Ghost Huntin’: Anaconda and Altman
While unpacking a box of books that hadn’t seen the light of day in over a decade, I came across my father’s tattered copy of Robert L. Brown’s classic off-roading guide from the 1960’s, Jeep Trails to Colorado Ghost Towns. Flipping through its pages, the edges tinted a hint of brown, I found myself transfixed by the photographs taken nearly fifty years ago. I couldn’t help but wonder what still remained of those structures today.
There was only one way I was going to find out.
On my agenda where the towns of Anaconda and Altman, which were located in the heart of the Gold Belt in Teller County and just over an hour’s journey from Colorado Springs. Both were at their peak during the gold rush of the late 1800’s but failed to survive much past the first decade of the twentieth century.
My drive sent me through Cripple Creek on CO 67. About halfway out of town on my way to Victor, coming around a bend I immediately identified the remarkably intact wall of the Mary McKinney mine dump, almost exactly as it stood it the Brown’s photograph from Jeep Trails. The trees had filled in around the wall, and the number of structures on the surrounding hillsides had thinned, but I knew I had arrived at Anaconda
The Mary MiKinney Mine Dump Support Wall, Almost As It Was When Brown Photographed It.
Main Street of Anaconda branched off of Cripple Creek Highway down into Squaw Gulch. With the exception of the dirt road that splits though the valley, nothing much remains of the heart of the town except for the mortar and stone corner foundation of the jail. A fire in 1904 made quick work of most of the buildings, as the wind blew up the channel of the gulch and spread the flames before the fire departments of both Victor and Cripple Creek could arrive.
The Dirt Road Was Anaconda's Main Street
After taking time to snap a few pictures and let my imagination to once again give life to this once vibrant valley, I continued on to Victor, stopping by Sally’s Saloon and Pizza on Victor Avenue for a quick bite to eat and a bit of refreshment as I researched my route to Altman.
Brown gave no real specifics in his guidebook to finding the town, only to say that it rested in between Bull Hill and Bull Cliff. He did mention, however, that one could look down on Altman from the hilltop above Goldfield. That is just where I found myself as I came across a sign that steered me toward the American Eagles Overlook. The road headed west up into the hills, right toward where my calculations said Altman resided.
Altman is probably best known for the fact that, at 10,700 feet, it referred to itself as the highest city in the world (which it was not) for the ten years before and after the turn of the century. In his book Brown talked about the few in-tact buildings that still lined Main Street when he was writing Jeep Trails, including a large safe still resting in what was believed to have been city hall.
“There is no way that safe is still there,” I said to myself as I got out of my car to scale the stairway up to the overlook.
Not What I Expected To Find, But Worth It Nonetheless
It wasn’t. Nor was Altman.
Down below where I hoped to find the ghost town of Altman, I saw instead large trucks hauling away chunks of earth one load at a time. Rather than looking down on the Colorado’s past, I was now staring at the present-day operations of the Cripple Creek & Victor Gold Mining Company.
Out ahead, however, was one of the most breathtaking panoramic views of Colorado I could have asked for. I was able to see for over a hundred miles while absorbing both the Collegiate and Sangre de Cristo ranges, and looking at for the first time the peaks of many of the state’s most famous mountains.
I suppose it was fitting, I thought to myself on the drive home. I had started the day trying to rediscover Robert L. Brown’s Colorado, but as is so often the case, I ended the day discovering a little bit of my own, too.
