In June of 1984 we where still living in Jacksonville, Florida. It was one year before becoming landed property owners in Southeast Georgia. We where both still fit at the respective ages of 28 and 36 but poor of pocket, but we both had gainful employment and hungered for a little adventure that summer. Rather than staying in expensive hotels hubby had the grand idea to rent a Coleman Pop Up Tent Camper. So, with our nice new Sable Brown 98 Oldsmobile, the Pop Up was pulled across country to Cañon City, Colorado, for two weeks of fun and frivolity.
There we stayed at a nice campground called Indian Springs Ranch. It was a working ranch owned by the kindly and generous gentleman Bennie "Pop" Thorson, Sr. He took in strays (as he called it): young men down on their luck and coming dangerously close to being jailed. The Judge would recommend certain fellows that needed guidance and he gave them honorable work with pay and they came out of it real men with direction in their lives.
Since it was a working ranch, we got to see the day-to-day operations involved in running such an enormous place. One "chore" that we city slickers really enjoyed was "punching cows".
This is my husband riding an appaloosa aptly named "Appy". I remember, my horse's moniker was "Little Buddy". For some reason, our horses did not like each other! Every time I'd pull up beside my husband to talk they would nip and bite at each other. Sometimes it would get a little heated. I had to maintain a safe distance from Appy so Little Buddy wouldn't start the argument all over again. In recollections it was quite funny but at the time at bit annoying.
The Ranch has the appearance of old, scrubby Bad Lands but is actually rich in ancient fossil beds. Some dated to at least over 450 million years old. The beds displayed microscopic fish eggs, dinosaurs, and ancient fish. The Royal Gorge is also nearby. We rode the Route Railroad through the passes, drove a few scary narrow canyon roads, visited museums, where entertained by the horde of Broad-tailed Hummingbirds at the campground feeders every evening, and even had an old timey photo taken that reposes on a bedroom wall. It was a wonderfully memorable trip.
On the return we over-nighted at Fort Mountain State Park in Chatsworth, Georgia, near Dalton. By then, we where road weary. But I have only happy memories. I feel so grateful to be married to such an adventurous man. I hope we have many more years to explore our lovely, always fascinatingly diverse United States.
Ride Safe,
