10 "Commandments" of Westcliffe

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“Ten Commandments of Westcliffe”

I used to tell my seniors in philosophy and government class that Change and progress are not necessarily the same thing. Change simply means different. “Progress implies a specific direction toward a defined goal.” Of course, whether or not the goal is good is another issue altogether.

It seems to me that, in the name of “progress”, we often reach a point where our decisions become counter-productive. The outcomes end up creating the very thing we fear will happen.

A few years ago a person from the Custer County tourism board approached me, asking me do something (I don’t even remember what). I said that I wasn’t interested, and he replied, “But people have to make a living here.”

I asked him, “How many people have to make a living here?” How about fifty or a hundred thousand?” He laughed, “Oh no, we don’t want that many.” I told him that he was putting in motion things that he could not control. And that one day, the very thing he loved about the area, might be destroyed.

I remember the time when at the South end of the valley, about the county line, Highway 69 became a dirt road. I remember driving South one night, pulling off the road, turning off the engine, getting out of my truck, and standing in a dark silence so deep that I could feel it.

There was little chance that another vehicle would come along. Once, while hitch-hiking on this road in daylight, I saw only two vehicles in three hours.

From where I stood that night, I could not see a human light in any direction. I don’t even have to tell you the glory of that night sky.

As I stood there, I remembered, the words of the ancient Hebrew king David when he proclaimed:

The heavens declare the glory of God;    

the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 

Day after day they pour forth speech;    

night after night they reveal knowledge. 

They have no speech, they use no words;   

no sound is heard from them. 

Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,    

their words to the ends of the world.

Today, we are a recognized International Dark Sky Community. I wander how many people this designation has attracted here to look at the dark sky. And I wander how many people it will take before the sky over the Valley isn’t so dark any more.

For many years, after Labor Day, I use to saddle a horse and ride into a lake in the mountains—just a day ride to fish and relax. Instead of catch and release, I would catch and eat. I did this for at least ten years, and I don’t remember ever seeing another person.

Yes, some people came to the Sangres back then. They came to hike, backpack, hunt, and fish. But then, in 1993, Congress (none of whom lived here) decided to designate it the Sangre de Cristo Wilderness. This meant that it would be placed on the national registry of designated wilderness areas.

This was done, or so Congress informed us, in order to “protect” the mountains. What an “honor” for the mountains to have their new status advertised world wide!…or was it?

Labor Day a couple of years ago at the Comanche / Venable trail head parking lot (where Abbots Lodge once sat), there were 60 vehicles parked. I have seen more than thirty vehicles parked at Music Pass, in the middle of the week with no holiday in sight. And a friend told me recently that on his last trip to Macey Lake, there were 12 campsites set up around the lower lake.

And so, the very thing we set out to protect, we may end up destroying. It reminds me of an article I read a while back titled: Rocky Mountain National Park, We Are Loving it to Death.

Nineteenth century American author Washington Irving said, “There is a certain relief in change, even though it be from bad to worse. I have found in traveling in a stage coach, that it is often a comfort to shift ones position and be bruised in a new place.

Yes, change is inevitable, and I am not opposed to it. I just think that it should be slow and natural, not promoted and advertised. I leave it to each one to decide which changes to the Valley in the past thirty or forty years have brought progress and which ones have merely brought new “bruises”.

When I began writing Walking the Same Ground, Dick Stermer  who, over  20 years ago, built Cliff Lanes and the Rancher’s Roost Cafe at the West end of Main Street, suggested that I include a chapter titled “Ten Commandments of Westcliffe.” This would be a list, based on my own experience, of what I considered to be necessary for making Custer County your home.

I guess I wouldn’t go so far as to call them commandments, but rather suggestions or recommendations. Actually they might be considered a “New-comer’s Guide to Living Long in the Valley”…

…But who is a new-comer? Some think that a newcomer is anyone who wasn’t born here, and some think that a new-comer is anyone who came to the Valley a year after they did.

I wrote something about this back in an earlier post. I hope you will bear with me as I repeat myself a little.

I think it was Earnest Georges who said that anyone who’s family arrived in the valley after 1892 was a new-comer. But, those families who came in the 1860’s and 1870’s probably thought that Earnest’s family were new-comers. And of course, to the Southern Utes, they were all new-comers.

Maybe belonging to a place is not so much about how long we have lived here, but whether or not we have grown into the nature and character of this special place. It takes time, and there are no short cuts.

Having said this, what follows are my “Ten Suggestions” for moving to the Valley and learning to call it home.

1. Rarely, if ever, begin a sentence with the words—”Well, back where we came from.....”

2. In your first few years in the valley, don’t rush to tell everyone what the community “needs.”

3. Don’t assume that your past accomplishments automatically qualify you as the resident expert.

4. Do your homework before you move here. If you don’t want to sign up for dirt roads, flat tires, broken windshields, or 60 mile trips to Walmart, maybe you should consider staying where you are.

5. Yes, the wind can blow, it can be cold, winter can be long, and Spring does not come merely because it says March 20 on your calendar—Get over it!

6. Understand that the local community and economy are not merely commodities to be planned, developed, and promoted. If they are to be genuine and healthy, they must grow slowly and organically.

7. Land use is not interchangeable. What one did with land in the East or Midwest, probably should not be done here. At an elevation of 8000 feet, only about 70 frost free days per year, and limited water, land here is fragile. Proceed with caution. As Barbara Kingsolver says in her book, The Poison Wood Bible, “Everything you’re sure is right, can be wrong in another place.”

8. Understand that life is more than looking out a window at the mountains.

Contentment is rarely geographical. It comes from within.

9. Look long, listen carefully, and be slow to draw conclusions.

10. Take a deep breath, slow down, appreciate the sunshine, be a good neighbor, live simply, and invest deeply in the “little” things of life. Stay long enough, and you will learn that they aren’t really the “little things” at all. They are the things that are real, and true, and eternal.

If you think that these are merely the rambling thoughts of some old curmudgeon, then forget them, and enjoy your brief time of living in the valley.

But If you can accept these suggestions, take them to heart, and actually live them, then………….WELCOME HOME.