The ride to Guffey is a bit of work. We started in Canon City at 5,332 feet and ended at 8,600 feet in Guffey. But, experiencing Guffey was worth the thinning air causing my nose to bleed, and my lungs to shrivel up and die on me. And, it was even worth dealing with the bipolar weather. Being in Guffey was even worth compromising my usual negative feelings about cow skulls and mystery antlers and skins as decorations.
We raced a storm to get to there, which was scary for me, since this storm continued looming closer and closer and I was averaging a speed of 5 MPH. In the end, we beat it out, and it was awesome to lay in the cabin listening to the low rumble of thunder which lasted for hours. In the mountains, the weather goes like this. The morning clouds appear to hang out seemingly cordial and pleasant perched above the mountain tops. But all the while, they are just fooling us. What they are doing off in the distance is gathering strength. Come about 1p.m. they turn sinister and menacing and they start hurling lightening bolts.
If you are a biker, when you get to Guffey the first thing you do is look up Bill. Bill is a collector of sorts, and he is mostly responsible for the ambiance of Guffey. Beyond that, he did the same trip Brooke and I are doing (the Trans-American Bicycle Trail) in 1976 for the Bikecentenial. So, in Guffey, they take care of the bikers. Brooke and I heard that Bill rents cabins at a cheap price to bikers, so we headed to the “cabin rental office”. Please see below for a picture of aforementioned cabin rental office.
Arriving at what I thought may be where I rented the cabin, I pulled up behind a slumped over like a sack of potatoes, unmoving body of a man I presumed might be Bill. He was sitting alone in a golf cart, looking like a piece of installation art himself. I pulled up along side him, and asked if he was Bill. He wasn’t; he was Charlie, Bill was out of town. Charlie was in charge. I asked about the cabin, and Charlie lead us through some tall grass towards a tiny 8x6 “cabin” that contained a sole bed. But, mid stride, he changed his mind, and gave us a WAY better one, for half the price! The cabin we stayed in was built in the 1880s and it was really awesome. Check it out.
We handed Charlie the cash, and we went off to explore. I was barely two steps out of the cabin, and Charlie handed me a beer. Then he handed me the keys to city hall. See below for some pics from inside Guffey’s City Hall. After the tour of city hall, I took some pics of the old rusted out cars parked haphazardly around town, and the bizzaro but alluring “sculpture”... maybe you’d call it a sculpture.
We ended the night hanging out in the shed with Charlie drinking beer, watching an old Elvis movie, and talking about bear encounters, one of my obsessions and greatest fears.
The official ballot for the major of Guffey. Monster the cat won. His campaign manager, Junior, a black cat, was out campaigning while we drank beers with Charlie.