Royal Arkansas

My car on Skyline Drive, Canon City

I had no expectations, least of all the short ride from the Springs. Canon City was all of 45-50 minutes from my house yet a world away. In 30 minutes, I was in a drier valley and looking at Pikes Peak from a new vantage point.

One thousand feet lower than the Springs, I found myself in a high desert with succulents for vegetation and the series of prisons that preserve the local economy. Canon City has a prison museum, and a dozen prison facilities operate nearby, including the Supermax in Florence. That infamous federal prison houses a who's who of the worst federal prisoners, from the Unabomber to Russian spies to the 20tth 9/11 hijacker. If you're known by a nickname that includes the word "bomber," you're probably incarcerated there. The Mexican cartel leader El Chapo is expected to relocate to Florence as well.

Main Street, Canon City

But I digress. There's more to this region than prisons (although the Valley of Prisons has a ring to it). Canon City is the jump-off point to all sorts of outdoor adventuring. For a new resident of the Springs, it's another place to explore on a lazy Sunday. 

Before I could visit and enjoy Canon City, I had to drive across it for another attraction. Built by prisoners during the early 1900s, Skyline Drive runs three miles across a hogback visible above Canon City. I crossed under the arch onto the one-way road. The ascent began immediately.

Skyline Drive was a short thrill ride, rapidly rising 800 feet above U.S. 50 (one side) and Canon City (the other). I stopped where a little hill offered the chance to hike even higher above the road. People stopped for their selfies and moved on. I was alone and enjoying the wind and the sun that seemed much hotter above Canon City.

The thin ridge has no guardrails but was not too scary until the “roller coaster” section when it bobs up and down. Here a driver behind me began tailgating and forced me to bail off at the next pullout. Of course they stopped at one a few hundred feet down the road, leaving me wondering what their hurry was.

I hurried down a series of desert switchbacks. Skyline Drive drops motorists into a tree-lined neighborhood off downtown Canon City. It was a good morning to stroll – few people and an exceptionally pedestrian-friendly downtown.

While the outskirts were a maze of traffic lights, chain hotels, chain restaurants and impatient weekend tourists, Main Street has a well-preserved early 20th century look akin to other Colorado mountain towns. Although it had seen better days and the only visible occupants were pigeons fluttering around the upper levels, the St. Cloud Hotel was under restoration by new owners and seemed it might be the once-and-future anchor of Main Street.

For Dave, my supervisor back in Nashville, I walked to the closed offices of the Canon City Daily Record, down a shadeless stretch of U.S. 50. Dave worked here as a reporter 20-some years ago.  The Record operated from a small building it shared with the local shopper paper, but I was glad to see the paper still there. Briefly I imagined young Dave buzzing around the Arkansas Valley chasing down scoops. It would have been a different place, before the revivals seen by many small Colorado towns.

The heat was intense, but the animals helped. Canon City has an art campaign with bighorn sheep, stegosaurus and triceratops painted in various colors. That brightens up the streetscape. Besides, that bighorn looks like he badly wants to lower those horns and ram his way into Pizza Madness.

The long walk drew a reward at the World’s End Brewing Company, a narrow brewpub with a full menu. I arrived to empty tables as they opened and left to a packed bar. I had two of their wheat beers, one with blueberry and another with frostberry. Frostberry won by a nose for possessing more unusual flavors.

I couldn’t drive to Canon City and not continue to the Royal Gorge. To go home early felt like heresy. Seven miles later, I stopped short of the tourist attraction bridge I had no desire to cross.

From a rest area, I hiked without much shade through a rolling landscape of blooming desert plants. The Arkansas roared from 1,000 or more feet below, its rapids flush with brown water hurtling southeast. The sun was relentless here, and few people bothered with the trails. Most drove up to the gorge lookout.

The desert vegetation blooms were a nice bonus, filling my camera with purple, orange, and yellow blossoms only beginning to unfurl. Then the heat began to gnaw at me, and I descended the short trail to a rest area with full picnic pavilions.

Florence had a more upbeat downtown than Canon City. It was smaller and more compact, while Main Street in Canon City had more real estate for tourists to fill. The center of town was surprisingly upbeat. It was a little too crowded to explore and I was a little too burnt from time outside in the valley.

Besides, I could come back. That’s the wonder of short drives to different places – I could cross the pass anytime with a minimal drive. I would like to check out the prison museum someday. Once more I came upon the Arkansas, driving over a bridge that barely rose above the river waters. This was an exceptional year for snow in the mountains, and the Arkansas showed no signs of mellowing.

On the drive home, the blinding sun of the Arkansas Valley ceded to the daily bands of thunderstorms assembling to hit the Springs.  The road skirted Fort Carson and a state wildlife area. From the roadside, I spotted a huge raptor nest, likely an eagle or osprey, off one of the wildlife area's hardy creeks. So close to home,  I expected to return to this desert valley soon.

I had no idea it would take 48 hours.

Royal Gorge overlook trail