You can see it from almost anywhere in town—the mountain known as Sleeping Giant, which as it happens—really does look like a sleeping giant. The 8,744-peak, officially and alternately known as Elk Mountain, stands alone, eerily rising from the valley floor like a giant with a blanket draped along its flanks, its knees drawn up, its profile broad and strong. It’s no surprise that there are many legends surrounding the iconic mountain that dominates the skyline on the northwest end of the valley. Some say the Giant is responsible for the “Yampa Valley Curse,” which makes people lose their heart to Steamboat, and never be able to stay away. Long before that, it was said to be a sacred mountain for the Ute Indians who summered here long before fur trappers settled in the valley and believed the mountain provided protection from settlers from the west. There’s even a story that the natives hunted rattlesnakes and set them loose on Sleeping Giant to keep settlers away—this one has at least some truth to it as the mountain is still riddled with rattlesnakes to this day.
No matter what fairy tale you want to believe, Sleeping Giant lends a distinct geographical landmark that has sparked the imagination of storytellers for generations. It’s also relatively inaccessible, surrounded by private land that prohibit any kind of hiking or biking trail access. Oh, and those rattlesnakes.
To truly understand and therefore respect Steamboat’s history, one must separate fiction from fact, says Bill Fetcher, 78, a lifelong rancher and mechanic who was raised in Steamboat. “None of us who grew up here ever heard of any legend regarding Sleeping Giant or the Yampa Valley Curse,” he says. “We can have fun with our legends, but let’s not lose track of the facts.”
From Fetcher Ranch, a 2,000-acre ranch north of town just outside of Clark, Elk Mountain looks nothing like a Sleeping Giant. “It’s just this giant hump down the valley,” Fetcher deadpans. “I sometimes wonder whether the Yampa Valley Curse was nothing more than a marketing ploy. Understandably, our chamber of commerce has gotten a lot of miles from this one. But when you think about it, it makes no sense,” he says. The Ute were evicted from the Yampa Valley following the Meeker Massacre in 1879. “Why would you want anyone to return to a place you held sacred, least of all your hated white enemy? At least let’s keep the curse but stop attributing it to the Ute.”
Fetcher says it’s more likely the tale of the Yampa Valley Curse may have started sometime in the early ‘70s, at the hands of a local taxi driver who needed a story to entertain visitors on a trip either to or from the airport.
The practice of making up stories to entertain tourists is a tradition that goes back to the railroads around the turn of the last century, Fetcher says. Trains offered safe, relaxing and affordable travel, and cheap excursions were plentiful. A tourist, awed by the mountain scenery, might ask one of the train crew if that rock outcropping has a name. “That’s Indian Rock,” the conductor might reply, making up a story on the spot. ‘A jilted Indian maiden hurled herself to her death from it.’ Conductor would be pleased that his quick and friendly response might generate some repeat customers for his railroad while Tourist would return home and tell all her friends. A legend, with no basis in fact, would be born.”
“The Yampa Valley Curse may have gotten its start along similar lines,” he says. “And now we’re stuck with it.”
After a lifetime in Steamboat, Fetcher has seen and heard it all, and witnessed the town’s transformation from rural ranch community and remote mountain town to a world class destination ski resort. “When I retired from the navy in 1985, I moved back here and at that time we were still a quaint little western town with a pretty good ski area, but over time we’ve become a theme park,” he says. “People fly in and ski and fly out, just like Disneyland.”
Fetcher hopes people who do decide to live here, at least part time, will take more of an interest in local history. “A town either thrives and flourishes or it dies,” he says. “We’ re trying to keep it alive by having respect for its history—to appreciate it and not forget it.” He admits there must be at least some truth to the Yampa Valley Curse, considering the town’s explosive growth in population, and the generation of families who did move here from other places and stayed. “Let’s keep and have fun with the Yampa Valley Curse. Let’s just stop giving it credit to a people who would prefer to have no part of it,” he says.
At least one thing in Steamboat stays the same—the geography itself, and the beauty of the Yampa Valley that drew so many people to it, curse or not. Fetcher can at least admit this: “The ridgelines are one thing that don’t change, at least not in our lifetimes.” No matter what stories you want to tell, a mountain that does look a heck of a lot like a Sleeping Giant, remains.