Goin to Creede

In 1958 my wife's parents vacationed with some friends near the historic mining town of Creede, located in the Southwestern part of Colorado. They liked it so much they went back every year. In the late 70s they built a log house on Moonshine Mesa, just a few miles outside of town.

I married into the family, so Creede has become a part of my life as well. We go there most summers to spend a week or two hiking in the mountains or hanging out at the Ramble House in downtown Creede. There's not much to do in town unless you enjoy not doing much. We do.

Summer 2001

This is my way of telling you that I'm leaving for a little while. Jeanene and I will pack the three sisters into our van and leave San Antonio early Wednesday morning, making our way up through the Texas Panhandle and over into New Mexico at Clovis. We'll spend the night in Las Vegas. The next day we'll stop in Taos. We're looking forward to having some Taos Cow ice cream and visiting the Millicent Rogers Museum for the first time.

One year I met some "Granola Earth Mothers" in Taos who claimed to be from the Pleiades star system,* but that's another story for another day. Suffice it to say, we make it a point to stop in Taos and see what we can see.

Then it's on to Colorado up 285 north to Alamosa, left through Monte Vista to Southfork, then up into the mountains to our beloved Creede.

I will be writing because that's what I want to do. But I won't be anywhere near the internet. There is a phone, but no one knows the number. There is a TV, but we won't turn it on. You cannot get a radio signal where we are going, and I will not buy a newspaper.

I will have no idea what's going on in the world.

If you're in or around Creede, you might see me. I spend a lot of time wandering around the mountains or sitting on benches in front of the stores on Main Street. I'll be wearing this hat:
                       

Sunday morning I'll be on the back pew of the Creede Community Church, a place I dearly love. I wrote about it in an essay that will be in my book. It's called, "Just to Sit and Cry and Not Be Bothered." I'll probably cry during the service. It happens to me every year. And if the people of this little church are still pure in heart, they'll leave me be. They won't bother me at all.

I'll see you when I see you,

rlp

*Absolutely a true story!

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