Few places in Colorado have a starker difference between winter and summer than the eastern San Juan Mountains.

Winter in the San Juans is the stuff of legend, such as tales of prospecting parties getting stuck in winter storms and resorting to cannibalism. Such a thing hardly seems possible in summer, when travelers can easily drive wide-open roads under silvery green aspen leaves glittering in the breeze, with snow but a faint, shimmering accent lingering on only the highest peaks.

Though the range has a reputation for inflicting hardship, this place couldn’t be more welcoming. Still, there are constant reminders of the region’s colorful, sometimes infamous past.

The main thoroughfare through the eastern San Juans is the Silver Thread Scenic and Historic Byway, connecting four counties and three towns, including Lake City, Creede and South Fork. Appropriately named for the shiny element extracted by area fortune seekers for centuries, the 120-mile trip takes two to four hours, but more time should be given for exploring elegantly restored Victorian architecture, beautiful natural landscapes and adventurous backroads.

From Gunnison, travelers drive west on U.S. Highway 50, following the Gunnison River to the shore of Blue Mesa Reservoir, where placid waters provide a prime location for boating, fishing and stand-up paddling. The byway begins at the junction with State Highway 149, veering southward along the river’s Lake Fork.

The road crosses verdant mountain meadows welcoming migratory birds. Beginning in 1985, Lake City resident Helmut Quiram built nesting boxes for bluebird habitat. Students from Western State Colorado University in Gunnison now maintain more than 600 boxes installed along this stretch, known as the Lake Fork Bluebird Trail.

The route climbs to Lake City, where the Hinsdale County Historical Society offers pub crawls with ghost stories and guided walking tours of preserved buildings from the 1870s. Much of the Victorian construction is now used for charming art galleries, many of which participate in the city’s Annual Arts and Crafts Festival happening on July 19.

Modern motorists enjoy routes forged by wagon toll road builder Enos Hotchkiss, founder of Lake City in 1874, and his contractor, Otto Mears, known as the “Pathfinder of the San Juans.” Mears established Lake City’s first hotel and financed the first Western Slope newspaper, The Silver World, which is still in print. Lake City residents also developed a cultural center and one of the region’s first telephone systems, which connected mining towns with music concerts held over party lines.

However, 19th century Lake City was not completely civilized. Preachers nicknamed “sky pilots” proselytized on pulpits made from barroom tables. Legend has it, two prostitutes horse-whipped a minister when he refused to give a funeral for a fellow call girl. Other colorful characters frequenting the saloons included Alice Ivers, who made a career playing cards after her husband died in a mining accident. Nicknamed “Poker Alice Tubbs,” she sharpened her trade in Lake City before traveling nationwide to amass an estimated $250,000 in winnings – $3 million in today’s dollars.

“We were all gamblers,” Poker Alice said. “Some staked their claims in the mines. Others in cattle or goods. I simply staked my lot in cards.”

While Lake City has about 400 full-time residents today, generations of summer visitors return to establishments like the Cannibal Grill and Packer Saloon, a restaurant playfully themed on both the Green Bay football team and notorious alleged maneater Alfred “Alferd” Packer.

Hinsdale County Historical Society is working to open tours of the Alferd Packer Massacre Site, 3 miles south, telling the story of how five prospectors hired Packer to guide them from Salt Lake City to the Los Pinos Agency, near present-day Gunnison. When Packer’s group departed in February 1874, Utes warned they would never make it through the mountains due to severe winter storms. Packer’s clients should have heeded the advice.

Packer stumbled into the Los Pinos Agency alone in April, suspiciously flush with cash and possessing a comrade’s belongings. Packer claimed the party became lost in a storm and ran out of food. As each man died, the others ate the flesh of the dead to stay alive, and Packer was forced to kill the last surviving man in self-defense.

Accused of cannibalism and murder, Packer fled but was eventually captured and brought to trial in Lake City. Judge M.B. Gerry found Packer guilty of murder and allegedly sentenced him to hang for eating “five out the seven Democrats living in Hinsdale County.”

From the massacre site, the highway rises toward 11,530-foot Slumgullion Pass, named after slumgullion stew, a slimy, yellowish soup that sustained destitute miners still attempting to strike it rich. The north side of the pass has a 9 percent grade, the steepest of any paved Colorado road.

A massive landslide on these precipitous slopes called the Slumgullion Earthflow began about 850 years ago, when weak breccia rocks broke from Mesa Seco above. A second slide started about 300 years ago and is still active; unstable soils surrounding it move like molasses at a pace of 20 feet a year.

An overlook provides a view of the turquoise-colored Lake San Cristobal. The lake formed when the slides blocked the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River. Lake City’s namesake takes its name from a Lord Tennyson poem describing a Scottish loch called Cristobal, and it and looks as idyllic as the poet likely envisioned. Fully grown conifer trees angled steeply along the lakeshore show the only evidence that the sluggish slide is still at work.

Ahead are more equally impressive pullouts. The Windy Point Overlook showcases two 14ers: Wetterhorn Peak, resembling Switzerland’s famous Matterhorn, and the tilted triangular form of Mount Uncompahgre, resembling a witch’s hat. Drivers navigate through fields of fireweed carpeting the landscape with a vivid pink hue while eclipsing a second summit, Spring Creek Pass on the Continental Divide.

One of Colorado’s most spectacular waterfalls lies along an easterly diversion on Forest Road 510. The cascades of North Clear Creek Falls plummet clamorously 100 feet from a willow-covered bench into a steep box canyon appearing like a crater gouged from the lush rolling hills of the surrounding scene.

Photographers line tripod-mounted cameras along the guardrails of a parking area above for closeup views of rainbows that form inside the falls’ spraying mist. A roaring sound echoes from the ravine’s walls as runoff collides with colossal boulders at the falls’ base. South Clear Creek Falls, a second, less-visited waterfall, reached via a short trail from Silver Thread Campground farther along the byway, is like a miniature version of its big brother upriver.

Past the falls, volcanic andesite spires, including one named Bristol Head by a settler reminded of his English origin, are often shrouded by fog and monsoon rains as they tower over the byway. Nicholas Creede discovered precious metals in these mysterious hills and founded the namesake town in 1890. Within a year, the town of Creede’s population increased by 300 people daily and grew to more than 10,000, most with sights set on striking silver.

During Creede’s boom, con man Soapy Smith opened the Orleans Club gambling hall. Smith purchased and exhibited a supposed “petrified man” nicknamed McGinty for an admission of 10 cents, while running shell and three-card monte games to swindle more money from customers waiting in line for the sideshow. When the boom waned, Smith decamped to Denver with McGinty. Creede lost most of its business district, including the Orleans Club, in a fire soon after.

Out of the ashes came institutions like the Creede Repertory Theatre. In 1966, theater lover Jim Livingston mailed letters to universities nationwide, hoping someone would perform for visitors in Creede’s disused opera house. The sole reply came from Steve Grossman, a 19-year-old University of Kansas theater student, who convinced 12 students to sell $1 tickets, sew costumes, collect props, built sets and perform in the first season of shows.

The theater now celebrates its 57th season with five shows on two stages, improv events and workshops. Even if the setting seems little like Broadway, productions bring $4 million in economic impact to Colorado yearly.

A less conspicuous landmark, Creede’s Underground Mining Museum, exists in tunnels inside of a mountain. Providing a look at subterranean mining life, exhibits are viewable in half-hour, self-guided audio tours or occasional extended tours guided by retired miners.

“My aunt visited from Manhattan, New York, and said it was the best museum she’s ever seen,” said Kathleen Murphy, executive director of the Creede/Mineral County Chamber of Commerce. “And it’s not as claustrophobic as you would think.”

Like the boom days of old, Mineral County’s full-time population is about 800 today but can balloon to 12,000 in summer when festivals occur.

The Taste of Creede kicks off on Memorial Day weekend with the Silver Chef cookoff, where participants compete using surprise ingredients and serve samples to all spectators. The festival, envisioned by renowned watercolorist and gallery owner Steven Quiller, also includes a “quick draw” competition. This is no standoff between gunslingers; rather, artists using a variety of mediums have 45 minutes to create a piece for auction.

Creede’s Independence Day Celebration starting on July 2 features ample live music, food and fireworks, but the biggest draws are the Colorado State Mining Competition and the Days of ’92, which involve arduous tests of miners’ strength.

“The mine bosses found if they had competitions above ground, it increased the miners’ skills underground,” Murphy said.

Beyond Creede, the byway winds through a nature-lover’s paradise. Up to 1,000 elk gather in Coller State Wildlife Area during summer before migrating northeast in late fall. Bighorn sheep, as well as golden and bald eagles, are often seen along this stretch heading to the highway’s southeastern terminus and one of Colorado’s newest towns.

Incorporated in 1992, South Fork is named for a junction of the Rio Grande. Late 19th century sawmills sprung up to supply local Douglas fir and pine timber as ties for expanding railways and structural props for nearby mines. As the town grew, residents demanded lumber and roof materials for their own houses, barns and businesses. A local mill employed 100 people in its heyday.

Though logging is no longer as widespread, “Biggin,” a 24-foot lumberjack sculpture carved from a single Douglas fir, beckons visitors to take a selfie beneath the town’s gargantuan roadside attraction. South Fork also celebrates its heritage with the Logger Days Festival, featuring chainsaw carving, ax throwing and other lumberjack competitions, held July 15-17.

A sparkling treasure of Colorado’s state byways, Silver Thread earned national scenic byway designation last year. The lure of the flashy metal that attracted settlers to the San Juan Mountains may have subsided in recent times, but the opportunity for travelers to experience the region’s wild nature, rich history and lively activities will never tarnish.