By Keith Liggett
Riding up the Deer yesterday, going for the Deer/Bear slide, below me Jimi Hendrix boomed out of the hut in the Rail Park.
“Manic depression. . .” with that now classic guitar riff following, “is searching my soul.”
This is the music of my youth. In a rail park that last year played rap. The Deer is slow, but the ride was just right.
At the end of my daily session on the hill, I wandered by the hut again.
Out of curiosity.
What’s on the play list now?
“I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more,
No, I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more.”
The distinctive voice of Bob Dylan rolled out across the rails.
I joke that Fernie is 1978 Breckenridge. A friend from those days in the Colorado ski country visited last week. We met 35 years ago. She is one of my favorite people in the world to ski with. We rode the Shuttle bus up to the hill one night and the driver was dialed into a 1970’s Sirius channel.
“See.”
Now the rail park is going further back.
I checked. Dylan released Maggie’s Farm in 1965. Hendrix released manic Depression a couple years later in 1967.
We’re going backwards and I love it.
