Why I Love Fraser

“I love Fraser”, said I to the local journalist as we sipped java and discussed my new self published walking tour of town. “What is it you love so much? Why is Fraser so special to you”, she asked.

A simple question, but I couldn’t come up with an answer. My mind went blank, and all I could think of was icicles dangling from the roof of an old log cabin in town. That’s why I love Fraser, because of icicles on old cabins.

But there’s more than that. Take the mountains for instance, alpine peaks and ridges rising tall on 3 sides of town; green in July, brown in August, and white for most of the rest of the year. Not as scenic as the Tetons or as pristine as say, the Wind Rivers, yet to me Fraser’s mountains are like old friends. Parry, Neva, Byers, Bottle…each peak has its moods and colorful moments, its own wrinkled face that I have grown to know and love, granite warts and all.

These peaks give birth to rivers and creeks, some of which flow right through town. Creeks create willowed wetlands, where Red Winged Blackbirds sing songs of spring, even during May blizzards. I love the birdsongs and May blizzards of Fraser.
Then there’s the trains, the diesel powered rhythm of Fraser. Coal trains like clocks striking the hour, Amtrack like the rising and setting of the sun. Boxcars, grain hoppers, gondolas and coal cars, emblazoned with spray paint folk art from exotic urban places. And what kind of person doesn’t love that soothing midnight whistle? Fraser is a railroad town at heart, and Fraser’s trains are dear to my heart.

Fraser has a rich history, revealed by old barns, train depots, stagecoach stops and Doc Susie’s house, among other landmarks. Yet these buildings refuse to become mere museum pieces, continuing to serve the community as clothing stores, blacksmith shops, homes and restaurants. I love the old buildings of Fraser, as well as the local businesses and local folks who still use them.

Fraser also has an excellent collection of retired vehicles and equipment. A look around town might reveal a ’65 Volkswagen microbus, a vintage iron hay mower, and a horse drawn wagon all rusting and rotting away together in the same front yard. Much of this junk has historic value, such as the century old shacks, sheds and outhouses found along alleys and in backyards.

While some observers might disagree, I believe such junk is a sign of a healthy and stable community, for it means that folks are sticking around. Since the very beginning, Fraser has been a working class town, weathering the storms of depression and recession, riding the waves of boom and bust. Fraserites have never been a wealthy lot, so it only makes sense that they would hesitate to throw away anything that could be used at a later date. Lumber, tires, spare trucks… I love the “waste not, want not” ethic of Fraser residents.

Which brings me to Fraser’s biggest asset: Its people. There are hardcore skiers, almost toothless cowboys, grizzled old loggers, bible thumpers, spandexed mtn. bikers, gays, 4th generation rednecks, trust funders, dope growers, John Birch style Republicans, radical environmentalists, gun nuts, artists, writers, world travelers, slobbering drunks/geniuses, intellectuals, pool sharks, millionaires, musicians, remnant ranchers, land speculators, small business owners, and plenty of plain old working class folks.

Such a unique blend of people results in a very unique town, quite different from any other ski town in Colorful Colorado. For example, there are still more mobile homes than million dollar homes in Fraser, what other “resort community” could make that boast? And most Fraser residents actually reside here year round, quite an anomaly when 62 percent of Grand County residents are only part-timers. I love that Fraser is a real town, with real people.

Some of these real people serve us as mayors, board members and other town employees, and they do a good job of it. Have you seen Fraser’s new Comprehensive Plan? If followed, it will protect wildlife habitat and open space, support local businesses, provide affordable housing, encourage alternative modes of transportation, and discourage sprawling new development, among other things. I love that Fraser has leaders who are willing to learn from the mistakes of other places, and that they’re tough enough to stand up to the Denver Water Board to protect our watershed.

I also love that I might cross paths with the Mayor, my Kindergarten teacher or one of my many “cousins” at any number of places. Rendezvous likes to call itself a “meeting place”, but here in the actual town of Fraser, we already have plenty of meeting places: The post office, the coffee shop, the saloon, church, the library, the top of Byers peak, and the produce section at Safeway. Leave your house and you never know who you might run into.

What do I love about Fraser? The list is long: Dump trucks parked in driveways. Tibetan prayer flags blowing in the wind. The fox trotting through the backyard as I write. Hearing the phrase “it’s warm enough to snow.” Employers who encourage taking time off to travel. Summer thunderstorms. Walking along the railroad at night. Wildflowers blooming on the graves of friends and family. Ordering a soymilk latte at the Roastery then cutting wood with a chainsaw and feeling self-conscious about neither.

But most of all, I love my family, the whole extended crew of them, especially Grandma. She was born down by the railroad tracks before World War I, a true Fraser native. I enjoy drinking coffee at her kitchen table, watching as she oogles her great-great grandson, or listening to her tell stories about Fraser, about the weather, about life.

I love Fraser because it’s Fraser, my hometown.