Customers rally to save mountain coffee shop
And other random acts of mountain community goodwill
April first was a sad day for one of my regular coffee groups. The “Train Cars Coffee” in Ned (officially called Happy Trails) was closing. The baristas there are a cheerful group of young women. At least they try to be happy as they open the door at 7:00 am. Our coffee group isn’t the only one in line for some strong, real from the bean, cups of java right at the opening moment. One route driver who delivers newspapers says it’s one of his regular stops. Perhaps some customers are coffee addicts and that drives them to the line at 6:55. I’m mostly a tea drinker and not addicted, but I eagerly anticipate that cup of steaming pick-me-up.
The owner announced that he did have a tentative lease on a place just across the street in the former yoga studio. But, we’d have to wait for an undetermined length of time for him to convert the studio to a coffee shop. Also on the negative side, parking would not likely be as convenient. Coffee drinkers would have to turn off Hwy 119, go up the steep hill street a short ways, and walk back to the old yoga studio location. That’s a matter of a few steps more, but in the dark at 7:00 am that can seem like a tiny bit of a problem. If no plowing and sanding has taken place, getting up that hill can be a major problem. Our coffee group (unofficially called “Group W” after the old Alice’s Restaurant song by Arlo Guthrie) pledged to be back there on opening day. Whether the owner was exaggerating or not I don’t know, but he said “Then I’ll go ahead and take the plunge.”
Why Morning Coffee Groups Are Important
This particular coffee group was formed originally at Bob’s Bakery around fifteen years ago. It was comprised mainly of bus drivers and independently employed small business owners. One teacher, a woman who’s taught at Nederland High for years, was also in on the founding of the group. Karl, the founding father, is now off to the Big Rock Candy Mountain, but he was there every day. Probably the only thing the group had in common was a love of the mountains, the weather, whether we needed snow or not, and the possibilities of the wind letting up as the perennial topics. Political discussions often got rather heated in those days. One off and on member hated the government and even refused to talk to me because he so strongly felt I was part of “the enemy.” He did talk to others though, so I sometimes thought this was about his only actual conversation for the day. When he moved away, I sort of missed him. That coffee shop changed hands from time to time, but the basic atmosphere stayed the same. These coffee groups are important, because there’s no price of admission. Anyone is welcome to join in. No mater how down on your luck you might be, a friendly word is there for you. It’s good will that you’ll find. One thanksgiving morning someone had KGNU on the radio in the old place and Alice’s restaurant came rolling over the counter. In the song, Arlo Guthrie has been consigned to the Group W bench at his army induction event. There poor Arlo sat with the other rejects. Someone, I still say it was Tom but others say Matt, announced that from now on we would be known as the “Group W coffee group.” After a long laugh we all agreed. As Carl said shortly before his death, “no mater how rejected you feel this is the place you’ll get a laugh and a smile.”
Kindly Acts for the “Snow Silly”
A week ago just about every canyon route up to our mountains was closed. The cold and snow hit hard in the middle of the afternoon. This made for perfect conditions, meaning perfectly iced up roads with a perfect cover of wet snow. I was, unfortunately down in the flat lands, probably at some governmental meeting or other. Conditions like that bring out what one coffee group members calls the “snow sillies.” A van in front of me with summer tires and a Kansas license plate simply slid off into the ditch very slowly. A pretty fancy car (looked like an Audi) did a full 360 degree spin and ended up off the road on the opposite side. I gave every other vehicle plenty of room as my trusty Subaru with studded snow tires just kept chugging along. Soon we all stopped as usually happens. A pick-up, one of those big, long, manly Fords you see in TV ads, was sideways in the road. The driver kept gunning it toward the creek, but fortunately didn’t make it into the drink. Then some mountain goodwill simply exploded into action. Driver after driver got out, put on hats and gloves, and started pushing. An ancient Chevy truck got pushed and started back down. Someone got the Kansas van hooked to a tow rope and turned. Snow Silly driver after driver got turned around and pointed back down hill where they belonged. Once we had the snow sillies out of the way, the rest of us proceeded home. Such kindly acts apparently were not enough as by about five in the afternoon all three of the main canyons were closed by the State Patrol.
The Gilpin Mountain Night Bus
Next time you’re driving along Hwy 119 about nine at night and see a pedestrian, you’ll notice a certain thumb sign. This person is heading home to his native gulch after an evening entertainment. He, very seldom a she, is waiting for the Mountain Night Bus. Should you pick this person up, and I usually do, keep in mind that you are now the designated mountain night bus. Most of the time I know the passenger, and this creates a bit of a dilemma. How long do I want to have this individual in my truck with me? Gus, being a black lab, loves these passengers. He sits on their lap, gets his ears scratched and loves the way they smell. The mixed aroma of cheap beer, cigarette smoke, and greasy hamburgers sets him into an ecstasy. Sometimes they even have crumbs for him to snarf off their coats and pants. They know they have to scratch him in certain places to experience his little growls of pleasure. Gus wants them to stay as long as possible. I, on the other hand, am coming home from thinking great thoughts some place and would like to head right home. Inevitably the night bus bell cord is pulled. It goes like this “Hey, Forrest, you know where the trail to my cabin takes off just up Lump Gulch there. How ‘bout you and Gus giving me a lift up there?” Gus, is enthusiastic, but I’m less so. Gilpin Mountain Night Bus rules are pretty clear. You don’t have to do it. I usually do, but you don’t need to feel obligated to do so.
Acts of Kindness Abound
The news is always full of horrible things people do to each other. I rarely see television news, but the rule there hasn’t changed. “If it bleed it leads,” is the news norm. The news from our part of the mountains is just the opposite. Around here the news is full of mountain acts of good will.