Fight for livable wage continues in Park City

For the past 11 days the Park City Ski Patrol has been on strike. Despite feet of new snow, and an abundance of holiday guests, Park City Mountain in Utah, continues to operate with minimal patrol staff. 

 Park City Ski patrollers are demanding a $2 dollar wage increase, from an average hourly wage of $21 to $23. The patrollers, unionized under the Park City Professional Ski Patrollers Union, first presented their proposal to Vail Resorts in September, but have failed to reach an agreement. 

Park City is owned by Vail Resorts, the multi-billion dollar corporation that owns 42 ski resorts across the world. This strike has impacted tens of thousands of visitors to the largest ski resort in the United States. Hours-long lift lines, decreased emergency response personnel on the mountain, and inability to open new terrain due to avalanche hazard has resulted in a less than desirable situation for holiday skiers and Vail Resorts. 

 Makenna Craig is a fourth year patroller with Park City.

“I grew up in Telluride, Colorado and have a love for ski towns and the mountains, which really led me to wanting to work ski Patrol.” says Craig. “I think my time in Telluride definitely led to my passion for that. Telluride has felt like a small place to be as a young adult and wanted to get out and explore a little bit. Telluride speaks really well to how hard it can be to live in a ski town, and that speaks to the fight we’re currently having in Park city asking for a fair contract and a livable wage.”

 For Craig, its been an experience she never expected to have working as a ski patroller and despite great snow conditions, Park City hasn’t been able to open much terrain without their typical full staff of patrollers.

 “I think its been challenging both in not being at work, we all want to be up on the mountain and opening more terrain as we’ve finally gotten more snow,” Craig says, “Its been hard to be down and standing and not be able to be up there. We have definitely been supporting each other through all of this, its been emotional and stressful and not something I ever imagined I would be doing in this career but we’ve got a really good support team.”

 This strike highlights the increasing cost of living across mountain towns in the West. Places like Telluride and Park City experience high costs of living and challenges when it comes to finding housing. After college, Craig experienced difficulties in finding housing in Telluride, and now commutes to Park City from Salt Lake City, 

 Craig says,"speaking of my experience trying to live in Telluride after I graduated college and not being able to find affordable housing, here in Utah I live in salt lake city where rent is a little lower and I commute each day to park city and that's the reality for alot of us.”

 These pressures are felt in Telluride too. Graham Hoffman is a 10-year Telluride Ski Patroller and has been the president of the patrol union for the past four years.

 Hoffman says,“Telluride is no different if not worse or better than the town of Park City, in that its just getting more and more expensive to live here, its getting harder and harder to live here with the affordable housing crisis and we’re seeing a direct effect on that in trying to make sure that we keep our ski patrollers and keep those with institutional knowledge that help increase the safety of this mountain in keeping those from leaving cause they can’t find any housing.”

In 2015 Telluride Ski Patrol unionized, under the umbrella of the United Professional Ski Patrols of America, a subunion of the Communication Workers of America. Their unionization and subsequent negotiated contract resulted in improved wages, benefits, and human resource policies for patrollers in future years. Just this past year, the Telluride Ski Patrol union began contract negotiations in August, and finalized them right before ski season in October. For Park City Patrollers, they began in March last year, and still haven’t reached an agreement. Despite this, Craig is optimistic that they’ll find a compromise soon, 

 She says, "We've had more movement in negotiations that we have in 9 months then that we’ve had in the last week, so the strike is working, its not immediately working but i think we will end up with a contract”

 Telluride stands with the Park City patrollers 100%,  

 Hoffman says,“We here at Telluride stand 100% with our brothers and sisters over at park city. We know they’re fighting the fight that needs to be fought and we have nothing but love and support for them and we are so grateful for everything that they’re doing over there.”

 In the past month, Vail Resorts stock price has fallen over %6, and without ski patrol, the open terrain at Park City remains limited.

 In an official statement from Park City COO Dierdra Wash, she says the resort “remains committed” to reaching an agreement that demonstrates respect to ski patrol and is actively negotiating with the union.

For Craig, and other Park City Ski Patrollers on strike, the fight continues for a livable wage and a fair contract.

Roadhawg Takes His Last Ride

By Julia Caulfield

Dick Unruh Guest DJing on KOTO in 2024

Telluride has seen many icons in its time, but few reach the heights of Richard “Dick” Unruh, Roadhawg to many.

“Dick was certainly unique. He was smart, he was wild. Funny guy, great sense of humor, great athlete, great personality, loved music, loved people. One of the best of the best. Despite his wild heartedness, he was a very kind and sensitive personality, who really cared about people, and he is just an admirable character.” remembers longtime friend Mick Obrand.

“I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes remembering all these years and what a joy and pleasure and blessing it was to have known him,” adds Roudy Roudebush.

Unruh passed away on the night of December 24th. He was 84 years old.

Born in Kansas City, Missouri in 1940. Unruh found Telluride in the early 1970s, becoming a staple of Telluride’s wild west days.

He lived in a small Victorian house in Town Park (what is now the Parks and Recreation offices). He and Roudebush worked the Unstable Riding Stables, pasturing horses in Town Park and Bear Creek.

Over the years he was an attorney, horse wrangler, KOTO DJ. He was the head of the San Miguel Democratic Party. He was the loving father of three children. Unruh was instrumental in the land transaction that would become East Ophir. He set the bar high with incredible compassion. He was a hippie, a cowboy, an outlaw.

For those who loved Unruh, they know the best stories aren’t suitable for the radio.

“The stories that he would tell. The stories that he forgot about, he was a true Telluride legend,” says Brian Ahern. He called Unruh a friend and mentor.

The stories are indeed many.

“I’ve had some chairlift chats the past couple days. Somebody saw the post I made when I learned of his passing, but a lot of people are like, ‘I have a similar story’. He helped a lot of people,” says friend Jereb Carter.

Cindy Obrand remembers when she first met Unruh. She and her husband Mick were new to town, with two small kids in tow. They went down to the Sheridan Bar to meet some of the characters in town.

“I mean we thought we came to town as outlaws. When we met Peter Pitts and Dick Unruh, we realized we were Sunday school teachers,” Cindy Obrand chuckles.

Unruh sometimes lived life on the edge. An attorney on all sides (both a district attorney and defense lawyer) he also had his own run ins with the law. He was disbarred for several years in the 80s before being reinstated.

“He was a one of a kind. He was a friend to people who were down and out. I don’t think he ever met a person he refused to represent as a client. That wasn’t because of the money, but because he believed in standing up for and defending people’s rights,” says Ahern “He was an advocate for those who couldn’t fight for themselves or couldn’t afford to hire an attorney. He was a true gentleman.”

Roudebush remembers someone saying “If it wasn’t for Unruh, who would defend the justly accused?”

Roudebush reminisces, “Mark Twain had written: ‘a real friend is someone who stands behind you when you’re wrong’. Uncle Dick stood behind me in courtrooms, watched my back in the Sheridan bar, and defended me on Sunday mornings in front of the post office.”

Outside lawyering, Unruh was a staple at the beginning of KOTO. He hosted the Open Road Show with Roadhawg.

“Unruh, the old Roadhawg, really influenced. I absolutely loved his show,” says Cindy Obrand. “I thought Texans were wild, but I’d never met a Kansas City boy like Dick Unruh. He gave us all license.”

On or off the mic Unruh could sweet talk anyone.

“Loved to make folks laugh. Biggest flirt in town. He made flirting an art. It was his form of communication with everybody, from a baby, to a dog, to a good-looking woman. He could flirt your cowgirl boots off,” Obrand remembers.

At his core, Unruh was someone who supported those he loved, stood up for the underdog, and fought for what was right.

“He had seen many trials and tribulations throughout his life that mirrored some of my own difficulties. He had a way to bring it down to the ground level. ‘Get out of our head. You’re your own worst enemy. Whatever you think you may have done, I’ve done ten times worse. This is the way you navigate the waters.’” Ahern remembers Unruh’s advice. “Not how many times life knocks you down, but how you get back up, and how you deal.”

“He changed the course of my life. It could have gone bad had it not been for someone like him in my corner,” says Carter.

“Bless his heart. 25 years ago, I got yet another DUI, and Uncle Dick said ‘you better go down to some AA meetings, so we’ll have something to tell the judge’”, Roudebush says, “I’ve been sober 25 years thanks to Dick. I wouldn’t be alive on so many different things. I owe him my life.”

If you ask Roudebush, the world’s a little darker without the old Roadhawg.

“He made the world a better place,” says Roudebush. “We took a lot of pictures and we left a lot of hoof prints. I’m blessed to have known him, as we all are.”

Dick Unruh showed Telluride what living life sincerely, wildly, and to the fullest looked like.

Roudy Roudebush (left) and Dick Unruh (right) as “The Outlaw Hour” on KOTO in 2024

A Poem for Solstice

By Julia Caulfield

Courtesy photo: Joanna Yonder

On Saturday, December 21st, the Northern Hemisphere celebrates the shortest day of the year, and the longest night. In San Miguel County the sun will rise at 7:23 a.m. and set at 4:55 p.m. on the winter solstice.

The day holds special meaning for San Miguel County Poet Laureate Joanna Yonder.

“I think observing solstice can be permission to yourself to understand that this is a time of hibernation and that brighter and more energetic days are ahead. But it’s also okay to rest and go inward a little bit.”

Yonder spoke with KOTO’s Julia Caulfield to share a new poem (so new it doesn’t have a title) on honor of the winter solstice.

It is winter, and your presence is requested.

In the winter, when it’s time to go

deep, deep inside yourself and find the stillness,

You may be the quiet snowbank, waiting.

You may be the whisper of the icy winter wind.

You may even be the bleached bone in the field,

the misty ring swirling around the clouded moon.

During this time, do not forget

that beneath the surface of the frozen stream

is still a gushing torrent. Inside

the stark and silent aspen,

sap is green and vivid.

Full of life.

While you may go inward, this remember:

That the stillness and the later blooming

are not enemies, but friends.

That dormancy exists in service

of eventual flourishing.

- Joanna Yonder

Amidst Fire, Community in Nucla Burns Bright

By Julia Caulfield

West End community members serving food for wildland firefighters during the Bucktail Fire (Photo: Julia Caulfield/KOTO)

The snow is flying, biting the mountaintops. But it wasn’t so long ago that fire was burning across the region. In August, the Bucktail Fire burned over 7,000 acres just outside of Nucla.

Dani Reyes-Acosta was driving home to the West End from a camping trip when she heard about the fire.

“Coming down from the mountains, and realizing I’d spent so much time doing something that felt like I connect to myself and people I love and the land. To go home and realize that this land, separated only by a few miles, but connected by a waterway was burning,” recalls Reyes-Acosta. “And there were people out there actively putting their lives in danger and what was I going to do? Just let it happen?”

No. Reyes-Acosta decided to show up in a way she knew how. Food.

She was going to cook dinner for the firefighters battling the Bucktail Fire.

On her way home, Reyes-Acosta stopped by the Clark’s Market in Norwood to pick up supplies.

“As I’m going through the aisles picking up 12 pounds of dried beans and 15 pounds of onions – because of course I’m going to make a Mexican homecooked meal from scratch. It turned out that Tonya Stephens from Nucla-Naturita Fire and EMS is on the phone with the Norwood store manager. Tonya is getting everything arranged so we can have food donated to these folks,” says Reyes-Acosta.

As it turns out, the wheels were already in motion.

Tonya Stephens has been a volunteer EMS firefighter in Nucla for over 20 years. The day the fire started she sent out a message on Facebook.

“I sent this out about 10 [o’clock at night]. I said ‘I’ll be at the firehall in Nucla at 5 in the morning to fix breakfast for the firemen. Message me if you can help’,” says Stephens. “I had eight people respond almost immediately. I went to bed at 11 and I knew that I had help in the morning.”

From there, a community swell of support blossomed. Folks in the West End, young and old, showed up to donate ingredients or money, and give their time to prepare food.

Preparation moved from the fire hall to the community center. Dozens of members of the community came in and out to prepare breakfast, lunch, and dinner for over 150 wildland firefighters.

“In the mornings, at 4:30 in the morning, we get together and we split it in shifts,” says Cassandra Farmer, another Nucla volunteer EMS firefighter, wife, mom, general do gooder in the community. “4:30 a.m. they get together. They get breakfast made. They get lunches made. It has to be to the fire by 6:30 in the morning, so the firefighters can eat breakfast. At 7 o’clock they have their roundup, they figure out what they’re going to do for the day, grab their lunches and head out to the line and fight fire,”

Farmer says second shift comes in the afternoon. "Then we come back together in the afternoon, cooking dinner, prepping lunches for tomorrow. And then about 6 p.m. we take dinner up to the line, get it all ready, firefighters start coming in and we feed them all. They come through, they eat dinner, they go to their little camp at basecamp,” says Farmer. “We clean up, we come home, and we do it all again tomorrow until the fire’s over.”

Fire camp is several miles outside of Nucla. Juniper, oak brush, pinion pine stretch into the distance. The fire is out of sight, over a ridgeline. Over the course of several hours, men and women covered in soot and dirt file through getting their warm meal.

Several remark it’s the best food they’ve ever had at fire camp.

Wildland firefighters collect dinner while fighting the Bucktail Fire (Photo: Julia Caulfield/KOTO)

It’s an expression of ordinary people doing extraordinary acts for the common good. But Stephens and Farmer say in Nucla it shouldn’t be a surprise.

“When somebody needs something. If somebody is in trouble, if something is happening and they need support, we all come together and we support them. It is just what we do,” highlights Farmer. “When the firefighters come through that line to get their dinner and they’re so excited and they’re so genuinely thankful. That feeds your heart, and that makes your heart happy to know that you’re part of that.”

The Bucktail Fire burned across the mesa for several weeks. In the end, a Nucla man pleaded guilty to starting it.

While the fire has been contained, the power of community coming together is still there for Reyes-Acosta.

She muses, “when we own the fact that we are small but mighty. Whether it’s one person or one community, but we step into our power of saying ‘what can I do?’ That’s where beautiful things happen.”

The smoke may be gone, but the strength of Nucla, its heart, is still burning bright.

A Primer for Pie Success

Bobbi T. Smith says you should be dreaming about pie.

“If you want to make a pie, you need to plan ahead. You need to be thinking about it. The best way to do a pie with a regular flour crust is to make it the day before. So you need to start thinking ahead about what you're gonna make!” 

Thanksgiving is peak pie, and with the holiday this week, I called up Smith, a renowned local baker, to ask for a crash course in pie success. She meets me one morning at the Ah Haa School Culinary Kitchen. Smith baked pies professionally for decades; she got started in Durango, when she dropped out of college and needed a job.

“And the first place I walked into was the Stonehouse Bakery owned and operated by Jeff Norman and he hired me. So I started baking professionally when I was 20. I did have some home baking experience because my grandmother was a very good baker and she's the one that taught me how to make pie. Today,” says Smith, “we're making a pumpkin pie.”

All great pies start with a great crust and a great crust, says Smith, starts with five simple ingredients. 

“I've got flour. salt, sugar, we're gonna mix some frozen grated butter into this, that's my secret, and some vegetable shortening. And then we're gonna mix it all together with some ice water,” says Smith. 

The grated butter creates a feathery mound in the bowl. Smith works in the flour with her fingers.

“I am just trying to mix in these fats with the flour and get it to a breadcrumb consistency,” Smith explains. “We don't want to mix in the butter and the shortening completely. We want to see a little bit of lumps of fat still, because that's what's going to give you those nice pockets of flakiness once it's baked.”

Next, add ice water, bit by bit. “I am looking for all this flour, all these crumbs, to get hydrated and almost start sticking together, “ says Smith. “And we're at that point right now. I've been just letting it fall through my fingers and now I'm going to go in there and actually form the dough: I'm going to pick it up from the bottom and squish it down with my palm.” 

Mixing in the ice water.

“And I just do this step probably less than ten times and then it's done. And that's the secret and that's what my grandmother taught me,” Smith continues. “She said turn it, mix it, and then stop.  Don't over mix it. That makes it tough.” 

The dough is ready to chill in the fridge for a couple of hours while we prepare the filling. 

For today's pie, Smith has roast a sugar pumpkin in the oven until soft and blended it with a couple of eggs, some milk and spice.

Smith rolls out a circle of the dough and drapes it into a pan. Then it’s ready for it’s first bake, explains Smith, “something called a blind bake. You cover it up. You cover it with maybe a piece of aluminum foil and then pour beans on top or rice on top so you can't see the pie dough. And then it goes in the oven.

The beans act as a weight so the pie keeps its shape, and the shell can set up before being filled with the pumpkin custard, and baked for a final time. Smith says to cool your pie pie to room temperature before digging in. Today, I’m in luck: Smith brought a pie she baked off last night.

The final product, dressed up and sliced!

“All right,” invites Smith, “shall we take a bite of this pumpkin pie? I did whip some cream to put on this. Here we go!” 

Smith is satisfied with the result. “Pumpkin pie from a pumpkin!” she says.

I can attest, it is delicious. From all of us at KOTO, have a Happy Thanksgiving. 

Smith’s official pie dough recipe.

After Period of Uncertainty, Ilium Ceramics Studio to Continue

Rob Nealon recently began running a ceramics studio down in Ilium. A lifelong ceramicist, he is not. 
“I'm actually probably the least likely person to take this over,” he says. “I am a beginner ceramicist, took the class at the Ah Haa [School], wanted to get involved down here, and then found out it was shutting down. And when nobody else stood up to take over, I ended up falling into it. 

According to members of this little Down Valley studio, Nealan’s nonchalant attitude does not quite capture the anxiety they'd been facing for months. Robin Kondracki joined in 2021 and quickly became the studio technician. 

“There was a lot of uncertainty for a really long time about the future of this space, and a lot of it hinged on who was going to be able to sign a commercial lease. I know that the lease had a lot of stipulations that were…concerning in terms of personal liability. So it’s been looming over our heads for several months without a lot of clarity.”

This fall, that uncertainty came to a breaking point when studio members were told their lease was ending on October 15th, at which point they'd have to leave. 

“We had proposed solutions,” Kondracki recalls, “maybe getting a new space in town, maybe one of the current members taking over the lease…then in the 11th hour, Rob took over our lease, coming out of, seemingly, nowhere. He saved all of us!”

Savior? Nealon, demures. He says he was simply new to town, looking for ways to engage, and at a place where he felt prepared to take on a challenge — and, a commercial lease. 

“I signed on November first,” he says, “so the first thing was confirming we have a home for the next year. Now that's out of the way, and some of my other work has wrapped up professionally, so I have time to [invest in the space]. I'm going to design a logo, build out a website; I’m talking to one of our members about doing a mural on this wall that welcomes you when you come in. I'm just trying to brighten up the space and make it a bit more welcoming.” 

Local ceramicist Tara Carter managed this Ilium ceramic studio known affectionately as the “Wheelhouse” for years. The business venture Ghost Pocket Kitchen occupied the building's first floor and Ghost Pocket sublet half the upstairs to Telluride Arts for studio space and the other half to Carter for a collection of clay artists. 

The space glows a soft red one recent morning. The colors are earthen from years of pottery work and production. A three-quarter wall splits the ceramic studio from the former Telluride Arts space. Ghost Pocket Kitchen shut down this summer, vacating the first floor. Nealan now manages the whole building.His priorities? 

“One, using the space to its fullest potential,” he says. “Having empty space at Telluride feels like a crime. And then just getting the business in good shape, where we can start re-investing in it more and more.”

It's a lot, Nealon admits: “I really wanted to get into ceramics. Amazingly, I'm spending most of my time running the studio now, instead of actually doing ceramics!” he says.  

A handful of studio members are at work in the quiet space. Molly Theis came to ceramics relatively recently, but says it's become an enormous part of her life.

“[I remember] how frantic we were all summer, asking: ‘what are we going to do without pottery? What are we going to do?’ And we were looking on Facebook Marketplace, talking about buying a kiln to stuff in the basement of Robin's apartment. We were thinking of all these different ways we could still do this thing that we've now become quite obsessed with,” Theis says. 

Kondracki joined years ago: “It is amazing to see how this place has evolved since,” she says. “Initially, it was myself and maybe two other people, and now it has grown to 16+ people.”

“I think in the beginning, it felt like overflow from people who couldn't get into the Ah Haa School Space. And now, I have so much pride for this space, and I see the pride that we all collectively have, to the point where people are choosing this space for the community feel and for the collective buy-in,” Kondracki says. 

A shelf in the studio.

Nealon recognizes how precious, and precarious, creative spaces are in the Telluride region. 

“Ultimately,” he says, “this is a space for the community. If, you are an artist out there listening, and you have ideas, you have a need, something that you can't find in town, please reach out. We're always open and trying to figure out what's next for the space.”

For the time being, the work continues in this second floor studio filled with clay and buckets of slip. Ceramicists and artists interested in membership can email rob@telluridewheelhouse.com.

Free Box Gets a New Home

As winter came into Telluride this week, pulling its white hood over the canyon and sending flurries into the afternoon street, the sheltered nook of the newly opened Voodoo Affordable Housing Project is quiet and empty.  But not for long. Come Monday, November 4th, this alcove across from the Post Office will be the new location of Telluride's Free Box.

Here’s Free Box Manager Beck Boehm: “what you can expect from the new Free Box is a bigger shopping space; I wanted a space for a rack to hang hangers and nice clothes and jackets. One of my main thoughts was obviously a shelf for the glassware. That's something that needed to be there.”

This new box on Willow Street has cheerful bilingual text labeling the different bins. There is more space, but it's much the same as Telluride's current Free Box, which has been located by the intersection of North Pine Street and Colorado Ave for nearly 50 years, where it’s shadowed by the long awning of the Van Atta building, constructed in 1891.

That location, says Telluride Historical Museum Director, Kiernan Lannon has always been a hub: 

“Van Atta was a grocery dry-goods store,” he says, “so, it got a lot of traffic. Certainly during the mining heyday that was the busiest intersection [in Telluride].” 

By the seventies, the Van Atta store was long gone, replaced by a natural foods coop. It was in one of those years that Telliuride’s Free Box was born:

“Of course it started as just a box,” Lannon says. “I take it a woman was trying to get rid of some stuff and asked if she could leave it there. [The co-op] said ‘yes,’ and it wasn't too long before people started bringing stuff thinking: ‘hey, well, maybe I can get rid of my stuff too.”

It grew and grew, becoming the shabby 3x4 bin structure it is today. 

“That iteration came about in 1983 and they actually needed and got a HARC certificate of appropriateness for it,” says Lannon. “So it was considered a legit structure in the town.”

HARC is the Historic and Architectural Review Commission, signaling the town government's seal of approval for this community asset. 

Despite its magic, the box has always had its detractors, or at least skeptics, says Lannon: “somewhere in the late 70s is the first reference that the town was being urged to do something about the Free Box, the condition of the Free Box. People are complaining about it getting messy and blocking the sidewalk and people bringing stuff that shouldn't really be there and all that kind of stuff.”

The truth, explains Boehm, is that a Freebox takes work, management, and care, or else the trash piles up to obscure the treasure.

Who performed that work has shifted over the Freebox's history, falling on different volunteer groups and sometimes — such as in the mid 2010’s — going undone. 

“And so as we all know, it kind of fell into disrepair,” says Boehm, “and it was a huge trash dump for years. When COVID hit, the discussion came up, do we want to keep the Free Box? Is it something that we want in the town?”

A pandemic pause shuttered the box. Then, as the COVID germ scare subsided, residents called for a reopening. The town was ready to do it on its own terms, funding Boehm’s position to manage trash buildup at the box and incorporating a relocated Free Box, housed on town property, into the designs for its Voodoo Affordable Housing Project.

With the housing project complete this fall, it's time for the box to move. 

Twenty-four seven and three-sixty-five, the Free Box Bustles. On a recent afternoon, Nicola Kerr enthused about her finds, and she shows off an outfit picked from the Box on prior days of hunting. 

Are folks worried about the new location? Not particularly. Says Sarah Owens, browsing with Kerr: “a couple more blocks’ walk isn't gonna hurt anybody…It's gonna be good for all of us. I think it'll get more action [with its new location].”

What is it about the Free Box? Why has this community stayed so dedicated to its shabby curbside catchall?

“I do think the Freebox does speak to a very specific time in that period in the 1970s,” reflects Lannon. “As the town has progressed a little more into the resort feel that it has now, it's  hearkening back to a part of the culture that still seems to be there, even if it's a little more under the surface.”

While nostalgia certainly may be a factor, Boehm says it's not the only piece. 

Everyday, she says, she sees “how much people need that Free Box, not just because they want free stuff, but how they need it as a social space, as a way to clothe their kid, as a way to just feel connected to this community.”

Elizabeth Gick, who's lived in town for decades, was browsing on a recent afternoon, and she says it's true, the Free Box provides:

“I have found absolute treasures in here,” Gick exclaims.
Today, she brings a donation: “I'm dropping off a beautiful pair of pajama pants with patterns of elk. And it's just a little too tight around the waist for me, so I hope somebody else will have a good night's sleep in it!”

The Free Box officially opens at its new location across from the Post Office on South Willow Street on Monday, November 4th. And — supposedly — it will never close. Should you need to make a return, you can do so, no questions asked.

A Flute, Saxophone, and Bass Walk Into A Bar

By Julia Caulfield

Project Trio isn’t your typical chamber trio. Greg Patillo understands that.

“You don’t often see a flute, saxophone, base trio. What kind of a trio is that even?” he jokes.

Patillo is the flute component of Project Trio – a genre-bending ensemble, pushing the boundaries of chamber music to include jazz, hip-hop, and world music influences.

Patillo joins saxophonist Daniel Berkley, and double bassist Peter Seymour.

“There’s a little something for each person in the audience,” says Seymour. “If you don’t like the tune we’re playing, you might like the next one and the next one. We’re ever changing. Throughout a Project Trio concert you’ll here all these genres brought together.”

This week, Telluride Chamber Music is bringing Project Trio to the box canyon for a high energy performance at the Alibi.

Adding to an already untraditional trio format, Patillo brings a unique element to the group.

“I am known not only for traditional style of flute, but I’m also known for beatboxing on the flute,” Patillo explains. “Beatboxing is doing drum noises, percussive sounds at the same time as playing the flute so I’m able to get some interesting and funky sounds on the flute. Something not a lot of people have heard before.”

Throughout the concert, Seymour says there’s a little taste of everything.

“We play music of Mozart, Blue Rondo à la Turk. We play Charlie Parker, Hall of the Mountain King. We play the great Lennon and McCartney. We play a lot of original music. We have an homage to the great Django Reinhardt, the father of French Hot Jazz. We have an original salsa tune called ‘Bodega’ inspired by the streets of New York. It’s a whole smorgasbord,” he says.

Patillo says they want to think outside of the box and give the audience a proper show.

“We’re trying to be entertaining. We’re not looking to do things correct. We want to have everyone have a blast, come out to the show, see something new, have something different to talk about after the show,” he notes.

Project Trio will play at the Alibi on Thursday, October 24th at 7 p.m. Tickets are available at telluridechambermusic.org.

County Program Plants Seeds for a Sustainable Future

Autumn, for our region's agricultural producers, brings a time of harvest, scaling back, and returning livestock from summer pastures at high elevations to their grasslands close to home. Tony and Barclay Daryani have farmed land in Norwood.

At their kitchen table in late summer, Tony Daryani shares a map of the property — Indian Ridge Farm.

“In the fall, when the cows come down from the high country and they start grazing off all this pasture here,” he says, “on plot 2d, we've been running an — I won't call it an experiment — it’s a demonstration plot of intensive rotational grazing.”

The map of the Indian Ridge is chunked out into different plots, which are being farmed with different techniques. On 2d, 300 head of cattle intensely graze — and then rest — the field in cycles, mimicking a natural process which took place on the Great Plains before the era of US expansion and industrial agriculture.

Daryani continues: “you had millions of bison going across the Midwest and leaving their manure behind, letting it get incorporated with their hooves, and building up soil. I mean, the Midwest was an amazing breadbasket for a long time because of the grasslands and because of the bison.”

The Daryanis enrolled Indian Ridge in San Miguel County's Payment for Ecosystem Services program, which got started in 2021 to bring regenerative farming practices to our region with the goal of fighting climate change. It turns out certain practices that are good for soil health and a farm's productivity can also sequester carbon, save water and mitigate climate change.

Chris Hazen came on board to manage the PES program as it got started.

The county, he says, “works with a local rancher or landowner. And we identify lands where they're interested in implementing new practices. And by ‘practice’ I mean a different approach to grazing or, maybe some intensive seeding to introduce more diversity into their cover crops…and we can run the math on what kind of carbon benefit there could be from the work they're proposing. Then we can structure a contract through the county to make a payment for that particular practice.”

The benefit for the county is essentially a local carbon offset.

“Rather than going to the carbon market to buy carbon offsets for the county's zero carbon goals,” says Hazen, “they're actually paying landowners in San Miguel County for that carbon offset.”

The county based its model on a program run by the state of California, and it's not acting alone. Governments large and small across the country are looking to help agricultural producers move towards regenerative farming techniques.

Colorado recently received a $25 million grant from the U.S. Department of Agriculture to roll out its Regenerative Farming STAR program, or Saving Tomorrow's Agricultural Resources. Lexi Firth is a soil health researcher at Colorado State University who works with STAR producers in the state. Regenerative agriculture, she explains, comes back to working with the land to create healthier soils.

“And soil health is just the ability for your soil to function as a vital living ecosystem that sustains life: first, whatever you're growing, but then in an agricultural ecosystem your economic and social health as well.”

That holistic mindset, explains Firth, ties certain farming practices to healthy soils, communities, and planet. While it may seem like big talk, the Daryanis show me out back to one of their fields. Tony points to the earth, running his hands through the long grass. “The fertility of the soil in here is second to none, and the density of the plant growth is second to none,” he says. “It’s incredible. The grass literally covers every square inch of this, of this pasture.”

For over a decade, Tony and Barclay rotated poultry across these few acres. In the heat of late summer, the soil now supports grass which is thick and green, pouring from the earth, when many fields on the mesa are parched, patchy.

For the Danyanis, joining the program was a no-brainer. They already had some of these practices in place.

“You know,” says Tony, “in our past, we did it to grow healthy food primarily. As it turns out, those same practices are found to be healthy for the entire climate picture.”

Adds Barclay: “one of the things we love to tell people that they may not be aware of is that grass sequesters carbon. It's not just rainforests and trees, but grass is a huge carbon ‘sequester-er’ as well.”

Their enthusiasm, however, remains the exception rather than the rule. The county budgets a hundred-thousand dollars annually for ecosystem payments. It has yet to find enough producers to disperse all those funds in any given year. But it's working to add more farmers. Hazen recalls a survey he circulated in the county's agricultural community.

“By and large, the responses to the survey talked about water supply and soil health as the two most critical issues the producer community was facing,” says Hazen. “So I think it's about providing more information and helping people make decisions for themselves. But thankfully, the science is there about soil health and these approaches that you can take.”

Firth says these programs cropping up come back to the changing needs of today's farmers. “I think we're at this very critical moment in history where we're realizing the problems with the current way our agricultural system is working,” she says, “and it's going to be really interesting to see how things kind of unfold in the next few years. We're at this peak point where our entire agricultural system is transforming and it's not going to look the same.”

The Daryanis, meanwhile, are wondering what the future of farming will look like right here on their land in Norwood.

“We want this place to stay a farm long after we're gone. We feel like growing food is an important part of a community and maintaining that agricultural lifestyle is important for our county too,” says Barclay.

On a changing landscape, the county's PES program carries forward that intention.

KOOK Ridgway takes to the Airwaves

Since 1975, KOTO has been licensed by the Federal Communications Commission to broadcast on 91.7 out of Telluride, Colorado. The original antenna was strapped to the roof of the Miners Union, and, at 10 watts, the signal barely reached Society Turn. 

This week, the station reached a milestone when it added its second transmitter, expanding its signal north over the Sneffels Range into Ouray County.

Nearly three years of planning came together over three days high on a ridge-line above Highway 550.

“It takes a while. It takes a lot of planning,” says longtime station manager Ben Kerr. “You have to apply for a permit with the FCC, and get permission.”

The idea of piping KOTO into Ouray actually goes back to the station’s founder.

“Jerry Green was the one who said: ‘you know, we should really expand and get over that direction,’” Kerr recalls. “You can't [broadcast this far] with the main transmitter; the mountains are in the way. So you've got to kind of work through the valleys and get around. Putting different translators and transmitters up so that you can service other communities.”

Translators carry the signal from Telluride west to Norwood, but jumping the Sneffels range required a full transmitter, which meant applying for a new license with the FCC and adding a second set of call letters: K-O-O-K.

The transmitter site induces vertigo. Regional TV and radio towers create a cliffside cluster accessed by a long mountain road. Ridgway lies in a haze to the north. To the south, the gridded streets of Ouray fill the canyon floor. This morning, engineers, station staff and climbers have assembled for the final install.

Axel Koch is a volunteer DJ at the station and a retired marine engineer. He researched radio technology in order to lend his hand to the project. Gesturing to the set of radio equipment around him, Koch explains: “we have two elements, [positioned] 98 and a half inches apart, which is three quarters of a wavelength for 90. 3, which is our frequency for this transmitting site!

“We have to be exact,” Koch says.

Also on the team is radio engineer Scott Henning, who has 30-years experience working as a broadcast technician in the state’s Southwest. What makes this project stand out?

“Well, it's in the mountains of Colorado,” says Henning, looking around at the dizzying site. “But, then again, they're all in the mountains of Colorado! Being non-profit, of course, makes it special, in my opinion, he adds. “I really like non-profit radio stations because they exist for the right reasons.”

The project involved pouring concrete pads and installing towers to hold the broadcast antennas and equipment in place.

Mason Osgood spoke with the station's Director, Cara Pallone, about the process.

____

Tuesday afternoon, Pallone was ending a long day at site, still without a broadcast.

“I left and I was headed down Gold Mountain and I didn't make it but maybe one minute before I got a phone call. So I stopped, slammed on my brakes and it was Claybrook [KOTO’s Assistant Station Manager]. And she was like: ‘turn on 90. 3 and tell me if you hear anything.’ And I turned it on and coming through the speakers was Yo La Tango with Moby Octopod!”

“And I thought, this can only be KOTO,” recalls Pallone.

Sure enough, it was the High School Radio Club coming through the airwaves. The many hours of hard work paid off just in time as an incoming rainstorm drove the rest of the KOTO crew out of the mountains above Ouray.

This project, Pallone says, started three years ago when Kerr alerted her to an FCC opening in Ridgeway. She says it aligned with the station’s mission: “and we have the perfect mission statement. We've never had to change it. I think what we need to do now is adapt and find ways to better fulfill it. So when I think of communities, I don't just think of Telluride, I think of the region, really. We have so many people who have moved to Norwood, to Ridgway, who are our friends, our neighbors. They work here, they're invested in Telluride.”

Pallone says the next steps will be slow, thoughtful and sustainable

____

For those dedicated to the station. The project was a no-brainer. As Koch says, “I love KOTO. I probably listened to it when I first came up to Telluride skiing in ‘78. I just love the radio station and it's because of the people. It's the voice of the valley.”

With the final install complete, that love of KOTO now becomes the love of KOOK as well, reflecting the voices of the region however, that region may be bound.

Ridgway Track Could Serve the Region

Behind the Ridgway Secondary School, students are finishing a PE class. The sun fills the afternoon with a pleasant heat; the earth is dry and baked. There’s a set of bleachers, an old scoreboard, and an expanse of patchy grass framed by a view of the San Juans rising to the south. 

It’s a field of sorts, but to call it a proper soccer pitch is a stretch, and the school’s athletic teams haven’t used it since 2019. 

Ridgway Athletic Director Shawnn Row says since he’s been in the position, “we’ve only played one game on the field before we realized it just wasn't a playable surface anymore. Since then we’ve had to ship all of our games and practices over to the Ridgway Athletic Park. And that’s a very crowded space because everyone is trying to use it.”

While using the town fields has been a temporary fix, the facility is a ten minute drive away and it’s got a packed schedule, as it’s shared with community leagues.

Voters passed a bond measure in 2021 which included funding to make improvements to the languishing athletic fields. Meanwhile a group of parents at the school, including Peter Hessler and Leslie Chang, were having dreams of their own. Their kids run track, and Hessler is the coach. But the team doesn't have an actual track to run on.

In the spring of 2023, Chang recalls, “we went to the school, and asked: ‘would it be possible to think about putting a track around the soccer field?’ And the administration said ‘actually we’re looking at different plans for what to do with our soccer that hasn’t been functional for the last five years: should we just do a quick fix or should we do something more substantive?’”

Chang continues, “so we all sat down and talked about it. And this is what came out of it: a plan for a new synthetic turf soccer field and an eight-lane track around it.”

School teams have not played on their home fields since 2019, when the boys soccer team won the state championship. Irrigation and surface issues have made them un-usable, and team currently practice on fields across town.

The idea was ambitious, but it stuck. Hessler’s team is not the only school track and field program in the area practicing without a proper facility: from Delta to Mancos, Hessler says:

“It’s sort of a strange situation where you’ve got a large area here which has no facility. So in the surrounding five counties, which is an area as big as Connecticut, there's no publicly accessible track.”

“Some of that is geography,” he adds. “In a town like Ouray or a town like Telluride, even if you have the money and the will there’s nowhere to put it in these mountain valleys. So Ridgway is one of these places where we do have the space, so it sort of made sense to put it here.”

This absence of a track has brought regional enthusiasm to the project.

“It’s not just a Ridgway asset,” Chang says. “It’s a Ridgway-Ouray-Silverton-Telluride- Norwood-West End asset, because these are all schools with track teams that don’t have a track. We went around and talked to Athletic Directors and Superintendents in a lot of these places and they’ve said: ‘we’d love to have this facility’”

As word spread, enthusiasm has moved beyond school programs and into the area’s rich running community. While the San Juans may be synonymous with rugged trails and mountain ultras, a track offers a different sort of opportunity.

Sarah Lavender Smith lives in Telluride and has been a runner of these mountains for decades.

“People might be thinking ‘Why do we need a track? We have this great bike path. We have miles of amazing trails,’” says Lavender. “And that’s all true, but there’s something so special about a track. Doing a track workout when you have a flat, measured surface to challenge yourself with faster intervals, that is so beneficial.”

“And the other thing about a track, it's a very low barrier to entry. Anyone can go to a track and try walking or running.”

Adds Chang, a track could serve elderly folks, community summer leagues, and local events.

“When you don't have the facility you don't really know what you’re missing. But once it's here, all sorts of people have ideas about how to use it. And this field and track and everything will be open to the community year round.”

Such an asset, however, comes at a cost. Estimates for an eight lane track with a turf soccer field in the center, jumping pits and all the rest come to just over 3 million dollars. Ridgway Superintendent Susan Lacy calls the bond measure which passed a few years ago.

“Originally a full track had never been part of that bond, but definitely track practice facilities and improvements to the field had been. So the School District has pledged $750,000 from that bond to the project.”

Private donations have raised another $750,000, bringing the project halfway to its target. The Telluride Foundation has come on as a project supporter, and potential grant money could help close the gap, but the full funding picture, and the facility’s fate, remain unclear.

What is clear, for track and field athletes at the Ridgway Secondary School — the necessity of such a facility. Jonah Hepp competes in hurdles at meets in Grand Junction and Delta. But when it comes to practicing, he uses a hallway at the school, setting hurdles up along a row of lockers.

“Numbers twenty-five and sixty-eight. Those are the lockers we have to set them up by.” Hepp continues: “doing any sort of track thing without an actual track is difficult. It’s just so inaccurate, and it only fits two or three hurdles.”

The dedication of the students, the region’s community, and the parents who initially proposed the project has brought the vision a long way.

“You often have people with good ideas,” says Lacy, “but it's rare to have volunteers with good ideas who are willing to do the work. And they’ve been an amazing team, working really hard.”

Those volunteers say the project is at a critical stage, as the remaining funds must be secured before the end of the year for the project to move forward in its entirety.

Visit cimarronathleticfield.com to learn more.

Norwood Teacher Named One of The Best

By Mason Osgood

Photo courtesy Norwood Public Schools

Rain clouds hovering over Norwood didn’t diminish the buzz of excitement inside the Norwood school. It’s Tuesday, September 17th, and a group of administrators and visitors gather to surprise second and third grade teacher Shelley Donnellon.

Emma Garrett Nelson is Chief Communications Officer with the Colorado Department of Education. For the past two weeks, she and her colleagues have been traveling around the State to announce the finalists of Colorado Teacher of the Year.

“We have this program called Teacher of the Year and we ask everybody in Colorado, we ask who are your favorite teachers, and we got one thousand nominations,” Garrett Nelson explains to students. “A thousand teachers in the entire state were nominated including your teacher, and out of those thousand we had ninety three teachers do an application process. It’s a very hard process, and oftentimes teachers don’t like to brag about their awesomeness and that can be kind of challenging for teachers to do. Out of those ninety three applicants we had seven finalists, and your teacher is one of those seven finalists”

It's a big deal. There are about 55,000 teachers throughout the state of Colorado, and as Garrett Nelson shares, Donnellon is one of the top seven. Garrett Nelson hands over a check for $1500 dollars for Donnellon to use as she likes, in addition, a $500 donation to Norwood schools on behalf of the Boettcher Foundation.

Gathered in Donnellon’s second and third grade classroom is the who’s who of Norwood. The Superintendent, Principal, School Board Members. The Norwood Town Clerk; even her husband, San Miguel Sheriff Deputy Michael Donnellon.

While the state is now recognizing Donnellon’s accomplishments in the classroom, for her students, it's no surprise. 

“She makes her teaching fun, she gets nice cool activities, fun and activities,” says one student.

“She lets us do fun activities, and she’s so nice and pretty and just makes us all happy,” chimes in another.

Donnellon and her extended family have been in Norwood for over four generations, and she's taught for eleven years. Garrett Nelson, is excited to be in the Norwood school district, and to meet Donnellon in person.

“We’re just really excited to be here, our teachers are absolutely phenomenal and extraordinary and especially in a District like this and when you have someone who is homegrown and who has made the choice to be here who just loves this district,” Garrett Nelson says, “she described herself as ‘Norwood through and through’ and I think thats something thats really really special about Shelley.”

Todd Bissell, Norwood’s newest superintendent of three months, already has high praise of Donnellon. 

“She has made so many contributions to the school over the years, I’ve only known her for about three months being new here but going into her classroom it's always engaging, students are on task, they’re having fun, smiles on their faces, and that's what we like to see,” Bissell says.

Donnellon’s giddy students gather around her for a group photo, as she holds her award and check for $1,500. The seven finalists will go through a second interview process, and classroom visits from the state of Colorado, before a final winner is announced in early October. 

But Donnellon says it’s incredible to make it this far. “I am shocked and honored, so I never in my wildest dreams thought that this was and option,” she says “I appreciate everyone, I couldn’t have done it myself, the kids here are great, the families here are great, the staff, the support, the town, I mean this is just really the best place”

As the celebrations draw to a close, staff goes back to work, and the students take their seats for the next lesson, standing at the front of the room is one of the top teachers in Colorado. 

Future of Insurance Access Uncertain as Region Addresses Wildfire Risk

This is the second in a two-part series on the Telluride region’s response to wildfire concerns, and a changing insurance marketplace. Listen to part one here.

Hilary Cooper lives in Telluride, just north of Main Street, in a compact home fronted by a big bay window. There’s a shady patch of synthetic turf out front, perched just above the street. She bought her house 1996, and has been here with her family since.

“And about two months ago now, I got a notice from Nationwide, my carrier, that my insurance was going to be cancelled due to wildfire risk,” Cooper says.

It’s not Cooper’s first difficulty with insurance; she also faced a canceled plan a couple years ago. “So it became pretty obvious at that time, a while ago, that carriers were starting to leave the area,” she says. “Since then, I've discovered that they're really trying to leave Colorado as quickly as possible and that a lot of wealthier homeowners are basically going to a self-insured approach. But what does that leave for the rest of us?”

Cooper is not alone in asking the question of how to maintain insurance in an era of increasing wildfire risk, especially for a homeowner with limited resources. A prior KOTO story profiled individual and community efforts to prepare for wildfire, from tree thinning in the ski ranches to roof replacements in Mountain Village. 

But the question of what a homeowner can do when an insurance plan is canceled remains. Community Development Director in the Town of Mountain Village Amy Ward says the Village has reached out to insurers, hoping to shape town building codes to the industry’s preferences, “and they’ve been unwilling to share that with us,” Ward says. 

But homeowners can still address the issue, and says Ward, “we do understand that after mitigation work, like replacing your roof or doing defensible space work on your home, you can actually go to your insurer and request a rate rebate.”

Mitigation techniques begin with those simple fixes: replacing a wooden roof with a metal one, trimming back bushes near a home. But as wildfire concern increases, mitigation is also evolving. Clifford Hansen runs the Telluride-based broker Latitude Insurance, which has offices across the West. 

“There are newer technologies coming into play,” Hansen says. “Outdoor wildfire sprinklers to sprinkle the lawn, sprinkle the house…Most of our clients here are with high net-worth carriers, and with that comes enrollment in a service called Wildfire Defense Services. And WDS for short, in the event of an approaching wildfire, has teams all over the place and they deploy them [to protect homes]. “

Even if a homeowner has all the resources to throw at mitigation, hiring a private fire-fighting team, and installing outdoor sprinklers, will insurers take note?

Aaron Johnson, a mitigation specialist with the West Region Wildfire Region Council, which consults on fire readiness across the Western Slope. When it comes to mitigation, he says, “there's nothing that's guaranteed to work. Providers have the final say whether or not it’s something they’re going to recognize. But we do hope it’s something they’ll consider moving forward.”

The roof on Cooper’s home? It’s not wood, it’s metal, and her front lawn is a mix of synthetic grass and hardscaping. 

“Even if we, you know, cut down the entire hillside between here and Lawson Hill,” Cooper says, “I'm not sure if that would have satisfied the insurance providers, because it's a much bigger problem. It's a global problem that little old Telluride is just a tiny pea in the sea of.”

Across town, in his office at the Telluride Fire Protection District’s Station 1, Chief John Bennett recognizes any one homeowner, or community, may be overshadowed as insurance providers are pulling out of entire states from California to Colorado. 

“It’s an unfortunate fact, and, I think all of these states are, at a legislative level, trying to find some solution to relieve that homeowner pain of either increased premiums, or quite frankly, cancellations of insurance policies. Unfortunately, it's not an overnight fix,” Bennett says. 

In Colorado, that legislative solution is called the FAIR Plan, or Fair Access to Insurance Requirements. State officials are currently preparing for its rollout. 

“It’s essentially an insurer of last resort,” explains Johnson. “So when people are dropped, they can turn to a state program. It's going to basically be a nonprofit program. The maximum coverage for individual parcels, I believe, is $750,000.” 

That maximum payout of $750,000 makes it ill-fit to our region’s real estate market, where even many deed-restricted properties fetch a higher value. For Cooper, the whole issue is just one more burden piled on to the affordability crisis affecting area residents. 

“I'm not sure where that leaves us,” she says. “It just leaves it all less affordable for us to be able to stay here in our beloved mountains where we thought we were going to grow old together as a family. But it's becoming more and more unlikely! And this is just yet another ‘notch.’”

This sense of uncertainty, even of defeat, amongst homeowners and some fire experts has not stopped those very communities and residents from trying to prepare. In the first part of this series, we heard from Caryn Borden, a resident of the Ski Ranches Neighborhood who performed mitigation work on her own property last year. She says, it’s going to take the whole community:

“You know, I can do my part, but if my neighbor doesn't do his part, it doesn't matter. It has to be a buy in from everybody. And not just Ski Ranches. So that's kind of….it's, it's hard.” she reflects. 

As the climate warms, and fire experts anticipate only increasing risk, landscapes, residents, and the insurance industry will have to find ways to adapt.

Concerns over Insurance Prompt Wildfire Mitigation Efforts

This is the first story in a two-part series on wildfire preparedness and insurance access in the Telluride region. You can listen to part two here.

It’s a clear morning in the Ski Ranches Neighborhood, just west of Mountain Village, and Caryn Borden is walking the winding streets of her neighborhood. All around are aspen, fir, Engelmann spruce. The underbrush is rich and layered with summer grasses and meadow rue.

Borden gestures to the roadsides:

“And so last year, the area that we're walking through now [contractors with West Region Wildfire Council] did all the trees that were a threat to the roadways. So if there was a fire, you could get out. So little by little, we're trying to check off priority projects,” Borden says. 

The West Region Wildfire Council. The Ridgway-based non-profit offers fire preparedness consultations for homeowners, communities, and landscape-scale projects across six counties on the Western Slope. 

Borden moved to the Ski Ranches four years ago and sits on the Board of the Homeowners Association. In that time, wildfire readiness has become a priority.

“We just redid our wildfire plan,” she says, “and we're trying to communicate to homeowners things they can do to prepare, you know, just make their homes safer. So if there is a fire, hopefully it's not spreading everywhere, if we're all doing our part.”

Borden is one of many residents across our region who are beginning to wrestle with the impact, or potential impact, of fire on their homes, their livelihoods and their communities. 

Wildfire, of course, has long been a concern across the West, but the issue is increasingly hitting close to home for property owners experiencing sudden changes in their insurance coverage. Area residents are beginning to report skyrocketing premiums and canceled plans. 

National publications, meanwhile, report some insurance companies are pulling out of entire zip codes, and states across the West. 

Clifford Hansen owns Latitude Insurance, a Telluride based broker with offices from Denver, to Aspen, to Big Sky. “They're all markets that are facing the same problems,” he says. “So in the beginning it was simpler. I remember telling people you should tell your clients not to put a wood roof on anything they build. And that was really [the beginning]. I could see the train coming down the tracks.”

That was five to six years ago, Hansen says. Now the issue has advanced. Take wood roofs. Certain structural elements, including a wood roof, act as fire risk amplifiers. Properties with those risk factors are becoming uninsurable. “We’re at a point where some companies will rate a wood roof if you replace it in the first year,” Hansen says, “but a lot of companies just won't write it.” 

As communities awaken to the intersecting issues of insurance and fire, they’re responding. And it begins with the roof. Take the Town of Mountain Village.

“At one point, the town required some areas to have Cedar shake roofs, so we have a huge amount in the town of Mountain Village. It's a very thin cedar shingle basically, and they're, they're layered on that roof and it's highly, highly combustible,” explains Village Community Development Director Amy Ward.

The cedar roof requirement was originally for aesthetic reasons in the idyllic cul-de-sacs of the Village. But as times have changed, so have priorities, and Ward says, a roof replacement “is the biggest thing that you can do to protect your home if you have a cedar shake roof. So you start there, you start with the roof. And then beyond that, you want to do defensible space work around your home if you’re adjacent to a forested area.”

The Town offers incentives to perform such work. It waives any building fees, up to $25,000, on projects which replace cedar shake roofs with a fire resistant material. Since beginning in 2017, the program has been highly successful, waiving some $650,000 in fees on over 150 replacements. The Telluride Mountain Village Owners Association began partnering on the program in 2019, and they hope to continue until all cedar roofs in the Village have been replaced. 

One major project was completed at The Mountain Lodge. The hotel was built around 2000 — opening under a cedar roof. Manager Steve Togni says it was increasingly hard to source insurance for the property. 

“So instead of playing that game and instead of continuing to fight through what was difficult from an insurance standpoint, we decided to move forward with a [metal] roof,” he says. 

Due to a lapse in funding in the Town’s Cedar Shake Program, Mountain Lodge ended up paying all the building fees associated with the replacement, but Togni maintains it was worth it nonetheless.   

Mountain Village also funds a Defensible Space Program which offers homeowners funding to re-work their landscaping to better prepare for fire. So far, those improvements have been a tougher sell.

“I think homeowners are reluctant because we all have an idea in our head about what a traditional landscape looks like and it often involves shrubbery and flowers right up to edge-of-home,” Ward says. But fire ready landscaping, she says, “doesn't have to be the worst case scenario when you do it right.”

Caryn Borden’s home in the Ski Ranches. Borden completed fire mitigation work on her property last summer, with a grant from the West Region Wildfire Council. While they removed a large number of coniferous trees, Borden says crews were able to leave the Aspen.

Buy-in from residents is slowly increasing, Ward reports. Back in the Ski Ranches, Borden shows me around her own home. She did mitigation work last year with consultants from West Region Wildfire, and the forest, she says, is thinner: 

“We had three awesome trees over here, but they took those out,” Borden says, gesturing around her property. “They took a ton out over here. They were really knowledgeable. They were awesome.”

Borden’s motivation was not only to protect her home in the event of wildfire, but to keep her biggest investment insured. 

“When we're making these decisions, we're just trying to be, again, proactive like other people. And I think [concern] is more in play than it was last year, because it would be hard if none of us can get insurance. It's like, ‘what do you do?’” she says. 

As wildfires continue to intensify across the West, will such small individual and community efforts be able to keep insurance options open? 

Part two of this series takes a deeper dive into the question, and the uncertain future of insurance in the region.

Welcoming Mason Osgood

By Julia Caulfield

A new voice is coming to the KOTO airwaves. KOTO’s newsroom with growing with Mason Osgood joining the team to help expand coverage in more rural parts of the region. KOTO’s Julia Caulfield sat down with Osgood to learn more.

New Base Jumping Documentary Lands in Telluride

Labor Day weekend in Telluride marks the annual Film Festival. This year, the lineup featured a new documentary from National Geographic profiling the base jumping community. 

Much of the film, Fly, was shot in Moab, Utah. 

Filmmakers Christina Clusiau and Shaul Schwarz spoke with KOTO News about the extreme athletes pioneering the sport, and what it’s been like to debut the new work.

Schwarz: When we went out, people told us maybe we should meet Jimmy and Marta, these two legendary figures [in base-jumping] who are kind of the ‘mom-and-pop’ of the world. And they introduced us to the community. I think as we progressed in the film, we've zoomed in on the idea of love stories, [profiling] three couples because – inherently – the most basic thing you wanna do with your partner in life is protect them. But when you're on a journey like BASE jumpers, you also understand your partner like normal society doesn't in many ways, and you want to push them while keeping them safe. 

Clusiau: When you jump, from my understanding, and I've been in this world for a while, it's totally you. There's no one and nothing else. Everything is laser-focused and everything else falls away. It's only about you. You're the only person in the world at that moment.  And to have somebody else that you love standing on the cliff behind you, or waiting for you at the landing, or flying with you, it's like you're together but you're not. 

Schwarz: We initially actually met Jimmy in Norway and then we traveled to see them teach in Twin Falls, Idaho. And then we spent a lot of time in Moab with them. 

We've shown this film at different places and I've heard people walk out and say: ‘damn, maybe I should leave this job or leave the relationship I'm not happy with.’ So I don't think we tried to make a film that's niche only to an outdoor, base jumping or risk taking community. It's an equal push and pull in a way: to do something and follow your dreams, which we all kind of say we do and are educated to do. But then life happens and we take paths that are more mainstream. 

Clusiau: I don't imagine audience members that view this film are gonna pick up a skydive rig and go BASE jumping.Or a BASE jumping rig and go BASE jumping. But they may say, ‘you know what, am I really living the fullest life that I want to live?’

Schwarz: When we started filming, I would go up and shoot these guys jumping and just be amazed. And as I grew closer and became friends with them, I remember this ‘Jewish mom quality’ of being like, ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ I obviously had to shut it up and be an observer and let it go. And with time I started trusting them, but we also saw a lot of accidents.  So I think that question of what's worth it, and survival, and when to push and when to say ‘not today,’ it’s always present. 

Clusiau: You know, like what's the limit? Another question to think about is how far can humans go with flight? And celebrating it. And how far can humans go with their dreams? I don't know. I think that's an individual question for everybody.

Forest Service Polls Visitor Traffic

Every five years, forests managed by the US Forest Service take a look at user-ship levels and activity types on their trails, facilities, lands and so on. 

It’s part of the USFS’s National Visitor Use Monitoring Survey. This year, the Grand Mesa Uncompahgre and Gunnison National Forest was due for its NVUM update. Running from October of last year through September of this year, folks hired by the forest have been tallying traffic and chatting with recreators to report back. 

On a recent sunny summer's day, we caught up with one such surveyor, Tara Malmstrum, at the intersection of the Jud Wiebe Trail and Tomboy Road and got to quiz her about what she's learned from a summer of talking with forest users. 

Malmstrum: I'm a teacher over in Ridgeway, so it's summer work for me. Of course, I want to do anything I can to help the natural environment — the forest in particular.  The Forest Service have me going up to Blue Lakes a lot, and that's a very high priority for them. Part of that will help inform when they do the permitting, which I think they're planning on doing in 2026. 

(Blue Lakes is a trail south of Ridgway, below Sneffels Peak. Due to an increase in traffic in recent years, the USFS is considering requiring day-use permits in the area.)

This is a pretty busy trail, Ice Lakes and other places…So I think they want to look at where they're putting their resources and how they manage those trails.  A lot of locals I think use the Jud Weibe, but I had a young man from Canada, a lot of people from Texas and Arizona getting out of the heat. A lot of people with second homes here who are traveling, hiking, walking up the trail. 

This is actually my second time in two months [monitoring here,] and the first time the Imogene Pass was closed. So it was pretty quiet. Now it's really busy. I mean, I've counted 205 people leaving the trail or the road since 8 o'clock, and I go until 2. There have been 35 vehicles. 

So, this is one of the busier trails that I've seen. Blue Lakes, hands down is busier. I was there the Saturday after 4th of July and I counted over 300 people and that was in a six-hour period. So you double that for the day. That's a lot of people on that trail. 

I also have been working with the San Juan Mountain Association to do some trail ambassador work with them. They have a permanent tent set up over at Blue Lakes. So that's another little arm that's helping the Forest Service, you know. And of course just the locals [do their part to educate visitors, saying:] ‘Hey, put your dog on a leash, or pick up your poop bag’ or whatever it is. 

I love this and I love the forest and I hope you know it helps in some small way! 

Monitoring efforts within the GMUG will wrap up at the end of September. In a statement, the Forest Service says the survey will help its managers ‘estimate the number of people who engage in recreation on forest land and give a picture of the specific activities they partake in.’

Well Dunn

By Julia Caulfield

Those who tune in regularly will have noticed a new voice on the airwaves. Eliza Dunn joined the KOTO News team in June as a summer intern reporting on everything from government meetings, to birdwatching.

But now a new school year beckons and she’s heading out on the next adventure. KOTO’s Julia Caulfield sat down with Dunn to hear how the summer has gone, and what’s coming up next. Dunn starts with her thoughts on the summer.

Single Use Plastic Asked ‘To-Go’

By Julia Caulfield

Frequent local restaurants and businesses in Telluride and you may notice something missing. Single use plastic.

“Mainly what’s changing is related to food service and things related to food service. But it’s not solely that,” says Darin Graber, Sustainability and Grant Administrator for the Town of Telluride. “it also applies to somethings you might not expect, toothpicks can’t be wrapped in single use plastic, or cotton swabs with plastic stems are prohibited under this ordinance.”

In 2022, Telluride Town Council passed an ordinance to ban single use plastic in the town, with the implementation date of July 1, 2024.

Under the ordinance, single use plastic containers are prohibited (such as Styrofoam, cups, bowls, plates), plastic straws and cutlery are a no go, same with condiments, and plastic stirrers or garnish spears. Single use plastic water bottles under a gallon are prohibited. In addition, customers at a restaurant or business must request cutlery or napkins, rather than getting them automatically.

There are exceptions for fire, EMS, and law enforcement if they need single use plastic in an emergency situation, or in the case of a town wide emergency or natural disaster. Single use plastic will also be allowed for medical use.

You may also still see single use plastic at the grocery store as prepackaged items that come from large distributers, or if it has to do with food safety.

“So obviously we’re going to have milk cartons, or a plastic bottle of milk. The things we need to change are the items that we’re serving over the counter. If I have a raw ingredient in my hand and I need to put it in something to give to a customer, that receptacle needs to be compostable,” notes Chris Jackman, Store Director at the Clark’s Market in Telluride.

Jackson says there have been a number of changes at the store since the ban went into effect, but he’s up for the task.

“It does seem a little daunting at the beginning especially when you start making a list of all the things that need to be changed over,” he says, “but there are a lot of suppliers that provide those items.”

The main challenge, Jackman says, is getting vendors to stock the items specific for Telluride.

“Because they service a larger community. They’re servicing Telluride, and Norwood, and Ridgway, and Montrose, and Grand Junction. So to have these niche items for Telluride can be difficult, but I haven’t talked to anyone who is not supportive of it,” he says.

Jackman adds with a higher demand on eco products he anticipates running into supply chain issues, with certain products being out of stock.

Despite shifts or any potential challenges for the Market, Jackman says he’s supportive of the ban.

“To have such a small community like Telluride be a role model for the rest of Colorado and the rest of the United States is a great move for us,” he muses.

Scott Keating is the part-owner of the Coffee Cowboy, a to-go coffee shop in Telluride (photo credit Julia Caulfield/KOTO)

But not everyone is fully sold.

“Our business is a to-go business, and we’ve been using compostable cups since we bought it in 2020,” says Scott Keating is part-owner of the Coffee Cowboy. “So for our to-go cup scene, nothing has changed.”

Keating’s not against compostable cups. As he said, the Coffee Cowboy has been using them since the beginning, but he’s skeptical of the benefit to the environment.

For the compostable cups to properly break down, it requires an industrial composting process, something the Telluride region is working towards, but doesn’t have readably available.

Some research has shown that compostable material still takes years and years to break down in a landfill, and as they do, they can emit the greenhouse gas methane.

“It’s great in theory, if we’re actually composting it,” Keating says “But to put all that energy in to something that’s actually worse for the environment, it doesn’t make sense. At the end of the day I feel like we’re greenwashing to make ourselves feel better.”

That’s not to say he’s against the ordinance, but he wants to see the conversation go further.

“This is a great first step. I’m not trying to sh*t on it,” Keating says, “I’m trying to be a realist of if we want to think of wide scale problems and think it through, let’s not do it 20%. Let’s really think about them.”

For Keating, it’s about a culture shift. To that point, Graber agrees.

“Trying to really push toward a different mindset of refuse, reuse, then think about recycling, then think about everything else,” says Graber. “Shifting people’s habits might seem like a big deal, but I think in a year or two it’ll be so normal, and we can push to a much more sustainable lifestyle than the consumption based lifestyle we have nationally.”

A national culture shift to zero waste may be a big goal, but Telluride is trying to do its part. One cup at a time.

The San Miguel Rodeo Saddles Up

By Eliza Dunn

Photo Eliza Dunn/KOTO

It’s a Saturday night in Norwood. The late summer sun is setting over the mountains, but in the San Miguel County Fairgrounds, excitement is rising. 

Over the loudspeaker, the announcer’s voice booms, “well, good evening rodeo fans, and welcome to night number two of the San Miguel Basin CPRA Rodeo.” 

The first event of the night is bareback riding. The gates open and a wild bucking horse charges out into the ring, kicking up dust and tossing the cowboy around like a ragdoll. The goal is to stay on the animal for eight seconds.

Next up are the roping events. Down by the grandstand, a few cowboys tie up their horses after their ride. 

Bryce Grant just finished the tie-down roping, a fast-paced event that requires both speed and precision from the cowboy. 

“It’s a single-cowboy event, where it’s just you and your horse and you’re tied on,” Grant explains. “So you have a calf and they get a head start. You go down rope, and then you get off and flank him and tie three legs.” 

As he rides into the ring, Grant says, he tries to block out everything around him: “I try to just focus on myself. I try to get myself really angry and really aggressive, because that’s something that I’ve really struggled with lately. So I just really focus on what I'm going to do right then and there. Get out good and just go do my job.”

Next up, the cowgirls take the ring. Breakaway roping is an all-female event that moves at lightning speed. In a matter of mere seconds, competitors attempt to chase down and rope a calf.

After her ride, Ashlin Spitzer explains that she does breakaway roping because “not only does it take horsepower, which is instrumental, but also the intelligence of the roper itself, and making sure that you make the right call at the right time. And you’re almost in sync with your horse. But it’s also just so beautiful to watch and to actually see someone rope sharp or the proper form. I think it’s one of the most beautiful things.” 

Photo Eliza Dunn/KOTO

Spitzer grew up riding horses, but didn’t start riding rodeo until recently. “I got into rodeo because it was…. COVID happened and it was time for change and to try something different and I had always been fascinated with rodeo and horses,” Spitzer remembers. “And so I decided to go to college and work for it and it’s paid off and it’s better than I could’ve ever dreamed.” 

Patting down her horse, Gopher, Spitzer says tonight wasn’t her best ride, but she’s okay with that. “Nonetheless, this is my hometown rodeo, and I absolutely love it here and I’m happy when my friends get to come out and see,” she says. “And if I miss, if I don’t, there’s always something I can take away from it. Of course winning’s great, but you can always learn something.”

Photo Eliza Dunn/KOTO

As the sun disappears behind the mesa, the competition rides on. One after another, riders take the ring, going up against bucking bulls and wild steers. It’s a dangerous sport, and sometimes competitors are only a few inches away from a stray hoof or horn. Still, Grant says, when he rides out of the box, he’s not afraid. 

“No, I enjoy it too much to be scared,” he says. “And then when you’re riding good animals who are your best friend, it makes it so much more worth it.”

That connection with your horse, Spitzer agrees, is key: “You know, your horse can feel every single feeling you feel. So they can feel when a little fly flies onto their back, they’re going to feel all the tension you hold. To me, as a rider, I think it’s important to be as calm and collected as possible so he can go out and do his job and I can do mine.”

As the last events draw to a close, the ring empties out and the animals get loaded up for the night. A band starts up and competitors and spectators alike gather under the stars, to celebrate another summer of rodeo in Norwood.