AAA Colorado ~ EnCompass Magazine

Intergalactic tourism is booming. Depending on who you listen to, it seems that aliens, UFOs, mysterious lights and even subterranean ant people are all flocking to Colorado's San Luis Valley, one of America's last great outposts of eccentricity.

While other parts of the world proudly proclaim historic roles as the first this or the inventor of that, San Luis Valley residents quietly acknowledge their status as the place that, in 1967, brought us the concept of alien livestock mutilation.

This is not to say that the valley doesn't have more traditional attractions. In fact, there is a wealth of natural and man-made attractions, as well as a proud historical heritage (covered in previous EnCompass articles). For this Mini Tour, though, the perspective is a bit more light-hearted, fun and with tongue firmly planted in cheek.

Alamosa is the valley's largest town, and the one almost all visitors use as their base. It has several motels and numerous options for dining, and last year added two scenic summer train routes, connecting the town to La Veta and Antonito.

But for connoisseurs of the weird, scenic train rides are mere icing on the cake. Here's an overview of some oddball items that will leave you saying “You'd never get this anywhere else.”

The strange fate of Snippy the horse

2007 marks the 40th anniversary of a historic event: the first livestock death blamed on aliens. A horse called Lady—later changed to Snippy by the media—was found dead on a ranch 20 miles northeast of Alamosa. Her owners, and soon a devoted crowd of other believers, felt the mare's injuries proved UFO involvement. Tabloids brought the story to the world—and a new cultural phenomenon was born.

Once on display outside a local pottery store, Snippy's skeleton is now the subject of a bitter custody battle. As EnCompass went to print, the Alamosa Chamber of Commerce was raising money to buy the skeleton so it could remain in the valley. It seems the only people who don't want poor Snippy back, after all, are the aliens.

Colorado's biggest beach

The natural attraction that lures most tourism to the valley is eccentric in itself. Even to frequent visitors, the sight of Great Sand Dunes National Park inspires a momentary thought of “What is that doing here?” In a valley given to extraterrestrial encounters, it seems appropriate that readers of Frank Herbert's Dune space epics can find a little piece of the Desert Planet here at the foot of the jagged Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

At different times of year, ponds surface in the dunes and then vanish. Medano Creek appears out of nowhere in April, and by May is a lively, bubbling waterway—one of only a few places in the world where you can see a phenomenon called “surge flow.” Every 15 seconds, the stream appears to take a deep breath, rushing deeper and faster for a moment then subsiding. The surge is caused by the formation and collapse of sand dams in the river bed.

From the top of High Dune, a 650-foot peak near the visitor's center, you can see a magnificent panorama of the main dunefield, 30 square miles in size. The 750-foot Star Dune is the highest in North America.

And, yes, you can ski on it. The National Park Service asks only that you avoid areas of vegetation—an easy task—and notes that “cardboard doesn't work.” Skis, snowboards or plastic sleds will give you a grand ride (and get badly scratched in the process).

Keep watching the skies

Not too far from the dunes, the valley stakes another claim to fame: it's probably the only place in the world with both a UFO watchtower and an alligator wrestling rodeo.

Judy Messoline built her tower (it's more of a platform, really) near the town of Hooper to get a better look at the mysterious lights frequently reported by residents. A tiny concrete hut beside the platform sells every alien-related souvenir and gizmo your heart could desire.

Outside is an exceedingly strange garden. Laid out around what Judy says is the site of two vortexes to a parallel universe, it's a fantastic assortment of rocks, tree branches and offerings from visitors. Everything from jewelry to old socks spirals around the mystic pathway. Leave an item and you can make a request to the vortex guardians. The reasons behind each visitor's choice of offering remain as mysterious as the vortex itself.

Paranormal investigator Christopher O'Brien describes the area's many unexplained phenomena in his books The Mysterious Valley and Enter the Valley. Among other things, the San Luis Valley is believed by some Native American tribes to be the place where ant people sheltered humans underground for generations—and where “flying seed pods” carried visitors from the stars.

It's a tribute to the high quality of weirdness available in the valley that the world's only high-altitude alligator farm, located between Hooper and Mosca, can actually seem somewhat mainstream in comparison.

A visit to Colorado Gators is most striking in winter. The sight of full-grown Florida gators snoozing in a snowdrift, with frosty mountain peaks in the background, is enough to make your sense of reality pack up and take a vacation. At any time of year, though, it's worth visiting. Colorado Gators has more than 500 alligators, ranging from cute babies (you can hold one) to 600-pound monsters.

Like all stock, alligators need to be moved or brought in for medical attention. This presents difficulties other ranchers seldom worry about—sure, a cow can kick you down, but at least it won't eat you afterwards. And so alligator wrestling became a necessary skill, and it's one the farm staff is glad to pass along to anyone who has $50 and a sense of firm resolve. Graduates of the seasonal class can participate in the annual Gatorfest rodeo, held every August.

Admire the ditch

Passing south, the town that gave the valley its name contains two major cultural treasures that have nothing to do with aliens, alligators or weirdness.

The approach of Easter brings numerous visitors to San Luis, the oldest town in Colorado, and its Stations of the Cross Shrine. This striking, domed adobe church tops a mesa at the end of a steep and winding path, along which a series of sculptures depicts the final hours of Christ's life. The church and sculpture trail are well worth a look even for non-believers.

San Luis's odder claim to fame is less well-known. Seekers of roadside strangeness should not fail to pull over at the bridge heading out of town, and feast their eyes on the sight of Colorado's Oldest Ditch.

There is a small historical marker, but it's a safe bet nobody will ever sell souvenir t-shirts of this attraction. It's a ditch. It has water in it.

And that's the whole point. This was the very first public works project and the first irrigation ditch in Colorado, dug in 1852 and still in use today. This is what our state was really built on—it may not be as glamorous, and you certainly can't plate the dome of the Capitol with it, but all the gold and silver in the world are useless without this miracle: humble water, bringing life to a dry land.

So, stop and throw it some tourist-love. Take a photo. Admire the ditch.

Amish and beer cans

If you find yourself in Antonito, you're probably there to catch the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad, an outstanding 64-mile journey running between this tiny town and Chama, New Mexico. The train's 2007 season opens on May 26.

As you pass through town, you may (or may not) pass the occasional Amish horse and buggy. Wait—Amish, here in thoroughly Hispanic southern Colorado? It seems comparable to finding an enclave of Zulu tribesmen in downtown Tokyo. Yet here they are, a sizeable and unexpected community tucked away amid the adobe and cactus of the New Mexico border.

On most summer Saturdays, Amish women can be found selling baked goods at the farmers' market in Alamosa. Discerning locals speak of Amish sticky-buns in reverent tones.

If you drive here instead of taking the connecting train from Alamosa, take a detour from the main road to see Kano's Castle. You'll see the bizarre, shining structures rising above neighboring roofs as you approach town.

Located on a dusty side street where there are usually more dogs and chickens visible than humans, this oddball piece of folk art takes up most of the yard adjoining its creator's house. Work began, it is said, when Kano was told to do something about all the beer cans in his yard. Years later, the result is a loopy masterpiece that is still in progress.

The towers, representing chess pieces, are constructed of beer cans, hubcaps, tires, strips of metal and random junk. They're blinding in the sun. There's a sign proclaiming “ALCOHOL + TOBACOO IS KILLS” and much more. You can feel yourself becoming slightly unbalanced just looking at it.

Of course, in a two-million-acre valley, there's a lot more to be found. But somehow, few visitors can spend any time in the San Luis Valley without spotting a certain quality.

Debra Goodman, of the Alamosa Chamber of Commerce, sums it up with a wry type of pride: “The valley is not what you call normal.”

Carrie Patrick is managing editor of EnCompass.


If you go . . .

	Oddball attractions certainly aren't the only ones available in the San Luis Valley. Among other features, it contains many sites of historical significance and is a popular birdwatching destination. Alamosa Visitor Information Center: 800-258-7597, www.alamosa.org Colorado Gators: 719-378-2612, www.gatorfarm.com Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad: 888-286-2737, www.cumbrestoltec.com Great Sand Dunes National Park: 719-378-6399, www.nps.gov/grsa Los Caminos Antiguos Scenic & Historic Byway: 719-379-3500, www.loscaminos.com UFO Watchtower: 719-378-2271, www.ufowatchtower