HISTORY: A Naturita Visit, by Marie Templeton and the Rimrocker Historical Society

Contributed to the Golden Jubilee Club of the Colorado and General Federation of Women’s Club, by Eva L. Brown, mother of Mrs. Zunich.

In February 1899 I closed a six months school in Cedar and James Reddick, a member of the board, drove me to Naturita to take the Placerville stage. Mr. Reddick had a light spring wagon and a pair of broncs and we left at the crack of dawn.

My hostess, Mrs. Pat McKenna, persuaded me to shield my complexion from the bright sun by putting a coat of Vaseline covered with talc, on my face, Those were the “Gay Nineties” when most girls were innocent of any makeup more glamorous than Mennen’s talc powder and a hurried pinch to the cheek, which gave modest color, before appearing in public. There was a slight skift of snow on the ground, the morning air was sharp and my experimental makeup became cold and stiff. The sun was high in the heavens before I ventured to so much as to smile or speak.

All day we followed a barely discernible track out across the unfenced valley. For several miles a coyote loped along in front of us, and when we stopped at noon to eat lunch and feed the horses, he climbed a nearby knoll and watched. That was in Saucer Basin and high on the side of the cliff we saw Indian writing and not far away a water hole where cattle came from miles around to drink.

We arrived in Naturita at sunset. The Blake family lived in a low rambling house of adobe, with a giant cottonwood tree near the front door. A stone’s throw from the back door they dipped water from a hole cut in the ice of the San Miguel River. The first thing I noticed in the Blake home was a large Spanish flag draped on the wall and the Blake’s daughters told me their mother was Spanish.

I was delighted to see girls my own age. They showed me how to swing Indian clubs and were so altogether charming and hospitable I regretted having to continue on my journey the next morning.

The road to Norwood seemed to wind in first one direction and then another. We passed through a stunted growth of trees where several small buildings of rough lumber were going up and a sign nailed to a tree read “Coventry”.

I was glad to be nearing home and as the stage went rollicking down Norwood Hill sparks flew from the rocks struck by the wheels and the horses hooves. I tried to look anywhere but at the yawning canyon of the San Miguel far below. Just in the nick of time the stage drew up at the Placerville platform and I heard Billy Jay’s welcome “All Aboard”.

The Blake family’s adobe house. John Blake standing in front of it.