Longtime Christ Church Pastor Pat Bailey to Retire

Pat Bailey has been pastor at the Christ Church here in Telluride for the past 15 years. This winter, he announced Easter Sunday would be his last leading the congregation. 

Bailey stopped by to chat with KOTO’s Gavin McGough; they touch on his years as pastor, his spiritual background, and his time working as a chaplain in the army. Bailey begins recalling his first time he came to Telluride — the day he and his wife moved.

Pat Bailey: I was still in the army as a chaplain. We were living up in Alaska at Fort Richardson, and so we flew down and rented a car in Durango and drove up. It was October. The story I often tell is we, as we were driving up, we stopped at Lizard Head Pass and got out and Deb and I were both crying. It was so beautiful. And so our first impression of this region and of Telluride was positive and it's been positive ever since. 

Gavin McGough: So you've been working in the army; how'd you find Telluride? How'd you come to Colorado and what was it like to kind of do the interview? 

PB: Actually, I was in Iraq at the time. So I was in a telephone tent full of soldiers talking to their lovers and I'm doing a job interview for a church to be a pastor! At that point they [Christ Church] had already been in the search process for about a year and a half, and it was still going to be about a year over a year before I'd retire from the army. So they said that they couldn't wait that long, you know? 

Then when I got back [from Iraq], I started applying at different churches while I was still in Alaska, and I saw that this position was still open. So I gave ‘em a call and they invited me down. And we – Deb and I – came and interviewed. You know, they're more, much more of a progressive congregation and I'm very much a progressive minister and an inclusive minister. So it's just been a great fit for.

GM: Could you talk a little more about that? Just the church community and this tradition of inclusivity. 

PB: You know, we're not against anybody. We're for folks, you know, and a lot of our folks grew up in very conservative places like I did. A lot of them had given up on religion and they found that in our community they could have a conversation, and nobody was going to tell them this is exactly how you have to think or do or be. And so, they found a place where they can reinvigorate their spiritual life. 

GM: On that note, take me into your spiritual background.

PB: I got involved with the Christian community actually in Spain. I was in the Air Force before I was in the army. And I was part of a Christian serviceman center, but it was very fundamentalist. It was very evangelical and it was also Pentecostal,  but it did offer me a new…a new kind of look at faith and a new surrendering of myself.

Around that time, Bailey suffered an injury during training which sidelined his army career. In the meantime, he recalls:

I went to Germany and there was a set of books that a Catholic chaplain had left a couple of years before, and they had not been able to get in touch with them or anything. They said, ‘if anybody wants these books, you can have them.’ And so I took all the books home. They were all the great classics of the Christian spirituality. St. John of the Cross; Teresa of Avila; Thomas Merton. It was just amazing. And, you know, I was in a kind of funky place because of my injuries and all that kind of stuff.

Those texts really reassured me that this was part of the spiritual path that often proceeds out of injury or hurt. And so from there I began studying the Christian mystics and the Christian spiritual teachers. And that's when I went on to pursue further degrees, post-graduate degrees related to those things.

GM: And once you were fully an army chaplain, how was that? What was that work like? 

PB: I really felt a call to that and I really, — I thought it was a great ministry. You know, chaplain ministry is mostly a ministry of presence. It's just being where the soldiers are, being willing to share their hardships and share the danger, and be present to them. And that's very much my sense of how God is present; you know, not intervening. 

GM: So for people who are hearing this and going: ‘Oh no, Pat's leaving, what can you tell them; what lies ahead for you? 

PB: I have to stay away from the church for a period of time, because we gotta – the next person needs a chance to establish themselves without the old guy hanging around, you know? But eventually I'll be able to come back and we'll certainly continue to participate in the church community here.

And we're gonna be in Rico! I've had a house out there for 14 years, and it's a cozy place for Deb and I to settle down and so I'm looking forward to that. 

That was Pat Bailey, reflecting on his spiritual life and career. Bailey's last day leaving the Telluride Christ Church will be March 31st, Easter Sunday.

A Pair of Skis for Hilaree

Off the sidewalk across from the Gondola Station at Oak Street Plaza, I meet Grayden Stanley O’Neill by a ski locker to check out his latest gear. They’re a pair of Blizzards released last fall, which show glow pink and blue with the mottled shades of watercolor. At the tips, a mountain peak emerges.

“I’m not sure 100% what the mountain is,” says O’Neill, “but I think it’s the Lhotse Mountain which is the fourth tallest in the world, because there’s a very obvious couloir through the top of it on one of the skis.”

Acclaimed ski mountaineer Hilaree Nelson, and her partner Jim Morrison completed the first ski descent of that couloir in 2018. For many, the mountain is synonymous with Nelson and her legacy. 

“I think it was one of the biggest milestones for her, and one of her happiest moments,” says O’Neill. 

Nelson, O’Neill’s mother, died in September 2022 while skiing on Mt. Manaslu in Nepal. The Blizzard skis are a tribute to Nelsons’ and a memorial. On the right ski, a lone howls into the mountain air. 

O’Neill points down below to the ski tips, where two wolf cubs are huddled, looking playfully down the slope. 

“It seems to me they would represent me and my brother. Or it might represent her passion for the mountains. The colors — the red — could be her passion for the mountains.” 

The skis have made a splash in Telluride, and though they’re a super limited edition release, with fewer than 200 made, quite a few of those pairs have made it to the Box Canyon that Nelson called home. 

“Already when I was home for winter break I saw a majority of people who knew her were skiing on them, and I thought it was super cool, and super lucky to be part of that,” says Maia Coe, who grew up in Telluride and now goes to school — and skis — in Bozeman, Montana. 

Many in Telluride who sought out a pair knew Hilaree personally, either as a close friend, or someone about town who was an inspiration: embodying the spirit of the mountain life. Nelson was a friend of Coe’s family when she was growing up, but, she says, Hilaree was also just Hilaree. 

“She’s the most badass woman ever, of course! And my mom would tell me all these stories about her, and we would watch all these films about her, and I just felt so lucky to know her as well,” says Coe. 

This sentiment resonated with many I spoke to about the skis, and the legacy of Nelson. Fern Garber is a Telluride local who knew Nelson around town, and first heard of the skis through her job at Jagged Edge. 

“Being a female skier, and being out in the mountains, and having those skis underneath my feet, it makes me feel like I have her with me.” reflects Garber. “Also, as a woman, just to be able to represent how amazing she was as an athlete and how hard she pushed and what she was able to accomplish during her career — I’m proud to represent that for her and carry on that part of her legacy.”

The watercolors which grace the limited edition skis are the work of Malia Reeves, a painter and ski patroller from Taos, NM. She was unsurprised to hear many were resonating with a sense of feminine power contained within the skies and within Hilaree’s legacy.

“As a professional full-time ski patroller in a very male-dominate dark space, I think about the women who have set that path before me all the time and Hilaree is definitely one of those women. Some of them are women from my own life, such as my mother, who was a ski patroller in the ‘80s,  and some of them are women like Hilaree who have shown not just me, but really the whole world, what is possible,” Reeves says. 

A picture book honoring Nelson titled Leader of the Pack was also produced as part of the project. A collaboration of Reeves, artist Soleil Patterson, and writer Kimberly Beekman, all proceeds from the sale of the book, and from the skis themselves, go to the Hilaree Nelson Fund, which Blizzard established to fund projects empowering women in the outdoors. 

Reeves says she originally designed the skis with just the lone wolf, but found it was too stark: too solitary to fit Nelson’s story. She added a whole pack of wolves, and then in the final design she says

“We decided just to go with two wolf cubs on the backs of the skis, which sort of represent her family and her two sons but also represent all of us who follow under her leadership.” 
Grayden O’Neill, back on Oak Street Plaza, felt similarly: the skis brought a sense of resonance, a sense of proximity to his mom. 

“It’s kind of memory that’s enclosed into people who knew her and loved her. Plus, when they’re in the mountains skiing it’s really nice to have a memory of her and imagine that you’re skiing with her.”

In Telluride, and slopes beyond, those memories of Nelson are alive and burning bright. 

Chef Iliana Regan finds inspiration in the Telluride winter

Chef Iliana Regan came up through the Chicago food scene, eventually opening her own restaurant in Lincoln Square — Elizabeth, which earned her a Michelin star, regarded as one of the most prestigious culinary honors. 

Regan now runs a bed and breakfast, the Milkweed Inn, in the nether-regions of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The inn shutters in winter, allowing Regan to focus on her writing, and her teaching, which for the last two winters, has brought her to Telluride’s Ah Haa School.

On a recent morning, while Regan prepped for a weekend of classes and pop-up dinners, KOTO’s Gavin McGough caught up with the chef and brings us this report.

Regan has left the kitchen lights off, and is doing prep work illuminated by the dim gray which permeates the windows of the Ah Haa School Culinary Classroom. A morning snow is falling in the street outside, and Regan is peeling carrots, roasting the dimpled leaves of a savoy cabbage between sheet pans to a rosy, burnished crisp, and watching the progress of a bread starter.  

Regan does not interrupt her work, and her hands are never idle. The kitchen hums with a fan, an oven heating, a timer blaring. She recalls her intimate relationship to food goes back all the way to childhood. 

“I was around food that was always seasonal,” she says. “They — my parents — were doing a lot of preserving and cooking from scratch. So it was like family functions and holidays and almost everything was always around food. You know, my dad butchering things in the garage and making homemade sausage and my mom canning from as early as I can remember.” 

That beginning has guided Regan’s ethos ever since. 

When she ran Elizabeth, in Chicago, she became known for working foraged ingredients and a devotion to process into her cuisine. 

But, says Regan, “even though I was still serving a lot of local stuff and things that were from the wild, I couldn't do it myself because I was running a small business. You know, I was doing sales taxes and payroll and all the things that are, like, super unfun.”

So Regan eventually retreated from the city to start the Milkweed Inn, where she serves only a dozen diners each weekend of the summer. Downsizing has allowed her to return to a sense of process and control. And yet, she recognizes it has not changed the nature of fine dining. 

“For me, when I'm really ultimately looking at it, it's an entertainment business,” says Regan. “Sure there's food for necessity, but the people who are having my food are doing it for entertainment and culture and lifestyle. There's a price tag on that, for me to be able to facilitate and work and do the things that I do.”

Regan continues, “if I can make some difference in some small ways, then, then that's good enough for me. Like when I was doing it at the restaurant, I think all of those little existential things would get to me and get me down. It just makes so much more sense to me to be having so much less waste, you know, and there's very little that I'm wasting at this point.”

What can Regan’s students and diners expect from a class or dinner at Ah Haa during her residency? 

“It'll be a small, intimate environment, both the classes and the dinners. The dinner will be like a little story of, you know, the progression of the flavors and some of the seasonality. I don't think anything's going to say: ‘this is absolutely Telluride! You're eating Telluride right now!’ — you know, like it is when I'm at the Milkweed Inn. But it's still going to be fun and delicious,” says Regan. 

Some things are definitely drawn from my heritage and food culture, which is based in Eastern European cuisine. So, people have a good time!”  

Roast cabbage leaves: prep work for one of Regan’s tasting menu dinners.

Reflecting, she continues, “I also love feeding people, food brings people joy. And especially eating with others and together, I think that pausing and having a meal, not only for nourishment, but enjoyment and with others, is always a special thing,” says Regan. “Because I’m an introvert, I would rather be the one cooking and giving people the thing than being a part of the thing myself.”

Watching the industry, Regan recognizes her struggle, and the struggle of the farmers, servers, cooks, and small business owners trying to make an impossible food system work. But, she says, the kitchen remains her place.

“I get to do all the hiding behind the scenes, in a way,” says Regan. “So sure I teach the classes and do these dinners, and it is kind of one-on-one me with people, but still I do kind of get to hide behind the scene. I think that's what will probably always keep me cooking and always keep me writing. It's my form of communication.”

Regan’s residency at the school runs through early February. She offers two pop-up dinners each week, and twice weekly classes. 

In the meantime, Regan is in the Ah Haa Kitchen, folding dough, and inventing menus from the offerings of the Telluride Winter.

Holiday Decadence with Galit Korngold

The week between Christmas and New Years brings to mind visions of postprandial rest, packages opened and the house strewn with idle family and kids off school. 

It is a fabulous time of year to cook, and to eat, and last week I headed out to Naturita, CO to see Galit Korngold at Wild Gal’s Market, wondering what all should we be cooking in this moment of quiet as we await the New Year.

“Wow!” she says, “I know that it’s a period of decadence. People are eating a lot of cookies, a lot of baked goods. That might wind down after Christmas as people eat more leftovers, just like we do after Thanksgiving.”

Wild Gal’s Market is Korngold’s grocery shop, recently relocated from Nucla to a sunny expanded storefront on Naturita’s main drag. Taking me around the shop, Korngold considers all the possibilities in store for a little wintertime cooking.

“A Tuscan Kale Soup with parmesan and maybe little sausage meatballs in it or something like that…A cheese fondue…A seafood stew — so with shellfish and all the good stuff in there. Yes!” says Korngold.

Come the New Year, Korngold adds, her customers will begin looking for a different sort of thing, as the holiday season — and its decadent menus — unleash us.

“It comes a time where people are looking to get more vegetables in their systems after the richness of the holidays. So things like kale and brussel sprouts, and salads. And they have their resolutions for the New Year to be better.”

Holiday delights at the shop.

But, at the heart of holiday cookery Korngold says every family tends to have its own traditions. Korngold, who is Jewish, reflects on her biggest December holiday: Hanukkah.

“So Hanukkah is a feast that celebrates light and the miracle of light: how the oil in the lamp lasted eight days instead of one day, when there was only enough oil for one day,” explains Korngold. “So Hanukkah food is fried in oil. That's the deal. So we have potato latkes.”

Mallory Rice, who helps run Wild Gal’s says Christmas Eve is marked in her family by a huge batch of posole:

“A pork posole with red chiles, and we always have a bunch of tamales too. So that’s behind my husband’s side of the family’s tradition forever. Before Colorado was a state that was their tradition,” says Rice, laughing.

Why is food so essential to the holiday experience? I pose the question to Galit.

“Anything I make — for example — that is a recipe I grew up with from my mother and that I make for my kids, it's love. It's a way of showing love, it's a way of bringing people together under a common delicious theme.”

With such difficulty in the world. Galit suggests the lessons of the holiday table are what we need now.

“More love, more tradition, more joy, more delicious food…healthy. Local!”

From Naturita, with well wishes for a decadent holiday, this is Gavin McGough.

Telluride’s Tofu Turkey the First of its Kind

There’s no question — turkey is the icon of the Thanksgiving table: no vision of the holiday is complete without a glistening bird carved tableside before gathered company.

For vegetarians hoping to partake in the Turkey feast a certain phenomenon arose in pop culture in the 1980s: the Tofurkey. To this day, tofu turkey roasts abound online and in food co-ops across the country, and the Oregon-based brand Tofurky sells an entire line of plant-based products from tofu deli slices to the roast itself.

One day browsing the footnotes of food historian Bill Shurtleff’s History of Soy Sauce — one of his classic books tracing the roots of soy products in North America — I encountered an interesting claim: the first Tofu Turkey was baked in Telluride in 1978.

Wondering ‘could it be true?’ I brought the question to Molly Daniel of the Telluride Historical Museum. But, browsing the archives, Daniel reports “I looked and couldn’t find anything, unfortunately.”

Still, she says such an innovation would’ve made sense in Telluride in the 1970s.

“The 1970s were kind of Telluride’s transitional years. People coming for the ski area — Joe Zoline of course opened the ski area in 1972,” explains Daniel. “There’s a lot of idealism, a lot of resourcefulness, and definitely a lot of self -governance which led to a creative atmosphere and kind of a counter-cultural vibe.”

The footnote, in a few paragraphs, named Matthew Schmit as the owner of a Tofu Shop located in the basement of the Sheridan Opera House which became the site of this Tofurky in question.

A scan of the KOTO archives actually bore fruit. In a newscast from July 1978 reporter Rita Robinson was on the scene to cover the shop’s expansion:

“We’re here in the basement of the Spectrum Shop where the Tofu Shop is located and we’re speaking with Matthew Schmit the owner of the Tofu Shop,” Robinson says.

Schmit, in the archival clip says the shop is expanding. “Initially we’re gonna put in a dining room so that people don't have to eat in the hallway anymore,” says Schmit.

“You’ve been open for nine months and can you tell me how it’s been going?” asks Robinson.

“It's just amazing, really fantastic,” Schmit says.

Through some Googling, I discovered a Tofu Shop in rural Northern California which listed a shop in Telluride as its predecessor. The proprietor? Matthew Schmit. I called the number on the website and lo and behold was greeted by a familiar voice.

“Yeah, my name is Matthew Schmit and I lived in Telluride from ‘74 to ‘79. In ‘77 sometime my friend Tim Mekky was making tofu. And he taught me how to make tofu. I really took a liking to it and together we opened a little tofu shop,” Schmit recalls.

Then in 1978, Schmit says, “myself and some friends and people at the tofu shop decided to have a big Thanksgiving feast. We decided to make a main dish with tofu. A friend of mine at the time was an artist named Craig Boyken who had been around Telluride for a number of years, and he was a painter and sculptor among other things.”

Boyken stacked two large block of fresh tofu together, and carved them up says Schmit “so it looked like a roasted turkey on a platter and I think he even put on some fake drumsticks or something like that. We baked that and it kind of melted down a little bit but it was still a big loaf…and we had a great feast!”

By 1980, Schmit had moved on from Telluride for Northern CA, but he stayed in the Tofu business and for years made Tofurkey dinners to sell to customers for their vegetarian feasts.

The Tofurky brand of food, which is now available nationwide, arose in 1980 in Oregon out of a little tofu shop there run by Seth Tibbot. But whatever the origin story of that Tofurkey is, Schmit assures me it happened in Telluride first.

“I met the guy that started that business and I know for a fact we were making tofu turkeys before they were. So I think our claim to being first is still valid,” Schmit says chuckling. “So there you go!”

In the 70s most tofu was coming from small operations — shops which popped up across the country informed by tofu makers in urban Chinatowns and Japanese immigrant communities.

Charting the course of the first Tofu turkey from a Thanksgiving in Telluride’s countercultural heyday, to the recognized, commercialized staple it is today, is to get a snapshot of Tofu’s mainstreaming into American Culture.

Here’s Schmit: “I have an interest in social science and stuff like that so watching tofu blend into American cuisine has been fascinating to watch and to be a part of. The whole thing has been successful because now you can pretty much find tofu anywhere.”

While Schmit himself no longer carves a tofurkey on thanksgiving day — having had his fill over the many years — he was generous enough to share the Tofu Shop’s recipe with us, which we’ve printed below:

The Tofu Shop’s Thanksgiving Tofurkey

5 pounds fresh, firm, organic tofu

Homemade Stuffing Seasoning:

3 Tbsp fresh chopped sage

2 Tbsp each: marjoram, thyme, savory or rosemary (half the amount if the herb is powdered)

1 Tbsp celery seed

1 tsp black pepper

Combine all ingredients.

Homemade Stuffing:

2 Tbsp canola or sesame oil

1 C diced onion

1 C mushrooms, sliced (wild or cultivated)

2 large cloves garlic, pressed

1 Tbsp Homemade Stuffing Seasoning

1/4 cup soy sauce or tamari

4 C whole wheat bread, cut into 1/2 inch cubes

1/2 C chopped parsley

Basting Liquid

1/4 C canola oil

1/4 soy sauce or tamari

Instructions

1. Mash tofu well in a large bowl. Transfer to a large colander lined with cheesecloth. Press down to even out and smooth tofu. Fold edges of cloth over tofu and place a 5-10 lb weight (such as a cast iron skillet) on top for 1 hour.

2. Prepare stuffing by heating oil in a skillet. Saute the vegetables briefly. Add seasonings, soy sauce and 1/4 C water. Simmer for 5 minutes until veggies are soft. Add bread cubes and parsley and stir. Add more water if dry. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

3. Hollow out tofu to within an inch of the colander, setting aside any removed tofu. Pack in the stuffing, then cover it with the reserved tofu. Pat surface until firm. Oil a baking sheet and flip the tofu onto it and remove the cheesecloth. Mix basting liquid and brush half of it onto the surface. Cover with foil and bake for 1 hour. Remove foil, baste again, and return to the oven to bake for another hour, until tofu is golden brown. Allow to cool slightly before carving.

Recipe developed by Linda Redfield, D.C., N.E. with Matthew Schmit of the Tofu Shop and Meredith McCarty (Healing Cuisine)

A Holistic Approach to Conflict and Trauma

By Julia Caulfield

Telluride’s Community Conversations dive into the tough topics.

A collaboration between the Wilkinson Public Library, Tri-County Health Network, and many other local organizations, the goal is to create a space to make the hard conversations, hopefully, a little easier.

New Book Investigates the Myths of the American West

By Julia Caulfield

In her new book “True West: Myth and Mending on the Far Side of America” author and historian Betsy Gaines Quamman examines the museum of myth that the American West has grown up in. KOTO’s Julia Caulfield spoke with Quamman and has this report.

Survey Looks Below Earth's Surface, from Above

This summer, and through the fall, residents of Telluride have noticed a periodic buzz in the skies above town. That buzz was coming from helicopters sent out by the federal government to take a birds-eye look at the minerals below earth’s surface.

Tien Grauch — a research geophysicist with the US Geological Survey — says if you spotted one of these helicopters, you might’ve noticed it carried a sort of nose.

“It is a sensor that sticks out from the front of the helicopter like a big boom, or stinger. And at the end of the stinger is a magnetometer,” Grauch explains.

Different rocks in the subsurface affect the magnetic field in the atmosphere, “and this sensor looks at those subtle variations and from that we can — by doing a bunch of analysis — understand what rock types lie below the surface, and where they extend,” Grauch continues.

So from above, the helicopter reads magnetic variations in the earth below with that big bee stinger wand. But wait, says Grauch, there’s more: “the other instrument is inside the helicopter, and this is the second method. It’s called Gamma-Ray spectrometery. It’s a crystal pack inside the helicopter, and it’s detecting gamma rays.”

Gamma rays come wafting off rocks as they slowly decompose — losing little particles — isotopes and atoms and sending them floating off into the air. If this all sounds high tech? Grauch says it’s nothing new. “These methods have been around for quite a while, especially the magnetic method. It started up in the 1940s. The mining industry has been using these methods for that many years to help them explore for minerals,” Grauch says.

However, Grauch explains, in the mid 20th century when companies were monitoring Colorado for mining assets, they were flying at high elevations, which compromised the data.

“The closer you get to the ground the better resolution you have of what’s there,” says Grauch. “Because it was so long ago, people flew up high, so the data we have is not very good. So the big push with the Earth MRI Program is to get these big data sets. So we start with places that might have some critical resources, and look in a big region around these areas to try to focus our efforts.”

So, that search for critical mineral resources has brought the US Geological Survey to the Colorado mining belt, with its rich and documented history of mineral claims — and the potential for untapped resources.

Those critical minerals range from the metals vital to manufacturing computer chips, solar panels, issues of national security, and so on. Funds flowing from congress are supporting the survey, which someday aims to create an updated map of mineral resources across the US.

And, with exploration, comes mining. Depending on what they find, could Southwest Colorado and Telluride see a revival of its mining past? Grauch says the information once collected, will be made public. Then, she says,“it will be up to the private sector to decide what they might pursue in terms of mineral exploration.”

The USGS completed its work above the Southwest Area this fall, and will move on to the Mid-Survey Area in the Spring of 2024.

The skies have quieted above Telluride in recent weeks, and the survey work over Southwest Colorado has been completed. Next spring, the USGS will move on to flights farther north, in the Crested Butte area. It will be a couple years before final data is released, but says Grauch:

“I have seen some of the preliminary results from the area and there are some bigger features we haven't seen before which we’re seeing in a regional sense. I don't know what it means in terms of mineral potential, it’s just interesting we’re seeing geology that we hadn't seen before,” Grauch notes.

Interesting, indeed — perhaps for mining companies and certainly for Coloradans hearing the buzz of not-so distant helicopters.

Author Aggie Unda-Tames Talks "Mariana"

By Julia Caulfield

It’s spooky season, but things can also get hot and spicy. With local author Aggie Unda-Tames’ new romance novel, “Mariana”, part of the Latin Lovers book series. KOTO’s Julia Caulfield spoke with Unda-Tames about the new book.

Aggie Unda-Tames’ new book “Mariana” is available on Amazon, and at her website aggieunda.com.

Finding Solace in "Obscurity"

By Julia Caulfield

Photo: Michael Mowery Media

In times of difficulty, San Miguel County Poet Laureate Joanna Yonder often turns to the written word.

With reports of violence in Israel and Palestine flooding news outlets and social media, she says poetry has been a space to feel and breathe.

Yonder stopped by KOTO to share a poem reflecting on Southwest Colorado’s recent eclipse and its juxtaposition against violence in other parts of the world.

Norwood Talks Land Use

Drivers traveling west on 145 across Wrights Mesa and into Norwood are greeted at the edge of town with a homespun billboard hanging on a fence — it pictures a goat and huge block text reading “Wrong Mesa Solar.” The billboard has stood there all summer and is a response to the Wrights Mesa Solar Project — a 600 acre solar development proposed by OneEnergy Renewables on Lone Cone Road just outside of Norwood.

When the project was introduced at a public meeting in mid-May, community members turned out in droves to voice their opposition to the project. The level of concern was so intense that San Miguel County issued a 6 month moratorium on all new commercial scale utility applications — including solar ones — in order to update its land use code.

That passed on May 24, recalls County Planning Director Kaye Simonson

“We put the moratorium into place. We’re not going to be done in time for that moratorium but we can extend it. It will be up to the Board of County Commissioners obviously to do that, but we do expect to extend it because we won’t have [the revisions] ready in time,” explains Simonson.

I spoke with Simonson at a county open house held this week at the Lone Library in Norwood to gather public input on possible land use code edits. The room was filled with infographics and maps, as well as invitations for public comment to be written on sticky notes and placed around the room.

Turnout was high for the two hour open house, and feels Simonson:

“People have some very — they’re very passionate about it. And they have a lot of ideas and a lot of thoughts and we’re trying to get them all put together.”

While the land use code updates are county-wide, east to west end, and not only focused on solar, but also other utility development, mining, logging, natural resources, and so forth — conversation centers around the Wrights Solar Development.

Charmaine Toomey remains shocked by the plan brought forth by OneEnergy Renewables

“I’m for solar, especially on individual homes and barns. As far as giant complexes in neighborhoods? Where they’re cutting down trees, ruining the habitat, ruining our water? It’s just not right to put a complex, an industrial complex, in a neighborhood,” Toomey says.

The Land Use Code currently has no specific regulations around commercial scale solar development, and Terry Lammers — whose family ranch is located on Lone Cone Road — says the county must prepare.

Federal and state renewable energy goals will make large-solar projects a common occurrence. Reacting to OneEnergy Renewables’ Proposal Lammers says “I think we’re just beginning to see the tip of the iceberg.”

Wendy Brooks is a resident of Telluride, but has family land in Norwood. She opposes the Wrights Mesa Solar Project, and feels the issue has a specific East County — West County divide.

“I think a lot of people in Norwood are suspicious that somehow it’s going to happen to them because all the county powers are in Telluride,” she says.

Brooks draws my attention to a map of San Miguel County hanging on the wall. It invites participants to put a sticker where they think solar development should go.

“The most common place listed is the Vallely Floor of Telluride. I mean there are 27 out of 40 that are all on the Valley Floor,” says Brooks.

A map asking workshop participants where they would like to see solar installed.

For Brooks, all those stickers on the Valley Floor — which is conserved piece of land and barred from solar development — points to a feeling amongst Norwood residents of a double standard, where Telluride’s open spaces are considered precious and unassailable, while land on Norwood’s Mesa is regarded as common, disposable.

But for others, such as Ophir Resident Kim Wheels, the whole conversation was a disturbing illustration of how difficult the green energy transition will actually be.

“We have climate action plans: a regional CAP, a Telluride CAP, a Mountain Village CAP, Norwood is part of this, Ophir is part of this, all of our regions are. And yet putting feet to the ground, and what it actually looks like to implement it, is a complete flip. And difficult,” she says.

The county has pledged a 90% reduction in greenhouse gasses over 2010 levels by 2050. But, as Wheels points out, how those goals will be implemented and where the infrastructure will go remains an enormous question, especially as the county looks to renew the moratorium for another six months.

Secretary of State Jena Griswold Talks 2023 elections

Election Day in Colorado is less than a month out — ballots should be in boxes by 7 PM on Tuesday, November 7th. Although this election deals mostly with local issues, Colorado Secretary of State Jena Griswold is still busy preparing. 

Griswold was in Telluride this weekend, and stopped by KOTO. She begins filling us in on the election 2023 details:

JG: We have a state-wide coordinated election, and I think it will be a great election just like all the elections we have. The county clerks have been working hard preparing ballots, testing all the equipment, doing everything they do to ensure security and accuracy. And then I’ll play the oversight role.

KOTO: As you like to point out, Colorado is consistently recognized for having some of the best run and most trusted elections in the country — what challenges remain and what have you been doing to improve our elections further?

JG: Over the last five years that I’ve been Secretary of State we’ve increased access. So, for example, we partnered with the tribes and saw a 25% increase in tribal voting, we passed parolee re-enfranchisement, automatic voter registration, guaranteed access on all public universities and tribal lands. We’ve also had to increase our security posture, the physical security around elections. We’ve seen threats to election workers skyrocket and Colorado has lost about one third of its elected county clerks in the last three years. Election administration is very hard. We had the pandemic, followed by the insurrection, and I’ve been very vocal on the subject: we cannot use threats of intimidation to force good people to step down.

KOTO: So the 2023 election is mostly focused on local issues, but 2024 is going to look a bit different…is your office already looking ahead?

JG: Absolutely — and, by the way — that might be the understatement of the day, that 2024 will look different from 2023. So 2024 is the Presidential Election, and we saw what happened last presidential election. The former President did everything he could to make it hard for Americans to vote in the middle of the pandemic, ultimately inciting the insurrection on the United State Capital. You’re listeners probably know what happened. And that attack on democracy from 2020 and January 6th has not stopped; it hasn’t. What I can tell your listeners is that I believe we’ll have great elections just as we always do. If there are incidents that happen — such as we saw in Mesa County with their security breach, or in Elbert County — I will act to make sure that every Republican, Democrat and Unaffiliated voter can cast a ballot in our elections.

KOTO: How does your work overseeing elections fit together with all the other issues that Coloradans are facing today?

JG: I just think it’s so important to recognize that a well functioning democracy is imperative for all the other things we care about. Because when extremists get elected either because democracy isn't quite working right, or because of dark money, it leads to the state we’re in today.

So I think we need urgent climate action right now; it should be coupled with good union paying jobs because people shouldn't be left behind, and we should be building the blueprint of what the future looks like for our state and the nation. The state is on a really good path but there are some big issues facing us. That calls for dynamic and bold leadership, and I am just so honored to be Secretary of State to work in a small way on these issues.

That was Colorado Secretary of State Jena Griswold, who stopped by KOTO to discuss her work on the 2023 election, and beyond.

In 'No Ordinary Assignment,' Journalist Jane Ferguson Considers her Path

A new memoir, titled No Ordinary Assignment, collects the memories and experiences of one public broadcasting's most intrepid correspondents. Jane Ferguson has covered conflict zones in the Middle East, Africa, and Europe for nearly two decades, and her work has made her a trusted, and decorated voice in journalism today. 

Ferguson was in Telluride this past weekend for the Original Thinkers Festival. Gavin McGough of KOTO and Rocky Mountain Community Radio sat down with Ferguson to ask her about her work. She begins by reflecting on her childhood in Ireland during the troubles.

Preserving the Fruit of Colorado's Harvest Season

In early September, as the summer and fall were beginning to greet each other in the mountain landscape, I heard rumor of fruit trees Down Valley — just below Telluride — that were filling out with a bumper crop of apricots. 

Tipped off by a forager in the know, I drove Highway 145 out of town one afternoon, pulled over alongside the road and the banks of the San Miguel River, and was greeted by old homestead trees planted and left long ago. And sure enough, their boughs are decorated up and down with soft orange fruit, blushing pink where they’ve been growing in the sun, and small enough to fit half a dozen right in the palm of your hand.

Within minutes, I’ve got a harvest, a whole bounty of small, half wild fruit. But what does one do with a bevy of apricots, or a whole bundle of fruit of any sort?

I knew just who to call: Kathleen Morgan, a peripatetic fruit-gatherer and local advocate of all things pickled and preserved. Morgan’s vast knowledge of the local fruit landscape comes originally from the community — word of mouth:

“Ten or twelve years ago I had a pickle and jam company. And by making products and being at the Farmer’s Market, people would come up to me and say: ‘Oh My gosh, have you seen such-and-such a tree? Have you gotten this fruit? Would you come and pick my apple tree?’”

Meeting those fellow enthusiasts, Morgan says, “opened my eyes to all this fruit that’s around us, just a little bit below Telluride. In Telluride, you can get crabapples in a good year as long as there’s not a freeze in the spring. And then people told me about the apricots in Placerville, and they only happen on a good year: on a year when there’s enough moisture and they don't get frozen. I mean they can get frozen in June and then there are no apricots.”

This gorgeous outpouring of apricots is a special moment, a bounty fed by an enormous snowpack this winter, spared a late, deadly frost and nursed all summer by long days of sun.

Faced with too much fruit to simply eat fresh, Morgan takes the season’s bounty and puts it up for the long months to come.

“So, say for example I’m making a peach sauce or peach-apricot sauce or some applesauce. I’m going to cook that fruit down and add some spice to it. I want it at a good temperature — not a roiling boil — but I want it at a good simmer. And I use a metal funnel and put it into jars.”

When the jam is made and the jars are hot and full, it’s time to preserve them.

“I have a water bath that sits on two burners, it’s rectangular,” Morgan continues. “It comes out of the Amish Community in Pennsylvania. I heat up water to a simmer. You don’t need a rolling boil.”

Then, depending on altitude, can size, and the product in the jars, Morgan lets the jars simmer for however long the recipe instructs. The heat kills bacteria and activates the seal on the jar. With scalding hot water, tongs moving slippery glass and anxiety about bacteria, the process can be intimidating.

“People come to canning with a lot of fear that they’re going to blow things up or kill people. All good fears to have!” says Morgan.

But a good recipe can go a long way.

“At the base, I have recipes that come from State Cooperative Extensions. They’re the most reliable source of science-based preservation methods,” says Morgan. “People say ‘Oh, I have my great-grandmother’s pickle recipe.’ And I say, ‘that’s great but let's look at what modern day science can tell us.”

You can find information about your region’s university extension office at extension.colostate.edu.

Armed with a bounty of information and a bevy of fruit, you can stock your pantry all fall for the long cold months to come.

David Sussman is 2023’s Volunteer of the Year

Each year, after reviewing nominations form the community, the Telluride Foundation names a ‘Volunteer of the Year,’ to recognize an individual who has “unselfishly contributed to Telluride’s regional community through volunteerism and service”

This week, the Foundation has named David Sussman its 2023 ‘Volunteer of the Year’ for his years of dedication to athletes in the Telluride Adaptive Sports Program and his impact on hundreds of youths.

Sussman first came to Telluride in the 1990s as a tourist, and he learned to ski here with TASP both on sit ski and a 4-track. A viral infection left Sussman paraplegic at the age of twelve, and discovered skiing in his adult life. Eventually, that love brought him to move to Telluride full-time.

Sussman sat down with KOTO News to reflect on his volunteerism with TASP. He begins by recalling how he first came to be a coach and instructor for other paraplegic skiers. It happened when he was living on the East Coast, and was skiing one day in Massachusetts.

David Sussman: A woman came up and said ‘hey, can I talk to you?’ And I said, ‘oh I’m sorry did I cut you off?’ And she said, ‘no, I want to help you with your skiing and then I want you to come and teach others how to ski.’ And I was like ‘wow!’ So that was a real turning point for me and that was in 2009.

Eventually, Sussman did make it back to Telluride. Moving to town in 2015 he worked in the lodging industry, skied, and volunteered with TASP. Then, during COVID, his doctor informed he was immunocompromised, and should leave work for his safety.

Sussamn continues: It took a couple of weeks, but I was able to retire and I went on Social Security Disability after a 40-year work career. But it gave me the opportunity me to dedicate basically the rest of my life to TASP. So since that time I have been a year-round volunteer with Telluride Adaptive.

KOTO News: What has your work with Telluride Adaptive been like; what are some of the highlights of those years?

DS: The real highlight of my time with TASP, kind of my favorite thing to do with TASP is called “Enabling All.” It’s a program TASP has had for twenty years whereby we do a day in the school and talk with [students] about disability awareness, disability etiquette: how to speak with people who have disabilities, how to ask if they need any help, how to go about that. As well as underline the fact that although people with disabilities look different, we’re doing the same things as able-bodied people.

KOTO: Before your disability at age twelve, had you been a big athlete?

DS: No sure, I’ve always considered myself a kind of marginal athlete. I did little league as a kid. I grew up in Southern California, so I was a skateboarder. I wouldn’t say I was the most talented out there, and ironically I do now consider myself a pretty solid skier. This past winter I was able to — with a group of TASP and non-TASP people — get up and ski a Mountain Quail which is a pretty significant hike-to.

KOTO: Right now you're actually living in California, although you do have plans to be back in Telluride this winter — will you talk a little bit about the challenges you’ve faced staying in this community?

DS: Unfortunately, I’ve had some real struggles finding wheelchair-accessible housing, and I’ve lived in nine or ten different places in my nine years in Telluride which is a real drag. It's actually taken a toll on my body: living in basements, using my crutches when I'm not supposed to be using my crutches anymore. Sadly there are 58 wheelchair accessible houses in Telluride (excluding Mountain Village), and by my count all of them are occupied by able-bodied people. I realize there aren’t a lot of disabled people living in mountain towns. But I think Telluride can do better.

KOTO: Despite those challenges you’ve become an integral part of this community — this recognition obviously shows that — what was it like to be named volunteer of the year?

DS: At first I was overwhelmed. I'm very aware of the fact that the Foundation generously recognizes someone in the community and I know a number of people who have won this in year’s past. They're the tops, in terms of people who give of themselves. And as far as volunteering goes, my work with TASP has been the most fulfilling job I’ve ever had. It fills me in a way I can’t explain. It’s hard to explain. Each year, I go to the orientations where we try to recruit new volunteers and I share my story and say it's hard work but you’re going to love it, and we have a terrific team of volunteers.

That was 2023 Volunteer of the Year David Sussman discussing his work with the Telluride Adaptive Sports Program.

The Telluride Foundation will celebrate Sussman’s work on October 26th with a party at the Ah Haa School. Sussman will be in attendance and all are invited. The October event runs from 4 to 7 pm.

Law Enforcement Searches for Armed Suspect

By Julia Caulfield

Law enforcement are still searching for an armed suspect that sent Telluride into lockdown on Tuesday night.

Anyone with information on the incident or suspect are asked to call (970) 249-9110. Tips can be left anonymously.

30 Years of Bookbinding in Telluride

Eli Ball is closing in on the final touches of a book he’s spent the last two weeks painstakingly  constructing. Ball is a student at the American Academy of Bookbinding, and over the last couple years he’s been coming from his home in St. Louis to learn the craft of bookbinding at the AAB’s studio in Telluride.

“When I tell my friends about it they’re like: ‘you’re pilgrimaging to a monastery to make books or something.’ And it kind of feels like that. You’re trekking over here,” says Ball, “you’re staying in a beautiful mountain-filled town, and you get to make books. And you get to do it for two weeks and really just focus on it. It feels a bit like a meditation, y’know?”

Further down the workbench, Bonnie Thompson Norman is also a bookbinding pilgrim — she hails from Seattle. Why come to Telluride to learn the craft? Norman says the school trains the best of the best.

“The graduates of this program are producing books at the highest level of art,” explains Norman. “They come at it with a sense of design, a sense of accomplishment; people make paper, people create leather for the binding of books, or people create decorative papers for use in the binding. All of those are really elevated crafts.”

Taken together, that level of focus, design and tradition combine books which are in some ways works of art, one of a kind, and bearing the touch of the maker. Around the studio are leather bound volumes,their dimension stretching past a foot, a foot and a half, and their covers inlaid with hand stitched designs. Peter Geraty, a longtime teacher at the AAB puts it as such:

“When you think about reading a book, you might think about curling up on the couch with a cup of coffee. The books that people produce here demand a different approach, and anyone can see that when they see the book. They know this is not a ‘cup o’ coffee’ book.” Geraty explains.

A workspace at the school.

And bookbinders have been coming here to learn the craft now for 30 years — the school opened in 1993, and this fall the school is celebrating its milestone anniversary.

For a number of years, the bookbinding program was a part of the Ah Haa School. Daniel Tucker, the Ah Ha's founder, was friends with the internationally known binder Tini Miura, who began traveling to Telluride to teach classes. Such was her legend in the bookbinding community, explains the AAB’s Managing Director Chip Schilling:

“from the beginning people started coming from around the country and around the world to study with her.”

And, the school has stayed here ever since. It’s moved a few locations over the years, now set up in a renovated former horse stable on Willow Street, where the windows open to the sounds of the quiet street, the mountain air, and soft tones of birdsong in the day outside.

The sense of pilgrimage, the devout focus, the essence of magic which naturally exists in this landscape — all have made the experience of studying in Telluride unique. But, recognizes Geraty, there is a downside to being an internationally recognized school in such a far-flung location,

“Because you can't get there from here, it's expensive. And it’s something we’re having to contend with.” he says. “We’re one of maybe three schools you can go to, in the world, so if you want to go to the highest level of training, this is where you come.”

Students brave the housing crunch, the altitude, the expense, the isolation. Don Glaister, at 78, has been binding for far longer than the AAB has been around. He directs the Fine Binding Program at the school and spends some 8 weeks each year in Telluride teaching courses. Of his students, Glaister says:

“I think they’re kind of like searchers; seekers. And sometimes it just really clicks, and then they’re like junkies — it’s over. They’ll go however far they have to go. I mean that was like me. I was just a junkie like everybody else,” Glaister recalls.

As the AAB marks its 30th year, Schilling says the mission and the ethos of this tiny school high in the mountains all relates back to that community of searchers, of bookbinders.

“If the AAB can be a resource for them to move forward in their careers and support them, that’s what we need to be — is just an advocate for all the binders in the world,” he says.

And for that world-wide community of craftspeople, they’ll always have a home here in Telluride, should they be able to make the journey.

New Film Uncovers the Story of a Pianist Lost to History

A new film from the creative collaborators Javier Mariscal and Fernando Trueba is premiering at 2023’s Telluride Film Festival. Both men have storied careers — Trueba’s films have collected a slate of international honors while Mariscal’s multi-disciplinary visual practice has made him a major figure in the design world.

Their latest work is born from a passion for Bossa Nova music, and for the life-giving powers of illustration and animation. While in town for the Film Fest, Mariscal and Trueba took some time to stop by KOTO and discuss this latest work: They Shot the Piano Player.

Amidst Hollywood Strikes, Telluride Film Fest Marks its 50th

I’m outside the Brigadoon in Telluride — the big white tent which serves as the hub of all things Film Fest. It’s Wednesday afternoon, and the films have yet to start rolling, but on the occasion of its fiftieth, TFF has thrown open the Brigadoon doors, released its lineup a day earlier than usual, and is dropping programs in the hands of eager film - aficionados.

Gary Shapiro, keeps a place in Telluride, but like most of the crowd, he hails from Los Angeles.

“And, you know, we’ve been coming here for thirty years,” he says, “and the festival has always been amazing and it's getting better all the time. And I know there are some really great films coming this year.”

While Gary is watching films, his wife Jane says she’ll be focused on something else:

“I'm always excited about the film festival because I like to draw the directors. I have a collection of about 500 directors I've drawn over the years. I’m a doodler!” she says.

Breaking out her book, Jane has sketches upon sketches of notables from over the years. We spot a prior sketch of a festival regular: the director Alfonso Cuarón, who will be in attendance this year.

“Yes,” Jane confirms: “a favorite.”

But, the regular buzz around stars descending on Telluride has largely taken a back seat this year. The film industry has been boiling all summer with a double strike, as actors and writers have walked off the job demanding better work conditions.

Major studios, some of them TFF sponsors — Netflix, Amazon, Sony — haven’t budged, and in the meantime actors are barred from promoting their work. Any talent in attendance will thus be keeping a low profile. Shapiro, who has worked in the industry in the past, is hoping to see some developments

“The studios must give in,” he says, “and I’m in the minority on this, but I think after Labor Day we’re going to see a settlement and the workers are going to get a significantly better deal.”

Make no mistake, despite the distinct shadow of the strike, the festival is charging on. Austin Sipes, is in from Santa Monica, and he runs the festival’s student symposium — part of its education and outreach initiatives. For sipes, there’s nothing like it:

“The access you get to filmmakers here and the curation of films, no one’s on par with it. And of course, it’s a beautiful town,” says Sipes.

Another thing the strike won’t change? For this Los Angeleno, it's the scenery:

“Natalie Cammot is my name, and – it’s funny – for me when I come, I get most excited about coming to Telluride and seeing the locals here and the beauty of the mountains.”

Mollie Galetto is not from LA. she’s from Telluride, and has a message for other Telluridians:

“Oh my gosh. Get a program and look at it! Find the free stuff, and go!” she instructs. “Never forget to go to the outdoor theaters because they’re the best. And they’re free!”

Indeed, this year the festival has almost doubled its free offerings, with nightly, un-ticketed shows in both Town Park and Elks Park. You could see the premiere of Wildcat, Ethan Hawke’s biopic exploring the life of writer Flannery O’Connor. You could catch a conversation between the festival guest directors, ranging from novelist Rachel Kushner to Oscar-winner Steve McQueen; settle in for a Pedro Almodovar short film; or catch a concert from musician-of-the moment, Jon Batiste.

And all weekend, the show will go on.

Grazing Film Ambles into Town

Peter Byck has been a filmmaker for decades. Along the way, he’s become a professor at Arizona State, an advocate for climate solutions, and a frequent collaborator with and communicator for the science community. 

Ten plus years ago he became interested in how soil will affect climate change, and in how cattle grazing patterns could spell trouble, or present a solution, for the global climate picture.

Amidst his curiosity, Byck says,

“I felt this need for science. I could see it; there was very little science done on this type of grazing, but I found a lot of scientists who wanted to do that.”

His curiosity led to conversation, and those conversations led to a meeting of minds in 2014 at Arizona State University.

“And a lot of people in the room had not met other scientists who were doing other types of work who made up the ecosystem of science we put together to study the ecosystem of farms,” says Byck. “Soil experts, bug experts, bird experts, grazing experts, greenhouse gas experts…”

Those scientists began to run models — they traveled across the country and made observations, and collaborated with farmers. In the meantime, Byck began to roll tape, documenting the process of inquiry.

That process takes time: in this case ten years. Byck amassed a lot of tape.

“It’s a decade. It’s crazy…I know I wouldn’t have started if I knew how long it was going to take. But that’s just the way things seem to be,” Byck says.

The result is a full scientific account of a rotational grazing technique which Byck details in a four part documentary series titled Roots So Deep. The film follows scientists and farmers adopting this new grazing pattern, which Byck calls Adaptive Multi-Paddock, or AMP, grazing.

“And the adaptive way is basically emulating the way bison moved across the great plains,” says Byck. “So what they would do, is they’d move in one herd, they’d be packed tight together, they’d eat half the forage, because that’s the part that was tasty. And then they’d move on for more food and leave the other half of the forage there.”

“They’d stomp on it which keeps the soil cool, and keeps the microbes in the soil thriving, and their manure and their urine were evenly spread,” he continues.

This technique prepares pasture land to rebound and regrow vigorously, as grasses thrive on the manure left behind and draw down carbon into the soils. Although AMP grazing differs from conventional farming, it’s by no means “new.”

Byck points out it largely just copies how Bison would move across the great plains, and follows the guidance of nature.

“It’s not prescriptive. It’s not ‘you do this on May 5th and this on May 10th.’ It’s adaptive and working with nature,” says Byck. “And the farmers, when they adopt it, they love it…they love it”

Byck has now taken the project on tour to share the findings of the study, and screen Roots So Deep across the country.

Next Monday, August 21st he will be in Telluride at the Sheridan Opera House to share the work, in collaboration with Mountafilm, Telluride Science, and the Telluride Institute. The free screening begins at 6:30pm with a Q&A to follow.

And, Byck adds,

“I’ll be around all weekend. If people see me on the street, we can talk!”

After that, the film tour moves on to its next stop, perhaps, at greener pastures.