Ketchup; Breckenridge

Today was a catch-up (no, not a ketchup) day. After breakfast and a slow run (remember, it’s 8,500 feet here), Suzanne made appointments for prettifying herself for Monday morning’s TV interview in Denver. She got her nails and hair done, all those girlie things that normal women do regularly. Our schedule has kept her driving a lot, and our campgrounds are often in remote state and national parks with Wilma the Wacky Clipper the only hairdresser in town. It reminds me of an incident when we sailed up to Newfoundland, Canada, a few years ago. We had stopped in Port au Basques, the largest town on the south coast, and Suzanne went to a local hairdresser for a trim. She knew she was in trouble when the stylist said, “Whoops!” while cutting her hair. She was almost in tears when she got back to the boat. Three weeks later she finally found a decent stylist who took one look at her hair and asked, “Sorry, but was your previous stylist working at the school for the blind?” Fortunately, after 3 weeks of living with a bad haircut, she is very happy with her new trim and her nails. She also asked for dispensation for manual labor around The Bus that would chip her nails. I graciously replied, “Well, I guess that would be all right... but only for a week.” After all, I am a sensitive, New Age kind of guy.  

For dinner, I whipped up some New Orleans Style paneed pork while Suzanne did some writing, and we headed for Breckenridge, about 15 miles away and another 1,200 feet higher elevation. It sits just southeast of the Cucumber Gulch Wildlife Preserve (what a great name!). Established in 1859, Breckenridge has a much older flavor than Vail. The town was named after John C. Breckinridge, Vice President of the US under James Buchanan. Trouble arose in 1861, when the VP sided with the Confederacy during the War of Northern Aggression. The local citizens changed the name of the town by changing the i after the k to an e. Gold was mined in this area, with about 68,000 lbs of gold produced from 1859-1900. 

The Blue River runs right through town, with the usual numbers of fly fishermen standing on rocks or in cold mountain water and not catching fish.

We had heard that Breckenridge was a very cute ski town, and it didn’t disappoint. Around the city are four mountains hosting dozens of challenging ski runs.  

There are flowers everywhere, hanging from trees and lampposts, in boxes, and in window planters. They make very colorful accents for the brightly colored buildings.

Breckenridge’s 4,540 permanent residents are joined by many thousands more during summer hiking, biking and fishing season, and the winter ski season. There must be several thousand condos here. Real estate prices are unreal; the average price of a family home is $1,035,806, around $314.00 per square foot. Lot prices run about $373,000.



We decided not to waste our time with a realtor here. Rudy and Gretchen were happy with our visit, since the town hall had a beautiful lawn with real grass, not the often thorny, dusty, rocky, miserable excuses for lawns that they had become used to for the past couple of months.