Willoughby: Priceless is for sale

I enjoy scanning real estate ads in The Aspen Times and, occasionally, a house I know is listed. The ad for what we used to call Elk Mountain Lodge caught my eye; it had a great aerial view with the end of the Castle Creek Valley mountains in the background — but the price sparked my thinking.

The price $125,000,000 seemed off — I thought either it had one too many zeros or there shouldn’t have been a ‘1’ at the beginning. It was a few days later before the ad ran again, and nothing had changed.

Most of us older, former Aspen folks marvel at the current real estate prices. We are proud that “our” town is so popular, but the steep increases over the last decade are unfathomable.

The current iteration of buildings advertised include a 16,600-square-foot house with eight bedrooms and 10 bathrooms. By Aspen real estate standards, it has a very large lot: 53 acres. It has a large pond and, what my generation is more familiar with, seven “abandoned” cabins. The aerial photo is a summer one, not a winter one, maybe because the elevation is closer to two-mile-high Leadville than Aspen.

I, and my family, have passionate connections to the Castle Creek Valley with thousands of anecdotal stories and experiences attached. The price tag was a surprise, but to me, its value is priceless.

One of my father’s stories gives you some sense of a direct connection. Since his father was running the Midnight Mine, he got to know local miners and enjoyed their stories. With his curiosity sparked by them when he was in high school, he began exploring everything from town to the far reaches of the valley.

When he was a sophomore in 1922, he and three buddies — Harold Nelson, Frank Crock, and Mike Smulling — decided to get away on their own over Christmas vacation. One of them lined up the use of a cabin in Ashcroft. At that time, there were no winter inhabitants. They improvised a sled using old skis, loaded up food, and hiked up Castle Creek, expecting the road had been broken by a team and sled as they were told loggers were working halfway up the valley.

With a late start by the time they got to the Hope Mine, halfway up the valley, it was almost dark. The road beyond there was unbroken, and there were drifts three to four feet deep. Crock began complaining about frozen feet; they pushed on for another mile to a cabin they knew. It had smoke coming out of the chimney: Two men had retreated from a trip to look over a mining property when one of them got sick. Dad and Smulling decided to push on, and the other two planned to catch up the next day with the sled.

When they got to where Elk Mountain Lodge cabins would be built later, they passed a cabin that was part of what was then was called Long’s Ranch, then the road became more difficult. They made it to Ashcroft around two in the morning.

The next day, after finding some skis in the cabin, they explored the upper valley. The other two arrived while they were exploring and reported that they had entered Dan MacArthur’s Saloon and discovered that the phone was working. It was close to their cabin. Late in the afternoon the next day, they heard the phone ring and ran to answer. It was a call for Smulling — he was needed as an emergency replacement for the drummer in the McHugh Orchestra for a dance that night. 

They thought there was a snowstorm coming but decided to get back to town. The storm turned out to be a fierce one. They could not see where they were — although my father, who knew the valley well, was confident he knew where they were. Some of the drifts were up to their armpits. One of the party could barely move. When they made it to a known ranch barn, they stopped to get warm. They did not have a watch, but felt the dance had already started.

Dad and Smulling, who wanted to try to make it, pushed on. The fathers of the two had started up the valley in a horse-drawn sled to look for them and ran into them near the Newman Mine (Music School Campus). They didn’t make it to the dance in time, but made it home.

My mother and father took advantage of the Elk Mountain Lodge cabins that were built as a resort by Mike Brand, who operated a gas station in the Brand Building. It was very popular beginning in the mid 1930s. Locals used it as a weekend retreat. Many came for the fishing and during hunting season. Since the road in the winter was only plowed to the Midnight Mine turnoff road, it closed for the winters.

Tim Willoughby’s family story parallels Aspen’s. He began sharing folklore while teaching at Aspen Country Day School and Colorado Mountain College. Now a tourist in his native town, he views it with historical perspective. Reach him at redmtn2@comcast.net.