“Satank is like Narnia; it’s hard to find, but once you’re
there you never want to leave.” –JB
For those of you who don’t already know, Satank is a
neighborhood to the west of Carbondale. It’s not actually in Carbondale, as in the
town limits, but you can walk to Sopris Park in about fifteen minutes— and
that’s with two dogs who like to stop and smell the opposite of roses. Satank
was originally called Cooperton for founder Isaac Cooper, who has streets named
for him both in Aspen and in Glenwood Springs. Satank sits just above the
confluence of the Roaring Fork River and Rock Creek (the Crystal River) with
many old trees lining the quiet roads. A lot of people have lived in Satank at
least once in their valley rental history, and everyone I’ve heard from has enjoyed
living here.
That’s not to say Satank doesn’t have its quirks; it does.
As residents of unincorporated Garfield County, Satankers have, for the most
part, adopted a laissez-faire attitude when it comes to rules and regulations. From
tribes of free-range chickens to plastic ones artfully placed in the front yard,
anything goes in Satank; we even have a free box corner. And for the most part,
neighbors overlook each other’s strange habits because we acknowledge our own
idiosyncrasies.
Over the years, Satankers have earned the reputation of
being everything from ‘challenging’ to eccentric, to just plain cray-cray. But
don’t let the lawn clutter and patch-worked outbuildings fool you— being a
recluse goes hand in hand with having a high I.Q. Yep, I said it; only the good
die young, and only the bright choose a little hinky over an HOA. Sure, our
neighborhood may resemble Sanford and Son, but at least we can have a yard sale
any time we want and leave the Christmas lights up after January 1st.
One of these days we’re going to start the Satank Country
Club, and then look out! “We have a pool and a pond… Pond’d be good for you.”
–Ty Webb (Caddyshack.) Truly, the future look and feel of Satank is anyone’s
guess. With a range of individuality rarely seen in such a small area, Satank
is enduring and unique. Even with all the changes Carbondale has undergone in
the last few years, I’m not worried. As satankerous* as some of my neighbors
are, I seriously doubt we’ll even see curb and gutter work in my lifetime.
The newest Satank trend is to live in a trailer while you
build a house, and I must say, I’m rather envious (my retirement dream is to
live in a trailer on the beach.) Back when we moved our house to Satank, we
felt it fit in perfectly because it is a stick-built to look like a modular. My
husband’s brother, Jack, was the first one to buy land from my uncle Charlie,
(he bought the land from Bud Fender) and he built a straw bale house on the
river. Next, we moved in an old wood house off my grandparents’ ranch; it took
about fifteen minutes to drive down Hwy 133 with a Wide Load truck leading the
way, and more than two hours to negotiate the twists and turns of Satank. So
now, if the youngest Wilfley brother moves his family to Satank they’ll need a
brick house, in keeping with the Three Little Pigs storyline. My in-laws are not
as corny as I am, but they put up with my huffing and puffing jokes.
Maybe that’s the secret to Satank, a sense of humor. No one here
takes life so seriously that they won’t kick off their shoes and put their feet
in the ditch with a neighbor on a sunny afternoon. When Brad Hendricks (Satanker
extraordinaire) passed away, there were little handmade signs in front of the
houses that read: ‘park here’ and ‘parking for Brad H.’ It was heartwarming to
see neighbors reaching out in consideration instead of calling a tow truck. True
community is about appreciating each other’s differences, and paying it forward
in kind. And in this respect, Satank’s diversity makes it, already, a very rich
neighborhood.
*courtesy Tom Camp
