Dwelling on History (and Blogging) at Paint Mines Interpretive Park

PAINT MINES, COLORADO — Sometimes the best indicator that you’re headed to an unforgettable destination is the road you take to get there. So when our tires struck the dirt washboard that is better identified as County Road 77 east of Colorado Springs, our bright orange Honda Element bucking off its ridged surface, we knew this remote territory we’d woken up to arrive to by first light would be no exception.

Pro Tip: Save time and park at the lot labeled “Overlook Parking.” It’s hard to tell at first, but this is actually the most direct access to the rock formations. It’s deceptive as there’s another parking area that looks a bit more like a main entrance, but unless you want to hike a mile to the site, this is your best bet.

Discover the Paint Mines

Paint Mines Interpretive Park in El Paso County, Colorado is a hidden gem that once you see images of it for the first time (or better yet, in person) instantly ignites curiosity. A canyon drops away from a scrubby grass slope where unmarked paths allow you to wander among chalky, pale rock formations ribboned with soft magenta and coppery orange bands. The park is named for these famously hued clays, the result of oxidized iron compounds layered within.

And while this place is a draw for photographers, artists and social content creators alike, the eye candy qualities aren’t the only reason to explore here. Among them, is its history.

Pro Tip: DO NOT bring your dog. No pets are allowed anywhere in the park. There are no shortage of bummed out dog owner reviews on travel websites like TripAdvisor. So save yourself the grief—and the wasted trip—and leave your cute pup at home.

Inside the Mind of a Blogger

According to the park’s website, there’s evidence that Paleoindians lived among the Paint Mines territory nearly 9,000 years ago. And since that time, people have visited the area to collect the clays for use in paints to produce ceramics.

For me, this is especially curious as I’ve been in the same room with several native arts ceramics, and I now have to wonder if any of them, even in part, originated from these brightly colored clays.

You see, despite what others may have you believe, blogging doesn’t always produce an instant income stream. It’s a bit of a long game that balances content creation with other relationships, affiliations and brand opportunities that (hopefully and eventually) will earn money to support and continue your efforts.

I mention this because as a source of supplemental income I’m currently working on a part-time project at the Denver Art Museum digitizing their entire historic photographic collection. That’s pretty much a fancy way of saying that I’m scanning all of their old negatives. It’s highly glamorous, I know, transferring thousands of films of artwork into digital form. Extreme tedium aside, it’s a critical role, and in my time there I’ve come to appreciate not just the beauty of things but the history behind them.

And as I stand among the Paint Mines in the sub-freezing pre-dawn chill that is typical to Colorado, wishing I’d brought a proper coat, I’m not just considering the compositions and light in my photographs. I’m dwelling on how I haven’t always been so in tune to these sorts of appreciations.

Finding a Way to Connect

My first travel experience was living in Oxford, England at the age of 19 as part of a study abroad program. And even though we had excellent guides and teachers during our time there, I found it hard to relate to the places I was seeing. I was simply too young, and I didn’t know enough yet. And to be honest, I didn’t give a f— about history. To this day, I pretty much have to shove it down my own throat… especially if we’re talking about war history. Ooof.

Part of being a good storyteller is about embracing the truth about the people and places we explore. But, for me, it’s also about finding a way to connect. Otherwise, they’re just stops on a map and updates on an Instagram feed.

Navigating Being a Creator

Much of being a creator these days seems to revolve around chasing likes and follows. And as a self- professed former social media hermit, it took me a while to understand the importance of growing a genuine audience. But I also think that much of the blog content I’ve come across lately tends to be sloppily executed text that not only feels meaningless but even makes you question whether the author was even there.

I am so conscious (and paranoid) of not repeating this practice that I’m constantly thinking about ways to strengthen what I’m already doing. Part of that is being prepared. Before arriving here, I read every resource and article I could find about this place which definitely helped in connecting the dots in my own history and appreciation of it.

Standing on the edge of a burnt orange ridge at sunrise, I watch as several other visitors climb down into the caverns of color that continue to draw so many here. I wonder what they might know and what their own impressions or inspirations might be. I see a younger couple take a few quick cell phone images and then rush back to their car. (Admittedly, it was pretty damn cold.) Across the ridge, a much older man mounts a camera on a behemoth of a tripod where he remains for several frigid minutes, steady and unmoving.

Pro Tip: If you’re planning to photograph the site, it’s important to note that the colors change dramatically once the sun hits the formations. As the entire area is sunken into a low canyon, there will be opportunities to photograph them in both direct light and also open shade. The warm light will alter the pastel hues and pretty much strip them of muted tonality. It depends on which effect you’re looking for. We were happy to see both. Either way, don’t expect to have the place to yourself. By 8:00 AM, and granted it was a Saturday, there were half a dozen or so photographers and videographers roaming area.

Published December 12, 2019 on Because She Can Travel.