At home on the range

Writer's retreat near Creede a haven for canines and creativity

Maria Cote, Rocky Mountain News

Published October 6, 2007 at midnight

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CREEDE - If you stand 2 feet tall and walk on four legs, there is no finer place.

With your keen, leathery nose, you can sniff out a mouse 50 yards away. You can find grasshoppers to chase, horses to harass, acres of rolling terrain to explore and sunny spots to curl up in when the weight of all that activity settles into your bones.

At the end of the day - better than any mouse or horse or sunlit spot - a human companion will feed you, scratch you behind the ears and love you best of all.

Pam Houston's three Irish wolfhounds live a sweet life. To watch them frolic, it almost seems the author chose to buy her 120-acre property near Creede to fill the whims of canine fancy. But watch Houston weave along the trails across the land, brush the native grass with her hand and crook her neck to gaze up at the San Juan Mountains around her, and it's clear:

She bought this ranch for herself.

"There's an interesting story in how I got this," says Houston, 45, on a sun-soaked September morning. "I had $21,000 from an advance on Cowboys Are My Weakness, and no job.

"The woman who was selling this ranch had three men who wanted to buy it for cash and turn it into a fishing lodge. But she sold it to me for 7 percent down because she liked my book."

She bought the ranch - including a two-bedroom, two-bath home built in the '70s, a barn built in 1920 and a cabin built in 1890 - for $385,000 in 1992, she says, ruffling her long hair, still damp from a shower.

She's preparing for the last day of a week-long workshop with women writers from across the country. They're staying in a nearby lodge and are due to arrive in an hour to offer each other advice on their novels and short stories and to soak in wisdom from Houston, acclaimed author of four books.

"The fact that I have this place is the most insane thing I've ever done," Houston says, tapping a stuttering rhythm on the enormous ceramic coffee mug she holds. "I worked very hard for all this."

Though she's owned the ranch for 15 years, not much has changed in the main building since she's owned it. Inside the structure - a log cabin that would blend in nicely high up on a mountain - a spacious kitchen with bright yellow countertops opens to a dining room where Houston leans on a large pine table.

She's ripped out some ugly carpeting, she says, and touched up the living room a bit. The pine floor in the home is her touch. And that's about it, save for the bathroom, which, she says, is the one spot that she's really reinvented.

Dogs rule the roost

Houston wanders from the dining room into the adjacent living room, which is dominated by a sofa facing a wood-burning stove.

"In the winter, we need the extra heat," Houston says. "Propane can't keep up."

This is not a home that will shine, pristine and sterile, in the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. The slipcover on the sofa - Irish wolfhound-colored - is a bit worn. An easy chair is frayed. And in anticipation of the seven writers who soon will arrive, an odd assortment of seats dots the room: an office chair, a bench yanked from a shiny Yamaha piano, a camp chair.

Perhaps most notable, three giant dog beds are tucked into corners and nestled near walls.

One bed is not in use.

"They're welcome on the couch," says Houston, gesturing to Liam, her youngest wolfhound, whose 110-pound-plus body is stretched out on a piece of prime real estate. "No, Liam," she says gently, when the pup decides to gnaw on a bit of fabric on the arm of the couch.

Houston pauses in the living room and points out her prized possessions:

The Yamaha piano. "I've played most all my life," she says. "But really, I'm not very good."

Shelves full of books of poetry and novels by authors such as Toni Morrison, John Updike and Carl Phillips.

A painting that adorns the jacket of her first book.

Photos, sculpture and pottery from Patagonia, Africa and Tibet.

"I've been to 60 countries, and this reminds me of those places," she says. "I'm not into family heirlooms."

Her father was a businessman, she says, and her mother was an actress.

"There were a lot of secrets, and there was a lot of anger," she says, turning toward a multipaned picture window, one of many that draw light and mountain views into the home.

Each pane frames a different scene, and Houston seems to study each, from the ordinary to the extraordinary: a far-off electric pole; a cloud of dust kicked up by a passing truck on a dirt road; a lone aspen glowing gold in a forest of green, the standout determined to beat the crowd.

"In truth, I never take all this for granted. Maybe because I never had a sense of home growing up, this is ground zero for me."

Then she turns to her computer and pulls up a photo of her goddaughter, who lives in Denver. The solemn spell is broken as she points to the image of a beautiful 15-year-old with wide eyes and thick, dark hair.

"We're close," Houston says with a grin, and frown lines disappear.

Still smiling, she heads for her favorite room: the remodeled bathroom.

A bright red claw-foot tub and sink center the room. Tiles swim with fish, and the moon and two glass planets hang from the ceiling, flashy pieces of art.

An enormous window near the tub offers a magnificent view. Sun and clouds battle, casting shadows across distant foothills.

A natural teacher

Houston's workshop group filters into the home late in the morning, and the seven women settle in for the last session of the week.

They're analyzing the work of one writer, and the questions and comments come tentatively at first.

"Is chapter four too late for that bombshell?"

"I wonder about the calm voice in the letter."

"How do I handle my agent?"

Heads turn to Houston when she sums up the conversation and answers questions. It seems she was born to teach.

Even when she was in graduate school, she worked as a white-water rafting guide and a hunting guide.

"I worked through five years of graduate school. And yet, no degree; no piece of paper," she says. "When I walked out, only months away from graduating, it seemed like a good idea. I had great grades but was just fed up with some things. Now I have an honorary Ph.D. from Denison University in Ohio. Nothing about my life has been by the book."

The missing piece of paper hasn't hindered her writing or teaching career. Since spring, she's been center stage at prose-writing workshops in Vail, Ouray, Taos and even Spain. She teaches at the University of California at Davis, where she directs the creative writing program.

This group of writers, who gather once a year at her home, is special, Houston says. Two have been part of the group for five years, and from the laughter and teasing sprinkled into conversations, it's clear that this is a meeting of friends.

Talk continues over a lunch of creamy corn soup, a colorful salad and cookies prepared by Janelle Oliver - recent graduate, writer and Houston's assistant. Oliver will watch the dogs, along with two horses, while Houston is away during the winter.

A lonely landscape

After lunch the group heads outside to hike the land with the dogs.

They pass Houston's prized 1964 truck, a picturesque barn and a ramshackle cabin, one of the original buildings on the land.

A bluebird darts into an aspen tree near the house, scattering a handful of sparrows.

Coyotes, mule deer, bear, lynx, moose and bobcats share the property with Houston.

"And tons of elk," she says. "Three hundred of them will come thundering through the land to the Rio Grande River. It's amazing."

Earlier in the day, Houston questioned her decision to buy this land.

"I have to import people if I want to be among my own kind," she said.

"There are months when I'm here by myself. Three or four days will go by and I'll realize I haven't seen a soul. I love Denver. I love the Broncos. I have so many friends there. Hey, it's the ultimate comfort place for me.

"I thought I'd get used to it over the years. I thought I'd be the old wolfhound woman in the mountains. But it doesn't get easier."

Hiking across her quiet land with her imported friends and her beloved dogs, it's hard to imagine she'll ever give up on this peaceful property.

"I balance loneliness and a wish for a more normal life with the knowledge that this is a place that's good for the writing and the soul. And I love this property. My whole body relaxes when I come back here and round that corner."

cotem@RockyMountainNews.com or 303-954-5169

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