VIEW FROM THE HILL

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN PAUL PENNER
Not long ago, Deborah and I took a couple of days off and hit the road for Colorado. Whenever we have the time to satisfy our wanderlust, our neighboring state to the west seems to fit the bill. The cool mountain breezes and the breathtaking views are soothing images for the soul.

Our family shares a bit of history in that region since it was the destination of our first road trip together as newlyweds. Years later, son Ben worked as a whitewater-rafting guide at Noah’s Ark, located near Buena Vista.

We revisited that area, taking in the scenic beauty of the treeless landscapes of Cottonwood Pass on the Continental Divide. But before we arrived there, we explored the depths of the Molly Kathleen gold mine located near Cripple Creek.

As we were guided through the passageways of the former mine, I made the offhand comment to Deborah that we tourists were the unwitting participants in a new mining venture. Our dollars were the gold, we tourists were the ore.

That’s is not necessarily a bad thing. Both parties achieve what they want out of the arrangement. One gets economic benefit, the other gets to see a bit of history and learns to appreciate his or her country’s heritage.

But my comfort level as a tourist took a nosedive when we drove into the little town of Cripple Creek. Unfortunately, we arrived in the middle of the day, when street vendors were setting up their wares for the next day’s veterans and bikers appreciation day.

Don’t ask me to explain why they include leather-clad bikers in their celebration. Sure, veterans ride two-wheelers. But I am skeptical that all riders were veterans. I rarely saw any evidence to support that.

Who knows, maybe they have more discretionary income than the average bear. They seemed to act more like the average bear, though. They mostly hibernated wherever they parked their Harleys. And when that wasn’t entertaining enough, they wandered into the casinos to try their luck and eat a meal.

Common tourists who arrived on four or more wheels took a backseat, literally, in Cripple Creek. All available free parking spaces were filled with motorcycles whose riders came a day early. The only free spaces still available were owned by-guess who-the casinos and bars. The catch, parking was only free with a validated receipt from the businesses.

I suppose there’s not much drama and flare to be had when parking one’s shiny, much decorated motorcycle in an out-of-the-way parking lot. Nobody notices. Nobody cares.

On the other hand, the main street is a grandstand of sorts. There is the drama of the arrival and the flare of the riders, some who happen to be female, who are dressed appropriately or inappropriately, depending on one’s affinity for such things.

And one can park right where the action is. The sidewalk is home, the street bench the living room couch. Friends come around and hang out. It’s a cool way of life.

For the biker, that is.

For us, parking in residential areas was off limits. Signs were posted by the owners, threatening removal of the offending vehicle, not to mention the cost of such removal.

For lunch, we resorted to parking in a museum parking lot, taking advantage of the two-hour limit and then moving on.

We finally found what appeared to be a free-parking area in front of the county courthouse. We decided if a parking ticket were issued, we only had to walk a few feet to the front door to pay the fine and make our escape before incurring another violation.

This was definitely not a user friendly town.

A few locals even expressed dismay over the apparently disorganized management of the incoming vendors and the lack of parking for other tourists.

We attended a melodrama at the restored Butte opera house, where upon arrival, the staff openly apologized for the inconvenience. They had been coerced into canceling a matinee to accommodate the incoming hordes of vendors and bikers.

It seems that most Colorado towns have similar events where bikers are welcomed. This behavior seems almost obsessive.

Leadville was in the midst of a similar celebration a few years back when we arrived. This time, we arrived to find ourselves in a more normal environment. There was adequate parking and we spent a couple hours visiting the sites.

Looking back, the experience underscores the importance of proper organization of such events. A few seemingly minor obstructions, like parking, or making one class of tourists welcome while others are made to feel unwelcome has a definite impact on the future success of the event.

It makes one appreciate the value of planning for every possible contingency, not to mention the effort it takes to accommodate the needs of the local community.

Cripple Creek was an eye-opener for me. Next time, I think I’ll let the bears hibernate, and do the tourist thing in another town.

More from article archives
USD 410 board votes 4-3 to raise mill levy for budget
ORIGINALLY WRITTEN ALEEN RATZLAFF Board members Rod Koons and Debbie Geis questioned...
Read More