by:
The geologic quirk that named this
western Colorado valley may inspire non-conformity in the human
inhabitants as well.
In 1875, surveyor A.J. Peale noted that the Dolores River ran across the
midsection of the flat rangeland valley near the Utah border.
Conventional rivers flow down a valley's length.
Hence the name Paradox.
And perhaps that landscape peculiarity has influenced more than a
century of unconventional life in the valley's two outposts, Paradox and
Bedrock.
At the general store in Bedrock -- the only market for dozens of miles
-- the bathroom is an outhouse with a view that rivals a John Wayne
western.
"We haven't been invaded by the world," said Clistina Jensen, the
relief postmistress in Paradox. She checked the two-page Paradox-Bedrock
listing in the area's thin phone book and estimated the valley's
population at under 100.
The Bedrock Store, stocked with the latest in energy bars as well as
vintage hair nets of human hair, hasn't changed much from its 1911
postcard photo. The brick building and its long wooden porch, ornate
cash register and classic scales are the same. The potbellied stove is a
newer, safer model.
"In the winter, the cowboys move down the valley with the cattle,"
said store owner Paul Morse. "They'll tie the horses out front, come in
wearing their chaps and spurs and rope the cat. The cat loves it."
One August weekend this year, two couples drove up in a Corvette. The
women took off their blouses and sat on the porch while the boyfriends
took their pictures.
"I couldn't believe it," said Morse, who frequently poses on the porch
with entire families enchanted with the store's Old West look.
Hollywood brought the valley fame this year when the movie The
Flintstones opened. The cartoon cave couple received lots of mail
addressed to Bedrock, Colo.
The cemetery, a nearly barren hill of grit and rock, tells of real lives
spent within the sandstone-ringed basin.
Elaborate grave markers and simple shale slabs mark the short lives of
the homesteaders' babies and the long lives of successful ranchers.
"You either had the genes to survive or you didn't," said Jensen, who
grew up in Utah and moved to Paradox with her husband in 1968. "You
have to be kind of special to live here.
"If you break your arm, you have to wait at least 48 minutes before
it's set," she said, explaining the distance by road to Naturita or
Moab, Utah.
Lawlessness was the community standard at the start, western Colorado
author Howard Greager said in his book, The Hell That was Paradox.
Before Peale named the box canyon valley, Paradox was a secluded stop on
Utah's Outlaw Trail, a backcountry escape route for bandits, said
Greager. Illegal homesteaders moved in, although the Ute Indians owned
the area.
In the 1870s, the Utes and Mormon settlers from Utah joined forces to
stop the homesteading by ambushing wagon trains and supply convoys, said
Greager. Cattle rustling was a crime that didn't always require a trial,
and water provoked its share of gunfights.
Salt deposits up to 5,000 feet deep line the valley floor. Paradox Creek
is thick with salt, although there are some fresh water springs. The
Dolores River is the major source of good water for ranching or farming.
Water is still a forbidden topic -- along with politics and religion --
at the impromptu community potlucks held at the firehouse, said Jensen.
Satellite dishes keep the information highway open year-round. And
everyone responds to a fire.
"We're not lost to the big, wide world," said Jensen, whose rancher
husband spends most days without talking to a soul. She has never been
to Denver. "We're just not out in the big, wide world."
Electricity didn't arrive until 1957. About 14 children attend grades
kindergarten through third in Paradox. Basketball, volleyball and
football games are the community tonic for isolation.
"Sure, it's lonely sometimes, but I'm never alone," said Jensen, who
admitted the winters are hard. "We're part of the tough part of the
West. You learn to live with it and not against it."
DEBORAH FRAZIER, Rocky Mountain News Staff Writer
26 September 1994, Rocky Mountain News, 6a Local Section