Before I get into this story, I want to acknowledge something important: I won’t be sharing exact camp spots or GPS coordinates here. As much as I want to inspire adventure, I also want to protect the places I love from being overrun or misused. If you ever truly want the details, message me directly.
That being said, as my mind mulls over the beauty I was exposed to this weekend, I can’t get a small place on the map out of my mind.
The Nature of Social Media
If you live here in Colorado, or if you follow the practice of leaf peeping in the West, you might have heard that the entire town of Georgetown was overrun with peepers looking for the Instagram-worthy fall foliage that the Centennial State is known for.
I know you can’t see me, but if you could, you would see the largest eye roll and smirk on my face. I have a love-hate relationship with nature’s relationship to social media.
Yes, I love seeing where other people have explored and following travel accounts. But I cringe at the thought of those social media users who dress up and travel just to take a photo for more followers, without ever enjoying the great outdoors.
There are so many other beautiful places in Colorado that you can take in the vibrant fall colors, but the best are more off the beaten path.
Last weekend I traveled with some family and friends over to the Crested Butte area. This town is known as the Wildflower Capitol of Colorado and has the same issue that Georgetown has in the fall with the wildflower enthusiasts in the spring.
Snagging a campsite in the spring takes extreme planning, and likely taking a day or two off work to go in the middle of the week to snag a campsite early.
As we climbed out of Buena Vista and over Cottonwood Pass, the fall traffic seemed to die down. We made our way past Taylor Reservoir and down a two-lane highway that follows the Taylor River.
The scene reminds me of the roads that chase along the Salmon River in Idaho. The Aspens were Golden, and the leaves were starting to fall over the black asphalt. The lack of traffic and the yellow greeting confirmed what I hoped was true.
Crested Butte
Although out of the way and admittedly harder to get to than Georgetown, Crested Butte, and a secret little town nearby, it has to be one of the best places to peep leaves in Colorado.
As you pull into Crested Butte, the town reminds you of a hallmark TV set. Walkable streets, people walking from mercantile to mercantile, and Victorian and rustic style homes gathered together to make up a small city grid. We passed through town in pursuit of making camp and hopefully dinner before dark.
A friend of ours had staked a campsite the night before, up in the Paradise Divide area. They were waiting for us to arrive at camp with much-needed firewood, a can of brake cleaner, and some shared meals.
The Road through Pittsburgh
The road through and above Pittsburgh, Colorado, is not for the faint of heart. If you aren’t used to the shelf roads that Colorado exposes the overlanding community to, this one can be a bit nerve-racking. This is the kind of road that make new comers swallow hard and hold on to the handles inside of the fourbie. I have to admit, I knew the route from our spring trip and wasn’t looking forward to it, but after what I faced in the San Juans recently, this road seemed like a piece of cake.
While in the valley portion of the track, I pointed upward to the ridgeline to my cousin, who was riding with me. I think he thought I was joking when I said, “That up there is where we are going.” He was a good sport and seemed to trust me as we started the ascent.
We arrived at camp in plenty of daylight for my Uncle to fanboy over my friends’ overland rig setup. He had followed them on Instagram a long time ago, not knowing we knew each other, and then one day saw a video with all of us in it together. You can follow them here: Rocky Trail Roamers
We ate dinner as the sunlight faded around the campfire. We had Fried Sausage and Pepper Orzo. (Link to come soon) It was hearty, warming, and a great choice for a cold fall evening. As the sun faded, the chill became downright cold, and we all went to bed early to get warm under our sheets.
Schofield Pass and Emerald Lake
The next day, we packed into the GX and I drove my Uncle, Aunt, and Cousin down the mountain through Schofield Pass. The Paradise divide area had the loveliest red cinnamon color ground cover in the valley, and climbing up the sides of the mountains. As we reached the area near Emerald Lake, a swarm of fall foliage enthusiasts was taking photos over the lake’s almost mini-golf course blue water.
Earlier this year, we swam in that cold alpine lake after driving a road that is somewhat submerged under the lake after the snowfall melts and fills the lake above the graded area.
The peepers didn’t seem to care that we needed the road to traverse above the lake as they stood still, taking photos. After a few minutes of patiently waiting for the best Instagram photos of the season to be taken, we passed that area and made our way down to one of the coolest, still intact, ghost towns of Colorado to procure coffee.
History Break: The “Ghost Town” of Gothic, Colorado
As you come down the pass, you cross over a cattle guard and a fence line nestled into a grove of yellow aspens. The sign neatly reads, Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory, and it sets a bit of a mysterious tone as you enter what looks to be a somewhat deserted, somewhat occupied small mining town of Gothic, Colorado.
I had been there previously in the spring to inspect the welcome center and gift shop. This is a must-stop if you are in the area, but the town wasn’t overly occupied like before, and it was nestled into the bright yellow foliage that so many of us wanted to see.
Before the town existed, this area of the East River Valley was part of a seasonal hunting ground of the Ute people. The cliffs and dark, brooding profile of the mountain nearby reminded the early settlers of the Gothic Style European Cathedrals, earning the mountain and then eventually the town the name “Gothic.”
In 1879, the town of Gothic took off when an explosion at the Sylvanite Mine sent strands of “wire silver” over the terrain. The drama of the discovery and the explosion drew in prospectors. The small town of Gothic bloomed, and a post office was founded that same year.
Silver Excitement
A notable visitor in 1880 gave the town more prospecting prestige. Recently out of office, former President Ulysses S. Grant stopped in Gothic, attracted by the silver excitement. President Grant commented on the beautiful scenery of the mountain and valley surrounding the town. His presence drew even more prospectors to the area and gave the town a sense of legitimacy.
Here I was, standing in the middle of a town where a president who had served our country almost 150 years ago had once stood and admired the town and the scenery, like I was doing in that moment. I often reflect on the fact that George Washington didn’t even know that Colorado existed when he formed our nation.
That same year, Horace Tabor, Colorado’s Silver Baron, invested in the Elk Mountain Bonanza, the town’s newspaper. He struck it rich in Leadville in the 1870s. He was known for his lavish spending and was part of Colorado’s Gilded Age elite. He also became a U.S. Senator.
By 1881, Gothic was said to have over four hundred buildings, including eight saloons, a newspaper, and a dance hall. Some sources have estimated the population to be around 1,000 people at its height.
As I stood on the dusty dirt road, I tried to imagine the 400 buildings in the vicinity, and then the waving and dancing of the yellow aspens once again took my attention.
Goldbugs and Silverites
In 1893, the U.S. was facing a deep economic depression. In the late 19th century, the U.S. monetary policy was a fierce debate. The question was, should the dollar be backed by gold, i.e., the gold standard, or should it be backed by both silver and gold, or bimetallism? This led to two teams, the gold bugs and the silverites.
The Sherman Silver Purchase Act of 1890 required the U.S. government to buy large amounts of silver every month. 4.5 million ounces a month, to be exact. Since it is an American sentiment to put measurements in random objects, that is about 14 classic yellow school buses or 234 grand pianos. Hopefully, that helps you visualize.
The cost of this silver was around $5.2 million in 1890. Adjusted for inflation in 2025, that would be over $170 million today. The Sherman Silver Act created artificial demand for silver and propped up the economy of many of the boom towns in Colorado.
The Making of a Ghost Town
In 1893, the Sherman Act was repealed, and the silver trade collapsed. Gothic then entered a sharp decline with the post office closing in 1896. By the end of 1914, the town of Gothic was considered deserted.
Rescued through Research
Fourteen years later, in 1928, the town was acquired by Western State College, which founded the Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory and began converting the abandoned structures into a field station.
From 1930 onward, students and researchers spent summers in Gothic, founding long-term ecological studies. By the 1970’s special research projects such as David Inouye’s hummingbird and wildflower phenology studies began. Phenology is the study of recurring plant and animal lifecycle events.
The RMBL grew steadily from the 1980s through to today. In 2020, a conservation easement with Colorado Open Lands protects the land surrounding Gothic. The station attracts ecologists, climatologists, and students from around the world.
Today, RMBL is recognized as one of the leading alpine research field stations in the world. It produces over 1,500 scientific publications and hosts around 200 scientists and students every summer. Learn more about the RMBL here.
Gothic Today: Science, Coffee, and Inspiration
Today, the little town of Gothic hosts scientists and students but also welcomes the public to their visitor center and coffee shop. The visitors center and gift shop have informational displays and welcoming attendants who happily answer questions about the research and what is currently going on in the community. The items purchased here help raise funds for research, which makes you feel extra benevolent when grabbing a cute t-shirt or postcard.
When visiting the Coffee Lab, the barista humbly bragged that he could make coffee at any coffee shop in the world, but that he was getting to do so in Gothic. His taste in Japanese Jazz probably also had a calming effect on those who were waiting in line. While the line was long, the people there seemed to be happy waiting, watching, and taking in the town.
Gothic Grounded in Purpose
If I could have lingered for longer, I would have. Something about the town turned research facility felt inspiring and calming at the same time. I look forward to visiting Gothic more than I do Crested Butte. Maybe it seems more rare, inspiring, and reminds me that creating a community with a driving purpose is something we are missing.
Standing in Gothic reminded me that a town doesn’t need size to have soul - it just needs a purpose. That’s something our modern communities could learn from.
Driving out of Gothic and towards Crested Butte, I thought to myself that it is rare to find a place that blends history, science, and beauty so easily. As the season changes, the last leaves fall, the snow closes the passes, and the town empties, the stories and foundation linger.
I hope this little gem of a town inspires you to look for places that have a wild soul and an inspirational purpose, wherever the road takes you. Remember to tread lightly and leave it better than you found it.
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