It has been two years since I’ve been to this town-two years since I have walked the small town streets of Ouray, Colorado. We arrived yesterday afternoon, coming in from the traditional south end from Silverton. Silverton is scary. Don’t ask; it just is, especially after the tourist train leaves, heading back to Durango. More about that later.
Stay with me and I will walk you through a week of trivial living that can be so valuable and so precious that we can all walk away feeling a little better about this rock we live on. Today is only the first day in this town. She and I need to spend time together and get re-acquainted.
We’ve been coming here for years, usually around the 4th of July; however, to me, the best time is in June, before the tourist come. Its quiet then. The end of June and the start of July, its picks up. That’s when the tourists arrive, crap in the street, then leave.
She likes her tourists, Ouray does. She is gentle to them and welcoming, even if they don't return the favor. She needs what they have to live and gives back what they don’t know they need, whether they want it or not. She knows what we need and she will openly give it and if we truly look, we will find what we, ourselves, didn’t know was missing-peace. I just wish there was a box at both ends of town where these people could just come, deposit their money, then move on.
Okay, enough with the mysticism, back to the town-Day 1. Do you have your coffee? Breakfast bar or cereal? Sit back and feel, just a little, of this place that is accurately called the Switzerland of America.
The town hadn’t changed since the last time we drove in. This place is the county seat and yet doesn’t have one traffic light. The town fathers mean for that to be, although they did put up little plastic signs in the middle of the streets where there are painted crosswalks. Modern control devices which resemble those little plastic guys you can buy at Home Depot and put out in front of your house to warn drivers to slow down, you have kids.
After we unpacked, we walked Main Street which is also state highway 550 connecting Durango to Silverton, Ouray, Ridgeway, Montrose and I don’t care beyond that to the north. Many of the businesses last year were for sale, causing us to fear that the recession was going to run over this town like a freight train. Many of the old Silverbacks who had worked those stores were tired and wanted to retire to Boca Raton, moving to someplace that didn’t get 275 inches of snow each year.
But new blood picked up the slack, people that can handle a few winters and maybe bring in some 21st Century technology to help with business. When you are using a cash register that you inherited from your grand-pappy, its time to upgrade. I was happy to see most of the stores, either moved to different store fronts or were sold and changed all together. A True Value moved into the Mercantile location. The sharp smell of paint and potting soil, along with a new NCR 4500 highlighted the place. They got rid of camera film that had expired in 2008 and replaced its spot with a paint mixer.
After dinner, it was time.
Every day, I walk the town, early in the morning, and at night. You can cover this town from tip to tip, all four corners, on two cups of coffee. You start with one from your apartment, and restock at the Artisan Bakery on the south end before you head to the east side. They painted the Antler Motel, a key location for the next book and where our hero will meet Bucket Head, the motel owner's mastiff. But the painting was a long time coming. On these walks you look for these things but also, you look for deer.
They live here, in town. The last few years, I have found three brothers, or maybe they are deer’s version of homies. They were seen together, young, small racks, eating flowers from Mrs. Johnson’s prized roses. The Bad Boys of Ouray I called them. I didn’t see them on the night walk and will advise you daily of their appearance. I am assuming one of these years, maybe this one; they will no longer be a part of the story, having moved on to doing deer life somewhere else in the Rockies. However, I did find, up on 6th Street, the farthest street to the east (streets run north and south and from 2nd Street to the west of town to 6th Street on the east and avenues run east and west starting on the south and moving to 10th Avenue on the north) two young deer, does.
They were eating the wild daisies and grass and stopped and looked at me in the twilight. There was no fear in their face. They had seen this image before. Actually, they took three steps towards me but were distracted by a passing car. Maybe they wanted to say ‘hi’ up close, see what I had in my pockets to eat, or let me scratch that itch behind their ears. I would have done it. Or, maybe they wanted to kick my ass-not sure. I will withhold a label until I know more.
This is a town that we all wish we lived in, if we were true to ourselves. It is a place where a guy tosses you his keys to his car and lets you borrow it for a day-based only on your word. Windows are left open and doors, for the most part, unlocked. Not that there isn’t crime here; there is. According to the Police Blotter, a section of the bi-weekly Plains Dealer newspaper, Mr. Donaldson’s car was caught running a stop sign at the corner of 7th and Main where he was pulled over and given a warning. Especially at this time of year, with all these tourists, one must be careful and frankly, with the little plastic things in the street warning drivers to slow for crosswalks, you would have to think that driving and flagrantly running a municipal traffic control device should be at the top of everyone’s caution list.
Justice served.
This morning’s walk was wonderful. The air is cool and the sun we will not see for a couple of hours due to the fact there is a 13000 foot mountain in the way. The cool breeze and the shadows again make me feel welcome. I will leave you now, the Artisan is open and they were making fresh crescent breakfast sandwiches. That is a priority. Until tomorrow.
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