V

DENVER, C. T., June 19, 1866.

FROM Hedinger’s Lake to Denver a new cut-off has recently been made, shortening the distance about twenty miles. Ours was the last coach which passed over the old road, the stations and stock being taken up behind us, and transferred across the country to their new positions. The road from Cheyenne Wells to Denver is thus abridged by forty miles, making the entire distance from Fort Riley to the latter place four hundred and sixty miles. When the stations are shortened to an average of ten or twelve miles, and the road as well stocked as it should be, the trip can easily be made in three days. By that time, the trains on the Pacific Railroad will be running to Fort Riley, and twenty-four hours more will bring the traveller to St. Louis.

[BG: here we take a side trip to the Pikes Peak Region]

I will not recapitulate our bruises during the night , but rather pass at once to the sparkling morning which broke upon us while crossing the divide between the Big Sandy and the first tributary of the Platte. In the foreground stretched a range of green, grassy hills, dotted with pasturing antelope, and crested with scattered groves of pine; high above and far beyond them towered the keen, shining wedges of the Rocky Mountains. Pike’s Peak in the south was apparently near at hand, although seventy miles distant. Long’s Peak, in the northwest, resembled an Alpine horn in its sharp, abrupt outline; and between these two furthest outposts of the snowy range arose many a nameless yet beautiful summit. The character of the scenery had completely changed since the preceding sunset. I was charmed out of all sense of fatigue, all feeling of discomfort, except that of hunger.

At Reed’s Springs we obtained our last "square meal," with the inevitable bacon, for a dollar and a half. Thenceforth our road led over the high divides between the Beaver, Bijou, and Kiowa Creeks, all of which flow northward to — the Platte. The country is grandly adapted to grazing, and all the bottom-lands are capable of being farmed. The pine along the ridges is of but moderate growth, but it will, no doubt, become better and more abundant with protection. A new flora here met us. The cactus, with its showy crimson and golden blossoms, became scarce. I found a splendid euchroma, with a spike of pure flame-color; great quantities of a wild vetch, with pink blossoms; and a thick growth of purple lupins. The grass was quite different from that on the plains, and many portions of these hills would furnish large quantities of wild hay. At some of the stations along the Smoky Hill, the men have mowing-machines, with which they harvest a full winter supply for their stock.

The view of the Rocky Mountains from the divide near Kiowa Creek is considered one of the finest in Colorado. From the breezy ridge, between scattered groups of pine, you look upon one hundred and fifty miles of the snowy range, from the Sangre de Cristo to the spurs away toward Laramie. In variety and harmony of form, in effect against the dark-blue sky, in breadth and grandeur, I know no external picture of the Alps which can be placed beside it. If you could take away the valley of the Rhone, and unite the Alps of Savoy with the Bernese Overland, you might obtain a tolerable idea of this view of the Rocky Mountains. Pike’s Peak would then represent the Jungfrau; a nameless snowy giant in front of you, Monte Rosa; and Long’s Peak, Mont Blanc. The altitudes very nearly correspond, and there is a certain similarity in the forms. The average height of the Rocky Mountains, however, surpasses that of the Alps.

Mid-day was intensely sultry, with the first dust we had experienced. We took a hasty dinner at Running Creek, and then wade our slow way, with poor horses, across the ridges to Cherry Creek, which we struck about fifteen miles above Denver. Up to this point we had found no settlement, except two or three grazing ranches. The ride down Cherry Creek, through sand and dust, on the banks of the muddy stream, was the most tiresome part of the overland journey. Mile after mile went slowly by, and still there was no sign of cultivation. At last, four miles from the town, we reached a neat little tavern, beside which grew some cotton-woods. Here there were two or three ranches in the process of establishment. The water from the wells was very sweet and cold.

Our next sign of life was the evidence of death, — the unfenced cemetery of Denver on the top of the ridge. I looked out ahead, from time to time, but could see neither horse, tree, fence, or other sign of habitation. My fellow-passengers had been loud in their praises of the place, and I therefore said nothing. Suddenly I perceived, through the dust, a stately square Gothic tower, and rubbed my eyes with a sense of incredulity. It was really true; there was the tower, built of brick, well-proportioned and picturesque. Dwellings and cottages rose over the dip of the ridge, on either side; brick blocks began to appear, and presently we were rolling through gay, animated streets, down the vistas of which the snowy ranges in the west were shining fairly in the setting sun. The coach drew up at the Pacific Hotel, where I found a hearty welcome and good quarters, and in just four days and six hours from Fort Riley I sat down, not to a "square meal," but to an excellent supper.

The two days which have since elapsed have given me a good superficial acquaintance with the place. First, let me say that the views which have appeared in the illustrated papers are simply caricatures. Instead of being a cluster of houses on a flat plain, with a range of clumsy mountains in the distance, and Pike’s Peak standing alone in the centre thereof, it is built upon a gradual slope, rising eastward from the junction of Cherry Creek with the Platte. It is as well built as any town of equal size in the Mississippi Valley. The Methodist Church and Seminary, the banks and principal business houses, solidly constructed of brick (the former edifice with considerable architectural beauty), give the place an air of permanence, very surprising to one who has just arrived from the East. Beyond the Platte the land rises with a gentle, gradual slope, to the base of the Rocky Mountains, twelve miles distant, and there is no part of the town which does not afford a view of the great range. Long’s Peak, more than 15,000 feet in height, just fills the vista of the principal business street. Pike’s Peak is far to the left, overlooking the head of the Cherry Creek Valley; consequently, a view of Denver, in which it is made the prominent feature, does not correctly represent the place.

Although business of all kinds is extraordinarily dull at present, and the people are therefore as much dispirited as Colorado nature will admit, Denver seems to me to have a very brisk and lively air. A number of substantial buildings are going up, there is constant movement in the streets, the hotels are crowded, and the people one meets are brimful of cheerful energy. The stores and warehouses are thoroughly stocked, and prices are lower than one would expect, considering the tedious and expensive land transportation. At the Pacific Hotel you pay four dollars per day, — no more than in New York, and have an equally good table. There may not be such an excessive bill of fare, but I could distinguish no difference in the cooking. Vegetables in the market are plenty and cheap, and appear to be of remarkably fine quality.

The dryness of the climate and occasional extremes of cold in winter, appear to me to be the principal drawbacks. Near the mouth of Cherry Creek there is a grove of venerable cotton-woods, and perhaps a dozen other specimens are dispersed singly through the lower part of the town. Attempts are now being made to colonize this tree — which makes a green spot, ugly though it be — around the houses in the higher streets, and with a fair prospect of success. The milk, cream, and butter from the adjoining farms are better than they are in most of the Western States. Venison and antelope are abundant, and canned fruits supply the want of fresh.

The situation of Denver is well selected. Were it nearer to the mountains, it would furnish a more convenient depot of supplies for the Clear Creek mining region, but it would not concentrate, as now, so many radiating lines of travel. It lies, apparently, in the centre of the chord of a shallow arc of the mountains, governing the entrances of some half-a-dozen different cañons, and overlooking a belt of farming land, fifty miles by ten in dimensions.

Its prosperity, of course, depends on the activity of mining operations in the mountains. There is at present a stagnation, occasioned principally by the enormous price of labor. Although the new methods of reduction promise a much greater production of the precious metals, and fresh discoveries of gold, silver, copper, and lead are being made every day, wages are so high that many companies have been forced to suspend business until the agricultural supplies at home, and the gradual approach of the Pacific Railroad, shall have brought prices down.

I should estimate the population of Denver at about six thousand. Probably no town in the country ever grew up  under such discouraging circumstances, or has made more solid progress in the same length of time. It was once swept away by the inundation of Cherry Creek; once or twice burned; threatened with Secession; cut off from  intercourse with the East by Indian outbreaks; deprived of a great portion of its anticipated trade by our war; made to pay outrageously for its materials and supplies — and all this within seven years!

I was interested in noticing how attached the inhabitants are to the place. Nearly every one who had recently been East seemed rejoiced to return. Even ladies forget the greater luxuries and refinements of the Atlantic coast, when they see the Rocky Mountains once more. The people look upon this glorious Alpine view as one of the properties of the town. Every street opens (in one direction, at least) upon it; and the evening drives along the Platte or over the flowering ridges, become as beautiful as any in the world, when the long line of snowy peaks flash down a brighter gold than ever was unpacked from their veins.

There are no manufactories as yet, except a brick-yard and two flour-mills — the latter driven by water-power. A good gray building stone is found about four miles off. The timber is all brought from the mountains, which, I fear, are in a fair way to become disforested. Coal, however, is coming into general use as fuel, several mines having already been opened in the neighborhood. It resembles the brown coal of Germany, burns freely, and is said to produce a great amount of gas. General Pierce, the Surveyor-General, considers the coal-bed of the Rocky Mountains one of the largest in the world. Along the Smoky Hill there are indications of an uninterrupted supply all the way to Kansas.

I find myself constantly returning to the point which my eyes seek, with unwearied interest, whenever I lift them from the paper. Ever since my arrival I have been studying the mountains. Their beauty and grandeur grow upon me with every hour of my stay. None of the illustrations accompanying the reports of exploration, and other Government documents, give any distinct idea of their variety and harmony of forms. Nowhere distorted or grotesque in outline, never monotonous, lovely in color and atmospheric effect, I may recall some mountain chains which equal, but none which surpass them. From this point there appears to be three tolerably distinct ranges. The first rises from two to three thousand feet above the level of the Plains; it is cloven asunder by the canons of the streams, streaked with dark lines of pine, which feather its summits, and sunny with steep slopes of pasture. Some distance behind it appears a second range of nearly double the height, more irregular in its masses, and of a dark, velvety, violet hue. Beyond, leaning against the sky, are the snowy peaks, nearly all of which are from thirteen to fifteen thousand feet above the sea. These three chains, with their varying but never discordant undulations, are as inspiring to the imagination as they are enchanting to the eye. They hint of concealed grandeurs in all the glens and parks among them, and yet hold you back with a doubt whether they can be more beautiful near at hand than when beheld at this distance.

To-morrow I shall move nearer their bases.    See BG Note Below      NEXT

A BG Note:

One of the more famous Colorado-connected Ogden cousins (via the Foster family) is Father John Lewis Dyer, a Methodist preacher who came to Colorado in 1861 and spent most of the remainder of his life preaching and mining throughout Colorado. Although there is no evidence that he interacted directly with any of the Gateley ancestors, he certainly had some indirect connections. For his genealogical connection to the family, see the relationship chart.

His influence in Colorado is shown by the inclusion in 1900 of a stained glass portrait of him in the dome of the State Capitol building in Denver. This portrait is the last of the sixteen "Founders of Colorado" to be so be honored.