When we pulled into the cramped parking lot we had gone as far as we could go. Last Chance Mine, the sign read, and that’s just what it seemed. Our last chance to visit a mine on this trip, since the Creede Mine was closed. Our last chance to turn around and find the loop road that was taking us around the mountain. 

Turns out, the name had another, more colorful meaning. A long-ago prospector, Ralph Granger, having struck out on other claims, was about to give it all up, move to Denver and become a city boy. This was his last chance to hit it big, he told his cronies down at the bar. But when Granger went to collect his burro (the sale of which would be his ticket out), he couldn’t find the critter. He looked around town to no avail, finally locating him 2,000 feet up the mountain. 

Granger was so angry at the wild goose chase that when he reached the burro he beat his hammer on a rock to vent his frustration. And that strike revealed the apex of a rich silver vein that ultimately yielded over $2 billion of the precious medal. 

We toured the mine yesterday, getting a taste of mining life circa 1891. It was fascinating and creepy. The best part: after an hour and a half they let us out. We made our way down to the old Wild West town of Creede, its main street dead-ending in a box canyon, and celebrated with ice cream.