High Country: Barksdale Picnic, South Park Scenery

Entering South Park from Wilkerson Pass (U.S. 24)

Minutes after waking, I grabbed my hiking poles and hit the streets. This time I turned down Mount Elbert Road, which sloped gently downward only to lurch sharply up a steep incline. The top flattened out, providing me the view of Pike’s Peak I craved from the high points of Trout Haven. Greedy for more scenic vistas, I stuck with the road.

Mule deer angry at a photographer

At a cul-de-sac, the road rewarded me again. I came upon a herd of mule deer, finally spotting the antlered males absent from our earlier encounters. The females scattered while a male and a yearling held their ground.

I gave them a good 50 feet, yet the young deer stomped a front leg in irritation. Finally I nodded and walked away. The young deer hadn’t scared me, but his proximity to a healthy young buck did.

Descending the hill as a few drivers pushed their gas pedals to the floor, I saw another cluster of mule deer grazing. They glanced up, watching intently until I moved beyond close range, then grazing blissfully again. For a while I went from walk to walk.

Along with Nancy and her dad, we took a short walk house to see a tree where, as a child, Nancy’s sister carved her initials. The tree still carried them. To better explore the neighborhood, we returned to the car and drove around. As on Upper Twin Rock Road, Nancy’s dad could rattle off the residents of the older houses and point out how features had changed since he built the cabin.

To change the pace, Nancy and her dad had a little violin session. Both brought their instruments across the country, so at least one seemed in order. While they practiced, I found a quiet spot in the unused bedroom and read. With the peaceful music and gentle breezing passing through the window, reading only continued so long. I nodded off briefly, awakening to lunchtime.

Barksdale region of Florissant Fossil Beds

Our original plan was a picnic at the Wilkerson Pass Visitors Center, but Nancy’s mom discovered it was closed for repairs. So we returned to Florissant’s Barksdale picnic area, which lies within the national monument. A little parking lot led to a wide-open valley with a handful of picnic tables scattered around its entrance.

Grape Creek

Cold, babbling Grape Creek emerged from the woods near the parking lot and cut through the spacious valley, the thick thatches of water plants marking every bend as it meandered toward crags. It was a common picnic stop during Todd family trips, with the creek a perfect spot to cool drinks on hot summer days. Nancy’s mom made sandwiches, which had plenty of accompaniment.

Hornbeck Homestead

While they finished, Nancy and I walked along the trail to scout the valley. The Florissant landscape never fails to disappoint, even this seldom-visited stretch. For the afternoon, we planned a little excursion to some of the higher elevations and nearby small towns.

First we had an unexpected Florissant stop to make. As we drove toward 24, the doors of the Hornbeck Homestead’s cellar were open, so we decided to stop at the less-visited portion of the Florissant site. Adeline Hornbeck actually had good relations with the Ute Indians who lived in the region. They never raided her home or store because she had good horses and never tried to cheat them. The house had original newspapers from the 1870s lining the walls not as memorabilia but to keep in heat.

Small cabin at the homestead

On the hill above the homestead sat a cave where they kept their perishable foods. It had two sets of doors. The cave kept a constantly cool temperature so one dropping off meat or produce would enter the first set of doors, close them, then open the second set.

The Hornbecks fled the valley as disputes over inheritance and a sudden decline in the local economy crippled the region in the early 1900s. But the homestead remains a testament to people roughing it out on the high plains in the Rockies.

 Leaving the Hornbeck home again, the road curved but stayed relatively flat until the incline toward Wilkerson Pass began. Our original picnic destination had closed. The gates blocking the parking lot did not stop anyone who wanted pictures; cars and motorcycles bunched together at the gates of the parking lot, with people wandering out with phones, tablets and the rare standalone camera. We crested the pass then stopped a few hundred yards later at a dusty lot with decent views.

First view of South Park

Perfection was not required, as South Park projects enough beauty from any elevation. We left the pass, and finally we had reached South Park, which extended to all horizons, where a crown of 14’ers rimmed the valley. Several peaks broke up its flat ranchland. Those peaks protected the valley, giving it the feel of a greater wilderness than that around Woodland Park. Trees grew sparse and from miles away the few reservoirs were easily spotted.

Anyone craving solitude could find it almost anywhere in South Park. (In Colorado, a “park” denotes a high mountain basin. Of the three in Colorado, South Park is the biggest. There are a few state parks within South Park, but South Park itself is mostly private land. Makes sense, right?) The creators of South Park took the name from the region, obviously.

Hartsel bookstore

We came through Hartsel, known as the geographic center of Colorado. With little population, I barely saw anything as I scouted for our route to Fairplay.

Fortunately, Nancy was busy with the camera, snapping shots of the tiny town and bringing forward life that others moved past too fast to experience.

The aspens at Fairplay shed their colors at an accelerated pace, with many groves already shades or orange and yellow. We drove past too many historic buildings to note, all set to close as 5 p.m. neared. Everything in Fairplay’s older section boasted a vintage western look. The one place we did had little western flair but plenty of entrepreneurial charm. Fairplay was the biggest town in South Park and Park County, clocking in at just 600 people.

Changing leaves at Fairplay

We had seen bottles in The Springs, but now we stood at the threshold of the South Park Brewing Company, its logo proudly advertising its elevation (9,963 feet above sea level). I feared a ticketed event, as Nashville had taught me that anniversaries are meant to be $30-per-person, all-you-can-guzzle drunkfests.

Not so in Fairplay, where the taproom hummed with live music and football fans of many stripes, including a solid block of red Nebraska jerseys. We walked into a party we didn't know we were invited to. That we made the drive to Fairplay was enough of an invitation.

We sat outside in a tent, the mountain breeze lapping at us. Dogs and children were common. The one man we spoke to had retired to Fairplay from Tennessee, professed his Titans fandom and observed that the brewery drew the biggest crowd he’d ever seen in Fairplay.

South Parking Brewing Company's 1st anniversary celebration

 After navigating the road from Stilton to Fairplay without much time to scrutinize the landscape, the return trip allow greater time to absorb the yellowing aspens and the gentle curves of the South Platte River. The descending sun gave South Park a longer, brilliant “golden hour.” Pronghorn congregated close to the road and loomed in bigger groups out across South Park.

Sun setting on South Park

The beauty and expanse of the region was hard to escape. Who would want to escape it? If we had no jobs that could claim us, we would have found a way to stay. Looking at the few random tents scattered across miles of South Park real estate, jealousy swelled at me. It might be freezing on a September night, but damn, to sleep in these surroundings with nothing but a thin layer of fabric sounded like bliss.

 Topping the pass, we received the best views of Pike’s Peak our trip provided. The mountain soared from the surrounding landscape, its forested fringe overwhelmed by the treeless, rocky bulk. The last of sunlight blasted my eyes as we descended from Wilkerson Pass until finally, we lost enough altitude that twilight took over.

Pike's Peak from Wilkerson Pass

Stopping to grab some dinner items, we passed the Hornbeck home and fossil bed a last time, hoping to catch some elk on the Florissant hills. Rounding some of Lower Twin Rock Road’s windier curves, we found the elk herd. Florissant lacks a dedicated herd. Neighboring herds meet around the flat valley in breeding season, but it's normally neutral territory.

The herd grazed at an angle hostile to good pictures. We could only see them in passing, as Lower Twin Rock Road became the busiest street in the Rockies at sunset. We both envied a group hiking out of Barksdale to observe the herd, but were also glad we saw them at all. The elk do not congregate in the Florissant area until mating season, and they don’t wander up near the Trout Haven cabin in any season. So seeing them, even briefly, felt like a blessing.

Hornbeck Homestead at dusk