Thomas W. M.
Yelp
Until the beaches of Florida and the Outer Banks seduced me a decade ago, the scenic wonders of Colorado held me in thrall, and I drove the 600 miles to the Front Range at least twice a year. I loved being among those ragged, snow-capped peaks--loved to hike up into them and experience the solitude and grandeur that they offered. I loved the smell of pine forests, the sound of rushing brooks, the views of wildlife, the icy chill afforded skinny-dipping in a crystalline alpine lake. I loved all Colorado had to offer . . . except the drive out there. I've never been one of those who believed that the vast plains of Western Kansas and Eastern Colorado were devoid of scenic value, but compared to the vistas that awaited me in Rocky Mountain National Park, these relatively arid stretches of flatish farmland were merely something to be rushed through as quickly as possible--resented as a delaying obstacle to be overcome. I never stopped anywhere unless it was an absolute necessity and longed for the day when supersonic ground transportation was a reality. During the course of these somewhat grim vehicular trudges toward paradise, I had occasion to stop for gas or sustenance in Burlington Colorado a number of times. The town, not surprisingly--no offense to its residents--seemed to have nothing to offer (except that it was NOT Limon--a distinct positive), just a dry, nondescript little town whose main purpose for existence seemed to be catering to the food/gas/lodging needs of the passing parade on I-70. I'd often noted the signs that touted a certain historic carousel, the "Kit Carson County Carousel" to be specific, but in my headlong rush to commune with high-altitudinal nature, I couldn't be bothered . . . until one day, inexplicably, I allowed myself to be so bothered. I was the guy who chafed at even necessary delays, who began peering impatiently ahead for that first distant view of Pikes Peak at least 80 miles before the curvature of the earth made it possible, so how could I have countenanced such a detour? I can't explain it, but I've been grateful for this break with my impatient nature ever since.
No doubt because my childhood had been compromised, I often find myself searching for a transporting mechanism to take me back to a new, a different childhood. Disney World had certainly provided such transportation on my first trip to Florida, and dreary Burlington, Colorado was now to do the same. Here I discovered a carousel the like of which I had never seen. Here were rows of beautifully carved horses, wild beasts, goats, camels, dogs, and other animals (46 in all), including fantastical creatures that only ever drew breath in someones imagination. And not only beautifully carved, but beautifully painted, as this carousel is the only one in America that retains all of its original paint. One could spend hours lost in the details of the carvings as there are numerous idiosyncratic touches--gnomes tucked under saddles with spears at the ready to threaten riders; garlands of varying flowers, cupids with bow cocked, ribbons, festoons, a snake crawling up the neck of the giraffe, faces staring out of nooks and crannies, glass eyes, real horse tails, and on and on. Most people probably favor the magnificent hippocampus--a "merhorse," i.e., a horse with a fish tail instead of back legs. Me, I like the simpler "Rose Pony," sparsely decorated with the eponymous flowers, or the armored horse. But there are no duds among the collection of animals.
Another great thing about the carousel, is the music that comes with it. At its center, there is a 1909 Wurlitzer Monster Band Organ--a fabulous instrument made up of 155 pipes (which approximate the sounds of a brass band), a bass and snare drum and cymbals. The organ plays music the same way as the old roll pianos did, and it has quite a repertoire, with hundreds of marches, waltzes and other music from the turn of the century.
I should mention one other thing, unlike many carousels, these animals do not go up and down as your ride them, but instead simply travel about their axis counter-clockwise, but at speeds greater than you will find on the up and down models. It costs a mere 25 cents a ride, which is quite the bargain. There is a museum (and gift shop) adjacent to the large gazebo that houses the carousel that examines the history of this carousel and the Philadelphia Toboggan Company which constructed it. If you're ever in the area, do stop and give it a look. Paradise be damned--it's more than worth it.