At the Junction of US Highway 285 and County 77 or Tarryall Road lies Jefferson. In spite of its ultra-Spartan nature with just a few businesses and a church, it’s affable. One shop I stopped in was a catch-all similar to what gas stations now sell, with the addition of some dinette tables and chairs to make a cafe of sorts – and there were quite a few people seated. The cheif cook and bottle washer had to handle all the cafe and the front counter as well, but seemed relaxed about it. Everyone seemed to know everyone. Next door was a sort of hunting and camping supplies store. With reasonable access to larger towns, Jefferson is the kind of place one can picture living in comfortably – until winter.
I took some photos of abandoned cabins and occupied homes on the way there from Pike National Forest along County 77, and both that and US 285 are a sight to behold. All the abondoned buildings are plastered with no trespassing signs, and nothing was for sale. I limited myself to cabins, but the broad valleys and broad-based mountains beyond made me glad I decided to venture away from Dillon and the Interstate.