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Ouray, Colorado

"It's Magical"

By Chris Bettin

" We have confused money with wealth. - Alan Watts "

Ouray Ice Park and Festival

The Ouray Ice Park is one-of-a-kind on a global scale. The ice park stretches for a mile with 160 climbs, all created artificially by streaming the gully's cliffsides with water when the temperature begins to plummet. Climbers can use the park without paying an admission fee, though donations are appreciated through memberships that can be had at www.ourayicepark.com. Erin Eddy, the executive director of the park and festival, said the park has become a tremendous resource for the community since opening in 1995. Not only does the park attract a steady stream of winter climbers to the town, which was once practically closed to all but locals in the winter, every year the festival attracts up to 5,000 visitors over Martin Luther King Day weekend; www.ourayicefestival.com. This is swift growth from the 50-75 people hanging out during the first festival in 1994. Eddy claims that the festival attracts people from all walks of life looking for something interesting to do on a January weekend. Unique among spectator sports, ice climbing is without question interesting to watch. As a spectator at last year's event, I became tense and nervous as climbers attempted harrowing routes up the ice. There's something exciting about watching the skill and technique employed to climb on sheer ice surfaces. For those interested in participating, there are clinics for every level of climber, from beginner to expert. There are 20 clinics every day and more than 500 people participated last year. With more than 30 industry sponsors, there is ample demo equipment available. If you're not a climber but interested, many people start ice climbing without any other climbing experience.

Near the end of the descent from Red Mountain Pass, an old wooden sign reads, "Ouray, Colorado - The Switzerland of America." If the famed Million Dollar Highway hasn't twisted and turned your stomach, bludgeoned you with rock slides, sent you sliding over the road edge which doubles as a guardrail-free cliff edge, and/or inspired you into an oblivious climactic awe at the majesty of the San Juan Mountains, you might get your first look at the town of Ouray from beside this sign, as I did many years ago.

I had just learned to ride a motorcycle and had been convinced by a friend and fellow novice that a ride to Ouray might be a good way to break-in our bikes and our skills. My friend pulled over at the sign and I was relieved for the opportunity to stop. As I took satisfaction in the stable ground beneath me, I failed at first to peer over the road's edge at the image that would serve to inspire my idea of civic beauty for the rest of my life.

Author Ayn Rand had long before chosen this community as the model for Galt's Gulch in her novel Atlas Shrugged, her idealistic retreat from the creativity- and innovation-depleting ranks of common metropolitan life. She wrote, "I marked it on a map as the right location long before I saw it. Then, when I went to Colorado for research purposes and discovered Ouray, I fell in love with it. It is the most beautifully dramatic spot in the whole state . . ."

I consider Ouray to be the most beautiful town in the whole country. The town, home to 800 year-round residents, is framed in an innumerable quantity of jagged peaks that might look as though they had just finished thrusting out of the prairie were it not for the crisscrossed rows of Victorian homes in their shadow.

The site of Ouray ushers in a rush of Norman Rockwell-inspired nostalgia, whether a mountain town like it was part of your personal history or not. It resembles a place where residents might gather on verandas to sip Coca-Cola through a straw from bottles while listening to A Prairie Home Companion on Sunday afternoons. Ouray is a place where my family leaves behind the world at large, a veritable Mayberry (incorporated in 1876) where even our two active toddlers will take the time to sit on a bench in town and people-watch while letting their ice cream cones melt to their elbows.

Ouray sits at an elevation of 7,760 feet and receives an average of 140 inches of snow, but there isn't a ski area, unless you count the locals' tow rope.

There are several excellent inns and many fine bed-and-breakfasts. The best local spa is a community hot springs pool with a water slide, a great snack bar and an armada of rentable blow-up rafts and pool toys.

Even without the trappings of the typical "resort" town, there are more obvious and genuinely enjoyable opportunities for recreation or relaxation than mountain towns with more bankable star power and mini-Madison Avenues. Ouray is short on pretension, yet boasts more fine art galleries and restaurants than towns many times its size.

I asked local artisan Robert "The Sandman" Stouffer why there are so many artists in town. Stouffer is one of the few practitioners of a type of sand art made by pouring into bottles colored sand that he's harvested from around the country. He claimed it was a combination of the captive audience of tourists flowing consistently through town and the inspiring landscape.

Whatever it is, Ouray seems to have more people practicing original art than any town its size. Painters, sculptors, glass makers, photographers and an eclectic mix of non-traditional artists like Stouffer abound.

The inspiring landscape also contributes to the reason Ouray is such a haven for outdoor enthusiasts. Ouray is considered by many to be the Jeeping capital of the world, with immediate access to several of the most storied and scenically diverse off-road terrain on the planet.

Hikers and backpackers can explore more than 65 trails from the immediate area.

Ice climbers from around the globe come for the Ouray Ice Park, the world's only park devoted exclusively to ice climbing. The Ouray Ice Festival is held every Martin Luther King Day weekend and currently hosts up to 5,000 visitors over the course of three days of climbing events and clinics (see sidebar).

Aside from the Ouray Hot Springs pool and its million gallons of naturally heated soothing waters right in town, there are several other hot springs venues throughout the area. These attractions, as well as the geographic dynamism of the area and its abundant wildlife, are just a few of the dimensions to check out in between fishing, hunting, golfing, snowmobiling, cross-country and backcountry skiing, skiing, rafting, horseback riding, mine touring and mountain biking.

Recently, as a slightly more proficient motorcyclist, I rode my bike back to Ouray for a visit before writing this story. The road to Ouray from Durango is a motorcyclist's fantasy. The engineers who built the highway were intent upon adding a curve at any opportunity, as if they all had anxious bikes in their garages.

The sight of Ouray as the road winds its way down the remaining mile into town is the satisfying conclusion to the narrative beauty of the Million Dollar Highway.

I asked local business owner and Ouray native Phil Martinez what makes Ouray so attractive to the hordes of tourists who descend upon the town from early June through the middle of October. He simply said,"It's magical," a sentiment that seemed to echo the reasons of the Tabequache Indians, the first tourists to take in Ouray's delights each summer. They claimed to come for the "sacred miracle waters."

I'm always up for a good soak, and a good miracle, so my first stop was about ten miles past Ouray at Orvis Hot Springs. Orvis sits just outside of Ridgway, Colo., in the arid valley that leads to the stunning Uncompahgre National Forest. From Orvis's several natural rock pools, one can gaze into a scene that was once the backdrop of John Wayne's True Grit. When you see this you'll think every western should be filmed there. As the water plies you into amiable solemnity, you imagine a swaggering horseback ride through the glacial valley of giant cottonwoods en route to a bumper crop of incomparably gorgeous snow-capped peaks. You turn to gaze longingly at the naked breasts of your compadre and ...what the? . . . yes, Orvis is a clothing optional hot springs, so those of you less anatomically curious might want to take that into consideration.

After a soak, I had lunch at the True Grit Caf� in Ridgway and wondered if there was any better environment to consume a delicious half-pound burger and a plate full of fries than one decorated in John Wayne memorabilia.

Then, it was back to check in to the home that was so graciously offered for my stay. Your-Ray House and its owner Crystal Presnell were fantastic hosts. I walked from the house on the river trail, which lines both sides of the Uncompahgre River leading back into Ouray through the Ouray Hot Springs Park. The park is host to both the aforementioned gigantic (and thankfully sulfur-odor free) pool, a skate park and an immense playground and greenbelt. The setting is host to many forms of civic gatherings from soccer games to weddings and family picnics. On the Fourth of July, the town hosts an old-timey blend of kids games complete with pie-eating contests and three-legged races. I had all but given up on Independence Day as a bombastic display of false patriotism before enjoying one in Ouray. With a simple and hilarious procession of locals showing off their emergency vehicles and pristine Jeeps, the town annually initiates a warm and personal celebration imbued with Americana reminiscent of our proudest national characteristics.

That night, I dined at the Bon Ton Restaurant at the bottom level of the St. Elmo Hotel, an inn established in 1898. I ordered the Beef Wellington, a long-time personal favorite. I have never been disappointed by this tenderloin in puff-pastry, with its rich bordelaise sauce and mushroom pat�. It is a decadent and sumptuous meal that always leaves me longing for a soft place to while away the remaining hours of the day in gastronomical bliss. But not before a serving of Black Nasty, a fudge cake with graham cracker crust that is a natural complement to excess.

For an after-dinner, or anytime, drink I recommend a stop at the Eagle. It is home to Colorado's oldest physical bar and is a local favorite. The dark wood and dark ambience of the room, with music playing in the corner from a single jukebox, make a drink feel like a good idea at any time of day.

On my first trip to Ouray, my buddy and I pulled up to this bar on our bikes wreaking of false bravado familiar to newly minted motorcycle riders. As I pulled my bike to a stop, my front tire slid on gravel and down I went, right in front of the bar and passersby. Laughter everywhere. We walked into The Eagle and ordered a couple of beers, after presenting our IDs to the smirking tender. My buddy walked over to the jukebox and punctuated our folly by selecting "Born to be Wild."

The next morning I tried to climb the Twin Peaks trail from just above the town. The views of the famous Ouray Amphitheater are immediate from the start of the climb, a natural basin at the bottom of an arching range of fourteeners unparalleled in its dramatic and infinite ice-bejeweled facets. I say "tried" to climb because, though this trail is excellently maintained by the local trail group, it climbs like a long, winding ladder.

The Beef Wellington as fuel was of no use to me whatsoever, and it is recommended that this meal be the conclusion rather than prelude to any serious hike out of the town. Nevertheless, at the end of my walk I was hungry again and I scurried down, sometimes on my butt, to Bombie's Buss for what would be the highlight of my visit.

Bombie, as Phillip Martinez is affectionately and professionally known, is a character worth visiting. Bombie's Buss serves "Ouranian" food, according to the colorful painting on its window, which from what I can tell is an eclectic mix of Mexican food with a few other ethnic influences thrown in at Bombie's whim.

My recommendation is Harry's Plate. Just ordering Harry's Plate is an initiation into the kind of place you're in. If you ask what's in Harry's Plate, the likely response is, "Whatever the hell I decide to put in it." And that's the actual truth. Some guy named Harry trusts Bombie to serve him whatever Bombie feels like serving, so he named a plate after the guy. Harry's Plate is my favorite. I like surprises, and the food there is ridiculously good, bordering on addictive. If you're lucky and Bombie's mood is generous, you'll get some flat bread as part of Harry's Plate.

I brought in some Tecate from the liquor store down the street and Bombie was happy to join me for a couple. He doesn't serve them there, but he's glad to let you drink with him. We talked about The Curmudgeons, a local civic organization that meets regularly to discuss things such as renaming every Ouray street. They have their own table and nobody else is allowed to sit at it, including Bombie. In closing, Bombie invited me to a fundraiser he was participating in later. He was going to have a cage-match ping pong game complete with wrestling outfits, monikers and trash talk. It would have been a sight to see had I been able to stay.

On my ride out of town, there was a giant bighorn ram guarding the overlook point. I have seen many bighorn sheep in these parts, but they always startle me with their presence and majesty. Seeing a bighorn in that rugged terrain with the backdrop of those impossibly large peaks is extraordinary. It was a fitting tribute to another visit to a place that is beyond ordinary itself.

Chris Bettin lives and writes in Durango, Colorado.