Click here to order This Cursed Valley.

“This Cursed Valley”

A very real, imaginary place

By Larry K. Meredith

Down the road, south of I-70 and Glenwood Springs, east of Aspen, hard to get to, harder to leave.

The Crystal River Valley grabs visitors by the throat and won’t let go.

Rooted in city life but helplessly lured by the siren song of Mt. Sopris and the Elk Range, people have been known to do things completely out of character. Like going to extremes in figuring ways to make a living here and never leave. Like dying their hair red and going into real estate. Like buying a laptop and trading stocks at the kitchen table. Like working for minimum wage.

It’s the curse, of course.

You don’t know about the curse?

Read my novel, This Cursed Valley.

The “cursed valley” of the title is, indeed, a very real, imaginary place.

The story is true, every bit of it. Except for the fictional parts.

The characters actually lived. Some of them are two or three individuals who puddled into one person in the novel. Others appear whole and true. But all of them lived—on the pages, in our minds, in actions real or imagined.

This is historical fiction, folks.

Some Answers

I am delighted when readers have questions about the book. What writer doesn’t want to talk about his or her work? Here are some of the questions. And some answers.

Why did you write this book?

Because I couldn’t not write it. Besides, somebody had to do it. Some stories absolutely must be told. They beg to be written down. This is one of them.

My roots in the Crystal Valley date back to the 1950s. Even before then, my Kansas family’s two-week summer vacation was spent, invariably, up the Frying Pan. There is a photo on our wall of me and a cousin sitting along the river at a spot that is now at the bottom of Ruedi Reservoir.

Later, after my folks bought a vacation place in Redstone, I began to learn about the history of the area.

When somebody told me of the curse, I was hooked.

Is the curse real?

The legend says it is. Certain events dating back to 1879 seem evidence enough that it is real, and working.

The Ute Indians certainly had reason enough to place a curse on the valley, and on other places as well. Readers have called my attention to the fact that other Colorado locales claim to have been cursed by the Utes. I have no doubt that they were. I also have no doubt that the Crystal Valley’s curse has worked better than any Ute curse in any other place. You may define “better” in your own terms.

The locals insist that in 1879, as the Ute Indians were being chased from their ancestral hunting grounds by the U.S. Army, an Indian holy man placed a curse on the secluded valley, a curse that persists to this day. Despite discoveries of gold, silver, coal and marble, the valley never rivaled the wealth of nearby Aspen. Despite great wealth, attempts to create a Utopia in the small village of Redstone were unsuccessful. Despite visits by such luminaries as John D. Rockefeller and Teddy Roosevelt, the valley remained largely unnoticed. And despite the use of

Crystal River Valley marble for the Lincoln Memorial and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the quarries are today, though open, little more than nearly inaccessible tourist attractions. The reason, many say, is the Ute curse.

The continuing saga of the Redstone Castle is a case in point. Built early in the 20^th century, the “castle” has been vacated, sold and resold, used as a bed and breakfast, and finally was most recently part of a scam in which a team of con artists bilked unwary investors out of millions of dollars. Do a search on Google for more information. Or check out http://www.coloradopreservation.org/epp/sites/epp_04_06.html.

So, this cursed valley is a real place?

Yes.

How much of the story is true?

As much of it as you want to believe.

Visit Redstone and Marble. Walk through the remains of Crystal City. Drive the Lead King Basin loop (carefully, in a four-wheel drive vehicle). Stare incredulously at the Devil’s Punch Bowl near Schofield Pass. The truth of the story lies there. It is in the cold depths of the marble quarry, the precipitous rise and fall of the road to Crystal, the curious beehive-shaped coke ovens lining the road at Redstone, the red cliffs above the town, the “castle” waiting patiently a regal mile to the south.

Many of the names are real—J. C. Osgood, Lady Bountiful, Teddy Roosevelt, Doc Holliday, others.

The historical events happened as described. Some of the characters who people the novel and drive its story may well have lived. Others are real in ways important to me and, I hope, to most readers.

Is Owl Point a real place?

Yes. To me.

There is a physical place, an imposing and majestic part of the red cliffs that give Redstone its name, that I can point to and say “This is Owl Point.”

From the porch of our place in Redstone, Owl Point is framed perfectly between the soaring branches of cottonwood trees that line Redstone Boulevard. For years I stared at, and studied, the point. When you understand it, when you give yourself over to the mystical and powerful beings who inhabit it, you see and hear things that others cannot.

The glow of life that emanates from the point and signals pleasure or pain at the events below.

A sound that you feel more than hear. A throbbing intensity that measures, and reacts to, good and evil.

Tiny firefly-like beings, harbored there on the point, who are, nevertheless, free to spread themselves throughout the valley—watching, warning, protecting, or not.

On the other hand, Owl Point could be considered a metaphor for that secret place that each of us has, or longs to have, where we go to be alone, to make decisions, to think, to reflect, to prepare. Perhaps deep within our souls there is that wonderful, creative lair that is our own Owl Point.

What’s next?

A screenplay. Perhaps another novel.

A writer writes.

Click here to order This Cursed Valley.