pocket Fisherman fame.  Ron was a part-time resident and famous inventor who came up with “Boot Skis.”  These were made of thick plastic and attached to the bottom of your ski boots with small traps and basically extended just beyond the ends of your boots.  Boot skis did not last on the scene for long since they were difficult to use and eventually were banned by the ski companies since they tore up the lift ramps and queues, making it a fulltime job to smooth them back out.

During those decades ski technology progressed exponentially and yet all we wanted to do was to take the old technology and turn it into something fun.  Time eventually caught up with us about the same time frivolous law suits did and the old Goonies, Staves and Boot Skis were banned from the slopes.

Skis did change over the years.  First, they were known to be 10 plus feet long and made from wood.  Over time their lengths got as short as three feet.  Remember the Graduated Length Method (GLM) that was tried for a few years?  As the lighter materials were being implemented their lengths grew once again culminating on the 125cm+ speed skis.  Then, technology and the law suits forced the industry to go lighter and even shorter once again.  Now days you are lucky if you can find a pair of skis that exceed 185cm in length.  With Snowboards on the scene I can only imagine the changes that are yet to come.  As for me, I would love a pair of 120cm skis in my collection along with a nice pair of Goonies.

1960’s

Off Highway 13 north of Meeker, the non-descript County Road 17 heads off to the northwest to Juniper Hot Springs, also referred to as Maybell Hot Springs.  The county road was always well maintained due to the coal mines and farms back in the valley.  We usually arrived on this portion of the road after dark and in the winter the rabbits were very plentiful and they liked to dart out in front of the car to take advantage of the light provided by the head lamps.  It was almost like a real life game of “whack-a-mole” only this time we were doing our best not to hit the critters.

Juniper Hot Springs had a number of small “joined” cabins as well as some private baths and a big outdoor pool.  There was also a nice little café on the property.  It was owned and operated by Stella & Luella Craig (sisters) until the late 1990’s when Luella’s health finally got the best of her and they moved into the big city of Craig, Colorado.  The two sisters ran the pools, operated the cafe’; sold some wonderful ‘Juniper Burgers’ and rented rooms in the hotel cabins.  Their pies were unmatched anywhere on Earth and I made a point of eating as much of them as possible.

We always traveled with numerous families and made the best of what the area had to offer.  There was the open range managed by the BLM and the state which offered nearly unlimited room for snowmobiling and rabbit hunting.  Between rides the kids would often go swimming and eat in the café.

On one particular trip Tommy and Genie Carter and their kids joined us.  Sean Carter was my age and we had been friends for years.  Our days were spent hunting, snowmobiling and swimming in the pool.  We never had any money at that age but Stella and Luella just let us carry a tab which my father was sure to settle up before the end of the weekend.

Hunting was an adventure in itself as the rabbits were smart.  I remember going off in to the back country tracking the rabbits.  We would stop to take our shot and if successful we would have to set our guns on the snowmobile seats and trek through the deep snow to get them.  Just as you would bend down to pick them up, they would run off.  Knowing full well we could not get back to our guns fast enough, they were never to be seen again.

Frustrated and cold, Sean and I returned to the comfort of the café for more pie.  By the end of the weekend I am sure we ate our weight in pies.  Every vacation to the springs ended too quickly, but I am sure my father felt they did not end soon enough.  It was years later that I learned Sean and I had eaten over $75.00 in pies that weekend, although I have my doubts on the final tab.

Juniper Hot Springs sat dormant for many years until recently when it was purchased by new orwners with big plans for the place.  The new owners have kept the pool but most of the buildings were too dilapidated to keep and were subsequently torn down.  They have plans on building a new resort there and I can hardly wait to take my kids to go see the place.  It is available for a small fee to swim in the pool.  No other services are presently offered.