New beginnings


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History Archive of all previous posts from the beginning of time! 

Reality

I try to include family and friends in the life of Cuspidor and you’ll find references to them below.  I endeavour to fit them tongue-in-cheek into the most suitable positions, such as our dear friends Malcolm and Cathy who once treated us to a disastrous grand weekend tour in Derbyshire.  In the spirit of never letting a good turn go unpunished I conceived of them running the world’s worst bus tour company.  I enjoy creating little vignettes that bring the viewer into my strange little world.  Building Cuspidor is a long term retirement project and I will try to keep adding to the story. 

My World

The little known Rocky Mountain town of Cuspidor lies at an elevation of 8,639 feet somewhere between the Uncomphagre and San Juan ranges. It sits in the Rio Bozo valley amidst hard granite  cliffs.  It’s pretty hard to find nowadays as the valuable metals ran out in the fifties and people mostly just drifted away leaving what was a once prosperous town to just fade into obscurity. Diehard exploring types have been known to stumble across it when following the old abandoned narrow gauge railroad line through the brush or hiking along the Rio Bozo up to the fabled Plughole Falls.

Here we view it in 1932 at the end of the glory days but while the railroad still ran serving the almost played out gold, silver and lead mines.

The upper town of Cuspidor sits on a series of steep, narrow switchback roads reminiscent of Jerome AZ.  A fairly recent addition is the magnificent stone City Hall and Courthouse built in 1918, at great public expense, by over ambitious and short sighted city fathers.

Notable buildings include the Golden Cuspidor saloon and hotel up on the bluff, the aforementioned City Hall, Miss Anna’s Pleasure Palace, the Miner’s and Cattlemen’s Association Hall and a magnificent F W Woolworth store.  Dan Webb’s auto repairs does a good trade thanks to the awful roads and Miss Sarah’s little car is seen there rather frequently causing tongues to wag.  The Lady’s Temperance Group, if not protesting about miner’s and stockhands carousing and frequenting the saloon and Miss Anna’s on a Saturday night, often speculate that it’s about time young Dan did the right thing and popped the question.  There are still some tiny miner’s shacks in and around the town along with a few old shops that struggle to compete with a Woolworth’s that won’t stay long once they check the turnover at head office.  Below the town you can just see a corner of Wiggin Field where Captain JJ Wiggin valiantly tries to keep his old biplane flying with air circus shows and crop dusting duties.

Overlooking the picturesque Plughole Falls is Desport’s tiny diner where the occasional, intrepid tourist takes ham and eggs along with miners from the Rio Bozo Mine.  The poor chaps up at the Devil’s Drop goldmine don’t get down there too often.   Now and then you can see the Pritchard’s Intrepid Scenic Tours (PIST) charabanc approaching the view point, usually with their last passenger hurling herself out of the open window in a desperate attempt to escape.


The Cuspidor and Southern Railroad depot and yard bake in the summer sun and freeze in the winter along with everyone else (work in progress).  many mines and related mining industries keep the old line rattling on. Enjoy.

 My Musical Adventures

 My other hobby - only for the brave: https://barrykingsbeer.bandcamp.com/releases

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Wednesday, 6 November 2024

 Progress is being made..........


I have spared my dear reader the agony of a blow by blow account of me up and down, in and out and under and above the baseboard replacing the old with the new. Take it from me you ain't missed much except for broken knuckles, much cursing and copious (and well deserved in my opinion) consumption of fermented grape juice. The new boards are much stronger than the old ones too.

 

The next task is to plot out the new, improved track layout and start to lay underlay then rails. Let joy be unconfined.......... After that the mystery of wiring the damn thing so it runs.


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