After enduring four years of increasing city growing pangs in Denver, I finally pulled up stakes and moved an hour west to the scenic little tourist town of Georgetown.
I first came to Georgetown a couple of years ago as a halfway meeting point for me and my daughter, who lives near Vail. I was immediately charmed by the town, nestled as it is in a slender canyon near the summit of Guanella Pass (altitude 11,669 feet), and retaining the town’s historic past to a remarkable degree. When my company went to total work-from-home and I got the opportunity to move to an apartment on the edge of town, I went for it. Because this is Georgetown, and it is a slice of heaven.
The town was founded in the 1850s and many buildings from the late 1860’s and the 1870s and 1880s are not only still standing, they are maintained, lived in, and celebrated. Most have a plaque with the year it was built proudly on display near the front doors.
I confess – I was strolling through town admiring the historic plaques on charming homes – “1887” “1872” “1881” when I saw a house set back from the street with a plaque I thought read “1041” and I thought, “Jeez! What DIDN’T William the Conqueror, conquer?” At the same time, I realized I had misread it and it said “1014” because it was the house number and not a historic marker. Because this is Georgetown, and you just never know who might have signed the guest book.
The downtown area is replete with shops for the tourists who come to town. Many come to ride the Georgetown Loop Railroad which gives people a ride to Silver Plume, a mile or two away, and back. Train enthusiasts love it, and all combinations of singles, couples, and families plan their weekend getaways so they can take a ride on an old-fashioned train, come into town to shop for gifts, artwork, candy, clothing, or books, and maybe eat in the local restaurants or pubs and visit a grocery store that is almost as old as the town itself. History is all over the place – all you have to do is look anywhere you wish.
I do not advise mistaking the house number plate for a historic plate, of course.
This is looking at Kneisel & Anderson, a grocery store brimming with nostalgia, and is still being run by descendants. They also own the hardware store on the right, but it is temporarily closed for renovation. One can hardly expect a 160-year-old building to remain standing without some maintenance to keep it in order. Still, visitors can look through the display windows at the wonderful and authentic pieces of history the store once sold.
This is a rather ornate style of house, most are pretty ordinary. I do not know the name of the owners, but I privately call this house the “Meet Me In St. Louis” house, and in my mind’s eye I can see Judy Garland sitting on the front porch waiting for a beau to call. Because this is Georgetown, and that is what living in a town full of historic houses will do to the imagination.
Georgetown has an elementary school, but the big kids take the bus to the county middle and high school in the nearby town of Idaho Springs. Like most small towns in America, there’s not a whole lot for big kids to do in Georgetown, but little kids can ride their bikes all over town, can go fish in the creek and just have a grand childhood here. Because this is Georgetown, where birds sing in the trees and kids are free to play because they don’t feel threatened by anyone.
This is a pretty typical house. Wait, that needs a comma — This is a pretty, typical house. This is the kind of house that miners built for their families, houses that turned a mining camp into a real town, where the townspeople lived and worked and dreamed and played canasta in the tiny parlor and listened for the hollow wail of the approaching train at the station.
The town library is HUGE on the inside, akin to walking into Dr. Who’s Tardis. Every room has rich wood detail upstairs and downstairs, full of books, and an entire wing dedicated to the Children’s Section. Immediately to the left of the library is a small bandstand used as a focal point for various town activities, such as annual half-marathons and the annual two-week-long Christmas festivities. Because this is Georgetown, and if there’s nothing to do, by George we will FIND something to do.
This perfectly charming little Inn is the Clear Creek Inn, where there is a lively Trivia contest every Wednesday night in the lobby. Lots of fun, friendly people come test their knowledge, imbibe some brews, and share goodies brought from home. There is also a kiln on site where artists make beautiful glasswork to sell in the shop in the bottom right of the building.
There are several inns in the town proper, and there are condo rentals and a hotel/motel/ whatever on the north end of town next to the lake. Because this is Georgetown, and we will find a place for you to hang your hat.
Clear Creek runs through the town with different branches that eventually meet up and rush down to empty into Georgetown Lake, which later releases the water over the spillway, and the creek continues down the eastern side of the Rockies. Lots of people come out to fish in the lake. Because this is Georgetown, where a river runs through it to get there.
There is something very soothing about the rush of the creek over the rocks that line its bottom and sides. It’s a powerful sound, a call of nature that both relaxes and invigorates.
Here’s a little fellow whose family has lived here since long, long before the town was founded. He (or she, I didn’t ask) was grazing on the fresh new grass and did not mind posing for the camera. Hiya, Bullwinkle.
Lake Georgetown, looking south toward town. In the winter the lake freezes over so thick, the locals have car races on the ice. No, I’m not kidding. Because this is Georgetown, and the winters are LOOOOONG.
But that’s what Georgetown seems to be about: doing stuff in seasonal style. Summer is for the tourists who hike and ride trains and shop and gaze at the natural beauty around them, and they are certainly welcome. Autumn is for tourists to return to see the aspen tress change color, or maybe also have a little Oktoberfest craft beer. But in the winter and spring, people can stop in on their way to or from the ski slopes elsewhere, and watch the Georgetownians slide their cars around on the ice for the fun of it. Why the hell not; because this is Georgetown and we’re 8,530 feet above sea level. That water doesn’t even warm up in the summertime.
The lake has a lovely walking trail all the way around it, which also takes you by a Wildlife Observation station where at optimal times of the year, you can use binoculars at the station to get a glimpse of the area’s Bighorn Sheep.
Or… you can just wait until they come down out of the mountains to graze on tender springtime grass, the way these did at Main & Fifteenth streets. They have a bit of a show-off streak in them, perhaps. Because this is Georgetown, where large wild sheep are champion Photo Bombers without peer.
a clatter of goats 