Blue View - Teenage Memories Revisited
/
Sugarloaf Campground was closed while we were there, but we were abLe to camp at SouthfOrk cg
When we were visiting our younger son, Brad, and his family at his campground hosting job, it reminded me of all the many camping trips we made with him when he was young. That led to thoughts of camping trips when I was young... which then led to thoughts of a really special campground, one at which I spent the better part of several summers while I was a teenager.
When I was 14, my mom remarried, and our new stepdad introduced me and my younger sibs to camping in the Colorado Rockies. His favorite place to camp was Sugarloaf Campground, which required traveling about 25+ miles on a very rough dirt road south of the hamlet of Parshall, CO. In those days, the national forest campgrounds didn’t limit camping stays to 14 days, and my stepdad would tow his small camper trailer up there in late June, where it would remain until late August. We kids would spend most of our summers there while the parents would come up on the weekends.
We spent three summers at Sugarloaf Campground. For two of them, my wonderful maternal grandmother, Lulubelle, was there to feed us and make sure we didn’t get into too much mischief, and for the third year we were pretty much on our own. A wonderful time, during which I learned a lot and made a lot of good memories.
Some of what this city boy learned:
How to fly fish
How to build a campfire and cook on it
How to build a shelter
How to sleep on the ground
How to use a compass and map
How to follow a trail
How to read the terrain and not get lost
What to do if I did get lost
And generally, how to survive in and appreciate nature and our great outdoors
As Marcie and I were leaving Brad and the Flatrock Campground, and deciding where to go next, I spotted Sugarloaf Campground on the map. I hadn’t been back since I was 17. What would it be like now.? Would I even recognize it after almost 55 years? We decided to find out. After a quick provisioning stop, we were on the way.
So, how have things changed since I was last there? The first thing I noticed was as we headed south from Parshall. The previous rough, washboard, rutted road is all paved now. We flew over those 25+ miles that used to take seemingly forever.
The next big change was the Henderson Mine. Since I was last there, a huge conveyor system has been built that carries molybdenum ore from the Leadville area, under a mountain via a tunnel bored through it to a mill near Parshall. The raised conveyor system passes right next to the campground... definitely not an improvement.
Once we arrived at the campground, I didn’t recognize anything. First, Sugarloaf Campground was closed, with no indication whether the closure is temporary or permanent. The nearby campground, Southfork, was open, however, so we claimed an open campsite there, and explored Sugarloaf CG and the area on foot.
One memory I have is the bridge on the road that linked the two campgrounds, which spanned the South Fork of the Williams Fork River. Each Saturday, the young forest ranger for the area would park and wash his car on the bridge, using buckets of water from the stream. He was a really cool guy. I very much liked talking with him and most of the young girls, my little sister included, had a crush on him. That ranger must be in his eighties now, and I certainly didn’t expect to see him, but not only is the bridge no longer there, I couldn’t even figure out where it used to be.
It’s hard to make out, but there’s a beaver lodge to the right and a beaver dam on the left
There used to be several beaver ponds upstream of the campground. My brother and I would watch the beavers at work and marvel at the amazing beaver lodges and dams they built. I also learned how good the trout fishing was in the ponds behind the dams. My ranger friend told me that the forestry service left the beavers alone unless their dams threatened to flood a road or campground, in which case they would dynamite the dams. The beavers, ever industrious, would soon start building a new dam nearby. Now, in our walks, Marcie and I saw only one small lodge and dam. Perhaps the current forestry service thinking is different.
This boardwalk was built since I was last here. Obviously, that’s been awhile.
Marcie and I discovered the remains of a boardwalk that followed the course of the river for perhaps a mile. Apparently, this boardwalk was not only built since I was last there, but was there long enough to fall into disrepair and even partially collapse.
No sign of the old, large aspen Trees
My brother and I carved our initials in a large aspen tree near our campsite... I guess this was 1960’s era graffiti, and today I’d disapprove of it, but at the time it seemed innocent enough. I’m sure we thought it would be there forever. I looked for that tree, but all the old growth is gone, and only new growth trees are there now.
So, how could everything have changed so much? Did a forest fire ravage the area, and this was how it was rebuilt? Were both campgrounds relocated when the Henderson Mine built their huge conveyor system? My online searches revealed nothing. I can understand how the trees may have died out and the beavers moved on or been removed, but what happened to that bridge? Not only is there no sign of it, there is no river crossing between the two campgrounds. Discounting a defective memory, which is a very real possibility, it remains a mystery.
I’m sure there are still trout in the river, but we brought our own ‘already caught’ salmon for dinner
Defective or not, I still have a lot of other memories:
My grandmother packing a lunch for me to take on an all day hike. She included a peach, and told me to bury the pit when I was done eating it. Then, when I came back with my children in twenty years, I could show them the peach tree. We both knew that a peach tree could never survive in that climate, even if it could grow from a buried pit, but it was a great image.
Getting up at dawn and catching my limit in trout. I’d return to camp and my grandmother would fry them for breakfast.
Sleeping on the ground with nothing but a sleeping bag on a tarp. If it rained, my brother and I would pull the tarp over the top of us and weather it out. I can’t imagine doing that now, but it didn’t seem to bother us much then. The ground must have been softer and the rain lighter then.
My brother Paul getting thrown from a horse we rented and breaking his arm. He had to wait until our parents came up on the weekend to get it treated. This sounds much worse than it was... the break wasn’t a serious break, certainly not a compound break with the bone sticking out of his arm. If it was, we would have had our ranger friend transport us to the nearest medical help 45 miles away. No, it was a greenstick fracture, and the doctor X-rayed it and put a cast on it. BTW, there’s no sign of the horse stable that used to rent horses.
My first love, Virginia, from Emporia, Kansas. Who can ever forget their first love? She spent part of the summer of my sixteenth year at Sugarloaf, and I spent a lot less time fishing and hiking that summer. Wherever you are Virginia, I hope you had a good life.
See you next week... stay safe.