The Story of La Cresta, our land of promise in the Garden Park valley at the entrance of Red Canyon Park, in Canon City, Colorado
“Go from your country...to the land that I will show you.” Genesis 12:1
When I first got the call I wasn’t thrilled, or even anxious. I was fairly tepid, perhaps even interested, but having been disappointed so many times it was only natural to expect disappointment again. When someone has for so long been looking for something undefinable, the finding becomes irrelevant. I would even say the actual finding can, in itself, be disappointing and unconsciously postponed or sabotaged by a heart and mind fearful of change, even if it’s for the better.
However, I agreed to visit the property and was at once smitten. There was no doubt this was the place I had been looking for.
To this point, Shawnda and I had visited numerous promising but ultimately disappointing parcels and for one reason or another had decided to pass. It was too big, too small, had the wrong zoning, restrictive covenants, wrong price, or unsavory neighbors, which all proved valid reasons to keep looking. There were weeks I checked for listings every day, often multiple times a day, and found nothing. Then the call came.
Garden Park Road
Months before the call I had visited a property north of town on Garden Park Rd. It was a dusty patch of land angrily strewn with horse manure; the scant grass trampled mercilessly into the red dirt by too many horses kept in too small a space for too long. There were a couple of ramshackle structures lingering behind the stunted pinion pines, one of which was a sad attempt at a ‘tiny house’, but was really nothing more than a waste of lumber and time. Shawnda was quiet as a proverbial mouse, which I’ve come to recognize as a sign of her rank displeasure, and it was abundantly clear this was not the place- but it was the closest we’d found yet. I called the Realtor and said something to the effect of, “This isn’t quite what we’re looking for, but if something else comes up in this area, let me know.” Of course, I had no expectation of ever hearing from this person again and I truly thought that was that. “I tried, that’s really all I can do you know.”
California Expats
Shawnda and I moved to Colorado in November 1994, from Southern California, in a huge moving van hastily stacked with my parents’ rattling antiques, which was towing a white Honda Civic sedan, on which was mounted the cheapest bike rack ever made, from which dangled two garishly painted 1990’s mountain bikes. Our poor son Kory was wedged between us in the cab and Suma the cat was situated somewhere, exactly where I can’t remember, but I feel like it was a small cat carrier in the Civic. This was going to be our attempt at pioneering, despite heading east, and we were just young and optimistic enough to give it a go without a second thought.
When we finally arrived in Canon City, after what proved to be a rather arduous journey, at night, in a strange dark town, my parents were AWOL. They weren’t answering the phone. We drove around aimlessly, down street after dimly lit street, for hours before finally getting through on yet another grimy pay phone (remember it's 1994), which was fortuitous as I was quickly running out of spare change and my immune system was taking a beating. They had been at dinner with some friends, despite knowing we were coming in that night, and seemed underwhelmed at our arrival. We didn’t realize at the time how auspicious these events would later prove. We eventually, and rather miraculously, found the house they were renting based on their less than adequate directions, got Kory tucked into bed on the couch, made our way to the completely unfurnished bedroom, and slept soundly on the floor.
Home at Last
The details of the time since that night, 24 years full of joys, pains, trials, and triumphs, we’ll reserve for another time. Suffice to say, we never expected to ‘stick’ in this small, dry, landlocked town. Before the call, year after year simply passed, right in front of our faces, as strangers in a strange land. Now we knew we were finally home.
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