By: Edi Rullet
Telluride is high—8,750 feet high, by some accounts. Literally, physically, and, some might say, spiritually, being in Telluride can make you feel above the rest—especially if you are staying in Mountain Village. There are drawbacks, sure; rewards, countless. Its loftiness—eminence and headiness—sets the community apart. The air is thinner—there’s 30 percent less oxygen—and the atmosphere at altitude offers less protection from the sun’s harmful rays. But at night, the stars appear to be within arms’ reach, sharpened specks that replicate by the zillions as the night sky deepens.

The air is thinner—there’s 30 percent less oxygen—and the atmosphere at altitude offers less protection from the sun’s harmful rays. But at night, the stars appear to be within arms’ reach, sharpened specks that replicate by the zillions as the night sky deepens.

According to recent findings, higher elevations are more impacted by global warming, which shortens the life of the snowpack. Not to discount the science, this winter’s ski season may have been short, but that was only due to an early closing date. As winters go, it was one of the heartiest on record; the season started with ample snow on the ground, and the storms kept coming. After the lifts shut down, there was a base of over 80 inches. Short but sweet.

The higher ground has always been the calling for Telluriders, albeit in search of the mother lode in the early days. This environmentally and politically impassioned community has fought for open space, historic preservation and public access. Nowhere is that more apparent than in the safeguarding of the town’s Victorian and mining architecture. With growth and development, change begets a variety of issues. When weeds sprang up in the re-veg, locals stepped up to the plate. You can earn a Greenbuck, which translates to a concert ticket, for the pleasure of pulling a few of these noxious invaders.

At this upper-story of life zones, self-sustainability is hardly an option. Telluride relies heavily on its low-lying neighbors for many of its needs—food, primarily. The health-conscious community cried out for fresh and organic produce, and regional farmers and ranchers responded. M’Lissa Story organized the Telluride Farmer’s Market, giving TGIF a whole new meaning.

The San Juan Mountains are home to plenty of Rocky Mountain spring water—you’ve seen it advertised on Coors commercials with Wilson Peak as its flagship. The Zutler brothers, local entrepreneurs, took the idea of bottling spring water to new heights: They packaged it in biodegradable bottles. Furthermore, the Telluride Golf Course (most of the land re-scaping practices associated with the game are the ire of environmentalists) has made a concerted effort to be “green.” Telluride’s citizenry even vetoed a stoplight at the town’s entrance by opting for a roundabout instead—we apologize for the delays.

As cowboy/philosopher Roudy Roudebush said in America’s Heart and Soul, “You feel deep roots when you live on the Continental Divide for 30 years. It’s the backbone of America, and maybe it makes me stronger just looking at it.” Blame it on the attitude; this is a place where feeling high and mighty is warranted.

See you at the summit,

Edi Rullet

Telluride Visitor Guide