Westcliffe

To all of those who live in Colorado or to all of those who wish they did, you must visit Westcliffe.  It is stunningly beautiful yet untouched by tourist traps. The people are warm and friendly, the food is fantastic and the scenery, well, God did a pretty darn great job.

I started off my weekend by driving southwest for approximately three hours. There were moments that I almost turned around because most of the time I had no idea where I was and at one point I drove right past the Canon City maximum security prison and I got scared. Granted, there were seven rows of razor wire between them and me, but still my mind kept wandering to those horror movies about girls who are driving by themselves in the middle of nowhere in hopes of hearing some bluegrass music and are hijacked by escaped convicts and are never heard from again. Of course all of this would be a mute point if the escaped convicts happened to be the boys from "Prison Break" because I find some of them quite dreamy. But I knew that was a bit unrealistic. So I stepped on the gas and sped by the prison and then laughed at myself. And then I locked the doors.

When I rolled into Westcliffe, the beautiful Sangre de Cristos awaited me. I had NO STINKIN' CLUE that this part of the state looked like this! Seriously, I would have risked life and limb way before this if I had known.

Nadine and her husband Dan have an adorable house in the middle of town and we immediately hopped in the back of Dan's pickup truck to drive to the big tent full of banjos, fiddles, guitars and a couple of hippie girls who apparently show up every year at this festival.

And guess what else I found:

Oh yes I did. And my life is now more complete.

There were some amazing bands playing this weekend. I particularly liked the "Bluegrass Patriots," "Lou Reid and Carolina," and the "Gary Waldrop Band." The "Ebony Hillbillies" did live up to their name and were highly entertaining. Most of the time you had no clue what the dude in the big hat was singing, but I imagine it was pretty funny.

 

In between a few of the shows I decided to walk around main street. Low and behold, I turned around and caught this shot:

There are a couple things noteworthy about this picture. First, I can't get enough of those mountains. Second, I would love to buy my groceries here every week. And third, is it just me or do those two people look COMPLETELY out of place on their mechanized two-wheelers?

There was also this cool movie theater that is still playing "Iron Man 2." And apparently you have to be psychic to know the rest of the phone number in order to get tickets.

I love small towns.

 

You would almost think I was in Oklahoma with a picture like this:

And then you turn around and realize, nope, I'm sure not.

However, the highlight of my weekend was meeting all the guys from "Sons and Brothers." Nadine and Dan have followed this band for ten years. They are a local band comprised of three brothers, an uncle, a brother-in-law and a fiddle player who they claim to be family. They are amazing! I pretty much followed them around and mooched off of their fame and homemade food. I had dinner at their mom's house and later a big brunch on Sunday and no one had a clue who I was. I was like some wannabe groupie who tried to sound intelligent on all things musical but usually just said things like, "Wow, that was a great set," and "I never knew fingers could move that fast." You know, deep stuff.

Thankfully, I had made Nutter Butter balls and when someone looked at me weird, Nadine just gave them one and ten seconds later we were all BFF's.

I love bribing people with food so they will be my friends.

Here are Nadine and Joe, the youngest of the three brothers. He and I became friends, which is good because otherwise they would still be talking about some weird stalker girl who hung around all weekend feeding people.

The cool thing is that "Sons and Brothers" are coming to Denver a couple times in July and I plan on being there. You should come with me! I am pretty tight with the band, you know, as tight as you can be for a moocher.