Bamboozled by Doc Holliday

I have a bone to pick with Doc Holliday

(Well, maybe it’s more with the people of Glenwood Springs, CO)

Last week, thanks to the Mets schedule, we had a chance to spend a couple of nights in the Rocky Mountains. Glenwood Springs to be exact. Thursday, after the game, we headed north up 70 through Vail to Glenwood Springs. The scenery was breathtaking.

Friday after an awesome walk through the amazing mountain/canyon scenery, we decided to pay our respects at the grave of the most famous person buried in Glenwood Springs: John Henry Holliday, better known as Doc Holliday. So we arrived where Google maps tells us the legend is buried. We looked around and find we are in a suburban neighborhood with no sign of a graveyard, just a big sign that stated:

1. It was half a mile to the graveyard 2. It was a very steep trek and they recommended bringing water and taking breaks. (Bear in mind we are already 7000 feet up to begin with.) 3. It said to beware of snakes 4. It also said to be aware we are in bear country.

We decided to head for the summit.

They weren’t kidding about the steepness. I felt like Sir Edmund Hillary climbing Everest without Sherpas! After a few stops, we reach the graveyard winded and tired. If I had a shovel I would just dig a hole there and be done with it!.

Eventually, we caught our breath and found the grave of Doc Holliday. With a wrought iron fence around this headstone, we felt like we’d completed our journey.

As you can see people have left cards, coins, little drink bottles and even a tooth ( Doc Holliday was trained as a dentist) as a tribute. We took a few pictures and were leaving when I spotted this other stone marker.

“Are you bleeping serious,” I said. We risked life, limb and a possibly a lung and they don’t know where he’s buried?!?!

I was a tad peeved on the scramble back down the hill.

After taking in the springs (I believe they did wonders for my complexion), we went for a snack to the Doc Holliday Saloon. While perusing the menu (which offers the mandatory Rocky Mountain Oysters), the tale of Doc Holliday’s death left me even more annoyed. He apparently died penniless in a hotel in town.

When they went to bury him atop the hill in the cemetery, the horses couldn’t get up the hill because or mud and rain. So, they buried him at hit bottom with the intention of moving him when the weather got better. To quote the menu”to the best of our knowledge his body was never moved and he is probably buried in someone’s back yard”