Vagneur: History of names in the Aspen area
Tony Vagneur/Courtesy photo
“The Shining Mountains” they were called by the Utes, great upheavals of Earth’s crust, creating the beautiful vistas we now call the Rocky Mountains. The Utes (Nuche) were onto something with their naming. The Roaring Fork River, that flow of water rumbling down the valley during spring runoff, was called “Thunder River” by them. Passionate, poetic names. To my knowledge, with the exception of Skylar Lomahaftewa, there are no other native Utes living in the valley.
A quick look at the white man’s history in the valley reveals that we have, either intentionally or inadvertently, changed the names of many natural features as well as some man-made landscapes and structures.
For starters, it could be argued that Aspen’s first name was “Ute Spring,” named after the spring around which the town sprang up, although there is little mention of that other than in scarce memoirs by old-timers; Ute City seems to win the naming contest in that regard. It didn’t last long, for B. Clark Wheeler came stomping in to town, February or March 1880, and, with the backing of a legal corporation and permission to survey the site, convinced the citizenry to change the name to Aspen. We haven’t messed with it since.
On July 4, 1879, gold was discovered near the top of what is now Independence Pass, although the area was nameless at the time. However, since the precious metal was discovered on the Fourth of July, the mining claim was designated the “Independence.” The mining town that sprang up around the mine (and other claims) needed a post office, variously named over the years as Farwell (1881), Sparkill (1882-1887), and Chipeta (1889), finally Independence. Naturally, the pass, referred to at the time as Hunter’s Pass, morphed into Independence Pass through common usage.
How about Rock Creek? Ever throw an angler’s cast over its waters, in the hope of catching dinner? Kayakers like to run it during spring and early summer. It was named by early Colorado explorer D.L. McGouthlin in 1870. When Ferdinand Hayden and his survey party came through here in 1873-1874, they listed Rock Creek on their map of the area.
However, folks at the recently-formed town council at Crystal (1890) began a campaign to change the name of Rock Creek over to Crystal River. There was pushback, naturally, saying it should remain as named by the early explorers, but change won out, and we know that river as the Crystal.
Several years ago, during spring runoff, a worried mother called me, saying her daughter and a couple of friends intended to shoot the Meatgrinder (a class V+ rapid on the Crystal) on inner tubes. Succinctly, the only reasonable reply was, “You’ll never see them alive again.” Two well-known local kayakers, Henry Filip in 1997 and Chason P. Russell in 2021 both perished running the Meatgrinder.
The Aspen-Gothic wagon road is still used today by hikers and horseback riders going to or coming from Crested Butte. Only today, we call it East Maroon Pass. Chicago Mountain and basin at the head of East Maroon Creek were named after the Chicago Mine. Remnants of this mine can be seen as one crests the pass. With a little work, one could still get a horse- or mule-drawn wagon over the pass. It’s been a dream of mine.
And speaking of Maroon, as in Maroon Lake (named after the striking color in the two bells of the same name above the lake), Crater Lake, a couple miles south of Maroon Lake, was originally named Upper Maroon Lake.
My paternal grandmother, Grace Prindle Vagneur, has numerous photographs of camping excursions she and friends had around 1913-1915, labeled in her photo albums as Upper Maroon Lake. It’s a nice hike from Maroon to Crater Lake these days, on one’s way to West Maroon, Buckskin, or Willow passes.
Pyramid Peak, visible from much of the Roaring Fork Valley, was originally labeled Black Pyramid, due no doubt, to its color. And Basalt Mountain, in the beginning, was called Black Mountain, due to the color of — you guessed it — basalt.
Ashcroft, originally named Chloride, was changed to Ashcraft in honor of one of its founders, who, incidentally pronounced his name Ashcroft. The post office eventually changed the spelling to match the pronunciation of the town’s name.
Credit should be given to a couple of men for some of the names, original or changed, listed in this column. Malcom Rohrbough (“Aspen: The History of a Silver Mining Town 1879-1893,” 1986) and Len Shoemaker (“Roaring Fork Valley: An Illustrated Chronicle,” 1958). Also, to Gaylord T. Guenin and Kathleen Krieger Daily (“Aspen: The Quiet Years,” 1994). And others.
Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.
