Oh, kiss the mountain air we breathe
Good-bye it's time to fly.
Sparrow climb, the air is thinner,
Open wings cast this valley in the shade.
Fires dance the shadows
Winds whisper the trees
Mother talkin' the water's
Spirit moves, it moves through all things.
Steaming hot spring pools welcome guests luxuriating at a fashionably rustic alpine valley resort, cleverly transformed from an 1890's silver mining ghost town of cabins clustered around the dance hall and saloon, reputedly etched barside by Butch Cassidy after robbing banks in nearby Telluride.