That’s the best part. Jim Bishop wasn’t a trained builder. He was a cowboy who thought, “I’ll figure it out as I go.” The castle is a glorious mess of random towers, crooked windows, and balconies that look like they’re holding on for dear life.
He used whatever he could find. Old telephone poles? Perfect for beams. Rocks from the property? Absolutely. Some parts look like a really ambitious sandcastle that someone forgot to smooth out.
And the details? Oh, the details. There are cannons on the roof. Like, actual iron cannons. Did he ever fire them? Who knows. I like to think he blasted one off every time a neighbor complained about the noise.
You might wonder: why build a castle in Colorado?
Jim’s answer was simple: because he wanted one. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He wasn’t showing off. He just loved the look of castles and decided his life needed one. No permits, no blueprints, just pure, stubborn will.
Jim Bishop
Imagine the conversations with the county inspector. “So… Mr. Bishop, where’s your foundation plan?” “Eh, feels solid enough!”
He started in the 1970s and kept going until he passed away in the early 2000s. By the end, the place had five floors, a dungeon (naturally), and a secret tunnel. A secret tunnel! I mean, come on. That’s just showing off.
The tunnel leads from the main building to a small guest house. Why? Because Jim wanted to escape to his “man cave” without walking in the snow, obviously. Practical magic, people.
Today, the castle is privately owned. You can’t just waltz in and have tea in the great hall. It’s a private residence. But you can see it from the road. Locals call it “The Bishop Castle” or just “The Castle.”
And honestly, that’s part of the charm. It’s not a tourist trap with gift shops and velvet ropes. It’s a real home. A weird, lopsided, cannon-topped home.
There’s a story that Jim once chased a trespasser off his property with a sword. A real sword. Was it a theatrical prop from his stuntman days? Probably. But I like to think it was Excalibur Jr.
Jim Bishop's family plans to continue building historic Bishop Castle
So, why should you care about a weird castle in the woods? Because it’s a monument to doing your own thing. Jim Bishop didn’t wait for permission. He didn’t ask, “Is this a good idea?” He just grabbed a hammer and started nailing telephone poles to rocks.
It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s beautiful in a “my nephew’s Lego project after too much sugar” kind of way.
And you know what? In a world full of boring, beige houses with perfect lawns, Jim Bishop’s castle is a glorious middle finger to conformity. It’s a reminder that you can build your own reality. Even if that reality involves a dungeon and a drawbridge.
Next time you’re driving near Evergreen, Colorado, look for it. Just past the bend, tucked in the trees. You’ll see a turret. A flag. And maybe, if you’re lucky, the ghost of a stuntman with a hammer, still adding another tower.
Because that’s the thing about castles. They’re never really finished. Neither are cowboys. And neither, my friend, are you.
So go build something weird. Even if it’s just a garden gnome fortress in your backyard. Jim Bishop would approve. Probably with a cannon salute.
