Everything is Temporary
Written by Ben Giese & Derek Mayberry
A film by Voca Films | Photography by Jimmy Bowron
Deep in the heart of Colorado’s San Juan Mountains, we ventured to a place where spirits hover in the ether, and the relentless passage of time becomes apparent in the death, decay and life all around us. Colorado is estimated to have had more than 1,500 ghost towns, of which only 640 currently remain. The idea was to spend a few days exploring and appreciating these forgotten relics of the past, but what we found when we arrived was something much more transcendental.
A few hundred miles from Denver, the pavement ended and the hands of time wound back as we navigated the loose rocks and challenging terrain of Colorado’s Alpine Loop. Thunderstorms loomed at our backs, and our motorcycles dotted the high-elevation landscape like obscure pixels on a digital canvas. As we crested the final switchback of Cinnamon Pass and began our descent into the valley below, we could finally see our destination, the small ghost town of Animas Forks.
This rugged patch of earth is so harsh and remote, we sat there in awe questioning how it was possible for those original settlers to arrive here and build a thriving mining community. At 11,200 feet, the town rests on the edge of treeline, exposed to high winds, avalanches and brutal low temperatures. It’s no place for those of a delicate nature.
Against a backdrop of flowering meadows, the timeworn wooden buildings stand in stark contrast to the surrounding summer blooms – a clear depiction of the struggle between man’s creations and the unforgiving alliance between Mother Nature and Father Time. Off-grid and cut off from modern-day conveniences, there was an awareness between all of us of how vulnerable life was in such a remote and brutal location.
We explored the area with a sense of respect and appreciation for what it took to live off this land. We could still feel the strife under our feet as we examined the precarious timber framework of the town’s mill. There was a sense of brevity among us as we inspected the last remaining artifacts from a time where only the hardened prospered.
This town was built upon the backs of prospectors, mine workers, and gritty townspeople who didn’t care that future generations would be so enamored by the structures’ skeletal remains over a century and a half later. The first cabin was built in 1873, and by 1876 the town contained 30 homes, a hotel, a general store, a saloon and a post office. At its peak in 1883, Animas Forks was bustling with life, with more than 450 residents. But when mining profits began to decline in the early 1900s, the mines began to close. Mill towns were abandoned when the mining towns they serviced closed. Coal towns were abandoned when the coal (or the need for it) ran out. Stagecoach stops were abandoned when the railroad came through, and rail stops were deserted when the railroad changed routes or abandoned the spurs. By 1920, Animas Forks was a ghost town. Here one moment and gone the next. A memory that will eventually be forgotten, swept away by the sands of time. Like all things.
If there is one thing we can learn from history, it’s that change is the only constant, and everything is temporary. Death breeds life. It’s all nature. It’s all a cycle. And it’s all guided by the unstoppable force of time. Witnessing the decay of these structures opened our minds to these ideas, and that realization became the theme of our trip, and this issue.
Dusk began to make an appearance, and it was time to continue on. Recent mudslides and remnants of an an avalanche kept us from our planned route out, forcing us to take a longer, more difficult path. It was like a rite of passage, as if the ghosts of Animas Forks were testing our mettle.
As darkness crept in, our broken bikes and exhausted bodies eventually made it back to modern-day civilization. We shared a meal and reflected on the realization that we are all a very small part of something much bigger. That our existence is temporary, and it’s up to us to carry a sense of appreciation throughout our daily lives for the time we have here. We are the sum of our experiences, and we should be grateful that life takes us where it does, however brief that may be.
Eventually the earth will reclaim what remains of these old mining towns. Time devours everything. Be it in the form of flesh or steel, everything inevitably returns to its carbon beginnings. Birth. Life. Death. Decay. Rebirth. We all come from the same matter, and we are all a part of nature’s beautiful, never-ending cycle.
