Achievements in America - an overview

• Never a cross word
• Only one clean plate
• 4 lbs weight loss
• 3,347 miles of driving
• A good laugh every day
• And we didn’t miss one episode of the Archers

and finally........some bizarre and random photos that didn't make it elsewhere

Last day

We stayed our last night in Steamboat Springs at the Nordic Lodge. Had a huge ground floor room with the car right outside the door so we got our packing all straightened out.
A great meal at Harwigs & L’Apogee, chosen because Steve got to have roasted leg of lamb in filo, with grilled hearts of palm, grape tomatoes and chimichurri. I had chicory-rubbed ostrich with roasted red beet and tomato salad, cippolini onions, cherry demi and pomme frits which were like matchsticks – perfect!

Our last ride on Monday morning wasn’t the most memorable, but the sun was out and it was just Steve, me and the wrangler who spent most of the time texting, yawning and spitting. Guess which one he’s doing in the photo. We rode up the famous Howelsen Hill on horses who made it very clear that they would rather be home in bed.

This horse outside F M Light had more life! F M Light is a genuine old cowboys’ outfitters, and Steve bought a pair of farmhand’s braces (or suspenders as they are called here).

Winding down

We're in Steamboat Springs, we fly out of Denver tomorrow night. So we're just off out for a meal (if it's good it might get a mention in the food and arts column that seems to taken over the side bars) and we have a ride booked for the morning so maybe just one more photo of me hugging a horse.

Top day

Saturday was such a top day as we did two of our favourite things: riding horses in the morning and riding a train in the afternoon.
After a breakfast of home made quiche and cinnamon cake (true!) at the Washington School Inn, we got out of Park City with difficulty as the whole town was closed off for the Tour of Utah bicycle thing.

It was quite a tough ride on tracks barely 18” wide full of rocks, up steep climbs then down again, pushing yourself off trees to save your knees - but they were sure-footed horses and we were with a really great group of people so there was a lot of laughter and ribaldry. The sun shone and the butterflies and dragonflies flew around us. I had a gorgeous horse who tried to follow me to the car and come home with me.

Heber Valley Railroad was brilliant. The train chuga-a-lugged along a single track line, blowing its whistle and clanging its bell as we went over crossings. Then we reached Deer Creek reservoir and rode alongside its shores for 7 ½ miles. The water was deep blue and there were people sailing, water skiing and kite-ing on it (and waving like they should!).

When we reached Soldier Hollow there was a surprise ambush. It really was a surprise. A couple of rootin’ tootin’, gun totin’ cowboys stormed the train to the consternation of all the children on board. No doubt it was done for their benefit, but the gunfire was very loud with a good 9” of flame coming out of the rifle and everyone under 5 was clinging to a parent screaming and crying. Anyway, guess who they took as hostage………..!

I did my “Don’t you know who I am?” bit, and “I’m related to the Queen, you know” so got thrown back on the train, with Steve shouting, “No keep her, keep her! It’s the only reason we came on this ride!”

Park City

The 2002 Winter Olympics were held at Park City and it is clearly a wealthy, successful town and an example where old buildings can be renovated and filled with galleries, shops and restaurants. Sundance is nearby, where the film festival takes place, and in the winter this is a very popular place to ski.

We’re staying in the most elegant place – the Washington School Inn. Full of antiques and little treats, like a tray of appetisers to greet us. Big old brass bed and roll top, claw footed bath. We explored the town and sat in the garden and read our books. I've read most of The Crimson Petal and the White then got bored with it ¾ of the way through. Now I’m on the book group book, The Help, which I’m finding hard to put down.

The good news is that, just a block away, is the only distillery in Utah, majoring in whiskey and vodka. The sad news is that we just missed Bob Dylan, by a couple of days. However, we met a guy called Tim Cotterill, the Frogman, who 20 years ago was laying slabs in Leicester and is now a well known artist who creates solid bronze frogs which sell from $100 up to $160,000. He was also staying at the Old School House with his entourage and groupies and was here for a gallery launch to which we were invited. I have to admit the frogs are not my cup of peppermint tea but apparently they are hugely collectable. The one pictured here was $770, so he must be doing something right.

Pocatello

Pocatello itself was dire. DIRE. Most of it’s like a huge, singlestorey industrial estate. The “old historic town” part is like the Marie Celeste. Most businesses already closed, the few remaining on their last legs. The only one with customers was the thrift shop. We parked up for two hours and were back in the car within two minutes it was so depressing. The local authority seems to have a lot to answer for, apparently, as they make it so difficult for new businesses to open in these old buildings, with their strict health and safety rules. There’s a website about it. Hope, for the town’s sake, someone will see sense.
The big excitement was that the street opposite the hotel had been closed down and taken over for the week while “The Extreme Makeover” TV programme was doing its stuff. Being America, the owners are sent on vacation and the house is actually demolished and rebuilt, decorated, refurnished etc. All in a week. So the area was heaving with trucks and tents and people in Extreme Makeover teeshirts and clusters of residents peering over the barriers.

A theme come true

We're on the way home now, so we pitched up in Pocatello for two reasons: one, it was a place to stay the night; two, we’d come across the Black Swan Inn, a themed hotel which we needed to visit for its comic / novelty value (although work colleagues counselled that it had to be a swingers’ hotel. Like they’d know?!)

After a Facebook poll, we went for the Caveman Suite (it was the bone curtain rail that did it. The Egyptian Room was a close second). Do look at the website (and turn your speakers up)

Well, the Caveman Suite was FAB. Bigger than I’d imagined. And, luckily, on the ground floor because stairs can be quite hard for the elderly!

The whole space has been "hand carved" so it's rock (well, clay actually) with stalactites hanging from the ceiling and lighting hidden in crevices. Very womb like. Similar to the Hole N" Rock which I wrote about earlier.

We had to sign an agreement at reception about candles and candle wax..............

The bedroom area: a bouncy bed (animal-print satin sheets) lit from underneath,with paper tissues hidden in a rock crevice nearby(!), a huge TV screen, mood music playing and incense-ey smells emanating.

The theme, obviously, cave-like with animal prints. I immediately lost my camera which has a tiger skin case – it just melted into the room.

A double jacuzzi bath with tiger skin curtains and the water coming out of the rock-hewn ceiling. Again, a big old appliance handle thing screwed to the side so that the old folks can heave themselves out of the bubbling water.

And a caveman kitchen. Cavewoman needs this while Fred Flinstone out there hunting and killing bears.

Then there was a door which I opened expecting to find decking with a hot tub and it was this!

Sadly, we left Stanley. What a find that was!
We drove along the Salmon River Scenic Byway – 57 miles of indescribable scenery. You’re driving along a bendy, windy road alongside a wide, clearwater river where you can see every single stone under the water’s surface. And there’s huge hills covered in sage brush towering over you on the other side. Then just as you’re getting used to it, it all changes and the hills become golden brown mountains, almost like huge piles of sand. Indescribable? Well, I tried!
Then the Salmon River Scenic Byway became the Peaks and Craters Scenic Byway (the bit we didn’t do the other day) which was equally mind-boggling. If you’re into views and scenery, there’s a bit of a slideshow here.

Sawtooth riding – so good we did it twice

On Wednesday morning we rode the Lower Trail which took us round the lakes and it was so fantastic that we had a quick lunch then did the Upper Trail.
Steve had the same horse. My afternoon horse was very spirited so it made for an exciting ride, but no opportunity to whip out the camera as the sound of the Velcro on the camera case got him all jumpy. Having said that, the views here are so stunning, no photo or painting or poem could possibly capture them and do them justice.
The Upper Trail ride took us up towards the mountains through the forest, full of wild flowers.
If you like riding, can you imagine what it’s like to ride somewhere like this?
Our legs were feeling quite sore after so long in the saddle so we went to the lake and let the water soothe them. Steve’s still walking like John Wayne but thinks he might have progressed to Clint Eastwood in the morning.

Why I love Stanley - by Pearl Snodgrass aged 192 1/2

You feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere, because the streets haven’t been tarmacced – but who of us has?! (little joke for my DCC friends) and it’s very low key. Yet the shop that sells “small items of interest” stocks at least three books on the art of Frida Kahlo and there’s a restaurant called The Casino – but it’s not one. It’s named after a creek. And this is the kind of thing on the menu:
• stuffed pasta tossed with langoustine, sliced mushrooms, roasted red bell pepper, spinach and artichoke heart in a garlic cream sauce
• chicken breast smothered with a mild green chilli pesto and pepperjack cheese
• tender duck breast, finished with Shauna’s blueberry Cabernet sauce
• pork tenderloin marinated in soy, sesame, ginger, cilantro and garlic
• tender pork ribs slow cooked in the oven, finished on the grill with Phil Baiocchi’s Top Secret 49-ers Tailgate BBQ sauce
• Black and Blue Beef: Roasted prime rib of beef dredged in our own Cajun spice blend, flash fried in an old cast iron river skillet and topped with Gorgonzola blue cheese – often imitated, never duplicated!
• Camarones Anejo: prawns sautéed in Shauna’s lime cilantro butter with tomato, black olive corn and a splash of gold tequila.

Bear in mind that this is the middle of nowhere………..and on the table to the right of you is definitely a transvestite, on the table ahead of you there’s three young fathers with their sons on a “boys and kids” trip and behind you a group of hippies one of whom has on the front of his T-shirt “I got sand caught in..” and, on the back of it: “My happy place.” More information please!

I could happily stay here a fortnight (and then come back to see what it’s like in the winter) – if only to try every dish at The Casino. The above list is not the full menu – I just got overwhelmed.

We’re staying in “The Cowboy Room” and there’s a picture of John Wayne in pride of place. Here’s a picture of the frieze.

Yes, until today Stanley was just an old boy in a flat cap working in his allotment. Now it’s one of my favourite places in the world!

We drove from Arco to Stanley along the Scenic Byways, first the Peaks to Craters then the Sawtooth, through miles and miles of cattle-filled, green / gold farmland encased by undulating mountains, leaving povo-land behind us and into Sun Valley and an affluent area where you could pick up a Starbucks and the rivers had water in them.

There’s middle of nowhere and there’s middle of nowhere. Arco is one kind, Stanley is the other. Our hotel, once the holiday home of Bill Harrah is on Ace of Diamonds Avenue which is just an unmade road, as is the whole of downtown.

The red glow

We drove across the Idaho Plains where there are over 50 nuclear reactor plants - more than anywhere else in the world. My husband: the last of the great romantics.... And the point? Well, there wasn't time to visit the Potato Museum, so it was straight to the Craters of the Moon.

Salt Lake City – closed for the weekend

Unless you’re a Mormon bride, that is. There were 80 weddings at the Temple on Saturday of all shapes and sizes and a whole lot of white meringue dresses. Now this was interesting: it seems that once these girls had put so much thought and attention into the hair, the headdress, the eyelashes, the make up, the tan, the nails and of course the frock, maybe just maybe no one would notice the shoes….. but because the dress has to be lifted to do stairs there was some eye-catching footwear to behold: black shoes, navy shoes, cork wedges and (I promise!) FLIP FLOPS. Read on!

It’s an interesting place, Salt Lake City with its Gothic / Stalin-esque architecture. At first I thought it was weird then I started to think that it is extraordinary. But, apart from all the activity in the Temple area, everywhere seemed to be closed, and it was even more closed on Sunday.

We stayed two nights in such a swish hotel – our room was the size of the whole of the ground floor of our house and we slept for England.

On Sunday we really concentrated on the Mormon thing and covered every inch and did various tours including Brigham Young’s house. History rewritten? We had to bite our tongues and suspend our disbelief quite a bit because while the people who showed us around were delightful and charming (but why only young women – in pairs – and no men?) and, in many ways, how could you disagree with the values, there were various unanswered questions or things not mentioned - such as what about Brigham Young’s 54 (that’s FIFTY-FOUR!) wives, and how come there’s no evidence that, after the resurrection, Jesus came to America, and what’s the Freemason connection? But that’s fine. It was all fine.

There are a few photos here of the architecture and Brigham Young’s bed! Was he ever in it?!

We also, on Sunday, came across a lone bride being photographed in front of the temple, all done up and in her frock. I asked the photographer if she’d got married yesterday and was told no, this is “the bridals”. She’s getting married next Saturday, and what they do is put the frock on the week before and have all these pictures taken so they can be blown up and displayed at the wedding party. She seemed like a lovely, high-spirited girl and the way she was climbing on walls and standing so close to water, I feared for her dress just a week away from the event, but if you click on the picture to make it bigger, you’ll see, yes, green flip flops. I rest my case.

So what else to do? Go to The Great Salt Lake, that’s what. We trudged for ever across crunchy, salty sand stuff as the smell got stronger and stronger until I could paddle in warm salty water. It felt wonderful. Click here if you want to see half a dozen photos. Certainly like nowhere I’ve ever been to before.

Tomorrow we’re off to Arco. It might be archaic…. better get to the hairdryer now!

Canyonlands

Red sand, scorched and bare trees, green bushes, cacti and pigmy trees. Rough roads, rocks, layers of different colours. Vegetation, once fertile and verdant, now non-existent.

And the Green River, snaking through the floor of the canyon all the way from Wyoming. It looked as if someone had taken a jigsaw and cut beautiful, random shapes into the ground. Words really can’t describe - so sit back, break open a beer and watch the slideshow.

For some reason, Colorado and Utah seem to be absolutely stiff with French people. I pass no comment other than to say it can get pretty serious at the hotel’s help-yourself, all-you-can-eat breakfast and quite noisy when you’re trying to imprint a huge peaceful view onto your mind. Or, today, take a people-free photograph. Steve starts to harrumph in a very British way. I find it easier to make friends than he does.

Utah - the dry state

We’re now in the Utah desert. It was a spectacular journey where it seemed as if we just turned a corner and there we were in high temperatures and red everywhere.

We came across a place called Hole N’ the Rock. I know, extraordinary apostrophe placement. And, painted on the rock, it's a double one for good measure.

It’s a 14 room house that was blasted out of the rock by a guy called Albert Christensen in the 1940s and you can go on a tour. Sounds like he was a bit of a character, an alcoholic Mormon, Jack of all trades / master of none, imprisoned twice for bootlegging. Seems like nothing he did, he did well or quite finished. Examples of his taxidermy and art works confirmed this. But he was a hard worker. He and his second wife, Gladys - also a second-time-rounder and Mormon, ran a diner from one of the rooms. He was the cook as well as a barber. He was building the house for 12 years and died at 53 with it unfinished… Gladys lived another 17 years, moving from the marital bed to a different room. She gave tours of the house for 50 cents and when she was too old and infirm, friends gave the tours while she sat up in bed and waved. They are both buried there – Gladys made the headstones.
Unfortunately we weren’t allowed to take photos but I found some on line here. Look out for the fireplace tiled by Gladys and the very girly bedroom she took herself off to after Albert died. Wish she'd been there waving from the bed when we visited.

We also went to Dead Horse Point which was stunning and we had it practically to ourselves. The sad story is there on the left column. We took some good pictures though.

Our huge car felt very small against the enormous rocks. The temperatures were in the 90s, but there was a lovely breeze.

Then we just took a random road towards a place called Potash and drove along with the brown river on one side and towering red and purple rocks on the other side, with a single train track at the bottom of it.
There were Red Indian drawings on the side of the rocks, which you can see in this album.

Moab

By day, a long dead street. At night it came to life. Full of young people who, presumably, had been doing daredevil things on rock faces and in rapids all day and just wanted to let their hair down after all that. And, given that Utah is a dry state, it was quite impressive that most people seemed to be inebriated. Maybe it was all the fresh air

Jim Bishop

Last week, I wrote about Jim Bishop and his rants - see 'Unfinished business". Then I had my own wee 'au jus' rant down the left hand column the other day. But if you really want to hear a rant, I've worked out how to upload the little film I took of Jim going full tilt. Here it is................

Mesa Verde

“Zero chance of rain today,” the weatherman said, yet we drove to the Mesa Verde with the wipers going full tilt! But it’s 23 miles from the park entrance to the cave dwelling we planned to visit and as we were told before, “If you don’t like the weather in Colorado, just wait 15 minutes.” And, sure enough, by the time we got to the Spruce Tree house the sun was blazing and the temperature was in the 80s.

This one’s the third largest dwelling there among several hundred and the only one we were men enough to visit – the other two involved things like walking three miles first, then climbing up 10 ft wooden ladders, followed by a rock climb.
It was fascinating. Discovered in 1888 when two local ranchers came upon it while searching for stray cattle. The Anasazi people lived there around 800 years ago.
There was all kinds of information at the Visitor Centre and there were rangers around to tell us anything we wanted to know.

It took a good two hours to do the drive through the park alone, and there were masses of stop offs to see the Cliff Palace, Pit House, Square Tower House and the Sun Temple amongst others. Here are some of our photos.

As we were driving away, it started to cloud over and it began to rain. We’d had 4 ½ hours there – all in sunshine – and within half an hour it was like we were driving through a river, and the mountains – if you could see them – were like dark monsters crouching and ready to pounce. So much for "Zero chance of rain."
Then it all changed again and we drove into Cortez with sun on our left, grey skies on our right and shafts of rain and sunlight straight ahead.

Bin there, done that

A black bear came by last night and raided the trash.

We spent all day driving the 180 miles to Durango, as there were detours, photo opps and views at every turn. As ever, we took 100s of photos but, thoughtfully, I’ve put just five examples on Picasa of some of the things we saw on the way.

We hit The Black Canyon of the Gunnison around midday and drove along the Southern Rim, stopping for walks and to take photos at places with names like Tomichi Point, Devil’s Lookout, Chasm Views, Painted Wall Vies, Dragon Point, Sunset View and High Point.
But forget the views. This is what happens to hair after two days back to basics in a fisherman’s shack with no hairdryer or straighteners!

The last leg of the journey was along the San Juan Skyway from Ouray, allegedly the most beautiful drive in America – if a little frightening on occasions, when you’re driving alongside a sheer drop with no barrier between you and certain death, just a white line. The route on the sat nav screen looked like human intestines!
We saw deserted mines and ghost towns, rusty red mountains, wild flowers, rivers and streams. A few more pics here.
No wonder we didn’t get to Durango until gone 6.00. It’s a prosperous (old Western) town, hopping with people, shops and restaurants. There’s the famous train line to Silverton, as well as all kinds of organised outdoor activities (three words that don’t sit comfortably with Mr and Mrs Snodgrass).
We thought it might be our wedding anniversary, but have rather lost track of time. So we went to a fancy restaurant anyway. I had seared duck in a strawberry ginger confiture with jalapenos, with grilled flat bread and a warm butter nut squash and pecan salad. An interesting combination of tastes.

Whittling stick time

Just had two days in a fisherman’s shack alongside a river. Very basic. No wifi, TV, telephones, bedside tables or lamps (we bought torches so we could read under the covers!) Doing our own food, picking up our own towels, catching up on the Archers (previously downloaded to a podcast in a wi-fi area), sleeping, reading and, in Steve’s case writing his book as he has an end of August deadline (gulp!)

We spent Monday morning in Crested Butte, a very pretty town in the mountains with organic restaurants and craft shops aplenty. The weather couldn’t make up its mind but it cleared up for our ride, which was a lovely long one up into the Gunnison Forest on the Snodgrass Trail, through thousands of aspen trees and wild alpine flowers, surrounded by mountains yet 10,500 feet above sea level. And in sunshine. What more could you want?

Then we legged round the Pioneer Museum in Gunnison at breakneck speed as it was closing, and had a quiet night in, with just the sound of the river just a few feet away. There it is, just outside the window.

Great Sand Dunes National Park

We stayed Saturday night at a lodge right on the edge of the Great Sand Dunes National Park from which we had an uninterrupted view of the dunes and the Sangre de Christo mountains. Can you see the deer in the picture? Click on it to make it bigger, perhaps.
In the early evening we did a bit of a walk on the dunes to the first ridge – hard going for a couple of old crocks. No restaurant or cooking facilities at the lodge other than barbecues, so we got drenched cooking our food in a thunderstorm, then ate it under cover on our veranda watching the lightening leap all over the mountains.

A room with a view

This is the view we woke up to on Sunday morning. Hard to leave it, but still so many places to go to and things to see.

Before we left the area, we drove 3 ½ miles along a bumpy old track then scrambled up this trail to the Zapata Falls. Very lovely.

Then a scenic 3 hour drive to Almont (with an elkburger stop) along miles and miles of straight, empty road where I was torn between gasping at the views or taking the opportunity to carry on reading The Lacuna which I highly recommend if you’re interested in Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, Trotsky, closet homosexuality, the media and Macarthy-ism.

Unfinished business

On the way to the Great Sand Dunes National Park, we made a detour so we could visit Bishop’s Castle. We’d heard about it, knew it’s a work in progress, being built single-handedly by a guy called Jim Bishop – a loose canon if ever there was one – battling against the authorities who, for instance, tried to stop him taking local stone for his castle. He likes a fight, does Jim. We’d heard he’s usually there, either building or ranting – or both.

The man, who ranks himself alongside Gaudi and Michelangelo, was there – taking his lunch break, enthroned on a tatty sofa. Everyone seemed to be studiously avoiding him, so I went over for a chat and asked him when he started building his castle.
“69,” he said, “My favourite number.” Then said, “My wife and I do it back-to-back now” (for heaven’s sake – I hadn’t known this man two minutes!) “I call it 96,” he said. Then he did his Viagra rant, followed by an anti-royal family, pro Diana and the murder conspiracy rant which he presumed would provoke us, being English – but he had the wrong people.
Other rants followed: anti-authority, anti-establishment, the “facist / nazi republicans” etc. etc. And if he’s not around, there’s rant signs all over the place.

The castle itself isn’t quite the Sagrada Familia, but it has a similar eccentricity and they say he’s making it up as he goes along – though no wonder it’s not finished with all that ranting.

There was a wedding about to start and I was told there’s no charge – again, just a donation. The groom asked me to take his photo so he could check his moustache on the screen. See him, Jim, some rant signs and more of this amazing folly here.

Jewel of the Canyons

We stayed Friday night at The Jewel of the Canyons B and B, another lovely Victorian House in Cañon City – which, apart from the wiggle above the ‘n’ (called a tilde by the way) doesn’t have a lot going for it, other than the Royal Gorge Railroad and the “correctional facility”. We had a massive bedroom, antique furniture and a chandelier from which to swing and another amazing work-of-art breakfast - picture on the side bar.

Awesome

The train ride was awesome indeed. We’d paid top whack to sit in the glass-domed-roof carriage, but ended up with the people in an open truck (which, funnily enough, hadn’t been mentioned in the promotional literature). It was 94 degrees but there was a cool breeze as we rode alongside the Arkensas river, waving at and being waved at by the white water rafters. Here are just a few pictures to give a flavour.

His aching waving hand

“They’re bloody good wavers, these Americans,” said Steve. We were on the train, they were alongside. Everyone waved. His happiness was complete. “Imagine if they went to Berlin,” he said, “where no one waves back.”

In the picture, she really is waving - not drowning. It's difficult to ride and take a photo, or paddle and wave, or take a photo and wave. He knows. He's the expert. In waving, anyway.

Back in the saddle

Before we left Manitou Springs for Cañon city, we went riding in the Garden of the Gods. It was glorious. Perfect.
Steve’s horse was called Easy – and it was. Mine, Santa Fe, needed to know who was boss. I had him eating out of my hand very soon! Couple of pics here. Difficult to ride and take photos at the same time.
The road to Cañon City was wide and empty – miles and miles of space and view. We could even see mountains behind the mountains. Huge blue skies and big soft white clouds.

We ate at an original old diner – so hideous it had to be authentic. I had a ‘patty melt’. What’s that? I hear you cry. A porn star or a country and western singer?
While on the subject of food, I have only had one clean plate the whole time we’ve been here. So last year’s hypnosis is still working and I’m allowing myself to stop eating when I’ve had enough. The clean plate was from the Rocky Mountain Oysters, but that’s because it was a dare.

We managed to catch a glimpse of The Royal Gorge before the storm kicked in. If you click on the photo to make it bigger, you should just see a train track running alongside the water. We’ll be on that train tomorrow.

Garden of the Gods

Yes, I know………… the two-of-us, hike and morning are not words normally used in the same sentence, but at 10.00 am, with a bumbag full of water, we hit the Garden of the Gods and walked for over two hours.

The sun shone, the breeze gently blew, we smelt the wild sage and heard a mom yell, “Put down that rock, Brett, this is meant to be a nature walk!”
We walked all through the Central Garden, then the whole of the Scotsman’s Trail and got moved on by a ranger for walking into the rattlesnake area – such townies!
Here’s just some of the photos we took. Look out for the Kissing Camels, the Balanced Rock, the Amish boys on the boulder and what could be a dog licking a child’s face.
Tomorrow we’re going back to ride through the Garden of the Gods – so check back.

Streets paved with gold

We decided to go to Cripple Creek – if only to sing along with The Band as we drove through town. Click here and join in while you read this!

We’d been warned that behind the Victorian facades in what was once an elegant main street is casino after casino- and that was no exaggeration. It was really weird.

Cripple Creek used to be the third largest city in Colorado. It was very wealthy, it had electricity before New York and they say that the streets really were paved with gold – inferior gold ore was used as the hardcore on the sidewalks. 25,000 people lived there; there were 5 daily newspapers, a stock exchange, 3 banks, 16 churches, the main street was lined with fine department stores, and there were scores of gambling halls as well as about 70 24/7 saloons. The Grand Opera House was so large that a rodeo could be staged in it.
Now people just go there to play the machines.

Painted ladies

So we drove out, and suddenly spotted a tiny little house and it was The Old Homestead, the last remaining brothel – still standing in what was the red light district. It's now a museum. We were shown round by a feisty 84-year-old woman who told us that the going rate for one trick was $50 - $100, with an overnight stay costing $250 which is about $9,000 today. So this was a high class place. There were 27 millionaires in Cripple Creek alone, as well as rich clients from as far away as Denver. But they had to book in advance, applying by letter and their credit was checked first.
There were all the original furnishings, imported from Italy, Germany, Persia, Iran, England and France. The girls all gave themselves fancy names – not like the ones further down the road towards Poverty Gulch: Dirty Neck Nell, Dizzy Daisy, Bilious Bessie, Slippery Sadie. Greasy Gertie………………