Beaver Valley

The community

Of

Beaver Valley

At the far eastern edge of Colorado’s central plains was a small settlement community called Beaver Valley.  To the east can be seen the sunflowers of the jayhawk state. 

When I first heard of this area, I was in anticipation of a place on the bluffs overlooking one of the many sand creeks that roll over the plains.   Instead I found a land of table flatness and one of the most tranquil peaceful spots on the open prairie. 

There are still a few farms in the area but what really stands out is the cemetery.  Eastern Colorado is not known for its trees, yet the folks of Beaver Valley planted a trove of pine trees.  The cemetery boundary is a line of pine trees.  Today they reach to the sky, providing a moment of solitude. 

The trees provide shelter for the local wildlife.  The day I was there, the birds were chattering a flitting about.  Gathering nesting materials, looking for food and chattering among themselves.  As I walked about, looking and taking pictures, the birds would let me know if I was to close to their tree.

The breezes whispered through the branches, singing the song of the plains.  All other sounds were mute and unheard.  I sat in my pickup and had lunch while listening to the various birds chirping.  It was one of those moments where the world was at peace. 

My gaze rolled over the scene, taking in the grandeur of the area.   Here was one of the most peaceful places for a final rest.  A view out a across an unbroken land with no end of the horizon. 

River Bend Graveyard

Cemetery on the Hill

            For years and years, I have driven past the graveyard that sits on the hill just north of I-70.  It was one of the “One Day, I’m gonna go up there.”  Well that one day arrived a while back.  I got permission from the rancher to travel across his pasture and visit the cemetery. 

            So a blustery cold day I went down the highway to the exit off the Interstate.  Bouncing along the gravel roads to the pasture ruts.  Up the hill I went, following the ruts, bouncing over the pot holes, to the old graveyard on the hill.  The River Bend Cemetery has a tremendous view across the Big Sandy Valley. 

            Here I stood, gazing across the land.  On far ridge to the west is where the town of River Bend had once been.  Like its name says, the town sat on a bend in the river.  Over that ridge down to the tracks is where the village once was. 

            Talking with a local museum docent, she told me that there had once been evil people living there and they are now buried up on the hill.  She was probably right about the residents of the town, for it had been built by the railroad.  Then the spring of 1879, Colonel Reno garrisoned his troops here to protect the railroad workers. 

            This mixture of people would have attracted the saloon keeps, painted ladies, gamblers and other notorious folks.  I’m sure there would have been all types of conflicts and few resulting in the exchange of bullets. 

            The cemetery is over two miles to the east, would they of carted these folks that far or just planted in a hole down by the creek.  One thing the River Bend Cemetery has, is lots of unmarked graves.  There are slight depressions or flowers growing where the grave had been. 

            There are also the grandiose family plots with the towering markers and wrought iron fences.  There is one surrounded by a corral fence and no grave markers.  Some have elaborate stone work in the graves.  A few headstones have toppled and there the fading wreaths. 

            A lone tree has survived on the ridge, the other is but a barren, scoured trunk, standing nearby.  There is little moisture and the wind easily scoops the dirt out and carries it off. 

            It is a forsaken bleak land, until the spring showers arrive and the grasses greens up.  The graveyard on the hill becomes and emerald beaming out across the land, a green carpet. 

Golden Belt Route Part II

Clifford, Colorado

            On the western end of the remains of the Golden Belt Route is the little town of Clifford.  Of the three towns along the roadway, Clifford is the smallest.  There are still a couple of buildings still there, the schoolhouse and the Wards house.  What makes Clifford so interesting are the myths associated with it.  The buried gold treasure, the Indian battles, stage stops and the family that perished riding the train and they were buried at Clifford. 

            Clifford is just south of US 40 and can be seen from the highway if one looks closely.  Rolling down the country road towards the creek, one passes the one room country schoolhouse.  It sits in a pasture, dealing with the elements of time.  It is pretty much like it was over 100years ago.  Out back is the coal house with attached out houses.  Over the years some people have vandalized it, tearing screens off to get in or…. But it hangs in there.

            Going on south one can see the depressions in the pasture where the rest of the town had been.  At the railroad tracks, there are the foundations and footers for the railroad buildings and water tank.  On south of the tracks, behind locked gate in the ranchers pasture, is the mail order house.  Huge rambling building that may have been a rooming house.  The porches have caved in, the windows are gone and with some imagination one can see the ghosts floating around the weather beaten house. 

            The east edge of town is Coon Creek, the Mirage stage station had been here.  The Indians had also used the creek for a sweat lodge.  Through here Coon Creek is a pretty good sized steam, 10-15 feet deep and 20-30 feet across.  Looking to the north, about 6 miles are the grove of trees that mark Coon Springs, a stage stop on the Smoky Hill Trail.  Next to the railroad tracks is the small graveyard.  These three elements make for farfetched stories that probably have basis in fact. 

Looking up Coon Creek

In the distance can be seen the trees of Coon Springs

            The spring of 1864 an Army payroll wagon was robbed by 3 men near Coon Springs.  They were not very successful in their getaway.  The troopers were after them and catching up with them the robbers ducked into a gully.  Here they put the gold coins into dutch ovens and buried the gold, using stones to mark the spot.  They figured they would spend their time in jail, then return and dig up their loot.  One was killed in a gun fight after getting out of jail, another went back to jail after another robbery and the third disappeared.  So the legend of the buried gold grew and people would go out on the gullies looking for the buried treasure.

            Even a gentleman from England traveled to Clifford to search.  He spent over 6 months roaming the area looking for the buried gold.  One day he went to the train depot and very quietly left Clifford with his baggage.  Now if you found the gold, would you shout it from the rooftops or quietly go into the night? 

            When gold was discovered in the Rocky Mountains, the Smoky Hill Trail became a busy place and water on the prairie was important to the gold seekers and other travelers.  Coon Springs became an important stop and this did not set well with the Indians.  Then when the stage stop was established there, the Indians became more enraged and over the decade there were a variety of Indian raids on the station and on the travelers. 

            The spring of 1870 the railroad began building across East Central Colorado.  The Mirage stage station was built along the banks of Coon Creek, upsetting the Indians more.  The spring of 1870, the RR construction crews were building across the plains.  A camp was built near Mirage for the workers and it was a pretty lively place.  That summer the Indians launched a series of raids on the workers and stage stations, from Lake Station to Kit Carson.  Numerous workers were killed and many more wounded and the crews fled back to Kit Carson.  The Indians had stopped RR construction for a short time.  The attacks also brought more army troopers.  General Custer was reinstated and assigned to protect the railroad from Kit Carson to Denver.  The Indians, they turned north and headed to Wyoming to meet up with Custer on another day.

The indention's for the buildings can be seen, in the trees are the concrete remains of railroad stuff and beyond that is the mail order house.  

            With Coon Creek and good water, the railroad built a small station near Mirage and called it Clifford.  Clifford never was a big town, maybe a 100 folks dwelled there.  There was a depot, water facilities and section houses for the RR workers.  Some stores were opened, a saloon and a few homes were built.  Ranchers in the area used for shipping cattle and travel to the neighboring towns. 

            The summer of 1896 a young family was traveling by rail from back east to join her husband in Denver.  Along the way the family had become sick, a mother and two daughters.  By the time they arrived in Clifford, the family had died.  The bodies were taken off the train and left at the train station.  Somebody took the effort to bury them.  A short distance from the depot graves were dug next to the rails and the family was placed in their final resting place.  There were other graves and today it is surrounded by a fence. 

The graves 

            There were the buffalo hunters that would visit.  There were the cowboys and their six shooters and the bar fly’s that traveled through the little town.  And… oh yes…. There are locals who still believe that the gold is still buried somewhere in the area.  

Cemetery

Country Cemeteries

            One of the sidelights of chasing down the back roads looking for old stuff is the little cemeteries.  They come in sizes and shapes, many were part of a church that is now gone, a few were boot hills.  All are interesting little repositories’ on history.  Some are untended and are overgrown, others have a caretaker and are well groomed. 

            The overgrown ones, I think twice before I go walking among the weeds.  If I have a view of the ground I venture forth watching where I step.  There are the slithery critters, among others and there are the stickery ones, cacti.  So I carefully amble forth walking among the graves.  Looking for the unusual, unique, veterans and certain dates.  Over the years I collected a pretty nice collection of small grave yards. 

            Couple of the dates I focus on are 1918 and 1922.  These two dates were the years of the nastiest flu pandemics to strike across the country.  During 1918, was WWI and from what I’ve read, more soldiers died from the flu then combat that year.  Something like 50 million people perished that year worldwide.  The pandemic began in 1917 and hit its zenith 1918.  Then in 1921 the flu raised its ugliness’s again peaking out in 1922 and subsiding in 1923.

            As I walk visiting the graves, I watch the dates and 1918 starts to jump out for the number of deaths for that year.  Then I see a bunch dated 1922.  For people back then it would not be pleasant.  Medicine back then was still pretty primitive to care for people.  I quietly pause at these markers and move on.  Not all were from the flu, I’m sure there were some that were natural causes or accidents…. Hummmm maybe a gunfight….

            Some of the headstones were large elaborate stones, occasionally a family stone.  Many were just a plaque or no gravestone of any type.  If they were travelers and got sick in another town, they usually went out in the pasture to be buried.  A wooden cross may mark it for a time otherwise the land reclaimed. 

            There was one cemetery I walked that had only one marker with 1918 on the headstone.  There was a section of unmarked graves.  Yet with only one 1918 stone it was very unusual.  Many of the pioneer families would bury their loved ones out on hillside out behind the house.  Seldom were these recorded and most today are unknown to the public unless one overhears a conversation about such. 

            The other dread disease way back when was smallpox and cholera.  Many of these victims were cremated for fear of spreading the disease.   There was a local doctor who perished from treating a patient with smallpox.  He was buried in a separate grave on a hillside overlooking the valley.  Even boot hill was not a place for the valiant doctor.  Yet the doctor now has a trail and park named for him and no longer is he alone on the hillside. 

Pioneer Cemetery and Park

            There are times when the tricks are humorous and sometimes not.  Saw a post on facebook while back about and old cemetery in Colorado Springs.  It looked interesting, so I did some looking.  Found it on satellite view and it looked similar to the picture I had seen.  So I said to self, Got to go have a look at this old Cemetery.  So self put it on the list of things to do when visiting Colorado Springs. 

            I took the time one day on a trip to the Springs to go looking for this place.  It was not easy, down dead end streets and around backwards corners but finally arrived.  I drive up an alley like it showed on the earth view and it was a loop.  There was no cemetery to be seen.  Hum, so I drove around, turned down another street and on the other side, still saw no grave markers. 

            I was a pretty little neighborhood park, nice homes and a tremendous view of the mountains over there.  Still nothing that looked like a cemetery.  Over there was a monument and on it was a variety of name and dates.  Well groomed and cleaned inside a small circled stone wall.   Couple of benches and Pikes Peak was the background.  Besides me the park was empty, even the passing car was not passing.  A young couple showed up and spread a blanket out on the unimproved portion of the park for a mid day moment. 

            Well, humbug, said to self.  Wandered around and took a couple of pictures.  Went back to the car and went down the road. 

            Getting home, I did some more looking about the graveyard.  Found an interesting story about the graveyard and I as I read I began to chuckle at myself.  The graves were there all along, in the unimproved section, all the markers had been removed. 

            During the Great Depression, the WPA was doing a project there and removed all of the headstones.  When work was completed, the markers were not replaced.  I would guess that in secret location there is a storage lot full of head stones. 

            The original cemetery was called Mesa Cemetery and was for the people of Old Colorado City. Nearby is a large Masons complex of buildings and apparently some Masons were buried there also.     After the debacle with the WPA workers, the Masons went and exhumed their members and re-interred them in another resting place.    The cemetery was forgotten for a few years until some people started asking some questions.  They went to the park and did some looking and underground survey work and located at least 100 coffins still resting there underground. 

Outside of the park monument, there is no indication that there is a cemetery in Pioneer Park. 

If the head stones are located, how would the markers be matched to the grave sites.  Now that would be a puzzle to solve.  

Aroya, CO

Aroya Cemetery

            Aroya is a small town that faded out of existence few decades ago.  A few years ago it had a population boom.  A family hauled a trailer out to a vacant lot and set up.  Somebody else hauled another trailer out and joined and just in a short time the population doubled.  The boom did not last long, today the trailers sit abandoned on the north end of town.  The ghosts of the other building still there no longer have company except for the occasional tourist that visits. 

            The cemetery I never really got clear directions on where it was and it was not visible from any of the roads.  I finally found some people in Kit Carson, CO that told me how to get to it.  Park on the roadside they said and walk up the hill across the rancher’s pasture.  On the top of the hill you’ll see it.  Well I parked my car along the road and began hoofing across the pasture.  It was with care as I placed my steps for I did not want to make friends with the cacti that dotted the grassland. 

            Sure enough, up on the hilltop was the small cemetery.  The rancher had put a fence around it because the cattle were knocking over the headstones.  There is no caretaker so the little patch of land was overgrown with weeds and the north fence was buried in tumble weeds.  This time of year, snakes are not a major concern, otherwise make steps very carefully. 

            The ranch that owns the cemetery placed a monument at the cemeteries edge, listing all the people that are buried in the plot.  Well the ones that they knew of.  The JOD ranch, that owns the surrounding land, is one of the oldest continuing ranches in the state and still calls Aroya their home although I believe their mail comes from Wild Horse. 

Most of the graves there are unmarked and only the smaller stones are still standing.  But it opened more questions.  For the date on the graveyard is 1907.  Aroya was established as a railroad stop in 1870.  That leaves a number of years vacant.  My guess is, the hill had been used as a burial grounds but not much record was kept.  The other thing is, Aroya has been part of three different counties, causing record keeping problems.  Back then, there was also the tendency to just go dig a hole in the prairie, say a few words and place a small cross of sorts and life went on. 

Being along a stage route, The Smoky Hill Trail, there were numerous Indian attacks in the area.  Also being a railroad town, there would have been the occasional wild times on the frontier.  So scattered here and there are probably a variety of grave sites.  

Old Cemetery

 

To the north of town is an old cemetery, out in the pasture.  There is no roadway or path to it, one has to walk across the pasture to get there.  One day finally arrived and I put on my boots and strolled out to have a look see.  It is not a well organized layout.  More of a collection of plots scattered here and there with some single graves.  There are probably a bunch that had wooden crosses or were unmarked.  There was one wooden cross laying in the grass and there were some markers that had crumbled in the land. 

I found a local that had grown up in the area and asked him some questions about it.  There were some fenced off areas with mixed stones in them and one was some distance from the others.  He said they probably died from anthrax is why they were buried over there. 

That gave some pause to stop and think.  Anthrax is common in the area but with today’s medicine it is not the life threatening plague like it was a couple of centuries ago. 

He went to say there were some pastures in the area that if cattle were grazed on them they had to be vaccinated for anthrax.  There are also other grave sites around where they buried people that perished from the fungus. 

It was not unusual years ago to bury people that had a plague type of disease in separate area.  Sometimes the people were cremated, the fear was so great.  Smallpox, measles and influenza were some of the nastiest killers that swept over the pioneers that settled on the prairie. 

There was a doctor that died from smallpox.  He is buried  way over in another area west of town with a woman.  Such were the fears of people that they would be contaminated. 

It was fascinating to walk through the grave yard and wonder what happened.  Then hear the story and read other stories, things kind of make sense. 

Most of the head stones were in the 1880’s and the unmarked ones, probably earlier. 

The town has another cemetery to the west about two miles.  It sits on a ridge, make a good boot hill.  Across the road is the Catholic cemetery. 

It is in the old cemetery where one can find the struggles of the town to survive in the early days.

How many perished from lead poisoning is not mentioned.  Yet I’m sure a few of the forgotten spots were from altercations at the saloon.  There were train robberies, Indian conflicts, range disputes and a mixture of frontier people.  Two different stage routes passed through, the Smoky Hill Trail was nearby and there are Indian camps by the springs in the area. 

The cemetery is rough looking yet the life these people lived was rough and tumble.  To survive in the 1870’s and 80’s was a feat in itself.