That Front Range concentration has frustrated economic development officials to no end. The Hickenlooper administration rolled out even more targeted and generous incentive programs to convince employers to go rural. The state devoted outreach and resources to help overlooked areas boost their attractiveness. And employers have continued to keep their distance.

That isn’t sitting well with the Polis administration either. Now the state is trying a different tactic, one the Colorado Economic Development Commission, which happened to be meeting in Sterling, gave its blessing to on Thursday.

“We have had a lot of conversation. We want to put some new ideas into place to incentivize mutual prosperity,” Jeff Kraft, director of business funding and incentives at the Colorado Office of Economic Development and International Trade, told commissioners.

Starting next year, when companies apply for a JGITC award from the state, they can count remote workers based in rural areas toward that award, not just those in the primary Colorado location. If they have 15 or more remote workers in a rural area, employers can receive another $5,000 per worker beyond the JGITC award. For fewer than 15, the award drops to $2,500 a hire, unless those remote workers are on the Ute Mountain or Southern Ute reservations.

RELATED: Colorado Divide: A project exploring the urban/rural gap in Colorado

The money for the incentive will come from the state’s Strategic Fund, which normally requires a local government match. That match will be waived for the proposed program.

The incentive, which is expected to become available next year, requires workers to spend at least three days a week working out of a rural location, which won’t include wealthier resorts like Vail, Aspen and Telluride. Remote workers must make at least the median wage of the county they are living in and the local government where the workers are based must write a letter of support, said Sean Gould, the state’s deputy director of incentives.

Kraft and his team initially set a floor of five jobs minimum to receive a credit. But directors pushed for a minimum of two and then only one job, arguing that for some small communities, even five jobs is a big hurdle to clear. They also approved $200,000 in initial marketing funds to promote the program.

Board members on Thursday also approved a $7.3 million JGITC award to an international bioscience company. Project Limestone, the hidden identity of the firm, has a clinical-stage gene therapy designed to assist those suffering from rare neurological genetic diseases. It is looking to employ up to 400 workers in Colorado at an average annual wage of $93,025. Helping make the case for adding a remote worker incentive, it is looking at Boulder County.

One headwaters tributary curling around the Great Sand Dunes National Park has dried up. The main stem of the Rio Grande probably won’t make it out of Colorado to New Mexico this summer, state water authorities calculate, let alone Texas and Mexico.

The federal government has designated the San Luis Valley, like most of the land along the Rio Grande’s route to the Gulf of Mexico, as in “extreme drought.” And years of gains by farmers ordered to replenish a depleted underground aquifer, the water equivalent of a savings account, may be lost if farmers with wells turn back to pumping to survive.

“It’s getting scary. We’re a way over-appropriated system,” said alfalfa grower Greg Higel as he stood at the edge of his 9,000 acres by a paltry, ankle-deep flow, shaking his head. He doesn’t have the option of drawing from a well. “We’re going to be out of water in 10 days.”

The pressure hitting food growers along the Rio Grande headwaters in southern Colorado reflects a widening water squeeze that has revealed the precariousness of life across the southwestern United States, where prolonged dry times and climate change increasingly force adaptation.

Exceptionally low snow in the Rocky Mountain region this year, at 37 percent of “normal” atop the Rio Grande River Basin, is playing out in water volumes less than 20 percent of the 120-year average.

San Luis Valley agricultural leaders warn that the low flows may accelerate a projected loss of 100,000 acres of irrigated land, a fifth of the food production in an area dependent on farming. The low water also is hurting ecosystems, hastening the slide toward extinction of endangered species, including the southwestern willow flycatcher, western yellow-billed cuckoo and Rio Grande silvery minnow.

Another troubled river

These troubles add to the intensifying and more publicized problems in the adjacent Colorado River Basin, where an 18-year trend toward less water strains the growing population of 40 million people who use more each year than what the river provides. Tensions flared this year when Arizona officials planned to siphon more water faster from the Lake Mead reservoir.

The North American Atmospheric Administration this week issued a forecast estimating that upper Colorado River Basin flows into Lake Powell reservoir will be 39 percent of average, compelling completion of drought-response plans in seven states. Federal restrictions on recreational fishing have been imposed in some areas to help species survive. The Colorado River Research Group of scientists recently concluded that increasing temperatures from climate change are converting a vast western area to “likely permanent aridity.”

“The overall point is that river flows are being affected by climate change. We can expect lower flows than the historical average going forward. We need to prepare for that,” said former U.S. interior secretary for water and science Anne Castle, a senior fellow at the University of Colorado.

Southern Colorado, including the San Luis Valley, stands out — with water flows in the Gunnison, Animas, Dolores and San Miguel rivers all less than half of average this year — among the fastest-changing areas.

“Our farming economy, the agricultural heritage of Colorado, is something we want to maintain. We don’t want to lose our agriculture. It is part of what our state is, our way of life. We will need to be more creative in how we use and share water,” Castle said. “When flows go low, the sectors most at risk are farmers, the tribes and ecosystems. We cannot just let these sectors take a hit. We have to get out ahead of this.”

A struggle to survive on less water increasingly grips farmers here.

Colorado Department of Natural Resources water engineer Craig Cotton, based in Alamosa, recently looked over San Luis Valley irrigation ditches during a Water Education Foundation forum and said farmers “are pretty much going to take all the flow of the Conejos River and the Rio Grande this year.” (The Conejos flows into the Rio Grande.)

Water that Colorado owes to downriver New Mexico and Texas — set under the Rio Grande Compact that allocates shares, which are reduced during dry years — already was delivered during winter when farmers weren’t irrigating, Cotton said. “And from an administrative standpoint, Colorado is entitled to take pretty much all of the river system this year.”

Yet the water flows within Colorado are sinking so low that even this ability to drain the river brings little comfort.

One recent morning, alfalfa hay grower Cleave Simpson, who serves as general manager of the Rio Grande Water Conservation District, checked levels at the measuring station near Del Norte used for compact accounting and administration of local priority-based water rights.

Simpson saw a reading of 630 cubic feet per second, only 18 percent of the 3,500 cfs that has been the average flow over 120 years.

“What’s going through my mind?” Simpson said. “I have a junior water right here on the Rio Grande. This time of year, I normally have water available to irrigate my crops. As of two weeks ago, that water supply was cut off. How do I manage?”

Like many people, Simpson has access to wells drilled into Rio Grande headwaters alluvial sediment. But he has avoided tapping this source. “I can pump groundwater, but there are consequences of us continuing to overdraft our aquifers,” he said.

Tapping the aquifer

Decades of overpumping to get through periodic dry times by switching from surface to groundwater connected to the Rio Grande now compounds farmers’ difficulties.

The tapping of groundwater that enabled survival in a harsh environment — only 7 inches of rain fall a year on average in the San Luis Valley, temperatures swing from 90 degrees to minus 20 and wind scours at sparse natural vegetation and sweeps through weak soils — cannot legally continue. New Mexico and Texas cried foul when they found less water in the river, then took legal action. Colorado now is obligated to replenish the aquifer within 20 years, and state lawmakers ordered sustainable use of the aquifer — the only groundwater in Colorado that is regulated this way.

Rather than rely on the state to control pumping, the farmers since 2012 have been setting their own limits. They’ve imposed fees that discourage pumping groundwater. Over the past three years, state records show a stabilization with farmers leaving significantly more water in the ground.

But this year, the low snow and meager surface flows in the Rio Grande are pressuring farmers to draw down the aquifer again.

Simpson urged restraint. “We know we’re not sustainable where we are at, and if we were to continue down that path, … we can pump out water to the bottom of the aquifer and eventually we will lose 300,000 acres of irrigated land instead of 100,000 acres. Or we can manage our water withdrawals,” he said. “The world is not stagnant. You’ve got to accept change. You cannot continue the way it historically was. We will see more effort around tourism, wildlife and recreationalism.”

Yet many farmers and state officials reckon aquifer depletion this summer is inevitable, forced by the changing climate.

“Usually, this time of year, we see water running at 1,500 cfs to 1,800 cfs in this river,” said alfalfa farmer Nathan Coombs of Manassa, chairman of the Rio Grande Basin Roundtable, walking along the Conejos. “We’ve got about 250 cfs, all from snowpack. Rains won’t affect it significantly. We don’t get that kind of precipitation, so when there’s no water from snowpack, water isn’t there. And our dependence on groundwater goes up.”

Coombs and Simpson said the dry times mean they will grow less hay this year, and they hope for rising prices, now at $260 a ton, to ease an economic bludgeoning.

Experimentation is increasing.

At Rockey Farms, north of Center, growers have shifted from planting a cash crop mix of potatoes and barley to leafy legume and grass “cover crops” designed to enrich soil. By doing this, manager Brendon Rockey has cut his irrigation in half and stopped using synthetic chemicals — leading to a more profitable operation. Less water can be used to grow more, he said, pointing out that agriculture in Colorado and the West still consumes 85 percent of the available water.

“Fear creates change. It is going to drive us to make positive changes. Not enough has changed yet,” Rockey said. “I don’t want people to go broke. I don’t want people to leave this community in order for some of us to keep farming. We want to have a community where we all can grow. But that’s going to take some drastic changes.

“When you look at agriculture now, we’re very inefficient in our water use. There’s so much room for improvement. Soil is the first step. If we can improve the soil, we can improve how it functions with water.”

Discontent downriver

Meanwhile, discontent festers downriver, despite the compact that locks in each state’s share of Rio Grande water.

That compact, finalized in 1938, ignores environmental needs. And this year, the low flows along headwaters already have led to a dry-up of the Rio Grande through sensitive stretches south of Albuquerque, hastening the demise of the silvery minnow, one of the nation’s most endangered fish.

“Climate change is exposing the flaws in our system, and these low flows are showing that we cannot continue to allocate water the way we do,” said Jen Pelz, an attorney for WildEarth Guardians, which has filed lawsuits under the Endangered Species Act seeking reduced human use to save species. “Farmers have been given the right to water. But the river does not have any right to water. And when a river does not have water, the trees, the ecosystems, do not receive water. If there’s another dry year, we will have a critical situation on our hands.”

Others, too, suggest adjusting shares of water in the future. Mexico is entitled, under the compact, to 60,000 acre-feet a year that it has not claimed. While the compact remains a binding contract, farmers increasingly sense the changing conditions and brace for challenges, Coombs said. “You’d be crazy not to.”

This year, three unresolved interstate water conflicts, including one between Texas and New Mexico over Rio Grande water, reached the U.S. Supreme Court. That’s unusual, legal experts said, reflecting rising tensions around water as the nation’s population expands.

State Sen. Larry Crowder, who represents counties in southern Colorado, said agricultural communities are all concerned about the dry times.

“Our snowpack is hurting us this year. If we can get back to a normal snowpack, we will be OK. We used to have some tough winters. But winters have become milder. And we have had multiple droughts,” Crowder said.

He added: “Nobody here wants to see that compact opened up. Texas has a lot more money than we do to fight.”

The impact on farmers cut back reverberates from town to town.

“Everybody is just holding their breath. The river flow is coming pretty close to ending. You can see how everything is so brown. It should be green right now. We worry about fires. It is a lot of nervousness. There is a sadness. There’s a lot of unknowns. When there are unknowns, there’s discomfort,” said longtime resident Cindy Medina, who runs a local “water keeper” group that has fought for valley water interests since the 1980s, when American Water Development Inc. pushed a plan to export water to Front Range cities, including creek contamination from a toxic mine that required a federal Superfund cleanup.

At a river conference last year, Medina heard from a colleague in New Mexico how Colorado farmers “are hogging the water” of the Rio Grande. The friend wanted to confront San Luis Valley farmers about “keeping all the water to themselves.”

“I told her, ‘That’s not going to go very well,’ ” Medina said, noting the ferocity of those past water battles. “It all depends on how much snow falls.

“When you grow up in this area, these ranchers and farmers are your neighbors. We may not all get along all the time, but when somebody comes in and tries to take our water, we are instantly together.”

Their concerns about future  flights out of Adams County’s Front Range Airport run the gamut — from the impacts airspace closures during launches could have on crop dusting operations and Flight for Life emergencies to the potential hazards of a full-scale in-flight disaster that could send pieces of rocket and chunks of a space plane raining down on fields, livestock and homes.

“I don’t think there’s any reason we have to put the people of eastern Colorado in jeopardy in order for them to have a glorified carnival ride from Front Range Airport,” said Greg Brophy, former state senator from Wray. “All of the risk is in rural Colorado, and any benefit goes to the Front Range.”

The vision for Spaceport Colorado is as the launch and landing site for space planes, still under development, that would ferry tourists and mini satellites into space. The vehicle would take off like a normal jet and then engage rockets at around 45,000 feet to take passengers or researchers into suborbital space, typically for only 10 to 15 minutes total.

Eventually, the spacecraft would provide speedy suborbital passenger flight from Colorado to places around the globe — like a 90-minute trip from Denver to Tokyo. But perfecting the futuristic concept of horizontal space flight has some living under the proposed launch zone feeling uneasy.

Brophy recently started a  Facebook page to push for a slowdown in the licensing process for Spaceport, which is expected to get final decision from the Federal Aviation Administration by Aug. 19. He is urging Spaceport and FAA officials to provide more details about the initiative to his fellow plains residents — via public meetings in communities most directly impacted by launch activity — before moving forward on the application.

“We want to be included as actual stakeholders in this permitting process,” the former GOP state senator said, admitting that the affected rural population numbers only in the hundreds.

The deadline for the required for a Spaceport operator license was recently extended from May 25 to June 15.

Mike McCaleb, a rancher who runs more than 500 head of cattle on land near Anton in Washington County, said Spaceport’s launch zone, which runs 100 miles from around Last Chance to western Kansas and 50 miles north to south puts tiny towns on U.S. 36, such as Joes, Idalia and Lindon, directly under its flight path.

He said the frustration he and his neighbors feel about Spaceport’s plans is illustrative of the enduring rural/urban divide in Colorado that helped fuel an ultimately unsuccessful effort by 11 rural counties in northeast Colorado to secede from the rest of the state nearly five years ago.

“A lot of people don’t realize that Colorado runs east of Interstate 25, and this is a good example of that,” McCaleb said.

Dave Ruppel, Front Range Airport’s director, said that the FAA would require the closure of airspace “from the ground to infinity” during Spaceport launches but that those no-fly directives would only happen once a week for an hour or so at a time.

The impact on aerial spraying operations is uncertain, he said, because most farmers involved in that activity don’t communicate with air traffic control given that they fly so low to the ground.

“Officially, they’re not supposed to be flying, but practically it’s almost impossible to do anything about it because they don’t talk to anybody,” Ruppel said.

In the case of medical emergencies requiring helicopter transport, Ruppel said space launches could be scrubbed at the last minute. And though no one can prevent with 100 percent certainty a catastrophic break-up at altitude, he said, the space planes taking off from Front Range Airport will have to be thoroughly tested and licensed by the FAA before being deemed air-worthy.

“We’re not talking about an experimental aircraft,” Ruppel said. “We’re talking about a licensed, tried and tested vehicle that has been in operation elsewhere.”

The FAA, he said, requires that these kinds of launches happen over sparsely populated areas rather than metropolitan areas, which is why Front Range Airport identified the launch zone it did.

From a broader standpoint, Ruppel said it’s critical that the state remain competitive with the rest of the country, and the world, when it comes to aerospace advancements. At least 10 other states are developing spaceports and Colorado can’t afford to be left out, he said.

The aerospace industry is huge in the state, where there are nearly 170 businesses in the sector and more than 25,000 private sector workers employed, according to  That makes Colorado second only to California for the size of its aerospace industry.

“Colorado is a leader — if we want to continue to be competitive in that industry, this is something our competitors have,” Ruppel said.

While eight members of the state’s congressional delegation signed a letter to the FAA in late May urging the agency to grant Spaceport Colorado an operator license as soon as possible, Rep. Ken Buck did not attach his signature to the letter. Like the plains residents he represents in Congressional District 4, Buck wants to make sure everyone’s voice is heard on the matter first.

“The aerospace industry is critical to Colorado’s economy, and a local spaceport would only enhance the industry’s economic importance to our state,” the Republican congressman said in a statement. “But I also want to ensure that a spaceport doesn’t negatively impact local residents or our air travel industry, so I’m still studying the issue to find a consensus that addresses the needs of all stakeholders.”

Despite a Colorado economy that has bounced back from the Great Recession to rank among the nation’s best, small fire districts like East Grand are fighting blazes with fewer taxpayer dollars, and things are likely to get worse.

The reason is a property tax-limiting provision of the state Constitution, known as the Gallagher Amendment, that is squeezing public services in small-town Colorado and exacerbating the urban-rural economic divide.

Though state lawmakers acknowledge that Gallagher poses a threat to rural communities, they are weeks away from ending a second consecutive legislative session without attempting a solution. That leaves fire chiefs like Holzworth anxious as Colorado enters another drought-fueled wildfire season.

“The recession knocked the stuffing out of us,” Holzworth said. With no action on Gallagher, he added, “We just can’t seem to recover now.”

Tax-averse Coloradans passed Gallagher in 1982 as a hedge against rising property taxes. One-of-a-kind in the U.S., it limits residential properties to 45 percent of the statewide property tax base.

So when home values rise faster than those of commercial properties, like they have in recent years along the Front Range that includes metropolitan Denver, it can trigger a statewide tax cut for homeowners. Last year, it triggered a 9.5 percent cut to residential property tax assessments. An even deeper drop is expected in 2019.

And, because another constitutional amendment requires voter approval for any tax hike, the Gallagher formula forcing property taxes down can’t send them back up, even if property values decline.

Fire chiefs across the state are mounting a late push to introduce legislation that would buy time to work on a more permanent solution. But long odds and a short timeframe stand in the way with the session set to end May 9.

Meanwhile, 42 lawmakers have signed on to a letter requesting an interim committee to study the issue, with eyes toward a 2020 ballot measure. But waiting until 2020 would mean allowing the residential assessment rate to drop by another 15 percent next year.

Because they rely heavily on property tax revenue, special districts — which include the majority of the state’s fire departments — would bear the brunt of those cuts.

School districts stand to lose the most, but they’ve been somewhat insulated because the state is supposed to backfill their losses. If property tax rates keep falling, other local services, ranging from fire protection to elections, could soon require additional state help, leaving less money for statewide needs, such as roads.

In his state of the state address in January, Gov. John Hickenlooper, who is term-limited, urged lawmakers to make Gallagher a top priority for his final year in office.

It’s been virtually ignored at the Capitol.

“We haven’t talked about it at all as a committee,” said Democratic Rep. Millie Hamner, who chairs the Joint Budget Committee. “It’s kind of like — ‘oh yeah, Gallagher.'”

Hamner, who represents the Rocky Mountain town of Dillon, noted that the next tax cut won’t happen until next year.

“Throw in everybody running for election and how complicated these things are,” and it’s easy for Gallagher to fall off the legislative radar, she added.

Politics complicate a solution. While Gallagher’s a fiscal headache for rural communities, it’s a relief for Front Range homeowners who have seen their home values soar.

“If citizens are asked to effectively raise their taxes, that’s a tough pill to swallow — unless they realize the implications of what could happen to emergency services,” said Stuart Mills, chief of the rural Larkspur Fire Protection District.

Fire districts support a last-minute bill that would delay the next property reassessment for two years. Education advocates want a ballot measure that would freeze the assessment rate for school districts – but allow cuts to continue for everyone else. Urban and rural county commissioners are divided on the best approach.

Republican Rep. Bob Rankin, whose district includes rural Carbondale, supports the fire chiefs’ proposal. But if that fails?

“Honestly, what can we do?” Rankin said. “We can’t get to the ballot this year.”

Gov. John Hickenlooper signed the bill Monday. It is one of his top priorities for the 2018 legislative session.

The law is designed to bridge the economic divide between rural and urban parts of Colorado.

Supporters say the state’s eastern plains, western slope and many mountain towns have lagged behind because of sluggish or non-existent service. Fast internet is a lifeline for farmers, telemedicine, public schools and small businesses.

The bill will take money from a fund that long has subsidized rural telephone service and invest it in broadband construction over a five-year period ending in 2023.

Legislative analysts estimate more than $115 million will go to broadband grants between 2019 and 2023.

It����ap what brought Polley back to this town of 2,000 or so that he grew up in, and what makes him continue to invest in his business here, so his two kids can grow up in this community as well.

“We’re an isolated, small town, so you know a lot about a lot of folks, whether they like it or not,” Polley said with a laugh as he stood among the major home appliances in the back of his store. “And they know about you, so that����ap just the way it is. I like that, because it����ap community, versus, I worked in (Grand) Junction for 13 years in retail, and you don’t get to know any customers — you just don’t.”

Polley’s store is busy. But Rangely residents often have to turn to either Amazon or larger communities with big-box stores for some of their needs.

“Vernal (Utah), Grand Junction, Rifle, Craig — there’s a Walmart in every direction,” said Bill Hume, owner of the Nichols Store, one of Rangely’s longest-standing retail establishments.

As in other remote towns across Colorado, business owners in Rangely operate in a challenging environment — they’re a critical resource for those who live in the region yet face growing competition for the local retail dollar. Additional obstacles, such as a downturn in the oil industry that has created economic challenges in many rural areas of Colorado, demand that they draw on all their reserves of resilience and adaptability.

The leakage of retail revenue outside the community doesn’t just create a challenge for Rangely’s small business owners — it hits the town coffers. Town Manager Peter Brixius estimates the town loses 75 to 80 percent of its potential retail sales, or as much as $60 million, to larger neighboring communities a few hours drive away. That calculates to roughly $2.25 million annually in lost sales taxes, he said.

It����ap an especially hard hit to a boom-and-bust oil and gas town, where both individual livelihoods and the town budget are often in symbiosis with the price of crude.

“The revenue fluctuation is actually kind of scary,” Brixius said. In his nine and a half years on the job, he’s seen annual revenues fluctuate by up to 60 percent. “We’re at the bottom of that curve right now. And that means we curtail a lot of capital spending in those years, hoping something will turn some time in the future. But in spite of that we’ve managed to get quite a bit done.”

The town of Rangely is situated where it is because of the Rangely oil field. Eighty-eight percent of the town’s assessed value is tied to oil and gas, said Katelin Cook, the economic development coordinator for Rio Blanco County, over coffee at Main Street cafe, one of a handful of restaurants in Rangely where a visitor can grab breakfast. County Commissioner Jeff Rector, between sips of coffee, confirmed the number. Wild economic swings are the norm here, Rector said.

“I’ve been doing it so long it����ap part of life. You save when it����ap good and hope you saved enough.”

Residents have been talking about diversification for “probably four decades,” he said, but “People don’t worry about the boat sinking until there’s a hole in the side of it.”

Four or five years ago, some folks in county government got tired of patching the hole in the boat. Brixius said that����ap when the county commissioner’s office started the economic development office and hired Cook.

“About that same time they hired a gentleman, Blake Mobley, to head up their IT dept, and he was instrumental in putting together the planning and funding for the broadband,” Brixius said, referring to the county’s recent multimillion-dollar infrastructure upgrade that has brought speedy internet to Rangely and Meeker.

In the ensuing years, Rangely and Rio Blanco County have applied for and won awards and grants to aid efforts to boost the climate there for retail businesses. In the process, tourism and retail have emerged as potential economic drivers the town wants to chase.

“In order to expand retail, you have to have people coming through,” said Konnie Billgren, executive director of the Rangely Chamber of Commerce. In addition to , an old water tank outside of Rangely turned aural attraction, Rangely brings in hunters, is home to the state’s only natural rock-crawl park for 4-wheeling enthusiasts and hosts an off-highway vehicle rally and a hang-gliding event. Billgren said they also have slickrock for mountain bikers and — drawing from her years in outside sales before moving to Rangely two years ago — landed her pitch: “Honey, we are a lot nicer than Moab.”

Polley has been running Rangely’s True Value for 14 years. In that time, he has expanded the store, first into the old drug store space next door, then back into the alley, where he sells lumber, then across the street, where he opened a garden center.

“When I built the garden center, people in town were like, ‘Why would you do that?’ The community needed one, and I felt that every spring, people were driving all over the planet to find a tree in Junction or Vernal or something.”

“It����ap not a huge moneymaker,” he said. “It����ap kind of labor intensive, it����ap kind of stressful — you’ve got actual live things that you’re in care of there for three or four months — but it keeps my crew employed.”

Polley has expanded during boom times.

“I invested in footprint, and I invested in inventory, and I invested in long-term employees,” he said. “You’re investing in a lot to prepare for the downside. … You can’t just save cash, that doesn’t keep the business ball rolling forward.”

Meanwhile, residents still drive to Vernal and Grand Junction for goods — especially groceries. Rangely’s current grocery store, White River Market, is part-grocer, part-hardware store. An economic development study commissioned by local authorities flagged the town’s lack of a full-fledged grocery store as a barrier to getting more people to move to Rangely — to take advantage of the broadband, for example.

Elizabeth Robinson Wiley, a ceramics artist and publisher of , noted that though it might be surprising to those who live on the Front Range, it����ap not a big deal for people in Rangely to buy pantry goods online and drive to Vernal or another town to stock up on produce and other groceries.

“I go out of town once a month max, and what you do is you just plan ahead,” she said. “You meal plan. It����ap not that hard, it just takes getting the hang of it.”

Robinson Wiley has a tiny ceramics studio on Main Street with retail space in the front, but the downturn has affected her business.

“I don’t have business hours at the moment,” she said. “It dried up too much.”

“Everything just kind of crashed a few years ago,” Robinson Wiley said. “We’ve been in one of the biggest busts that Rangely has ever had in the past few years.”

Even though residents buy online and leave for certain things, having a Family Dollar store in town has made it easier to pick up some things in Rangely, said Heather Zadra, who was visiting Robinson Wiley’s studio on a December afternoon.

“I remember when the Dollar came, I was like, socks and underwear, yes!” Zadra said. “There was a stretch of time when you could not get underwear and socks — that wasn’t happening in town — and that was pre-Amazon Prime.”

Zadra teaches at Rangely’s Colorado Northwestern Community College, as does Robinson Wiley’s husband.

“The college campus is a big aspect of our community and our economy,” Brixius said. “We have a really superior flight program. …So part of the economic development is looking for opportunities for expansion of the flight program, the dental hygiene program and the flight maintenance program.”

As the county and the town work toward their economic diversity goals, Hume, owner of the Nichols Store, a few blocks west on Rangely’s main street from True Value, will keep doing what he has always done to survive economic downturns — work hard.

At the back of Nichols Store, past the sacks of sheep feed and the 3.2 percent beer in the glass-doored refrigerators, just beyond one of the rows of framed family photos, is a small stairwell that leads out back. Here on the gravel lot that slopes up from the store is an essential component of his business: his delivery trucks.

“Yesterday I started at 4 in the morning,” he said, his exhale puffing a cloud into the cold morning sunshine. He went through the day’s work, which included delivering water to customers working in the oil field and running down to Grand Junction for milk deliveries. His work day wrapped up at 9 p.m.

He bought the old Nichols Store in 1974. It needed a new roof. “We had more pots and pans in the store than groceries in 1974,” he said. When the Nichols Store sold groceries, he was a grocer. He sells feed and other odds and ends there now. He’s also a meat-cutter, he said. He moves around the store and the back lot like a man who isn’t used to sitting down.

“There ain’t nothin’ I haven’t done,” he said. “That����ap the only reason I’m still here. The only thing is, I haven’t had a life since 1974. Life, meaning, there’s either work or work. I work seven days a week.”

A lifetime of hard work through Rangely’s boom-and-bust cycles hasn’t left him lacking a mischievous side.

“I’m 66.” He paused. “If you turn it upside down, I’m 99.” And he laughed, hard.

In his final State of the State address, Gov. John Hickenlooper outlined an ambitious agenda for a state that transformed under his watch into one of the nation’s most vibrant economies — and yet still struggles to meet the demands of a growing population.

The term-limited Democrat painted a disparate picture of two Colorados on Thursday as he called for solutions to the some of the state’s most pressing problems, perhaps none more urgent than those stemming from the growing urban-rural divide.

Even as he outlined ambitious goals, Hickenlooper struck a reflective tone in his 49-minute address, recalling that the “economy was in disarray” when he took office seven years ago and recounting the steps his administration took to help the state reach the lowest unemployment rate in the nation in 2017.

But the governor lingered on his achievements for only so long before he outlined eight priorities for the legislative session — an agenda that focuses on addressing immediate needs as well as resolving age-old conflicts that he feels are being overlooked.

Hickenlooper identified the solvency of the state’s public pension fund, the need for high-speed internet in rural areas, the danger of abandoned oil and gas wells, and the deadly opioid epidemic as some of the top priorities for lawmakers to tackle in the 120-day term.

In his annual address to a joint session of the General Assembly and an interview afterward, the governor also demanded a solution to the state’s $828 million education funding deficit, called for a rewrite of a constitutional requirement that is hurting rural areas and endorsed a tax hike for road improvements.

“Coloradans deserve the opportunity to vote on whether we need new resources and where they should come from,” Hickenlooper said, drawing applause from Democratic lawmakers but not Republicans. “It����ap time to go to the voters.”

Related: Full text of Colorado Gov. John Hickenlooper’s final State of the State speech

In his office moments after the speech, the governor said the process of cataloging his achievements — which ran 16 pages in the first draft — made him realize how much remained unfinished.

“When you go through that exercise, you end up looking at a bunch of stuff that you worked really hard on and you’re not where you want to be,” he said in an interview.

The priority that eludes Hickenlooper is what he identified in his 2015 address as Colorado’s “fiscal thicket” — a reference to how the state constitution requires lawmakers to spend more each year on education, even as it mandates tax cuts and limits spending.

Hickenlooper said it is “irresponsible” for him not to highlight the fact that voters approved Amendment 23 in 2000 to increase education spending with inflation but lawmakers have spent $828 million less than required.

“We need to be honest with ourselves and the voters — this number won’t go down much without their help,” Hickenlooper said in his speech. “And if we are being really blunt, it hurts rural Colorado more than the Front Range.”

The governor spoke at length about the needs of rural Colorado, singling out issues ranging from teacher shortages to economic development and rural broadband, as well as the hidden financial force known as the Gallagher Amendment that is steadily eroding the ability of rural communities to pay for public services.

Next year, the constitutional provision will trigger further reductions to property tax rates across the state, providing tax relief along the Front Range but squeezing rural governments and school districts that are already struggling to generate enough money to meet local needs.

Hickenlooper called on lawmakers to “protect our rural communities” by addressing the “intense, negative impact” of Gallagher, but he stopped short of endorsing a specific plan. Any fix is guaranteed to be complicated because of the amendment����ap uneven effects across the state; it would also require a constitutional change that has to go to the voters.

His proposal to ask voters for a tax hike to boost transportation spending similarly came with little detail. In an interview, he initially hesitated to support a tax hike, but when pressed on the issue, he suggested that it was the only option to generate the money needed.

“I would support an appropriate request to the voters for new revenue,” he said.

But the idea is a nonstarter among Republican lawmakers, who are even less willing to entertain a tax hike this year after a voter referendum failed to pass the legislature in 2017 despite bipartisan support.

“Some Republicans are so convinced that the voters would not support new revenues for transportation that they want to make sure it doesn’t go on the ballot — and that seems a little fishy,” Hickenlooper said.

Lawmakers give mixed reviews

Even as Hickenlooper’s speech drew bipartisan praise at points, Republicans denounced his endorsement of a tax hike for roads, calling it a “glaring” misstep.

“They (Democrats) are proving my point,” said House Minority Leader Patrick Neville, R-Castle Rock. “They’re holding your commute hostage for a tax increase. Here we have more money than we’ve ever had. We have way more money than we expected we would have. And their only solution was to raise taxes.”

Economic forecasts expect state general fund revenue to grow by as much as $747 million next fiscal year, or 6.7 percent, thanks in part to a side effect of federal tax reform that will broaden the state’s income tax base by between $196 million and $340 million.

To Democrats, the revenue growth represents welcome budgetary breathing room. But they don’t think it����ap enough to address the state’s backlog of unmet needs. Transportation alone is expected to require $9 billion over the next decade; and the state’s school finance responsibilities will only continue to grow if Gallagher isn’t addressed.

State Rep. Leslie Herod criticized Republicans for not standing to cheer like Democrats did when Hickenlooper proposed solutions to the state’s “fiscal knot.”

“Whether it’s around going to the voters with tax increases or dealing with Gallagher, it wasn’t something that they seemed very enthusiastic about,” said Herod, D-Denver.

Herod also credited Hickenlooper with “ushering in a new Colorado” after inheriting an economic mess.

“I think that’s going to be his legacy,” Herod said. “He came in as an entrepreneur, and he’s going to leave as leaving a huge mark on entrepreneurship in Colorado.”

Senate President Kevin Grantham, a Cañon City Republican, likewise said Hickenlooper was “good to work with” and “in many ways, pro-business.”

But his legacy?

“I think that will be dependent on the next 118 days,” Grantham said. “We have a lot of work to do.”

The all-important 2018 election and a series of controversies that rocked the Colorado statehouse in recent months set the stage for a challenging legislative term that promises to take a different tone than a year ago, when lawmakers celebrated major bipartisan accomplishments.

The agenda for the 120-day session makes the task ahead more difficult, according to dozens of interviews ahead of the start. Here’s a look at the top eight issues and a forecast for what lawmakers and lobbyists expect in the 2018 session:

1. PERA faces difficult overhaul with big stakes

Eight years after lawmakers pulled the state pension system back from the financial brink, the Public Employees’ Retirement Association faces another watershed moment. Years of underfunding benefits to employees and retirees have collided with shifting demographics and market conditions that leave the public workers’ pension only 58 percent funded.

Much like in 2010, the PERA board has asked lawmakers to cut retirement benefits and boost contributions from public employees and taxpayers until the $32 billion funding gap is erased. But without the backdrop of a financial crisis, it is proving a tricky sell. And competing plans to address the issue from Democratic Gov. John Hickenlooper and Republican State Treasurer Walker Stapleton complicate the situation.

Forecast: The math demands urgency — the longer lawmakers wait, the more expensive the problem is to fix. But the politics are another matter. Expect partisan proposals to fall flat on both sides while lawmakers negotiate behind the scenes on a reform package. Look for compromise legislation to start in the GOP-led Senate. House Democrats will wait and see what Republicans can pass out of their chamber before asking their caucus to take a difficult vote in an election year.

2. Sexual harassment scandals prompt calls for new policies

Four Colorado lawmakers faced allegations of workplace or sexual harassment in recent months as the #MeToo movement exposed what some believe is a permissive culture toward bad behavior at the Capitol. And now top lawmakers are hiring an outside consultant to conduct a review of the General Assembly’s policies on harassment.

State Rep. Steve Lebsock, one of the lawmakers facing a complaint, is rebuffing calls from his party leaders to resign, while complaints against two Senate Republican lawmakers appear to be unresolved — meaning the issue will carry into the lawmaking term.

And the outside review is due in mid-March to allow lawmakers to address the legislature’s harassment policy before adjournment in May, meaning the issue could bookend the session.

Forecast: A series of Denver Post reports noted that an initial review of the policy by outside experts suggests a major overhaul is needed when it comes to transparency and improving the process of filing complaints. It will prove a tall order for lawmakers to accomplish, but the significance of the issue suggests that top legislative leaders will need to take action as soon as possible. Whether it will spark a culture shift remains uncertain.

3. Lawmakers offer competing plans to fix Colorado’s roads

An unexpected tax windfall has lifted hopes for another infusion of transportation funding this year. But the two sides are deeply entrenched on this issue after a proposed sales tax hike died last year in the Republican Senate, and a smaller increase in road money won approval

Gov. John Hickenlooper proposed $148 million in one-time money for roads and dedicating a portion of the tax windfall in future years to infrastructure, including roads. Republicans want at least $300 million a year at the start. But legislative Democrats cite numerous unmet needs that will compete for the money, none bigger than the state’s $800 million-plus K-12 school funding shortfall known as the negative factor.

The bigger question is a long-term solution and whether lawmakers will find money for a bond that could generate money to make a dent in the $9 billion in transportation needs identified by state officials.

Forecast: Lawmakers appear poised to do something — the question is what and how much. Like last year, look for transportation advocates outside the building to play a major role in crafting legislation. The possibility of multiple ballot measures on the topic adds to the sense that both parties need to agree on a broad solution. But the conversation may be defined by how much money is available, which lawmakers won’t know for sure until the March revenue forecast.

4. Opioid crisis remains a potent issue with new legislative package

A legislative panel met for four months through the summer to craft a package of six bills to address the state’s opioid crisis, which kills one person in Colorado about every nine hours and 36 minutes.

The legislation includes proposals to impose a seven-day limit on some opioid prescriptions, allow Denver to create a supervised injection facility for drug users and seek a federal waiver to allow Medicaid to cover residential rehabilitation programs.

Forecast: Most of the interim committee legislation won bipartisan approval, and President Donald Trump’s declaration of a national public health emergency is adding attention to the issue. But not all the measures will prove easy to pass, particularly those that cost money. The toughest question is whether to allow a drug injection site in Denver, which many Republicans still consider a step too far.

5. Growing urban-rural divide is demanding more attention

A focus on rural Colorado among top lawmakers in the 2017 session culminated in millions of dollars for small town schools, hospitals and roads. But lawmakers have barely begun to address the systemic challenges needed to reverse the Colorado divide, particularly the feeling among rural areas that they are being left behind.

More to the point, the constitutional provision known as the Gallagher Amendment will trigger another round of cuts to property taxes next year and disproportionately affect rural public services. A costly pension reform effort threatens to exacerbate rural Colorado’s current teacher shortage. And lawmakers are still looking to expand high-speed internet with still lacking access to broadband internet.

Forecast: There’s bipartisan momentum to extend broadband internet service to more rural homes, but the cost remains an issue. Meanwhile, expect more discussions about inequities in school funding and the rural teacher shortage with short-term fixes possible. However, a true overhaul of the school finance formula and the Gallagher Amendment may prove too tough for this year’s session. The urgency of these issues to try to bypass lawmakers by going to the ballot — not to mention provide plenty of fodder for the 2018 campaign trail.

6. Oil and gas returns to the forefront amid deadly incidents and fires

In the final weeks of the legislative session, the Firestone explosion thrust oil and gas issues into the limelight, but Republican lawmakers and the Democratic governor had little appetite for an immediate fix. Expect these issues to remain at the forefront in 2018 as Democratic lawmakers look to address issues related to the safety and location of oil and gas operations. Republican lawmakers, meanwhile, will continue to push back against what they see as over-regulation of the industry.

Both sides want to see the Colorado Energy Office re-authorized after last year’s stalemate, and a bipartisan group of lawmakers is working on legislation to investigate and fine those responsible for damages to underground lines because of digging.

Forecast: Like a year ago, the most partisan proposals are essentially dead-on-arrival in the legislature’s split chambers. But lawmakers are hopeful for compromise on issues such as flow-line mapping and a reauthorization of the Colorado Energy Office’s budget, both of which eluded negotiators in the eleventh hour of last session. Whether major bills pass may hinge on the political decision the industry makes about working with the current leaders or stalling until after the election and hoping for a more favorable political makeup.

7. Hickenlooper’s final year and his future

Hickenlooper admits he’s “a lame-duck” with his term set to end in a year, but he wants an ambitious agenda for his final session. The Democrat enters his twilight with major initiatives still not settled, particularly on issues such as transportation, broadband and water.

And the “fiscal thicket” that Hickenlooper identified early in his term involving the Taxpayer’s Bill of Rights and other constitutional mandates remains an area of focus for an overhaul. His future remains a distraction, however, with his continued flirtation with seeking the White House in 2020 complicating his agenda.

Forecast: The governor will confront a number of conflicting currents in his final year. The freedom of not seeking re-election affords him more room to compromise and work across the aisle to achieve results on his outstanding priorities. But each decision comes with political implications for what he wants to do next, and his final year could be his last opportunity to make a splash on the national scene.

8. Election will help define the tone of the session

The election year complicates even-year legislative sessions, with politics infused even more into a partisan process, but it does not necessarily mean gridlock is guaranteed.

Five lawmakers are competing for state treasurer, and one is campaigning for attorney general, along with four current statewide officials who are seeking promotions or re-election. The narrowly divided state Senate amplifies the stakes of the session with just a handful of seats expected to decide which party wins power in 2019.

Forecast: Both parties will look for the edge to define the conversation for the 2018 campaign with bills that appeal to their base of support and swing voters. But the political parties’ fortunes may rest on whether they can find middle ground and get results that voters will reward in November.

It was in Flagler, about 120 miles from their home in Arvada, where they found the “adorable little community” they were searching for, a quaint and tiny town where “everybody’s lawns were mowed” and, more importantly, a place where they could afford to retire. The couple had only ever heard of Flagler from a TV weather report.

The Hendrickses found a “Closed for lunch” sign on the door of the real estate office on Main Street, but as they waited outside, they met a friendly Flagler resident who told them that if they were looking for a rental, they ought to ask for Marie inside the beauty shop. They soon found Marie and quickly agreed to rent a two-bedroom house with hardwood floors and a front porch for $500 per month.

In Arvada, the Hendrickses were paying $1,100 per month for a one-bedroom apartment in a complex with more than 60 units. Rent had recently gone up by $300. Also, Gail fought traffic for an hour twice a day to work in Lakewood, where she was a technician for an eye doctor.

On Aug. 1, they moved to Flagler, where life is slower, friendlier and cheaper, said the couple, both 65. They sip coffee on their front porch and chat with fellow residents walking through town. At the grocery store, people say hello and ask about the wind. Surprising to both of them, Dennis, who grew up in Denver, is happier about the change in pace than Gail, who is from a small town in Nebraska. They miss their grandchildren — but not much else about city life.

“We don’t have a Hobby Lobby, and that makes me sad,” Gail said. “Other than that, they have everything you need here.”

While the Denver metro area is booming and many of the state’s rural communities are fading, at risk of dying even, some Coloradans are migrating the opposite direction. Retirees like the Hendrickses, as well as young singles and families, are giving up on city traffic, the high cost of living and hectic schedules in search of the rural way of life.

Perhaps it’s the widest “Colorado Divide” of all — the pace and feel of life in this state’s cities in contrast to its far-flung towns.

Rural Colorado offers an often idyllic physical and cultural landscape that keeps some natives there forever and lures urbanites who envision their own pastoral happily-ever-after, yet it harbors its own variations of economic struggles, poverty, and unemployment.

Consider Jackson County and Huerfano County, two sparsely populated rural areas well removed from Denver’s urban center.

Jackson, where only about 1,300 residents make their home near the Wyoming border, has slowly been bleeding population — yet newcomers have been lured by its seclusion and natural beauty for reasons both aesthetic and economic. They’ve traded in artisan coffee shops for personal espresso machines, and gym memberships for lap time at the Walden community pool and hiking above 9,000 feet.

Huerfano, an irregularly shaped expanse to the south that extends from the Sangre de Cristos to the Eastern Plains, suffered a precipitous population drop — from 17,000 to less than half that — since its 1930s mining heyday. But more recently, it has been building a reputation, and gaining numbers, as an affordable retirement destination that also appeals to younger transplants drawn by its striking vistas and untapped, though often elusive, business opportunities.

Although the rural lifestyle in some ways perfectly conforms to the idealized notion that makes it such a prominent defining characteristic of Colorado, the reality is more nuanced. A simpler, quieter, friendlier existence, often framed by the almost spiritual beauty of landmarks such as Huerfano County’s Spanish Peaks, Jackson County’s Cameron Pass or even the endless grasslands of the Eastern Plains, presents its own set of challenges.

“cheap land in Colorado”

Mike Rosencrans tapped those words into his computer’s search engine and launched the journey that delivered him and his wife, Laura Lee Carter, to their dream home, a compact but comfortable, 1,400-square-foot passive-solar structure near Walsenburg whose picture windows frame  in an ever-changing mural.

They sought a change from Fort Collins, where the rat race had worn thin. Something quiet, restful and remote — but not too remote — where they could afford to cash out in the rising Front Range housing market, buy a slice of paradise with money to spare and live a relatively stress-free retirement.

The area has slowly attracted retirees and others looking for a midlife to later-in-life change, and that slow migration is partly reflected in the aging populace. From a median age of nearly 40 in 1990, Huerfano County has aged among the fastest in the state to a projected 55 in 2018. The 2015 median age, 53.5, is one and a half times the state average.

For those seeking an escape from the urban population surge, the county offers splendid relief: Huerfano’s population of a little under 7,000 computes to just over four people per square mile.

“Mike always knew it was going to be perfect,” said Carter, who and about their new life. “I was worried. I thought it felt awfully rural at the time, a little scary, like way out there.”

The biggest fear, though, was the financial risk. With home prices continuing to rise after they sold in Fort Collins, they realized that this was a one-time leap of faith. Even now, they figure they could never begin to recoup their investment — an estimated $290,000 to build their new home — if they had second thoughts and tried to sell.

Economically, there was no going back.

But they found that, in their early 60s, different turned out to be better. The silence was soothing. The dark sky revealed previously unseen magnificence. The sunrises moved Carter to take up photography.

Rosencrans has plenty of room to plink tin cans with his air rifle outside the garage and ride his minibike on the dirt roads when he isn’t indulging his artistic side, evidenced by the sculpture he crafted from the remains of a nearly two-centuries-old piñon tree outside the bedroom window.

Overall, the experience has been transformative. Both live with disabilities but feel that their health has benefited from the change to a rural mind-set.

“I didn’t know I was this kind of person,” Carter said, “until I got here.”

[ Related: Colorado’s population could increase by nearly 3 million people by 2050, according to forecast numbers ]

The real estate market ticked upward in 2014, said Arica Andreatta, the owner of in La Veta who grew up in Walsenburg, left for college and started her career in the Denver metro area, but then returned. The past six months have been particularly exciting.

“Mainly, the change has been Walsenburg, low-end homes in desperate need of being rehabbed,” Andreatta said. “I haven’t seen a year like this ever, where we can’t keep lower-end properties on the market.”

Her buyers? Mostly people from Denver, Boulder and Colorado Springs — retired or work-from-home types who have a lot of equity, buy something smaller and bank the rest for either early retirement or just a nice, comfy cushion.

Some have arrived unexpectedly. Rural Colorado wasn’t even Patty Madigan’s first choice when she sought an alternative to Denver’s city life.

Her research first led her to Guatemala, where she enjoyed and a scaled-back cost of living. It was nice for a while, but then homesickness set in.

“I think I just wanted to go back and be with my homies,” said Madigan, now in her early 60s and winding down her career in web design.

She returned to Colorado in June, began a broad search for inexpensive property and stumbled on Walsenburg, about 160 miles south of Denver along Interstate 25. In September, she closed on her $75,000 house, a modest, green-stucco structure on a corner lot just a few blocks from downtown.

She invested in some electrical work and did a little touching up. In fact, she bought a second house, which she plans to improve and put on the rental market. Madigan, who grew up in Denver, was looking for a place that had “enough people, but not a lot of people,” and enough over age 55 that she wouldn’t feel entirely out of place.

Walsenburg checked all those boxes.

“My intention,” she added, “is this is the last move I’m going to make.”

At 6 p.m. one day, Aubrey Lykins rounded up trash in a large plastic bag, flipped the cardboard window sign to “Closed” and turned the lock on the front door. It was the end of her shift at the  on Walsenburg’s Main Street — one of three jobs she works to make ends meet.

She didn’t expect to move back to Walsenburg.

Lykins, 27, grew up here from about age 6, when her mom sought a change of scenery from Virginia, pointed a finger at a map of Colorado and landed in Walsenburg. But after high school, Lykins got an associate degree from and left for Ohio.

Tragedy brought her back. In April 2016, her 20-year-old brother, Mason, was killed in a car wreck on U.S. 160. She came to help her mom through the difficult time but soon realized the depth of her roots in a community that rallied to support her.

Lykins embodies the ambivalence that characterizes some longtime Huerfano County residents and their affinity for the rural lifestyle: She loves the small-town atmosphere, loves the proximity to the mountains and loves that when she phones her burger order to local landmark , they recognize her voice.

And like many longtime residents, she feels an almost mystical connection to the region’s geography.

“My whole life,” she said, “I’ve heard that any time you’ve been away for a long time, and you see either Greenhorn or the Spanish Peaks, you know you’re home, there’s a comfort that washes over you. You feel like you’re in a safe place, far enough away from all the weird things that are happening in the world. You’ve got higher ground. There’s something unique and magical about this land.”

Then she pauses.

“It����ap also kind of like a black hole that sucks you in,” she says, “and spits you out.”

That sentiment reflects frustration with what she describes as a . She has seen friends die from drug abuse amid an opioid crisis . The county’s poverty rate hovers at 18.5 percent (one and a half times the state’s figure), with a $31,000 median income (about half of the statewide number). The county unemployment rate, at 4.6 percent, is the highest in the state. Walsenburg is even poorer, with affluence generally gravitating toward tiny La Veta, 15 miles west, and up to Cuchara — areas where.

“It’d be great if we could just be a team and community as a county, instead of segregating ourselves, which we so often do,” Lykins said. “Regardless, I’m here and I’m happy that I am. I’d like to see the town make it.”

How that might happen and what it would mean for the county remain open questions. Huerfano County could see the cannabis industry produce many more jobs. Locals talk about how a private prison may eventually reopen and provide another avenue for employment, while art and music festivals, a series of on private ranch property and continued tourism also add to the mix.

But Lykins also broaches an idea usually reserved for the shifting urban landscape.

“Gentrification is a real fear in this town,” she said. “Because it����ap affordable and on I-25, I’d be surprised if it doesn’t kind of blow up. I just want to see locals jump on that bandwagon before a bunch of Boulderites and out-of-towners try to make it a fancy-schmancy little mountain town.”

For some, the allure of rural life is a matter of degrees.

Sarah Jardis and Aaron Vasholz had watched the ski industry push Eagle County from a very manageable 13,000 residents in the early 1980s to about, making it the in the West. The couple carved out productive careers there — she in her family’s mortgage business and he in the hospitality industry.

But for years, as life in the burgeoning Vail Valley became more crowded and hectic, they had thought about leaving for someplace with a slower pace that offered more freedom. But neither one wanted to leave the state.

“We drove every two-lane road in Colorado,” Vasholz said, “just to see what����ap available.”

In May 2016, those roads led them to a secluded property about six miles outside of Walsenburg — 160 acres of rolling hills covered with piñon, conifer, juniper and the occasional ponderosa pine. The old homestead features two houses: the original that now serves as a short-term rental and another that����ap the residence for Vasholz and Jardis, who works part-time as a real estate agent.

A few steps from their front door, a garden area surrounds a large domed structure they call the Earth Ship — but which actually steps down into a modified that facilitates year-round operation of the couple’s . Now in their mid-40s, they have already started selling plants and produce at farmers markets around the area and hope to capitalize on the movement toward sustainable food sources.

The purchase of the homestead, from owners that had been there for 25 years, seemed less like a business transaction and more like a passing of the baton as they became caretakers of a property that launched them on a new lifestyle.

“It����ap a slower pace of life,” Jardis said, “and in some ways, there’s this nostalgia for small-town living and a rural community, where you know the majority of neighbors or just haven’t met them yet.”

One recent moment: They ventured into town for a scaled-down Parade of Lights while a line of residents stretched down the block to see Santa and a screening of at the revamped Fox theater. Then Vasholz and Jardis, along with some friends from out of town, stopped off at an antique store and enjoyed some pool and a drink at the StarLite Inn — the nightcap to a picture-perfect tableau of tradition and rural ambiance that encompasses all seasons.

Another moment: “We posted about the Fourth of July picnic on Facebook,” Jardis said, “and a friend responded, ‘Where did you move, Mayberry?’”

Jardis also found a local connection in Gretchen Sporleder Orr, a fellow Dartmouth grad, who along with her husband, Brian, owns the county’s weekly paper, the World Journal. Long ago, Orr did what many young people do — she left to launch her education and her career. But after several years away, she found reasons to return.

Although Huerfano County stands as one of only two Western counties that, since 1980, have  mainly young Latinos who have migrated to cities, Orr describes a diversity that figured strongly in her decision to return.

She had gone off to college and then taken a job in publishing in Boston before following an exodus of young people getting back to nature. Realizing she could buy a house in her old stomping grounds for less per month than she paid for parking in Boston, she made the move in 1989.

“Part of it was family,” she said of her decision, “but also I loved the way it was when I grew up here. The multiculturalism was really fantastic, the kind you’d find in a large city, where you can rub elbows with people from all sorts of different cultures and lifestyles, religions, sexual orientations, all of that stuff. I thought this is the perfect place to come back and raise kids.”

She added: “The best thing I ever decided to do is move back here.”

Most recent transplants to Walden had a prior connection to the alpine town, a reason, however small or long ago, that drew them back up the winding, mountainous road to far northern Colorado.

It’s not a place people tend to pass through, past Granby and up Colorado 125, gradually climbing higher as mountains give way to scrub brush and cattle ranches. Walden, where Main Street drifts with snow and locals measure time in winters, is the “Moose Viewing Capital of Colorado.” There’s a drive-thru liquor store on the no-light Main Street. “Welcome Hunters” banners flap on business fronts.

The area is North Park, Colorado’s northernmost basin, where there is fewer than one person on average per square mile. (The other basins are South Park and Middle Park).

Look east to the postcard-perfect view of the snow-dusted Never Summer mountain range and west to the Mount Zirkel Wilderness of the Continental Divide.

Walden, however, is a mix of beauty and poverty — the charm of the Antlers Inn and the mountain-town classic Stockman Bar, alongside boarded-up storefronts and run-down buildings with peeling paint.

“Whichever way you come into town, it looks like poverty,” said Colleen Conroy, assistant administrator for Jackson County.

Conroy, who grew up in Denver’s northern suburbs, moved to Walden in 2012, where her morning commute to the annex of the columned courthouse, wrapped in Christmas garland this time of year, is three minutes. She ice-fishes for trout on weekends and wheels tomato plants into a friend’s greenhouse for the long winter.

Conroy’s connection to Walden goes back to 1990, when her 21-year-old brother was killed in a car accident when she was 11. As her family grieved, and her parents worried about her, they thought it best to send her to Walden for the rest of the summer to live with family friends. “The people were wonderful. That’s what I remember,” she said.

Tim and Heather Oberbroeckling moved from Westminster to Walden in July 2013, fed up with traffic and crime. Their daughter was 6 when the body of 10-year-old Jessica Ridgeway, who was abducted on her way to school, murdered and dismembered in 2012, was found about a mile and a half from the Oberbroecklings’ home. They counted three times that their daughter’s Westminster school was put on lockdown in the span of a few weeks.

Heather’s connection to Walden was her mother, who was born there. As a girl, Heather spent summers with her aunt on a Walden ranch. But it was Tim, a hunter, who wanted to move there. Heather resisted for years. “There wasn’t a Target,” she explained.

Now Amazon is her “new best friend,” and she finds herself pausing in the City Market in Granby to inhale the smell of fresh produce, something rarely found at Walden’s tiny grocery store. She learned to stock up on milk and freeze it for later.

But instead of dropping her daughter off at her mom’s house at 6 a.m., hitting the Starbucks drive-thru and commuting an hour to work in Littleton, Heather works from home billing for Walden’s medical clinic, and her daughter, now 11, can walk the few blocks to school. “I don’t feel as stressed, and I don’t feel as tired,” Heather said.

Tim opened North Park Plumbing and uses his free time to hunt everything from ducks to moose. The Oberbroecklings’ fifth-grader raises rabbits and pigs in 4-H, plays on the basketball team and has just 19 kids in her grade.

Jodie Douthit also had to be persuaded by her husband, Alan, to move to Walden, a common theme among the women in town. Jodie grew up in Walden, graduated from high school there and left town “with no signs of ever coming back.” But after 13 years in Berthoud, where she was an assistant vice president of a bank and Alan worked for the water district, Jodie caved. “He wore me down. I said no every year for about 10 years,” she said. Their kids, who were 7 and 10 then, didn’t want to go.

Their first trip to the Walden grocery store, which has since improved, was a memorable one. “The eggs were frozen. The cheese was moldy and the ice cream was popping out of the containers. My kids were like, ‘Why did you make us move up here?'” Jodie said.

That was almost 10 years ago. Time off now is spent hunting, fishing and hiking. One of their daughters had to give up softball (there aren’t enough interested girls in Walden to keep up a team) but took up competitive shooting.

Alan works in logging and Jodie works at the school, which has 188 kids from preschool through 12th grade. The school’s enrollment has steadily declined over the past two decades, and hiring teachers is difficult.

“You offer the job three, four, five, six times before you find someone who will take it,” Jodie said. If a man applies for job at the school, you “sell the town to the wife” because experience has taught Walden residents that “it’s the wife who usually needs convincing,” she said.

Probably best not to mention that at more than 8,000 feet, there are 50 frost-free days per year.

“There’s country, and then there’s 8,700 feet and eight months of winter,” said Jackson County bison rancher Jim Beauprez, son of former congressman and Republican gubernatorial nominee Bob Beauprez.

To break up the long winter, there is the annual ice-golfing tournament, where golfers hit tennis balls into ice holes drilled into a frozen reservoir. And there’s more than one ice-fishing derby. Every June, the rodeo and pioneer days draw hundreds of people, many of whom are returning to their hometown.

Chad Carlstrom, in a sweatshirt and baseball cap at the River Rock Cafe, is a sixth-generation Walden resident who returned home after several years in Windsor, where he ran a financial services office. “I was tired of what I was doing every day,” he said. “We were tired of the rat race down there. Here, it’s very down to earth. There are no fancy people.”

Carlstrom knew Walden needed a store to process game meat for hunters, so he opened one on Main Street with a childhood best friend. He also builds houses.

That’s the thing — there’s plenty of economic opportunity in Jackson County for those willing to work for it, residents say. The unemployment rate in Jackson County is just 1.6 percent, lower than the state average.

Carlstrom’s wife, Chrissy, is the school principal. And their son has just 12 kids in his class, where he is the only boy. Now 16, a basketball and football player, it “depends on the day” whether he enjoys spending all his class time with teenage girls.

Joe Brand, a park manager for Colorado Parks and Wildlife, brought his wife and three kids from Highlands Ranch three years ago to fulfill his dream of working in an alpine zone. His children love their new life, raising chickens and participating in 4-H. Brand is comfortable enough now among his fellow townsfolk that he called the local paramedic at home the other night after one of Brand’s kids fell out of bed.

Kids in Walden play outside past dark and, in the summer, meet up with their poles at the pond. Since everyone knows everyone else, no one gets away with much.

“The good news is that everybody is in your business, and the bad news is that everybody is in your business,” joked Brand.

“It’s kind of like the ’70s up here,” said Jamie Brown, who owns Zirkel Liquors drive-thru, Great Divide Tannery and a Culligan water franchise with her husband. She’s also a school administrative assistant and runs a tourism website at .

“It’s nice to turn the kids loose when they are 7 and know they are spending the day fishing in a safe place a few miles from town. I love the village mentality.”

On a desolate stretch of I-70 nearly to Kansas, a sign among the blowing weeds spells out a town’s plea.

“Got land. Got water. All we need is you.”

While Flagler isn’t giving away free property to just anyone willing to move to the flat lands of eastern Colorado, the town will cut a deal: If you’ve got a business idea, a manufacturing plant or a factory that will create jobs, Flagler has three 160-acre plots to give away.

Town clerk Doris King has fielded hundreds of calls in the past few years, but Flagler has closed no deals since it first offered free land. A bird-seed packaging plant. A solar-panel manufacturer. A chicken slaughtering and packaging house. They all came close; some even put up earnest money but, in the end, decided on another town.

Just a few weeks ago, an artist called to inquire, and one woman wanted to use the land to create an affordable cemetery for veterans, charging only $200 per burial plot. The flaw in her proposal was that a cemetery creates few jobs. One man wanted to open a roping arena, but his plan had the same problem.

Flagler, population about 600, purchased the land in 2005 from a rancher who was going into foreclosure, then sold 10 acres back to the family. It’s clear from the town website that Flagler would appreciate a few more residents. It boasts an “excellent school system that has an indoor swimming pool,” two convenience stores with fuel, a “very nice 9-hole golf course,” several churches and a flower shop.

The average home value in Flagler is about $100,000, far more affordable than the state average of about $250,000.

Many of the town’s newest residents are retirees — like intrepid seekers Gail and Dennis Hendricks — not business owners. Nevertheless, they inject new blood into the community as a reminder that, just as many rural Coloradans pull up stakes and high-tail it to the city, some still head in the opposite direction in search of a better life, bridging the Colorado Divide.

“They can sell their home in Denver and come out here and buy a home for a little bit of nothing,” King said. “It����ap just a laid-back lifestyle.”

Use the graphic below to explore county-level data for home values, income, poverty and population in Colorado from 1980-2016.

The list of towns, cities and counties they rolled into reads like a AAA guide to the rural roads less traveled: Baca, Burlington, Lake City, Lycan, Leadville, Meeker, Nucla, Rocky Ford, Silverton, Springfield, Vilas, Walden, Wray and others.

The series detailed the population shift away from rural areas and into cities, the uneven economic recovery and the many challenges posed in the areas of health care, law enforcement and local government. But it did far more. It shared the stories of those like Aubrey Lykins, who moved from out of state and back to Huerfano County and described an almost mystical connection to the region’s geography.

“There’s something unique and magical about this land,” she told reporter Kevin Simpson.

The divide between rural and urban Colorado goes far beyond geography. It����ap a way of seeing the world, of seeing issues and each other. It����ap the contrast between gentrification battles in Denver neighborhoods and the struggle to stem population losses in Baca County. It����ap the difference between worrying about whether a new Amazon headquarters would bring too much Front Range growth and a rural community pulling together to save its grocery store. It����ap the swath of blue counties that sliced through a sea of red in the last presidential election.

That election underscored the lack of understanding between the two Colorados, the frustration felt in rural areas that Denver just doesn’t hear its concerns or share its values. It was that same frustration that led officials in 11 rural counties to launch a secession campaign in 2013, and it continues to fester four years later.

“There is this sense of emptiness and hopelessness that the leadership of our country, and indeed our state, has not been sensitive and responsive to the challenges of rural America,” former Interior Secretary Ken Salazar, a Democrat from the rural San Luis Valley, told reporter John Frank.

The Colorado Divide sought to do more than merely catalog the problems faced in rural areas. It sought to listen, to hear our rural neighbors describe their sense of place, their love of land and pride in community. It also aimed to nudge readers across the divide and into unfamiliar territory, where understanding can begin to grow.

Yes, there are worries in some mountain towns about losing their identity to newcomers, about young adults moving away from farm country and not coming back, about rivers running dry as farmers continue to pump groundwater from the High Plains Aquifer.

But there is also the allure of places where residents look out for each other, where the night sky is dark and the pace of life is slow. There is the optimism that prompts farmers to plant even in the face of low commodities prices. There is faith, family, fortitude.

Sunday’s final installment of the Colorado Divide profiles those who have chosen to relocate to rural areas. They’ve learned to do without the amenities of the city, but they’ve found something else: affordable homes, solitude and community.

Chad Carlstrom spoke to reporter Jennifer Brown about why he chose to return home to Walden a few years ago to raise his family.

“We were tired of the rat race down there,” Carlstrom said. “Here, it’s very down to earth. There are no fancy people.”

to read more chapters of the series examining the issues, values and attitudes that can leave rural and urban residents feeling they live in two Colorados.