June 17, 2010
You don't get to Folsom unless you make a point to get off the beaten path.
My grandmother lived in Folsom for some time when I was growing up. My parents and I lived there for awhile when I was a year old and my brother Ronnie was born nearby in Raton, NM. Thus, our reason to venture to this tiny town stuck in the middle of nowhere. Sadly, the town seems to be dying a slow death, as are many others out here, as there are virtually no opportunities to make a living outside of ranching. However, there are some kind souls that are keeping a small museum alive here. It is crammed with artifacts, both natural and man-made, along with written history and old photographs that have been donated by former residents. What are particularly interesting to us are the many photos and written accounts of several generations of ancestors on my father’s side of the family. They have even published a large “annual” that is packed with the history, which we can’t wait to more thoroughly peruse when we return home. We did learn that my ancestors were on their way to California in a wagon train of 35 wagons, and decided to settle in area. Notice the swallows nests over the entrance.
From the museum, we made the short trip out to Folsom Falls, which we had swum in on our childhood visits. Formed from underground springs running through and over the lava rock, this was a state picnic area for some time until discontinued due to vandalism and too many drunks. We did not see anyone else in the time we were there.
June 17, 2010
You don't get to Folsom unless you make a point to get off the beaten path.
My grandmother lived in Folsom for some time when I was growing up. My parents and I lived there for awhile when I was a year old and my brother Ronnie was born nearby in Raton, NM. Thus, our reason to venture to this tiny town stuck in the middle of nowhere. Sadly, the town seems to be dying a slow death, as are many others out here, as there are virtually no opportunities to make a living outside of ranching. However, there are some kind souls that are keeping a small museum alive here. It is crammed with artifacts, both natural and man-made, along with written history and old photographs that have been donated by former residents. What are particularly interesting to us are the many photos and written accounts of several generations of ancestors on my father’s side of the family. They have even published a large “annual” that is packed with the history, which we can’t wait to more thoroughly peruse when we return home. We did learn that my ancestors were on their way to California in a wagon train of 35 wagons, and decided to settle in area. Notice the swallows nests over the entrance.
From the museum, we made the short trip out to Folsom Falls, which we had swum in on our childhood visits. Formed from underground springs running through and over the lava rock, this was a state picnic area for some time until discontinued due to vandalism and too many drunks. We did not see anyone else in the time we were there.
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