Lifescapes

Ancestors, Animals, and Adventures
by Lois Smyres

You Don't Have to Be Crazy, But It Helps

In 1966, we bought a Ford Bronco. It was Ford's answer to the Jeep. We lived in Utah at the time and there were many opportunities to go on jeep trails. That year we took our children to visit grandparents and friends in Colorado. We were on our way home, but had one more stop in Dove Creek, Colorado (Pinto Bean Capital of the World) where we were going to visit friends. We had just driven through Ouray, Colorado and we still had 200 miles to drive before we got to Dove Creek. Then we saw a sign, "Four-wheel drive road to Telluride--8 milesyou don t have to be crazy to take it, but it helps." Driving 8 miles as opposed to 150 miles sounded good to us and we did have the best four-wheel drive vehicle built.

The first six miles was a piece of cake: a good dirt road through beautiful mountain meadows. As we drove through the green pastures we saw clusters of wild flowers blooming. What did the sign mean, "You don t have to be crazy, but it helps?" Then the road disappeared over a cliff and parallel to the road was a waterfall. We could look a half-mile down this very steep mountain and see the town of Telluride.

At the bottom of the road that paralleled the waterfall was a small cabin. The distance from the top of the cliff to the cabin was about 200 feet. In front of the cabin the road turned and crossed the waterfall. We stopped and thought about what we should do. Gary said if he put the Bronco in compound four-wheel drive and then just let the speed of the engine creep us down the road, we would make it. But he absolutely could not touch the brakes or we would start sliding and never stop. He was certain that the Bronco could get us down the road. Gary put in the hubs, put the Bronco in compound 4-wheel drive, let out the clutch and we started inching toward the edge. Slowly we started down; not a sound was made by anyone. We could hear the crunch of each pebble as the tires inched slowly down the incline. The water skipped down the cliff beside us.

Trudy, Craig, and Julie on the hood of the Bronco, 1966.

When we reached the cabin we got out of the car and walked around. We looked around and saw another sign, "Up on the hour, down on the half-hour." The road was too narrow for two cars to pass and because there was no room for even a hairpin turn, the road zigzagged down the mountain. We waited for the half-hour and then drove forward down the first section and then backed down the next section. We continued forward and backward until we were almost into Telluride. Telluride had been a mining town. The mine was high on the mountain above the town. The ore was transported down the mountain in buckets hung on cables. All the way down we could see the old towers holding the slack cables and the buckets that had transported the ore down the mountain. Later we learned that the miners had used mules to haul the cables and towers up the mountain.

Many years later Gary was telling someone the story about the road, "You don't have to be crazy to take, but it helps." The man was familiar with the road and he said, "You mean you drove down the road by the waterfall? We always winched our jeeps down that part of the road."