Since the time of initial European settlement, our valley has attracted the attention of some brilliant agrarians. These visionaries are sometimes called “bioneers.” One such man was Eugene Grubb, who in 1912 characterized the Valley’s fertility as follows:

“No part of the world is better fitted by nature for growing potatoes than the mountain districts of Colorado… The Roaring Fork and Crystal River Valley section of Colorado is as nearly perfect in soil conditions as can be found, and the potatoes grown there are not excelled anywhere in the world, and are equaled in but a few places.” -Eugene H. Grubb, “The Potato: A Compilation of Information from Every Available Source” (1912)

Two years prior, another “bioneer” named Charles McClure had bred the “Red McClure” potato in the Crystal Valley. The high pass to Paonia would later be named in his honor. The work of nurturing new crops required passion and acute powers of observation. These people thought deeply about our climate, soils and water. The early farm census for Pitkin County bears them out. Between 1910 and 1945, Pitkin County annually produced 120,000 to 220,000 bushels (6,000,000 to 11,000,000 pounds) of potatoes. 

Through the insights of Grubb, McClure and many others, the Crystal Valley farming economy exploded rapidly in the wake of Ute removal, feeding Valley residents and, with the arrival of the railroads, markets outside the Valley. In the “quiet years” after the collapse of silver mining, the agricultural economy shifted more into beef production, with quite a large dairy component as well. Eggs were bartered among Valley residents.

The fertility of our mountain valleys remained steadfast even as a postwar real estate boom was fueled by Aspen’s resurgence as a year-round resort. Suburban sprawl appeared as the nemesis of the Valley’s irrigated fields. Local rancher Bill Fales once told me, “People say this isn’t a good place for agriculture. They’re wrong. It’s a great place for agriculture, if we can just save the land.” 

The loss of agricultural lands was identified decades ago as a significant issue. As reported in Environment America’s “Losing Ground: Colorado’s Vanishing Agricultural Landscape” report from 2006, our central mountains lost 655,000 acres to suburban sprawl from 1987 to 2002. American Farmland Trust’s “Strategic Ranchland in the Rocky Mountain West” reported 4.9 million acres at risk in Colorado in 2001. 

Some years ago, I was tasked with organizing a board retreat on local food production for the Pitkin County Open Space & Trails board. I became curious how many people the Roaring Fork Valley might feed if we immediately stop paving food producing lands. My buddy Malcolm McMichael worked up an analysis based on remaining irrigated acres and available public grazing lands. Relying on a diet very heavy in beef and potatoes, two foods we know we can produce, we concluded that the local “foodshed” could sustain about 12,000 people annually. With multiple times that now living in our valley, it is obvious that we’re way past our local carrying capacity. 

While we can no longer strive to feed our current valley population entirely with local production, the preservation of what we have left remains important. If perhaps even 20% of our nutritional needs could be supplied locally, I believe we would all be healthier and happier. Local food systems contribute to public wellbeing in multiple ways, such as: 

  • Human health and nutrition
  • Regional economic vitality through local employment and dollar recirculation
  • Protection of open lands and habitat 
  • Cultural, historic and educational inspiration
  • Food security

Our historic ranching has come down through the generations in the care of families like the Nieslaniks, Granges, Fales-Perry and the Jacober brothers. To my palate, nothing tastes better than local grass fed beef. In recent times, bioneering farming, of the likes of Grubb and McClure, has also returned to our valley. The Sopris Sun’s recent cover story about Harper Kaufman and her brilliant work at Two Roots Farm in Emma is a keystone example.

Sadly, this February, we lost one of the most passionate and brilliant minds to re-enter this arena. I feel quite blessed to have spent time with Casey Piscura, listening to him describe his work with seed breeding and plant adaptation up at Sunfire Ranch. It pains me deeply that the stresses of finance, of personality disputes or perhaps even deeper and mysterious tragic voices led to his choice to leave this earth. As one who has endured such a loss within my own home, I can but pray that his death be a catalyst for all of us to reach harder to heal the wounds of our histories, and advance the worthy things we hold most dear. 

Casey’s fascination with soil, light and temperature most certainly rivaled that of Grubb and McClure. His breeding program created a legacy of mountain adapted tomatoes and other crops, still available through Wild Mountain Seeds. Like McClure, I would certainly hope that one of Casey’s locally bred varieties will come to bear his name. 

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