By Emma Hesselsweet | January 2022
In Steamboat Springs, we visited the Treads of Pioneers Museum to learn about the history of this remote Colorado town and how it became a skiing destination. Steamboat Springs got its name when French fur trappers, who were hunting on a river, thought they heard a steamboat, but later found that it was a hot spring, so they decided to name the place Steamboat Springs.
At first, Steamboat was too cold for anyone to really live there; Steamboat only gets fifty-nine frost free days a year. Indian tribes visited the hot springs mostly in the summer months. But when skis became popular, this opened new doors for everyone, because transportation (and later recreation) became possible. People slowly trickled into Steamboat, looking for gold and coal, using early versions of skis to get around, and not long after, it was as bustling as NYC is today. And with a growing population, naturally people’s love for skiing grew too. Mostly because of the long, grueling, hard winters. But with skis? Steamboat residents had something new to smile about.
Soon an avid skier named Carl Howelson–an Olympic ski jumper–started an exciting winter tradition: the annual winter carnival. People from all over came to see this week-long celebration. Here people blocked the street from cars, dumped snow on it, and then the fun began with events such as skijoring, where adults on horseback pulled skiing kids over jumps, through obstacles, and finally through a gate similar to one at a rodeo. Of course, the Winter Carnival has a special ending too. One I am sure everyone in Steamboat attends. They strap a townsperson with lights, and a thirty pound battery to power the roman candle fireworks shooting from their helmet. They then slowly terrace down the front face of Howelson Hill, which you may recognize as named after Carl Howelson.
When we visited Steamboat Springs, we were excited to learn that we had come during the week of the Winter Carnival, so we would have the chance to attend the exciting events. All week, there are events to watch (or even sign up to participate in!) and at the end of the week is the grand finale, a night ski show at Howelson Hill. We watched as they blocked off the main street in town and covered it with snow one night. The next morning, my mom and brother and I went into town to try to find a spot to watch events like skijoring (our favorite). The town was even more packed than we expected, like the streets of New York during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, and it was not easy to find a space to watch.
On Saturday night, after we skied at Rabbit Ears Pass and then visited Old Town Hot Springs again (all according to my plan!) we went to Howelson Hill to watch the final events of the winter carnival. I squeezed between tightly packed crowds, my cold hand locked into my mom’s warm one. Finally, getting to the spot we needed to watch the dark hill, I dropped my mom’s hand and found my brother and dad. Shivering, we looked up the steeply sloping hill to watch the “Lighted Man” come down it. Suddenly we heard the whole crowd cheering. I knew what this meant.
The lighted man came out from behind a corner, and his skis slowly brought him down the hill. He was shooting red and yellow and blue and purple fireworks out of his black helmet, and his smiling face shone a deep rosy red. I cheered along with my family, and as he passed, people high-fived him. It felt good to be enjoying something other people had enjoyed for a hundred years.
The Peace of Wild Things 