Do you know where in Colorado the photo below was taken?
UPDATE: We’ve added a few more photos to help you identify the location!
It isn’t exactly a historical building, but it marks a historic place where a very special visitor made a stop in Colorado. Plus, it ties in to our collective love of railroads.
Email us your guess. We’ll also ask for your ideas at the upcoming meeting. Who knows – you may even earn a prize for a correct guess!
Got a mystery photo you’d like to contribute for next month? Email it to us!
Did you know?
During the first three meetings of the Club back in 1958 when organizers were trying to decide on a name for the club, one lone stranger kept insisting that “toll roads” be added to the name. Finally Ghost Town Club of Colorado was “railroaded” through. In December 1963, the Club was legally incorporated with the Secretary of State.
First dues for the Club were $1 a year. In 1979, dues were $5 a year. Slowly postage, printing, insurance and rent have caused minimal increases. It’s been many a year since we had to raise the dues, and as Dick Ramsey says, “It’s still the best bargain in town.”
A Ghost Town Club Picnic
By Nancy Smith
Nancy Smith took the time to share the following memory. As its subject is very appropriate to this month’s picnic outing, to the importance of the club in our lives, and to the point of my (Ethan’s) letter this month, I present it here with her permission.
It was June 27th, 1981, our 22nd wedding anniversary. We decided to celebrate it on the GTC trip to Dyersville.
We took along a bottle of champagne to toast with the club, carefully guarding it in the car all the way up. I went up the road with my sketchbook to get some drawing done.
The club assembled in front of one of the cabins and Bob was telling them we were going to celebrate our anniversary. But I was not there. So they yelled at me (Bob yelled, too) to come down.
But Nancy had her nose in her art book, and loving the falling-down town of Dyersville.
More yelling…..no Nancy.
Pretty soon Bob came up and “escorted” me back to the rest of the group. Well, they finally got the bottle of champagne opened and the cork flew clear across the road to the other hill. And…at that altitude it bubbled over, but we got enough to toast each other.
Afterwards someone said they got THE PHOTO of the exact moment of Bob holding the bottle and us kissing. That framed picture still hangs happily in our den room thirty-seven years later.