Chapter 7: July 21, Idaho Springs Co.

Denver Skyline
No Mountains

It's a common misconception that Denver is in the mountains. Saturday drives to the Rockies are a local custom, and AC was kind enough to show me a favorite getaway that he's been going to since he was a child. 

Depending on the traffic, Idaho Springs is about an hour drive West and features a hot spring spa. There was some confusion with the credit card machine so the staff was kind enough to comp us the entry fee.

The water was warm and faintly chartreuse in color. The spa was fed by a single pipe that intermittently spat a stream of very hot mineral water. To its credit, it only had the faintest scent of sulphur; a trait that can ruin the experience if overpowering. Years of use calcified small waves into the wall giving it a cavelike facade. Most were content to wallow like so many hippos in the hot nile, but teenagers bore easily. Unlike adults, their bodies favor activity over comfort, so they made it a point to draw attention to their predicament at the expense of the other patrons patience.  

“How old are you?”

“I’m Jesus’ older brother.”

“Are you the oldest man in the world?”

“I would’ve been, but my bus was late. Right now, I’m third oldest.”

Pause...

“You’re lying!”

An exasperated middle aged man with a bar pierced nose, long hair and a “Danzig” t-shirt looked at me and mouthed “sorry.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific. What am I lying about?”

“Everything!”

“I’m too lazy to lie about everything. I only lie about the truth.”

Pause...

The man began to look concerned, “...uh, Jake why don’t you...”

“Hey! Can you do a cannonball?”

“Sure, why not.” Without skipping a beat I ran and jumped over their heads. The water left all at once, and seemed to pause undecidedly contemplating whether or not to fill the crater I had made. Father Danzig herded his four chicks in a single file away from the crazy stranger that now floated unmolested in the pool.

Beau Jo's Pizza

Our Private Balcony view

The Argo Gold Mine

We stopped and got beer and takeout pizza as we walked back to the hotel. On the side of the valley was the old Argo Gold Mine, now a museum and tourist anchor for the tiny hamlet. We were booked in the Argo Inn and were given a second story room with a private balcony overlooking a rafting river. AC and I sat, drank beer and teased rafters who were not drinking, or resting in their spare time. When the pickings got slim, we wandered out (with our beers) to a gas campfire where others had gathered to retreat. 

“Hey dad, it’s cannonball!”

There was father Danzig with his wife and only one his boys.

“Hey, they’re giving away s'mores at the front desk. You want one?”

“Grab one for my friend.”

He returned with little s'mores kits in plastic bags and we talked,drank and ate till the owner turned off the fire shortly after 23:00.