- Well, I call Red Mountain
Pass the Highway to Hell. - People stop all the
time for photographs and they also drive off the
road and fall precipitously, hopefully not to their deaths. - I don't care if it's July,
you're going to see results of avalanche debris
down in the river below you. - Previous attempts to get
through the San Juans failed because of the steepness
of the mountains. - It was all new to them. They
knew nothing about mountains, mountain weather,
avalanche hazard. - They said it was going to be
impossible to ever go through that canyon in any way
whatsoever, on foot or horseback or anything else.
It was that bad. - The toll roads were really
a feat of engineering, and some of them were
just so dangerous. - A lot of people were killed
building the Million Dollar
Highway. - The Yankee Girl mine made
millions and millions of
dollars. - That's the whole theme of why
we got moved off of the lands we had was because somebody's
seen those lands as being great locations to mine for minerals,
and that's how a lot of the mountain towns
became established. Places like Silverton, which is on the path to the
Million Dollar Highway. This program was made possible by the History Colorado State
Historical Fund, supporting projects throughout the state to
preserve, protect and interpret Colorado's architectural and
archeological treasures. History Colorado State
Historical Fund. Create the future,
honor the past. With additional funding
provided in memory of Deanna E. La Camara by
Hassel and Maryann Ledbetter, and by members like you. Thank you. A special thanks to the
Denver Public Library, History Colorado,
and to these organizations. With major funding provided
by Rudy Davison - To experience Red Mountain
pass means you're going over the Million Dollar Highway, and that
is an experience for everybody. - The first time I saw the
Million Dollar Highway would've been from the back seat of
my family's automobile, and I distinctly remember the
heavy breathing of my mother in the front seat. And my stepfather
had--had his hands gripped on the
steering wheel. And I looked out the window... and I realized there
were no guardrails. There were no trees. There
was this large drop off... and it was pretty exciting. - I first was introduced to the
Million Dollar Highway when I was small with my parents. It was late in the evening
and it was starting to snow. I guess the word that I best
describe that when I was young, it's squiggly and scary and
there's no guards on the side there. And, you know, once
you go up, you go off. There's really no do overs.
[chuckles] - The Million Dollar Highway has
more avalanches that cross it than any other publicly
maintained highway in the United States. It is an extraordinary route for
the state of Colorado and the dedicated staff at the Colorado
Department of Transportation. To keep that road open is
just a feat of endurance, of dedication. - Every time I drive over. Just
the whole San Juans and the landscape and the dramatic
relief. It inspires me. - The Million Dollar Highway
name actually comes from the 1920s where they say,
boy, this is costing us a million dollars a mile. There are also great stories
that there were gold and silver mines near the highway. And so
that's the gravel they use. So they paved it with gold. - Or my favorite, I
wouldn't drive that road for a million dollars. - Some of the rocks in the
Uncompahgre Gorge are well over a billion years old. It's the
roots of the earth. It's from the basement of time, and
they're hard rock. And so it has always been a barrier to travel.
And yet absolutely beautiful. Just stunningly beautiful. <i> The iconic Red Mountains tower</i>
<i> at the center of this mineral</i> <i> laden range, which is now</i>
<i> traversed by Highway 550.</i> <i> But in the heyday of gold and</i>
<i> silver mining, its impassable</i> <i> terrain stood between</i>
<i> miners and their dreams.</i> <i> Building a road to get precious</i>
<i> ore in and out of these</i> <i> steep volcanic peaks</i>
<i> was deemed impossible.</i> - The Silverton Caldera was one
of the big volcanoes that began erupting 35 million years ago.
It was a shield volcano, a lot like Mauna Loa,
Mauna Kea in Hawaii. There are three smaller
volcanoes that erupted inside the Silverton Caldera in the
latter phase of the volcanic eras. When they ran out of
magma, the lavas went back down into the ground and this whole
caldera collapsed and the Red Mountains were formed. - Red Mountain is red because
it's full of iron. Now, the iron that's inside the mountain is
ferrous iron. It is sort of a light, pale, greenish color.
It's very soluble in water. So when the mountain erodes,
that iron dissolves in the water, and as soon as dissolves
in the water, the oxygen oxidizes it to iron three,
which is essentially rust. So if you go up and look at
the Red Mountains, they're just bright red and it's just
a--a pale of rust all over the mountain. If you look in Red
Mountain Creek, it's kind of an orangish red. People look at
that and they go, "Oh, my goodness, how polluted that is"
That water looked exactly the same 1000 years ago because it's
that rust, that iron oxide, but it isn't the orange color that's
the problem around here that's been there forever. <i> The Red Mountains have a rich</i>
<i> human history beyond their</i> <i> minerals.</i> <i> The Ute peoples' creation</i>
<i> story tells of their</i> <i> ancestors moving across the</i>
<i> San Juan mountains...</i> <i> since the beginning of time.</i> - And the Utes were known as the
Mountain People, the San Juans, the shining mountains. There were archaic hunters,
there were paleo Indians there thousands of years earlier,
hunter gatherers. But in terms of what we would
call a modern tribe, that would be the Utes. - There are three Ute tribes,
the Southern Ute tribe, the Ute Mountain Ute tribe, and the Ute Indian tribe of Utah. And they say it's 10,000 years
of history recorded. We have to remember who's doing
the recording and why my life, and in, in visiting with my
family and my elders, my grandparents, and knowing how...
the existence and evidence out on the land show. When you really think about it
in the context of a, of a window of time, it's much, much more
than that. We were well known for--for
moving around, moving according to what resources
were available. We moved along the land, along
the rivers, and we moved fluidly according to seasons and
according to what was available in terms of resources. We roamed the entire state
of Colorado, what is known as Colorado today, and a good
part of two thirds of Utah. - It'd take 5000 acres for one
Ute to do a reasonable amount of hunting and gathering for their
families. It took an enormous amount of land for the Utes to
live with a nomadic way of living. The Americans didn't
think the Utes were using it because the Americans thought of
it if it wasn't being mined or if it wasn't being farmed, or if
they weren't running livestock on it, it was useless land. <i> But the Ute people were</i>
<i> using the Red Mountains...</i> <i> in their way.</i> They tread gently upon the land
rather than extracting what lay <i> beneath it. It wasn't until</i>
<i> after the Spanish arrived in</i> 1540 that anyone was interested
<i> in exploring for gold here.</i> <i> Some Spaniards made their way</i>
north from New Mexico into the San Juans. But this was an area <i> that was declared off limits</i>
<i> by their own government.</i> - There were Spanish here,
but not very many of them. It was illegal for the Spanish
to be here. Spain had a decree from almost the time
anybody even thought about coming up into this area, back
in the 1700s, they had a law that it was illegal to even be
here. And if they were caught, they would take away their furs.
They take away any gold if they had found it, they would
throw them in prison. - There are no records. There
are no really written accounts of the Spanish miners.
On purpose. So they did not want anyone
in Santa Fe or Taos or Abiquiu to know they were up here. But all our place names,
you know, the Piedras, the La Platas, the San Juans,
those are all Spanish names. The Spanish were here, but they purposely didn't keep
records because if they found something, they wanted to bring
it as gold bullion to the settlements themselves. And they
didn't want anybody to know where their mines were. - After 1821, we were part of
Mexico and the Mexicans made it legal again to do trapping and
trading with the Indians and to go into the mountains. After Spain and Mexico governed
this area, it was finally turned <i> over to the United States</i>
<i> in 1848.</i> - Early Anglo attempts to get
through the San Juans failed because of the steepness of the
mountains. Explorers simply went around, often to the south,
sometimes to the north. Gunnison will go north and
avoid the San Juans. Fremont, same thing
trying to build a railroad, to go east to west. And the
stubborn idea that you can go in a straight line from
St. Louis to California. He encounters the San Juans and
winds up in desperate straits on the other side of the
continental divide. His troops are in
starvation mode. - The first major entry of
American prospectors into the San Juans occurred in 1860. It was a group called
the Baker Expedition. - But the snows are immense. The
snows are incredibly deep. They can't stay the winter and
the Civil War is about to cut off all their supply lines. - And the San Juans were
kind of un-prospected during the Civil War and for
three or four years afterwards. <i> Yet once significant gold and</i>
<i> silver were discovered in the</i> <i> Southern Rockies, western</i>
<i> expansion into Ute lands</i> <i> was ruthless.</i> <i> By 1868, pressure had</i>
<i> grown to compel the Utes</i> <i> to yield mining</i>
<i> lands to the U.S.</i> - The whole San Juans become
part of a purchase to basically buy the tops of the mountains
and allow for the mining. So, it had all been
Ute territory. The 1868 Ute Treaty gives the
Utes the entire western third of Colorado, all the way
from the essentially Wyoming border, all the way
down to New Mexico. - That said that all land that
was to the east of the continental divide would be
American land, and the west of the continental divide
would be Ute land. The United States agree that the
<i> following district of country,</i> <i> set apart for the absolute and</i>
<i> undisturbed use and occupation</i> <i> of the Indians herein named,</i>
<i> and the United States now</i> <i> solemnly agree that no persons</i>
<i> may be authorized to enter upon</i> <i> Indian reservations, or</i>
<i> reside in the territory.</i> <i> - Despite the treaty's legal</i>
<i> protections, the Utes'</i> <i> boundaries were not respected.</i>
<i> Prospectors encroached</i> <i> constantly, also discovering</i>
<i> farmlands as rich in potential</i> <i> as the mines.</i> <i> So just five years after the</i>
<i> 1868 treaty was signed,</i> <i> the government began talks</i>
<i> with Chief Ouray to take the</i> <i> territories just formally</i>
<i> deeded to the Utes--back.</i> <i> The 1873 surrender of land is</i>
known as the Brunot Agreement, <i> named for the Chairman of the</i>
<i> Board of the Indian Commission,</i> <i> Felix Brunot.</i> <i> Ute negotiator, Chief Ouray</i>
<i> observed, "The agreement</i> <i> an Indian makes to a United</i>
<i> States treaty is like the</i> <i> agreement a buffalo makes</i>
<i> with his hunter when pierced</i> <i> with arrows.</i> <i> All he can do is lie</i>
<i> down, and give in."</i> - Back in the 1860s, Ouray was a
pretty minor Ute. There were lots of Utes that were more
powerful inside the tribe than he was. This goes back to Kit Carson. Kit Carson was made
the agent of the Tabeguache in the
San Louis Valley. And Kit Carson complained that
his interpreter couldn't speak Ute, which was a fairly
major problem... in dealing with Utes. So he was being
replaced by Ouray. Evidently, Ouray and Kit
Carson had a lot of talks. Carson could speak fluent
Ute, they would eat together quite often. Carson was impressed, and he
eventually suggested that Ouray be the one that go to Washington
for that 1868 treaty. - Chief Ouray spoke many
languages, and that's the reason why the federal government
utilized him in that capacity was because he could speak
various languages. - So, he's fluent in Ute, but
he's also fluent in Spanish. And then he picks up English. So he's a--he's a
trilingual person. He's known as a genízaro,
a de-tribalized Indian. And so he is sort of adopted
by the Utes but he's a multilingual, multicultural
person. - Chief Ouray was the chief of a
single branch of the Utes and the government, since he spoke
English and Spanish assumed that he was the chief of all of the
Utes. They probably knew that he wasn't the chief of all the
Utes, but he was a person they could deal with, they could
understand him, and so he was a logical person for them to latch
on to. But the fact that he was only chief of one band of the
Utes caused some--a lot of resentment when the government
gave treaties and assumed it applied to all of the Utes. - We did not have one specific
chief that was like head ultimate leader of--of all the
bands. We had several different chiefs and we had chiefs that
were leaders in the capacity of hunting and--and leading war
parties and--and being able to gather people for ceremonies.
So, the chief status just depended on what activity and
event was occurring. But it was because of the conversations and
the dealings with the federal government, and it was actually
the federal government who sort of designated him as the chief
and voice of the Ute people, which didn't always play well
within the people themselves. And a lot of people didn't
speak too highly of him because of that. - Ouray had been to Washington.
He knew the might of the United States and he knew that if they
fought the white man, they would all die. And so, he negotiated. Today, there's an ambivalent
feeling about Chief Ouray. Did he give away everything
or did he save the tribe? - In those contentious times,
people didn't want to give up their home. They did not want to
leave having access with the hunting areas. We didn't
want to leave that. And so he tried to be that great
mediator and bring those voices together and try to make sure
that, you know, we needed to understand that the
newcomers, the settlers, they were going to come. They weren't going to stop. They weren't going to turn back. This was something that
was going to continue. And as much as we wanted to
believe that we could chase people back out of our homes
and our living territories, that just wasn't a reality. <i> U.S. negotiations with Chief</i>
Ouray were in large part carried <i> out by a Colorado businessman</i>
<i> named Otto Mears.</i> <i> Mears was one of the few</i>
<i> white people to learn the Ute</i> language, although he did speak
it with a heavy Russian accent. <i> The immigrant who had come</i>
<i> to America in 1851 went</i> <i> from selling newspapers on the</i>
<i> streets of San Francisco to</i> building a transportation empire
<i> in the mountains of Colorado.</i> - Otto Mears was a good friend
of Chief Ouray, and he-- he helped negotiate
some of the treaties. - Otto Mears went to Washington
with Ouray. They met President Grant. He and Mears toured New
York. They went to the theater together, to museums. - The friendship between Mears
and Ouray is sad because what Mears represents is everything
Ouray doesn't want, which is more accessibility for
white people. And yet they do become friends.
And I think Ouray does that because he feels he can trust
Mears, even though he doesn't like what Mears represents. And
what Mears represents is the future, the mining future of the
San Juans. So they have an interesting relationship. Otto Mears is a great story in
Colorado history. He is a young Jewish immigrant, an orphan
and Civil War veteran. - Otto Mears was born in Russia
in 1840, and Jews had really experienced tremendous
discrimination in Europe, particularly in Eastern Europe. That included lack of economic
opportunity, strict laws that even sometimes governed
where they could live or whom they could marry. - Mears comes to Colorado, you
know, after the Civil War and realizes that there's money to
be made in the silver and gold mines of the San Juans, but even
more money in connecting the much-needed supplies and
the mines themselves. - Otto Mears was a wonderful
businessman. Otto was a Republican. He was very
conservative. He hated unions. And in fact, in the latter years
of the 19th century, if you wanted to hold statewide
office in Colorado, you needed Otto's approval. Mears was a very amiable person.
He was very easy to get along with. He only had a fourth-grade
education. His parents died when he was about two or three.
He was then shuttled into various uncles. Couldn't get
along with the uncle in Russia, went to England.
Couldn't get along with the uncle in England, was sent
to New York. Same story, couldn't get along. So finally,
they decided to ship into San Francisco, where his last uncle
was. Took a boat down to the Isthmus of Panama. Walked across
the Isthmus of Panama. Took another boat up to San
Francisco. He's 11 years old. He's on his own. A woman
befriended him. And when the boat landed in San Francisco,
they found out the last uncle had left for Australia
some time ago. - When he came to America, it
was the land of opportunity, and he thought that anything was
possible. There was nothing that wasn't possible for Otto Mears. - So, he sold newspapers and did
other odd jobs, started working at a very young age and
earned his own money. And he never quit. - Went into the gold fields. He discovered something
very, very important. He discovered that the people
who make money out of mining are very often not the mine owners
because the mines often didn't pan out. People who really made
out were the people that supplied the machinery, who
supply the food, who supplied the equipment that they used. - But then as a young man, the
Civil War broke out and he joined the Union Army, and it
was via the Union Army that he came back towards Colorado
and New Mexico. <i> Otto Mears earned the nickname</i>
<i> the Pathfinder of the San Juans</i> <i> for his ability to build</i>
<i> seemingly impossible roads.</i> Where others just saw mountains,
Mears envisioned routes and from <i> his perspective the San Juans</i>
needed to be tamed, tame by toll <i> roads--that would</i>
<i> make him rich.</i> - He was a typical 19th century
businessman, did everything self-serving. He wasn't averse
to bribing, any way he could get things done. What he would do is
he would find something that was needed, something that people
were going to pay money for, whether it was a toll road or a
railroad. He would then line up a whole bunch of investors, and
Otto always invested in his own scheme. And so, once he had the
investors, he would then go out and hire the best surveyors, the
best people to do it. He would pay them well. He would push all
of the earnings back into the stockholders. So they
made a lot of money. - Otto Mears was one of
these people that was, I think, a natural entrepreneur. When he was looking for how to
support himself after the Civil War, he had a grist mill. He was going to sell this
to the U.S. Army and he had to deliver it. Well, on one of his excursions
to deliver grist... his wagon broke down. - He ran into William Gilpin,
first territorial governor, and his horse and
wagon were upturned. And Gilpin stopped to talk to
him and told him, you know, the future, um, in the West
is in transportation. - He said, by the way, don't
make the toll roads too steep because later on we'll
probably get railroads and you'll already have a right of
way to use for a railroad. And this is something Mears took to
heart because he did develop several short line railroads. - All in all, he was pretty much
responsible for the development of southwestern Colorado. <i> But for Mears to develop roads</i>
<i> through the Red Mountains, the</i> <i> U.S. government had to clear</i>
the area of its rightful owners, <i> the Ute people.</i> <i> This removal in 1873</i>
<i> was directly in Mears'</i> <i> self-interest, of course, yet</i>
<i> he was one of the men who</i> <i> negotiated the deal</i>
<i> with Chief Ouray.</i> - Otto Mears bless his soul,
who was supposed to be a friend of the Utes went to them and
convinced them that he would give them two silver dollars if
they would sign this treaty, and that two silver dollars was much
more valuable to them than a piece of paper that would
be signed for a treaty. The Native Americans totally
hated Otto Mears. They tried to kill Otto Mears and everybody
got so mad at him they were going to kill him and he had to
make a run for it in the middle of the night. - The Utes are forced out
of their ancestral lands because of the mineral
wealth of the San Juans. So that's the treaty that in
1873 where they're forced out of the high country. - They wanted to be able to work
the land and so, following that agreement or treaty that
was pushing the Utes onto reservations, we're looking at
that whole entire area being taken away and then being pushed
down into this southwestern portion of Colorado where it
almost looks like a strip. In addition to taking Ute lands,
<i> there was a national movement</i> <i> calling for the forced</i>
<i> assimilation of Native</i> <i> Americans. And in 1879, Indian</i>
<i> agent Nathan Meeker tried to</i> <i> compel the Yampa White River</i>
<i> Band of Utes to Westernize.</i> <i> The Utes revolted, killing</i>
<i> Meeker and ten others.</i> <i> Newspapers throughout Colorado</i>
<i> immediately branded the</i> <i> resistance at the White River</i>
<i> Indian Reservation--a massacre.</i> <i> It was enough to provoke a</i>
rallying cry across the state of <i> "The Utes must go."</i> <i> And go they did.</i> <i> Most were banished from</i>
<i> Colorado to Utah.</i> - We came back to that same
sentiment that we had to go, the Utes must go. So, we even though we don't
have a Trail of Tears, I believe that was our Trail of
Tears when we were told to leave those areas and walk back to the
other side of what's now known as the Ute Mountain. We walked back. We were forcibly walked back. This is a wound that lives, um
historically there's so many traumas that have--have
transpired over the years physically, through policies.
It's--it's dislocated us and we have disconnections
with these places. We don't even say the names
of those places anymore because this place that a lot of
us find that used to be in our vocabulary, in our daily
presence, we would acknowledge them like family members. But when you're not with family
members or a family member passes, you don't find yourself
calling out those names anymore. We don't say the names of those
places anymore because we're not out there. We don't sing. We
don't dance out there anymore. We've been so disconnected
from these places. - I want to tell
you a story about the sounds I used to carry. Long ago, our tongues formed
tones, notes that sang across the Milky Way to our
ancestors from before. Everything was and is
connected in this way. From the earth to the sky.
Each leaf to tree. They say the old ones' voices
are grounded in each root and echo through the
mountain's memory. If you know how to listen,
a song can hold you like a prayer. The way roots hold a
tree swaying in the wind and a sky can hold the moon while the
stars sing a song we all used to know, a melody we carried in our
throats before it was stolen. As we were. Ripped from our homelands,
we lost the words in each wound we never let heal.
And we search for earth to ground ourselves in. We slip into
memories like rivers carrying us back
to the sacred parts of us. - The mines on Red Mountain were
developed in the early 1880s. The whites discovered gold in
the San Juan mountains. And of course, now we can't have the
Utes there. And so, lots of trouble, a few skirmishes and
the treaties move the Utes off of that mining territory. - The geology of Red Mountain is
very unusual because it not only has the veins that prospectors
were normally looking for, but it also has what are called
chimneys, which are ore bodies that go as far as 2000 feet into
the ground. Normally, you're following a vein which may run
for several miles on the surface, and no such thing
existed there, and it was necessary to go straight down. - You've got to drill down;
you've got to haul the ore out. And then as soon as you get a
hole in the ground, it fills up with water. And the water is very acidic
because of all of the-- the iron minerals that
are in the mountains. - They discovered that the iron
from the Red Mountains themselves was producing
sulfuric acid and it would eat away
the cables that took the mine cars
down into the earth. And there were some pretty
wicked accidents where the cables actually broke and people
fell hundreds and hundreds of feet down to the
bottom of the shafts. And the sulfuric acid would
destroy the nails that were in the ladders, and
sometimes they'd be climbing up and the ladders would just give
way, and they'd fall, again, hundreds of feet. Very dangerous work. - There were about five or six
mines that were really very good producers. The biggest, of course,
was the Yankee Girl. - The Yankee Girl was isolated,
actually lay a little bit closer to Ouray than Silverton. And it was sort of the--
the main mine that produced a rush to the
Red Mountain mining district. - The Yankee Girl mine made
millions and millions of dollars between the early 1880s
and the mid-1890s. And they were silver. They
only had silver, and they had lots and lots of silver. - Once you have that rich a
strike, it's only valuable if you can ship the ore. So now you
need roads. So, the competition really is between the business
communities of Silverton and Ouray as to who is going to be
able to connect to the mines first. The business
people in both communities want the same thing, but
they want it the same time. - So both Ouray and Silverton wanted to reach the
Red Mountain Mining District. But back in 1875 you had the
Wheeler Survey Party that came into the San Juans. And one of their members
proclaimed that this country is impassable. You will never get
a road built through there. - The very reason that the mines
are there is why the roads were so hard to build. The gold and
silver deposits in the San Juans came up in vents, straight up
out of the bottom of the earth. So that rock is as
hard as it can get. And that's why all the mines
are at 12,000 feet 11,000 feet, because they're following
the--the course of the minerals. <i> Gold and silver in these</i>
<i> mountains formed at the top of</i> <i> the volcanic vents.</i> <i> So that's where a road</i>
<i> would have to go.</i> <i> But how? </i> <i> Despite the challenges, the</i>
<i> town of Ouray was determined</i> to get a trail in and out of the
<i> Red Mountain mining district.</i> <i> The obvious, but expensive</i>
<i> choice was to hire Otto Mears</i> <i> because of his uncanny ability</i>
<i> to discover buildable routes.</i> <i> Mears' reputation was for</i>
<i> transforming the impassable</i> <i> into the possible.</i> <i> Whatever the cost</i>
<i> in dollars or lives.</i> - The original highway
came about in 1882. It was started by
the County of Ouray. The county just gave up. They just realized
they couldn't do it. They didn't have the money.
They didn't have the skills. They--they just could not do it. But Otto Mears appeared
on the scene and Mears came in and said, "I can do it" - His price was very high and
they, actually um both towns, went to other suppliers, other
merchants to build the roads and none of them could do that.
And they had to go back to Otto Mears, who was able to do it.
The city fathers may have been very irritated at having to pay
such a high price, but I think they also realized that
you could count on him to deliver the goods. - In the meanwhile, Silverton
was getting very upset that they were going to lose all their
business to Ouray. So Silverton talked to Otto Mears and asked
if he would build them a road up to the Red Mountain area and
within a year there was a road from Silverton up there also. - And eventually in 1884, the
two roads were joined together to form a continuous 24 or
25-mile road between the two communities. - So now you had Otto with
a road and controlling all of the trade. - Certainly, in Otto Mears' day
when he's building the Million Dollar Highway, really
the 12 miles through the Uncompahgre Gorge,
there's no safety concerns. You take your own risks
both as a road builder and as a construction worker. And those were real. Men died. And I'm sure
there were explosions. I'm sure there were injuries. - The Million Dollar Highway
south out of Ouray is probably the most spectacular part of the
highway. It clings to the side of the--of the mountain. And
when Otto Mears built that, they had to let the miners down who
were going to drill the holes to put the black powder in, and
they would stuff the hole with black powder and light it, and
then they would be pulled up and it would explode. And so
very, very dangerous work. - When Otto Mears is making
trails which become roads, dynamite is just
about to be used. It doesn't even have the name
dynamite. It's called giant powder. And it's highly
explosive. And you have to blast shelves. So, if you've got a
steep mountain and you're trying to make a road, you have to turn
that 45-degree angle into a flat angle and you have to
move tons and tons of rock. - When you go up Black Canyon
Creek, it went up in 18% grade until it reached the level of
the shelf road. And then where the little tunnel is, that's
just north of where Bear Creek Waterfall is, that was a barrier
because it was like a peninsula of rock. - And the reason for putting
the tollbooth there was because the cliffs around there
are so steep no one, unless they were walking, could take his
horse or take his wagon around the tollbooth. So, Otto put the tollbooth
where everybody had to stop. - He charged $5 a wagon, $1 a
person, this at the time was expensive and people complained
about that. But his answer was, sure, if you don't want to use
the toll roads, you know, find your own way.
There was no other way. - Otto Mears was also very
farsighted, and he wanted to make the grades of all of his
toll roads easy enough that a railroad could come
along later on. That road from
Silverton eventually became the Silverton Railroad. - In the 1880s, the Denver and
Rio Grande Railroad ran a survey from Silverton up to the top of
Red Mountain Pass because they knew that it would be really
great if you could get a railroad up there. Well, the
DNRG concluded that that railroad could not be built. So,
in 1888, Otto Mears took that survey and built the railroad.
It's called the Silverton Railroad. Not to be confused
with the Durango and Silverton. It started in Silverton,
went over the top of Red Mountain Pass. In the early 1890s, it was the
best paying railroad mile per mile in the whole United States. It had some really wonderful
architectural features on it, such as a covered turntable
on the mainline railroad. - The corkscrew turntable was
at a spot where it was just absolutely impossible to make
the turn, and a turntable on the main line of a railroad was
unheard of at that time. But that's one of the three miracles
that Mears came up with in doing the Silverton Railroad. The
other two were putting a depot inside the Y in Red Mountain. There was no space to have a
depot, and he got the train built, so he had to put the
train station in the middle. And the third was what was
called Chattanooga Curve. That steep part of the
highway follows it. The Denver and Rio Grande
engineers thought that was impossible, but not Mears. - And it was a very, very
good paying railroad until the silver crash of 1893. <i> 1893 brought an enormous</i>
<i> economic depression to the</i> United States. While there were
many causes of the decline, in <i> Colorado it was about Silver.</i> <i> The Sherman Silver Act of 1890</i>
had required the U.S. government <i> to buy millions of ounces of</i>
<i> silver every month, making the</i> silver rich Red Mountain mining
district very lucrative. At the <i> time, the country followed a</i>
<i> bimetallism standard using both</i> <i> silver and gold to</i>
<i> back the dollar.</i> <i> But President Grover</i>
<i> Cleveland was not a fan of</i> <i> silver and thought that</i>
<i> mandatory government</i> <i> purchase of the metal was</i>
<i> bad for the economy.</i> <i> Congress repealed the</i>
<i> Sherman Silver Act in 1893.</i> <i> And it was a</i>
<i> disaster for Colorado.</i> - There has always been
struggle in the 19th century over whether we would
have a gold standard or a silver standard. And the politicians
that decide in the 1890s no, let's switch to a
gold standard, immediately devaluing all the silver mines. - And when that happened, the
price of silver dropped from $1.50 an ounce to $0.50
an ounce almost overnight. - Well, Red Mountain
was a silver camp and overnight the camps are
abandoned. Plates are left on-- on tables. People just simply
walk out because the value of the--their mineral
has really fallen. <i> But because there was a road,</i>
<i> there was opportunity.</i> <i> This time, profits would</i>
<i> come in a tourist rush.</i> <i> In 1894, the Circle</i>
<i> Stagecoach Company</i> <i> started using their mud wagon</i>
<i> coaches to take travelers on</i> <i> Mears' dirt road.</i> <i> But then when Henry Ford's</i>
<i> new invention came</i> <i> along, there was a</i>
<i> different challenge to</i> <i> bringing in tourist dollars.</i> <i> Otto Mears' highway might</i>
<i> have been just good enough</i> <i> for wagons and stagecoaches,</i>
<i> but not for the Model A.</i> - The advent of the automobile
when people were using it for pleasure, for transportation,
for vacations, Colorado was way behind in the development of roads. If you were in Ouray in
1910 and you had an automobile, you couldn't go anywhere because
the roads were horrible. It was just a nightmare. Just to try to
get from Ouray to Ridgeway would have been a problem, let alone
try and go over Red Mountain Pass. But of course,
people will always try. When the road left Ouray in 1883
had had a 20% grade. Now that's an enormous, impossible grade.
No automobile could do that. And then around 1910, 1911, they
seriously improved the road and put in some switchbacks. The first automobile to
successfully get over the top of Red Mountain Pass from
Ouray happened in 1910. - It was a publicity
stunt to be part of the first car to come
over Red Mountain. - It had a problem, I believe,
as the story goes, that it had to have a little help
from a horse at the top of the pass, but it did manage to get
over and down the other side. - It had flats, it broke
down, but they got it over. - The automobile changes the Old
West because you don't need a railroad. You don't need
railroad investors, you don't need ribbons of steel, you don't
need wooden ties. You just need something that's relatively
flat and gravel and without obstructions. Well, the Million
Dollar Highway was none of that. And so, as it becomes an auto
highway, that is a major feat. And so the idea of actually
creating the Million Dollar Highway is a dream of the
Colorado Department of Transportation in the 1920s. They permanently connect
Silverton and Ouray, so the--the Western Slope
from north to south. So in order to level a slice of
a mountain and turn it into a flat surface, it's an enormous
amount of drilling and rock removal. And in the 1920s, there
are some machines that'll do that, but nothing like we have
today. So, you're dealing with very dangerous explosions
of blasts using dynamite. - The current switchbacks going
out of Ouray are what were built in the early 1920s. When that
road was built, there were these beautiful sandstone guardrails. - The highway had guardrails,
big blocks of stone that were put along the entire outside. But they found that they
couldn't push the snow off the highway during the
wintertime doing that. And so about two or three years
after--after they opened it with all those blocks, they
pushed them all over the side. <i> Having snowplows easily</i>
<i> beat out having guardrails.</i> <i> Since the Million Dollar</i>
<i> Highway gets about</i> <i> 350 inches of snow each year.</i> <i> Snow removal was -</i>
<i> and still is - critical.</i> - Their first snowplows
were very rudimentary. They--they had a little
hand-crank on the inside to raise the plow and lower, they
didn't have windshield wipers. I mean, it was rude, and
they were pretty ineffective. - Snowplow drivers are
definitely Old West heroes. - I think those drivers
are very heroic. I wouldn't do it. They go up there... when
the rest of us are home in bed and they're up there
clearing the-the highway. - Million Dollar Highway is
probably one of the worst avalanche areas anywhere in the
state of Colorado. Every year the highway is closed for hours,
if not days. And in the great snow that we had in the 2018,
2019, when we had more snow than we'd had forever,
the road was closed for weeks. - Well, the dangers are the fact
that you can be injured and or killed in an avalanche
right from the road. Countless places you can
get right out of the car and step directly into a
hazard zone and get killed. Just because you're on a highway
that's paved and someone maintains it doesn't necessarily
mean that there's not risk literally right
outside the door. - When an avalanche is
triggered, if it is running on a confined large path,
that's going to drop two or three thousand feet... if it's a loose snow
avalanche, the powder cloud in front of that snow
that's coming down can reach speeds of over
200 miles an hour. Hurricane speed. - The East Riverside Slide is
the most destructive and deadly avalanche in an area where
there's the most in North America that go over
a major highway. - Riverside is the one
that they usually do more mitigation on because
it is a big slide. There's an east and west
side and it'll cover the canyon and--and blow snow
up on--onto the highway. Before the snow shed was
completed, the avalanche would come down
and cover the road and we've had
quite a few fatalities. - There were seven
people that have died underneath East Riverside. First one was a miner. Back at the turn of
the century, he and his dog and a horse were killed. And then a minister and his two
daughters were killed, 1963, they were coming over to
Silverton so he could preach. They found him the next day.
His daughter a week later. Second daughter
three months later. She was downstream
like 300 feet. And then Eddie Imel
was killed in 1992. I was involved with that one. He slipped a chain on the
north side of the snow shed and they were underneath trying
to put it on and East Riverside buried their truck. Danny Jaramillo dug himself out
10 hours later and went to the phone. It was in the snow shed
and called and said, "Hey, come and get me and bring a pack of
smokes." But Eddie died. They're hurricane force natural
disasters and they make snowplows look like Tonka
Toys that have just been run over by a semi. It--it's awful what it does,
but it's nature. - I've been caught in a couple
of avalanches and thankfully not injured. You feel completely out
of control. You can't grab onto things because you're flying
through the trees at 25, 30 miles an hour. The snow of
avalanche debris can set up to be like concrete. And so even if
your head is out of the snow, and if you're underneath,
there's nothing you can do. Number of fatalities of people
who've just been, you know, literally inches below the snow
pack but because they can't do anything, they're just stuck. It's not like you can just like
take your hand and stick it out of the snow like you can
water, you're set in the snow. - The day I got caught in an
avalanche, I was out with a few people. People I
had skied with forever. I was paying attention,
but I wasn't paying attention. It was pilot error. I ignored the variables
and it was a mistake and I triggered it. The snow underneath
me fractured. And there's no way you could
ski out of that, because snow is just breaking into pieces.
Chunks. I got pushed down probably 500
feet. Wasn't that big of a slide, but it was big enough and
I was buried two feet under. You only need to be buried
a couple of inches to die because you can't breathe. When I was first buried, I
just knew that I was screwed. I--I--I had my hands here. I
had a--I had a pocket around my face so I could
breathe a little bit. But I knew unless my
friends got there quickly, I wasn't going to last. After 15 minutes,
you're probably hosed. My heli-ski friends saw what had
happened, they ski down the side, went out and dug me out
in seven and a half minutes. So...yeah, I was blue,
but I came right back. But because I had a little
bit of an air pocket, there's probably some damage,
some sort, but not--not serious. Maybe that's debatable. The interaction between people
and nature always has its hazards, and the avalanche
hazard is always going to be there as long as there's snow. - To improve safety up
there they do a lot of avalanche mitigation. - The avalanche mitigation
programs have changed over the years because of
technology. Back in the 1880s there really wasn't technology.
They tried to explode avalanches by sticking dynamite
into a snow pack, and it just kind of made a hole. There's over 100 avalanche
paths that have the capacity of hitting the highway, but only
63 that are really worried about <i> With a force as strong and</i>
<i> unpredictable as an avalanche,</i> <i> military weapons are deployed</i>
<i> to actually trigger them.</i> <i> But the idea is for humans to</i>
<i> pick the time and place,</i> <i> not nature.</i> - The 105 Howitzer, a World War
II weapon, can get them around pretty quickly, set them up. Very effective. The avalauncher
was developed in the early seventies. An avalauncher,
it looks like a big peashooter, 12-foot barrel with compressed
nitrogen. It throws a 2 lb. charge up to three quarters
of a mile, a mile in distance. And helicopters. The helicopter
really opened up a new ballgame for avalanche mitigation. But
there's a limit on what those helicopters can do and the
elevations that they can gain. But it's every 12-year-old
boy's dream to fly around in a helicopter and
throw high explosives and trigger avalanches. - Most deaths on the highway
are from inattentive drivers. Drivers that are trying to go
too fast. A lot of people get distracted by scenery. I've
actually pulled people over up on Red Mountain where the
first words out of their mouth is, "Guilty as charged." He says, "I got to looking at
the beauty of the mountains and wasn't paying attention
to what I was doing." - We have many high
roads in Colorado, we have many high passes. The Million Dollar Highway
is unique in terms of the scenery, in terms of the
mining history, in terms of the danger and the fact that
it's used all year round. That's what makes it special. - It's just one of the most
beautiful scenic drives anywhere in North America. And any time
of the year is worth going on this highway. Start with spring
when we've got a lot of snow there and the aspens are
starting to come out and green up. The snowmelt
is filling the creeks. You might have a summer
thunderstorm. You might get the clouds swirling among the peaks. You get into the fall, the aspen
trees start to change their golden colors. And then you go
into the winter. Everything is white and it's just gorgeous. - One of the things that the
Million Dollar Highway has done is allowed people to visit an
incredibly beautiful area of the country and to experience almost
like it was in the 1880s. And all that mining industry
that you can look at as you drive along. It is a--a
living history, if you will, because those sites
can be visited. - It always used to amaze
me how much energy and how much engineering went into
carving that road on the side of the mountain. And how dangerous it was
then and still is today, and how much work that it takes to
repair and maintenance those roads it is pretty,
pretty phenomenal. - I would describe
Red Mountain Pass, Highway 550 as...
a living highway. In the winter you have
avalanches. In the summer you have rain and rockslide. You
have too many people on the road. It's a very hazardous
road, but it's one of the most beautiful, dynamic highways
in North America. - It's a place of exploration, it's a place of serenity, it's a place where nature shows and you feel sometimes
small in her presence. - We sit by the fire, holding sacred
language in our mouths. Words that are ancestors
breathed blessings into. And we feel their strength
every time we inhale. We breathe and sit by
the fire singing songs until they become a part of us.