One of the special journeys in Colorado is that called a "trip around the circle," affording more than a thousand miles among the mountains within four days' time; but a permission for ten days is available, thus affording several detours by stage, which penetrate into the most sublime regions. The abysmal depth of five of the great cañons; many of the noted mountain passes; great mining camps, with their complicated machinery; cliff dwellings, vast plateaus, and stupendous peaks; Indian reservations; the icy crevasses a thousand feet in depth; the picturesque "Continental Divide," from which one looks down on a thousand mountain peaks, where the vast Cordilleras in their rugged grandeur are seen as a wide plain; the beautiful Sangre de Cristo ("Blood of Christ") range; the sharp outlines of the Spanish Peaks, rising twelve and thirteen thousand feet into the air; beautiful meadow lands where the blue and white columbine, the state flower of Colorado, blooms in profusion, and the tiger lily, the primrose, and the "shooting stars" blossom,—all these are enjoyed within the "circle" trip; and it also includes Leadville, the "city above the clouds," Durango, Ouray, Gunnison, and other interesting towns. It offers a near view of the Mount of the Holy Cross, which strange spectacle is made by the snow deposits in transverse, gigantic cañons,—the perpendicular one being fifteen hundred feet, while the transverse cross is seven hundred and fifty feet in length; of Lost Cañon, a novelty even in a land of cañons; and of the Rio de Las Animas Perditas, old Fort Lewis, the valley of Dolores River, a region of early Spanish discovery; of Black Cañon and Cimarron Cañon and Grand River Cañon, whose walls rise to the height of more than twenty-five hundred feet;—all these are but the merest outline and hint of the scenic wonders compassed within the circle trip. Up the cañons the train climbs; through narrow gorges with overhanging rocks, on and on, till a plateau is reached; then more cañons, more climbing, more peaks towering into the skies, and waterfalls chiming their music. As even an enthusiast in scenery cannot entirely subsist on stars, sunsets, and silences, the luxurious comforts of these trains enhance one's enjoyment. A dining-car is always on, and the excellence of the food and the moderate prices for all this perfect comfort and convenience are features the traveller appreciates. That dance of the Brocken which one fancies he sees in the fantastic sandstone formations on the mountain's side on the romantic route to Glenwood Springs is occasionally duplicated in other cañons, where these strange rocks resolve themselves, with the aid of the mysterious lights and shadows, into a dance of witches, and every shape springs to life. The train rushes on, and one leaves them dancing, confident that although these figures may be stationary by day, they dance at night. Another mountain slope of the sandstone shows a colossal figure of a prophet,—shrouded, hooded, suggesting that solemn, majestic figure of death in Daniel French's great work entitled "Death and the Sculptor." The precipitous walls of the cañon rise in many places to over a thousand feet in height. In their sides such a variety of designs and figures have been sculptured by erosion that the traveller half imagines himself in the realm of the gods of Hellas. These innumerable designs and figures incite not only the play of fancy, but they invite the study of the geologist, who finds here the primary rock formations exhibited in the most varied and striking manner. As the train winds deeper into the heart of the projecting rocks the crested crags loom up beyond the sight; below, the river rushes in foaming torrents and only a faint arch of the sky is seen. There are recesses never penetrated by the sun.
CATHEDRAL ROCKS, CLYDE PARK, CRIPPLE CREEK SHORT LINE
Another group of the sandstone shapes, under the transformation of moonlight, resolved itself into a band of angels, and still another mountain-side seems to be the scene of ballet dancers. The splendid heights of Dolores Peak and Expectation Mountain, the Lizard Head, the Cathedral Spires, the Castle Peaks of the Sangre de Cristo—what points and groups that fairly focus all conceivable sublimity they form! Here is a state more than a third larger than all New England; it is the state of sunsets and of stars; of scenery that is impressive and uplifting, rather than merely picturesque; a state whose plains, even, are of the same altitude as the summit of Mount Washington in the White Mountains, and whose mountains and peaks ascend to an altitude of over two miles above this height. Of the total extent of Colorado, the mountains, inclusive of parks and foothills, occupy two-thirds of the area. So it is easily realized to what extent they dominate the scene. But great and impressive as they are in effect, the mountain features have an undoubted influence, however unconsciously received, on the character of the people. The effect of beauty on character is incalculable. When to beauty is added sublimity, how much greater must this effect be! It was not mere rhetoric when the Psalmist exclaimed, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.... The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil. He shall preserve thy soul." It is this train of thought which is inevitably suggested to the mind in gazing upon the stately, solemn impressiveness of the mountain scenery. Nature has predestined Colorado for the theatre of noble life, and the influence is all-pervading.
Great engineering feats are in evidence all over Colorado. Miles of railway tunnels pass through the mountains. No mountain, not even Pike's Peak, is regarded in Colorado as being in any sense an obstacle to any form of the extension of travel. The railroad either passes through it or climbs it. The matter is apparently simple to the railroad mind, and evidently all the peaks of the Himalayas piled on Pike's or Long's peaks—"Ossa piled on Pelion"—would not daunt the Coloradoan enterprise. In fact, the greater the obstacle, the greater is the enterprise thereby incited to overcome it. In the most literal way obstacles in this land of enchantment are miraculously transformed to stepping-stones. But what would you,—in an Enchanted Country?
Colorado has four great systems of parks whose elevation is from seven to nine thousand feet: North Park, with an area of some twenty-five hundred square miles; South Park, one thousand; Middle Park, three thousand; and San Luis, with nine thousand four hundred square miles,—all sheltered by mountains, watered by perpetual streams, and so rich in grass lands as to afford perpetual grazing and farming resources. Colorado has nearly one thousand inland lakes, and over two hundred and fifty rivers fed from mountain snows. Its grand features include mountains, cañons, gorges and deep chasms, crags and heights; its mountain systems cover more than five times the area of the Alps, and its luminous, electrically exhilarating air, its play of color, and the necromancy of distances that seem near when afar—all linger in the memory as a dream of ecstatic experiences. Colorado is all a splendor of color, of vista, and of dream. It is the most poetic of states.
Now the fact that this country has been importing over two million tons of sugar a year lends importance to the beet sugar factories already largely established. Colorado has a future in beet sugar hardly second to her gold-mining interests, if her interests receive the national safe-guarding that is her due.
Colorado and the Philippines were brought into collision of interests by the attempt to reduce the tariff on sugar imported from those islands. This would ruin the beet sugar industry in the Centennial State, which is already beginning to transform it into one of the richest agricultural states in the Union.
This industry is absolutely identified with the irrigation interests of Colorado, as it is the arid land irrigated that offers the best facilities for the sugar beets.
The beet sugar enterprise means remunerative work for the farmer, good business for the railroads and merchants, and an incalculable degree of prosperity for all Colorado. Thomas F. Walsh, of Ouray, Colorado, and of Washington, made an earnest protest against this movement.