Silverton, Colorado, nestled deep in the San Juan Mountains of Southwest Colorado, is one of those hard-to-get-to vacation spots.  Still, it seems to have been found by the SUVs, expensive mountain bikes, retired folks sauntering through shops heaped with Western wear and turquoise jewelry and young families in designer hiking boots.

            Last weekend I traveled to the historic mining town to officiate at my youngest brother’s wedding. The south window in the sanctuary of the 100-year old yellow Baptist Church with green trim looks up at 13,000-foot Kendall Mountain. 

            The morning of the wedding another brother and I walked in the annual Kendall Mountain Run, a 6-and-half-mile trek to the summit of Kendall Mountain and back down to downtown Silverton.  We did the 13-mile run in four-and-a-half hours, finishing dead last.  We two flatlanders were unprepared for Silverton’s 9,300-foot elevation, and the 4,300-foot ascend up a rugged jeep trail just about sent us to Silverton’s Hillside Cemetery.  We slept for two hours after the race and were nearly late for the wedding where I was the officiant.

            Today, Silverton has about 400 permanent residents, most working in the hotels, bed and breakfasts, restaurants and shops.  Five distinct groups were all vying for space in the mountain town:  The SUV family crowd buying t-shirts and renting jeeps to drive the hills outside of Silverton; the tough-talking crowd with their own four-wheel drive all-terrain vehicles with coolers of Colorado Kool-Aid strapped to the back; the body-worshiping extreme athlete crowd, many of whom hopped on fancy mountain bikes after finishing the 13-mile run; the retired folks with their RVs parked by the stream at the outskirts of Silverton; and the crowd trying to get in touch with what one woman called “an incredible vortex of energy in this area.”

            While everyone seemed to be minding their own business, enjoying the spectacular mountain views and nonchalantly throwing down their VISA and American Express Cards on the countertops of different stores, I discovered another side to Silverton. 

            A hundred years ago Silverton was a booming mining town of nearly 10,000 residents.  The Hillside Cemetery, sitting a quarter-mile above Silverton, tells much of the town’s story.  A plaque at the entrance says that Silverton attracted all kind of folks a hundred years ago.  While most wanted to get ahead in life, criminals on the run, prostitutes and vagabonds by the hundreds were among Silverton’s booming population in the early 20^th century.

            As I sauntered through the graves, I soon discovered that few of those early settlers lived to be 40 years old.  The snow-covered San Juan peaks belie the fact that life in Silverton was very hard.  Here’s a sampling from a few of the headstones:

 

Minnie Rowcroft

Died Jan. 15, 1888 (age 35)

Froze to death

 

Bessie & Josie

“Our babes”

1879-81; 1882-83

 

Thomas G. Andrew

Father of Goldie

1843-March 15, 1885

Suicide by gunshot

Civil war veteran

 

Henry Cleary

Age 35 – Lynched by the vigilantes

Aug. 31, 1879

 

In the midst of the old headstones is the fresh grave of a man who died at age 50 this past June.  I stood at length at his headstone remembering the many times I’ve wondered about moving to the mountains, thinking that life would be serene and all the children will always behave. 

The Hillside cemetery answered back, “Yes, the children might behave, if they live to be five, and the women might grow to be grandmothers if they don’t freeze to death at age 35.”  And once again, I decided to make my peace right where I am.