Four Mile Historic Park

Tess Johnson - 05 October 2024

Four Mile House sits along what was once the Smoky Hill Trail. Much like the name implies the site rests just 4 miles from the terminus of the historic pioneer path in downtown Denver. Today, the house is managed by the Four Mile Historic Park under the Denver Historic District. The site, now used for private events and seasonal community events, was once a safe haven for travelers and a hotspot for trade.

After parking in the small lot of the historic park, nestled in a residential area removed from freeways, I sat at the covered picnic table next to the building. Behind the historic property, a paved path snaked by. Cyclists rushed past, the occasional jogger or parent pushing a stroller making an appearance. Dense, deciduous trees on the other side of the paved path blocked much of the surrounding cityscape, creating a sense of escape. The house, unfortunately, was closed to the public due to a private event. The property accompanied by the house, fenced between the road to approach the site and the paved path, was covered in colorful and whimsical statues. A sign stated, “Bright Nights at Four Mile”, dedicating the exhibit to the 2024 Tianyu Festival. The first 30 minutes of my time at 4 Mile House was sitting, watching, and noticing—pedestrians, cyclists, squirrels. Leaves fell and the essence of fall could be felt on the slight breeze. I then ventured onto the path itself, supposedly retracing the steps of those that walked the Cherokee and Smoky Hill Trails nearly 200 years ago. I meandered along the path, stepping aside for runners and cyclists, and capturing moments and spaces with my camera that stood out to me. I even ventured onto social trails that branched away from the main route. Despite being the first week in October, autumn was timid in its approach. The sun beat down, and the breeze that welcomed me when I first arrived was having no effect on the weather. I wandered for nearly an hour and a half, stopping to listen, take photos, and read the occasional informational sign. By the time I returned to my car, I walked 3.5 miles.

Most of the other people I saw were riding bikes along the trail, zooming past at 15, 20 miles per hour. Most of them were by themselves, or with one other person. As I walked slowly along the trail, trying to take in everything around me, they would yell, “On your left!”, before passing me. On occasion, I would encounter joggers or people walking their dogs. A couple of middle-aged women, chatting away, passed me on several instances. The 4 Mile Historic Park was well maintained, the house itself restored, and the property repurposed for the needs and desires of the local community. The colorful art installation for the Tianyu Festival stood out in comparison to the demure teepee and wooden sign at the back corner of the property. The property, being closed, did not have the volume of people that the trail did. I’m assuming most of the historical education material related to 4 Mile Historic Park was inside of the house, since there was nearly no evidence along the trail of the purposes the trail once served. A sign showed the trail system across Denver, as well as the animals one might encounter in the area. A board next to the 4 Mile House warned against littering and asked visitors to maintain the cleanliness and safety of the area. No signs or programming gave background on the Cherokee or Smoky Hill Trails, limiting that knowledge to the mysteries within the house. Apartments and businesses surrounded the historic park, contrasting with how secluded the trail felt. On the opposite side of the trail from the house, social trails snaked away from the paved path into the woods. I followed one such trail, and found a creek, flanked by fall colors. The primary reminder of the surrounding community, besides the occasional piece of trash, was the steady roar of car traffic. Small brown birds flitted past, and I’m fairly certain that I saw a rat dive into the water when it saw me walking by. I wandered along the creek, even walking right up to the water, for about 30 minutes until I turned around to embark on my original intended path. Bridges and side paths led away from the paved path to surrounding neighborhoods. As I walked, I could look into the backyards of the bordering houses, witnessing fathers mow lawns, dogs play catch, and kids lounge on swings. The “sounds of Denver”, cars driving and honking at each other, airplanes overhead, the occasional siren, were ever present. These sounds all relating to roads and transportation, all relating to the incredible speed at which life moves here.

I will be the first to admit I wasn’t feeling up to embarking on this particular practicum adventure. Life and school are busy, and I had a hard time convincing myself that spending time walking, observing, and reflecting was a productive use of time when I have multiple projects due and exams coming up. I felt the excursion was worth it, on many levels, even with my reluctance to do so in the first place. The separation from schoolwork and the need to focus on the goings-on around me created a sense of peace and focus. I also feel that separation is necessary to effectively consider the relationship between a community and its trails. Without bearing witness to the interactions enabled by a place, can you understand a place?

Clearly, the intention of the Four Mile Historic Park is to preserve the story of the Four Mile House. That story is intertwined with that of the Cherokee and Smoky Hill Trails. But outside of the confines of the house and its property, that story is not intentionally communicated, nor is it intentionally tied into the surrounding recreational trails. Unless you intentionally, with your own time and resources, learn about the local history of these paths, that history remains unknown. However, the trail connects the past and present in many indirect ways. As previously mentioned, the path followed a creek. Much of the creek was not highly visible from the trail due to trees, but it was always there regardless. The same body of water that draw cyclists and joggers today, sustained the migrants and prospectors of the 1800’s, and was a reliable source of water for Indigenous people even before that. The placement of the trails itself has long influenced placement of major roads and subsequently neighborhoods and businesses. Everyone using this path was trying to improve their health and spend time with friends in a place that was convenient to do so. This place is convenient because of the evolution of the region, guided by this trail. The proximity to permanent human settlements (i.e. society) created a sense of safety when it comes to safely recreating on this trail. However, cyclists still wore helmets and joggers still alerted people they were passing. Safety was a part of the culture on this trail, ingrained in individual habits and the structure of the trail, through regular signage.

I started and ended my time in this place with quiet reflection and spent the journey in quiet observation. I tried to remove myself from the equation, from the many ongoing reactions and interactions. But I don’t think that is entirely possible. I think that when I occupy a place, I will then take up some of the space and interactions. Perhaps I need to consider myself, and acknowledge my own biases and perceptions, to best understand the identity of a place.