There Goes the Neighborhood

When I first bought my cabin in Meeker Park, only two couples lived on my road year-round. The rest of the cabins and houses were empty through much of the year, used as vacation homes in the summer and on holidays such as Christmas.

Then Louise, who had lived in Florida part of the year with her husband, divorced him and settled down for a full-time life in Meeker Park. It took another five or six years before a minister and his wife bought the cabin that had been owned for decades by a couple who came here from Kansas for the summer. At about the same time, two men from New York City moved here to take full-time jobs and bought the house by the creek, which had been vacant for most of the year.

Just in the past month, two cabins behind mine have been sold: one to a younger couple who plan on living here all year along and the other cabin to a woman who is moving from the nearby tourist town of Estes Park to Meeker Park.

It feels like some tide has turned. In my neighborhood, full-time residents now equal those who come just on the weekends or for a few weeks in the summer. Traffic on our narrow, dirt road sometimes can be heavy. And it’s happening all over Meeker Park, as I see new houses going up or old cabins being enlarged.

It’s not just more people but a new mix. In the old days, only retired people lived here, and seniors formed the web of support here, especially in winter. But some of the newer, young residents prefer to keep to themselves, and I can feel the loss of community.

I don’t know precisely what’s driving this population “boom,” but since the pandemic started, there’s been a rush of people leaving congested cities for more remote areas, where there’s more space to move around, even during a lockdown. When everything else is shut down—restaurants, stores, museums—nature is always available. For many people,  being among the forests or by the ocean has proved to be the balm for fears and anxieties about COVID-19. During the darkest days, how many people were cheered just by the sound of bird songs?

As the pandemic closed down previously accessible parks and open space, and restricted access to places like Rocky Mountain National Park, it started to become clear that, for those who could afford it, the easiest way to get outside and experience nature was to own a piece of it.

Even before the lockdown, housing prices were increasing in Estes Park and I’ve noticed in the past year more earth being scraped and trees torn down for new subdivisions in the gateway town to RMNP. Now I’m wondering if people being squeezed out of Estes are moving to places as remote as Meeker Park. It used to be that only the hardiest people would endure our six months of winter, because many homes were originally uninsulated and without plumbing, but a few years ago the county decreed that all homes needed to have septic systems, and new homes are built tightly for warmth. Then came satellite dishes for TV and the Internet, although you still can’t get cell phone service here.

Since I bought this cabin, more than 12 years ago, housing prices have doubled in Meeker Park. The dream of owning a cheap cabin in the woods is long gone, as is the fantasy of a place largely isolated and unconnected from civilization. When I moved here, I was looking for a place to escape the world, but the world is starting to catch up with me.

Comments

[Rosemary Carstens]

There are just too many people everywhere it seems. I no longer have any desire to live in a big city and I'm content just to visit now and then to enjoy what big cities have to offer: theater, museums, multiple dining choices, and galleries. I can't believe it's been 12 years since you bought your cabin--it sure has flown by.

[Julene Bair]

I can't believe it's been 12 years either, Kathy. You've drawn so much pleasure, serenity and insight living there part time, and share so much of all that with us. I guess it's kind of heartening that there are people willing to commit to the place year round, even if it does mean more traffic. What lovely pictures -- esp the one of the cabin in the huge meadow.

[Kathy Kaiser]

I agree. There are too many people now. It almost makes me wish for winter again, when everyone goes back inside.