A Narrow Gauge Adventure
Posted: Tuesday, February 07, 2012
by Ron Kelley
I’m totally enveloped and somehow warmed by the aroma of coal smoke that emanates a pungent odor. My mind becomes spellbound as I close my eyes, yet can see the wooden buildings with their boardwalks echoing the sounds of boots blending in with the clop-clop of hoof beats. I can almost touch a livery passing by me on its way to drop off the hotel patrons at the nearby train depot for their anticipated ride through the magnificent San Juan Range of the Rocky Mountains in southern Colorado. The thought of hot steel and sweat are only more of the feel of this wonderful world of the past and it sends shivers through my body.
Too soon, my eyes open and I’m reminded that I’m really only in this modern day at the 1880s era train station in Durango, Colorado. This original depot has a period costumed conductor helping us riders find our assigned passenger car as we board the coach and spread out on the stiff double wide seats of smooth green leather. I’m joined by other passengers on this unique excursion, some of them seated nearby, while others are here in spirit and only seen with our mind’s eye. This coach was built in 1887 and appears to be as substantial as it did when first in service. It’s yellow and long and made of sturdy metal and wood. I wonder about the stories it could tell of the gentlemen and fine ladies, a hundred years ago, who must have been as thrilled as I am to begin this journey.
After the conductor’s “Board!” and final “All aboard!”, we’re moving. The power that pulls us comes from steam engine number 480, hauling us with ease to our destination of the old mining town of Silverton—in the heart of silver and gold country. The engineer shows skill by gently taking up the slack in the couplings between the nine cars behind him; and we’re rolling at last, following the requisite whistle blows from the engine. As we pass through town, I hear the warning sounds of steam and more whistle, announcing to the town’s traffic that we’re here, and we’re coming strong! Vehicles stop and cameras click as we pull slowly through the streets in a restored old part of town.
We steam through Durango’s suburbs and into a more open valley. I see pastures with cattle, and golf courses, and lavish houses being planted here and there. All the while, I continue to feel more and more of our progress into yesteryear.
I’m getting accustomed to the rocking motion of the coach and the sound of wind rushing by, cooling my face as I peer out the half opened window, not wanting to miss any of the sights. I can smell the coal being burned and feel cinders being spewed by the steam streaming back from the engine more and more horizontally as we gain speed. I can see a winding river bringing life to the people and animals and fields below. Our speed continues until we reach Hermosa and begin to leave the wide valley filled with grass and haystacks, wooden cabins with rail fences meandering throughout. We now begin our climb up and along the west flank of the mountains standing guard on either side.
The engine is doing all it can to hold its best speed up the 2.5% grade without slipping its eight driver wheels, joined together as if a giant arm was holding on and encouraging them to do their best. I feel even more steam as the speed slackens somewhat and the rocking coach tries to lull me to slumber. I see quite a few large conifer trees, mostly stately ponderosa pine, along with some Douglas fir, go whooshing by. A brief stop at Rockwood for some additional passengers and we’re moving again.
Very soon we start the section of roadway that was the most challenging for the construction of the line, as we pass along a cut 350 feet deep through hard granite. Then another rock cut takes us past some near vertical cliffs high above the Animas River. The river seems small from here and looks pale green, but white where it passes over the rocks. All the vegetation is so vivid and bold against the grays of the granite walls and rockfalls on the ground at the base of the steep cliffs. I see so many magnificent views. It’s all so clear. I breathe so deep.
As we leave a narrow ledge, we cross a metal and wood bridge over the Animas again. It looks to be very old and sends some creaking wooden joint protests. We are, now again, near the bottom of the valley, where the trepidation subsides and the ominous mountains no longer hold us as tightly in their bosom, but guard our flanks and display their majesty. Mt. Garfield remains glaring menacingly towards us interlopers stepping around its feet even while the sun brightens up the rest of this magnificent world. Here and there are glistening sun sparkles from the drops left behind after the last rainfall. Then it’s past a hundred-year-old hydroelectric power plant still in operation. I see numerous portals of forsaken mines, where a hundred years ago, with picks and dynamite, men broke their backs seeking shiny metals, but more often found rheumatism and disappointing failure.
Now we slow and listen to the train’s whistle, letting us know we’re approaching a difficult curve. I hold my breath as I hear the squealing of the wheel flanges against the steel rails, apparently trying to pull them apart as we make this sharp bend.
Finally we enter a high mountain valley with the scenic old mining terminus of our trip—Silverton. It’s designated a National Historical Landmark now. With steep mountain slopes deceptively close enough to touch, it is indeed a different world to all but the lucky few who live here. One can observe the magical way the snows up high give forth so many rushing streams, eventually carving through the two valleys that meet at this point. They seem to nourish the rugged rock so thoroughly in a way to somehow allow the sparse timber, no longer being cut, to grow back on the slopes, to flourish again.
We deboard just on the edge of the main business section of town with its old buildings still serving residents and visiting patrons. In my two hour stop for lunch, I’m impelled to see all the trappings of days long gone and forgotten by me until now. I gawk at the false fronts on the buildings, some with striking colors and some with natural, graying wood—begging for paint, but so appealing without. I see the vertical windows, some old and original enough to hold the waves throughout left by the makers in the manufacture. I stroll along the boardwalk and guess at how many years of boot heel scuffs it took to give it the proper amount of wear exhibited. Did those handrails have many reins wrapped around them in times past? In the next block, indeed, there are two horses standing at wait.
“Now, was that a bank?” I wonder. “Could that have been a brothel?” Many questions come to mind. Here on infamous Blair Street, I satisfy my hunger with a beer and sandwich, although in days long ago, which included miners, gamblers and adventurers, a more lively type of entertainment was surely available.
Sadly—too quickly—the hour has come for my return. It isn’t that I’m not looking forward to the perspective of trying to absorb again all those sights I passed on the journey here, but to know I don’t have too much longer re-living as much of a previous time as I wish.
Just closing one’s eyes helps in letting the ghosts and various spirits from a past life try to once again live vicariously through one’s imagination now. I’m thrilled to be a part. What an exalting journey I’ve had and will remember for the rest of my life.
Ron Kelley
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Top-level comments on this article: (5 total)Been there, rode that. What an adventure. The present tense gives me a little difficulty. Thanks for being in our group!--
Jack,
Thanks for your welcome.
Ron
This is sensational! I know this train and you have captured the feel! It's a shame everyone can't enjoy this ride . . . but they sure can get the idea from your article! What a smooth style! Before I know it, I've read it all and I begin again to recapture the feeling. Wow! What a ride!--
O,
I'm glad you could "feel" the ride. That was the way I tried to present it.
Ron
Nice story Ron. Dawn--
Dawn,
I'm glad you enjoyed it. I guess you're going to have to go there and see if what I said is true.
Ron
Hi Ron.
This is an absolutely wonderful piece of workmanship. I'm very glad you brought it to my attention.
I could see it and feel it and smell it ... all because you described it so well. It was poetic without being "flowery" and I was said when it was over.
If you have more of this inside of you, you have got to let it out. :)
Thanks so much for this!
Hugs,
Dianne--
Why, Dianne, I would do anything to get you to visit beautiful Colorado. Thank you for the compliment.
Ron
Ron, I'm very glad you sent me the link to this site and had me read your stories. I really enjoyed following you on this train ride, I could feel myself being there through your words.
Matt--
Matt,
You're welcome. I'm glad you could "be there." I wrote it in 'present tense' so it would seem as if you were doing it as you read it.
I'm surprised I had the power to make you read my stories. That's a first! I can't even make my granddaughters call me on the phone.
Ron
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