Grand Mesa National Scenic and Historic Byway

09/20/2026

𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑘 Wℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠

In 1901, two of the biggest cattle barons in Delta County were worried.

The stirrup-high grass they were accustomed to was getting shorter.

Henry Kohler and A. C. Botsford were two of the largest landowners in the valley. But apparently, owning a lot of land wasn't enough. Their enormous cattle operations depended on something they didn't own—grass on the open range.

They could plant hay, irrigate it, cut it, stack it, and feed it to their cattle. That took time, money, and labor. Instead, they could just turn their cattle onto the open range and let them feed themselves.

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞.

It was a good arrangement, and one they preferred. Why work when you could get feed for free?

But other farmers kept moving into the valley. They planted crops and built fences to keep wandering cattle out.

The cattlemen didn't like those fences—sometimes they tore them down so their herds could continue across land they had grown accustomed to treating as open range.

Why couldn't things stay the way they were? Why couldn't they have all the free grass?

But grass was a limited resource, and as the range was grazed harder, the stirrup-high grass they remembered got shorter.

Still, Kohler and Botsford wanted to make more money. Running fewer cattle wasn't part of the plan.

Maybe they could eliminate some of the competition.

𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩.

On March 1, 1901, a large group of ranchmen and stockmen gathered at Eckert. Kohler presided, with Botsford serving as secretary. The meeting adopted a resolution declaring that allowing sheep onto the ranges of the North Fork and tributaries of the Gunnison River was against the best interests of Delta County because “the water supply is already short.”

The group voted unanimously to protest the introduction of “any and all sheep” and pledged to use “every endeavor” to prevent them from coming.

Fewer sheep meant more grass for cows.

And there is the irony. The cattlemen weren't protecting grass they owned. They were fattening their cattle on free grass that nature provided—and trying to keep the competition away.

They wanted all the free grass for themselves.

The cattle barons wanted their empires to continue to grow.

𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨.

The sheep wars would get intense.

And eventually, Kohler and Botsford moved on to greener pastures.

09/19/2026

NATIONAL SCENIC BYWAY DAY!
Sept. 22nd at the Grand Mesa Visitor Center on top!

This New, Annual event celebrates America's Scenic Byways - Colorado has 26, and the Grand Mesa Scenic & Historic Byway has the highest of designations for America's Byways, one of two in Colorado.

This year, on that date, we will dedicate a memorial bench for well-known and long-time champion of the Grand Mesa Scenic & Historic Byway, KELLI D. HEPLER.

If you're there at Noon, have a sit & piece of cake for Kelli -

09/17/2026

The leaves are turning, the days are getting cooler, and a few drops of rain are falling. Let’s celebrate rainbows!

After the rain came a rainbow! The beauty of the Grand Mesa all around us.

09/17/2026

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝐸𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐶𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑇𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑠?

Do you know how the Eckert and Cedaredge communities began?

Neither started with much of a plan.

By the end of the nineteenth century, farms and orchards were spreading across the Forked Tongue Creek Valley. Schools had been built. Families were staying.

And through the middle of it all ran an old Ute trail.

That crooked trail—today roughly followed by Highway 65—cut across the straight property lines of farms along the way. The resulting pieces of land weren't great for farming—but the land beside a road was a good place for a store.

Eckert developed first. Its post office opened in 1891, followed by Castle & Reynolds general store in 1895—the beginning of the business we know today as The Big E.

A few miles north, Cedaredge was beginning to grow. Its post office opened in 1894.

In 1900, more than 1,000 people lived in the lower valley including Eckert, compared with about 500 in the upper valley around Cedaredge.

Little by little, two clusters of buildings grew along an old trail and began to look like real towns. In 1900, John Holland—yes, Holland, not Hogrefe—opened Cedaredge's first general store, with his family living in a small apartment upstairs.

But as the map might suggest, that's only the beginning of the story.

Why did Eckert develop first? Why did Cedaredge eventually grow larger? Where did their names come from? Who opened the first businesses—and what happened to them?

Those are some of the stories explored in 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓, which is also available on Amazon.

And on September 17 at 5:30 p.m., author Jerry McHugh will be at Pioneer Town in Cedaredge for a book signing and to tell a few stories. I hope you'll join him.

If Eckert or Cedaredge is your home—or ever has been—I hope you'll come learn a little more about the place you call home.

09/16/2026

Ronn Brewer found some great color on Grand Mesa. I don’t think we will get better this year.

09/15/2026

𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮, 𝙇𝙚𝙩’𝙨 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘿𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙅𝙪𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙐𝙥 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙪 𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣...

Close your eyes. Julia is going to take us back in time.

The road was different then. It crossed Plateau Creek again and again as it wound its way up the canyon on the Mesa County side of Grand Mesa.

Along the way were cabins and barns, orchards and gardens. Children rode horses to school. Freighters stopped for the night beneath the cottonwood trees. Families lived around nearly every bend.

Julia recalls Frank and Beckie Lewis living near the mouth of the canyon with their children, Florence and Richie. Richie rode horseback each day when he attended Canyon School.

A few hundred yards farther up was a large spring surrounded by boxelder trees, where travelers could stop, rest and cool off.

Then came the Osborn place.

There were cabins there, along with a barn, orchard and large garden. Across the creek stood a little schoolhouse. As families moved farther up the canyon, the school moved too. Around 1898, Julia recalled, the building was moved farther up Plateau Creek and became part of Canyon School District No. 26.

As we continue our drive we pass the Ellis place, then the Silvey place, and farther along, the home of Atone Lewis.

Near a grove of cottonwoods was a place known as Noon Rock. Freighters traveling through the canyon stopped here to camp for the night, resting their teams before continuing their journey.

A little farther along lived George and Alice Hutton and their large family.

Then, "the Canyon School was over there." Imagine arriving there in the morning—some children on horseback, others on foot. Inside, one teacher taught all eight grades in a single room.

Children came down from Ball Mesa to attend, walking to school and back home again.

Now we're approaching the Julia's home.

The ranch had originally been homesteaded by J. W. McAffee in 1885 and later became home to Julia and Harry Harris. Their place was more than a ranch. It became a stopping place for people traveling through the canyon.

There was a bunkhouse where travelers could sleep, a kitchen where meals were prepared, and a large barn for their teams.

Some nights, Julia remembered, the place was “stacked full.”

Then we continue upward.

We pass the Stitzes and Shears, the Barnwells, Atwells, Rogerses and Fosters. Some had orchards. Others raised livestock or cultivated gardens. Log cabins and frame houses appeared along the creek and on the benches above it.

Eventually the road begins climbing toward Ball Mesa.

Lewis and Nancy Ball had come from Colby, Kansas, in 1895 and made their home there. Their children were among those who traveled down to Canyon School.

But the community kept changing.

Around 1920, the little schoolhouse was moved again—this time up to Ball Mesa, closer to the families and children who now lived there.

And that seems like a good place to stop.

Many of the cabins and barns Julia pointed out are gone now. The road has changed. Orchards disappeared, families moved away.

But Julia Harris remembered the canyon when it was filled with neighbors.

And thanks to her memories, for a few minutes, we can imagine driving through Plateau Canyon through her eyes.

Photo by Jeffrey Beall

09/13/2026

From Colorado Geological Survet.

09/12/2026

𝑰𝒏 𝟏𝟖𝟕𝟔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒚 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑬𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Colorado was a baby state--just months old.

Its population had been thrown together by the gold rush. People had poured into the territory from across the country and around the world, chasing gold, land, business and opportunity.

Just three months after Colorado became our 38th state, it's three votes in the Electoral College may have decided the presidential election.

The race was between Republican Rutherford B. Hayes and Democrat Samuel J. Tilden.

Tilden won the national popular vote by about 264,000 votes. But presidents are not chosen by popular vote, but rather through the Electoral College.

The new state suddenly had three votes.

Now Colorado had been trying to become a state for years, but President Grant was uncomfortable about which way Colorado would vote. He would not sign the paperwork.

In 1874, A guy named Thomas MacDonald Patterson, a Democrat, was was elected Colorado's territorial delegate to Congress.

Patterson was born in County Carlow, Ireland, in 1839. In 1849, during the Great Famine, his family left Ireland for America. He later served in the Union Army, became a lawyer and moved to Denver in 1872.

And he arrived in Washington at an interesting time--Democrats had just taken control of the House of Representatives for the first time since before the Civil War.

Patterson's own election suggested that the new state might vote Democratic. And 1876 was a presidential election year.

If Colorado became a state in time, it would have three votes in the Electoral College.

Patterson believed those three votes might go Democratic.

On August 1, Colorado became a state, and on October 3, Coloradans elected their first state government.

Patterson had won his fight for statehood. Now came the election.

The race for governor was close. Republican John L. Routt defeated Democrat Bela M. Hughes by only 838 votes.

Republicans also won control of the new state legislature.

And that mattered more than anyone could have imagined.

There wasn't time to organize a regular popular vote for president in Colorado, so the new legislature would choose the state's three presidential electors. For the first—and only—time in Colorado history, the people of Colorado had no direct voice in choosing their presidential electors.

The Republican-controlled legislature chose three Republican electors.

All three electoral votes went to Rutherford B. Hayes.

The presidential election that followed was one of the messiest in American history.

Tilden won the national popular vote. When the initial electoral count was tallied, he had 184 uncontested electoral votes—just one short of the 185 needed to become president.

Hayes had 165.

But 20 electoral votes were disputed—from Florida, Louisiana and South Carolina, along with one vote from Oregon.

Both parties accused the other of wrongdoing. There were allegations of fraudulent voting, intimidation and violence, and competing claims over which electors had actually won.

The country didn't know who its next president would be.

And the fight continued for months.

Congress itself was divided. Democrats controlled the House. Republicans controlled the Senate.

Eventually, Congress created a special 15-member Electoral Commission—five representatives, five senators and five Supreme Court justices—to determine which disputed electoral votes should count.

In the early hours of March 2, 1877—just days before the inauguration—the count was finally completed. The commission ultimately awarded all 20 disputed votes to Hayes, each decision coming on an 8–7 vote.

One electoral vote.

And sitting there in Hayes's total were three votes from a state that hadn't even existed when the summer began.

Had Colorado remained a territory for just a few more months, it would have had no electoral votes.

If Colorado had not been a state, there would not have been an issue. Samuel Tilden would have had enough electoral votes to become president.

One of the defining events of his presidency was the Great Railroad Strike of 1877, which Hayes resolved by calling in the U.S. Army against the railroad workers. It remains the deadliest conflict between workers and strikebreakers in American history.

Hayes did not seek a second term.

The baby state may have changed the course of American history.

09/10/2026

🍂 You might want to schedule your annual Colorado fall color trip a little earlier this year.

The prediction is that Colorado's fall colors may arrive about a week earlier than usual in 2026.

After a hot, dry year, many of Colorado's aspens are stressed. Drought can cause leaves to change sooner, and this year the color may also come and go more quickly.

In other words, this might not be the year to say, “We'll go next weekend.”

The good news is that Colorado's fall colors don't change all at once.

Leaves in northern Colorado start the glow, and then it moves south. The change also tends to start at the top of the mountain and move down into the valleys.

That gives leaf-peepers a pretty simple rule:

🍂 If the valley is still green, head higher.
🍂 If the top of the mountain is already past peak, head lower.

Colorado's aspens have also been dealing with insects, disease and drought stress for years, and the effects aren't uniform. One grove may be spectacular while another nearby has thinner foliage, damaged leaves or trees that are already dropping their leaves.

So don't judge an entire mountain—or Colorado's fall color season—by one grove.

Instead, chase the color.

And maybe we can help each other do that.

📸 Please share your best Colorado fall-color photos from 2026 in the comments—and tell us WHERE and WHEN you took them.

Together, we can create our own Colorado fall-color report and help everyone know where the color is happening right now.

2026 fall-color forecast: CBS Colorado

09/08/2026

What was it like here in the Grand Mesa area in 1881?