If reincarnation is the real deal, I want to come back as a dog in Telluride.

Make that a big, goofy-faced Labrador or golden retriever—by far, the most common breeds in this Victorian Colorado mining town turned ski resort. Dogs have it made here—they accompany their owners to work, even riding the free gondola that connects the towns of Telluride and Mountain Village. Trails for hiking and cross country skiing lead right out of town into the surrounding mountains, making it easy to go out for a walk. Crowds of friendly locals and visitors ensure that there's always someone willing to toss a tooth-marked Frisbee or slobbery tennis ball. Telluride's speed limit is a pedestrian-friendly 15 mph, and winter brings loads of fresh snow to romp in.

Come to think of it, being a human in Telluride is not so bad, either.

Telluride calls itself the "land where people come to play," and even the people who are working seem to be having fun. Local Johnnie Stevens, who went to work for the ski area in its first year, reports that the few visitors who ventured up there in the early days remarked on how friendly everyone was. Johnnie's response was, "We're not friendly, we're just really lonely."

The Telluride locals aren't lonely any more. The population has soared to 2200, and luxury vacation homes have sprouted in the foothills. But the friendly, laid back atmosphere continues. Take the Freebox, for example. Take anything you need out of the Freebox, but don't forget to put something in as well. "It's just good karma," our hotel desk clerk said seriously.

The Freebox started in 1976, when a young woman set a box of free clothing outside a health food store. The tradition continues, although a tidier set of wooden bins was added in 1983. Everyone in town has a story of something found in the Freebox, from skis to bottles of Scotch to a Donna Karan handbag.

Riding the $16 million gondola is free, too. From 7 a.m. until midnight, the comfortable eight-passenger cars (the attendant will give you a woolen blanket, if it's cold) make a loop between downtown Telluride and the neighboring town of Mountain Village. The view of the town and the surrounding mountains as the car makes the 2,000-foot climb is nothing short of spectacular.

A second gondola connects Mountain Village with a parking area, keeping the vehicular traffic in both towns to a pleasant minimum. There are gondola cars designated for canine passengers, as a courtesy to those humans who might be allergic to them.

It's a small town, and many people opt to walk or bike. A free bus, the Galloping Goose (named for a homemade truck/train hybrid that provided transportation to the isolated community until the 1950s), makes a loop through town and will stop just about anywhere you want.

And then there's the skiing. I may never travel to the Himalayas, but the sight of a ring of snow-draped 13,000-foot peaks gleaming in the first light of morning has got to be the next best thing. No Sherpas needed—high speed lifts get you right to the top, and there's always a nice, intermediate cruiser to get you back down. Heck, even the easy runs are great, like the 4.6-mile Galloping Goose that starts at 11,815 feet and ends at Big Billie's restaurant.

If you prefer to give your legs a workout, Telluride has runs as steep and deep as you like. Most notorious is The Plunge, a black diamond bump run that drops 3,140 vertical feet and provides great views of the town, if you're not too busy trying to survive to look at them.

Telluride's first boom was in the late 1800s, when gold and silver mining resulted in more millionaires per capita than New York City. The genteel folks attended performances in the Sheridan Opera House, built in 1913. The theater is still in operation, and many films have their premiere there during the Telluride Film Festival held every Labor Day weekend.

In the 1930s, the town slid into an economic decline that lasted for decades. One map printed in the 1960s even noted it was a "ghost town." The opening of the ski area in the winter of 1972-73 turned things around, but---luckily-- poverty and procrastination had preserved the town's 19th century buildings. Today the former miners' hospital is a museum and a house of ill repute is reincarnated as an arts school.

A building that still fulfills its original purpose is the New Sheridan Hotel—"new," that is, since 1895 when it was built to replace an earlier wooden hotel lost to fire. The hotel's dining room and the interior of the New Sheridan Bar next door have both been used in films. Butch and Sundance would feel right at home in the bar with its original wooden floor, tin ceiling and ornate back bar. In fact, Butch Cassidy got his start as a bank robber in Telluride, making off with $22,000 in 1889.

Telluride's days of gold and silver are gone, but great skiing, gorgeous summers and a calendar full of festivals keep visitors–both two-legged and four-legged–coming back for more.

Lyn Kidder (writer) and Frederic Moras (photographer) have traveled around for 8 years, living and working in Idaho, Alaska, Colorado, Arizona and Wyoming.They have collaborated on two books while in Alaska Barrow, Alaska from A to Z and Tacos on the Tundra biography of the wacky woman who opened the world's northernmost Mexican restaurant, in Barrow, AK. Both are available on amazon.com. They have settled in the mountains of southern NM. You can see more of Frederic's photos on www.artistregister.com.

© 2004

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