The Road Trip, part 10

Day 9 -- Silverton to Durango, and then back to Silverton, and then back to Durango. You can't make this stuff up, folks.

We woke early -- I had set my cell phone alarm for 6:00 am -- and packed everything back into the car by 6:45. Then, one by one, we transferred the kids from the bed to the backseat. Amazingly, though, they both woke up, determined not to miss anything. Making a quick final check, I noticed that fresh coffee had been set out, and poured up two cups for groggy adults. Thus bolstered, we set off, 50 mountainous miles south to Durango.

There were at least two passes over 10,000 feet -- they may have been slightly higher than Monarch but, inconveniently, the peak altitudes were not marked. Saw a few deer standing by the road, and one yearling actually bounding along (until we got close, when he stopped, stared, and bolted in the other direction). A gas station and convenience store near a resort area provided both breakfast and bathrooms, and we cruised into Durango around 8:15. Just north of town, we spotted the narrow gauge railroad tracks just to our left, and soon a small, yellow, one-man car zipped by. I guessed -- and later asked and had confirmed -- that this was a track inspection, rolling out before the first train run of the day.

We zeroed in on the train depot, but upon spotting a Best Western (one of several hotels suggested by the train clerk over the phone), I went in and made a reservation for that night. Having found our place for the day, Val took the kids inside to change their clothes (still in pajamas) in the lobby restrooms, and I prepped our small daybags for the train ride. Finally outfitted for the train, we walked over and picked up our tickets. The kids, as usual, explored the gift shop. We boarded our car -- an open-air gondola, no windows -- and took four seats. (We had assigned seats but no one made a fuss about this, so we sat nearest the back of the car instead.) Then Val sent me back for coffee; okay. I bought the free-refill mug, which we used several times in the concession car on both rides. Our train, the 9:45, last of the day, blasted forth its whistle, and we were off.

The rails are pretty much flat getting out of Durango and a little bit up the valley, but soon begin climbing into the mountains, and from that point the entire ride is uphill to Silverton; altitude gain is about 2700 feet. Soon after beginning the rise, the train runs alongside the Animas River for much of the line, crossing over a few times. If you've ever imagined what a rock-strewn mountain river looks like, the Animas is probably a perfect match for your expectations. Rough, rocky, white waters, gorge-cutting, challenging, a tough river though not an obvious killer; it could be rafted by the daringest of daredevils. (Not me, thanks.) As with pretty much everywhere else, Colorado saturates the senses with stunning scenery and spectacular sights. Whether looking east, over the valley, or west, up various cliffs, it is a sight well worth seeing.

Not surprisingly, the uphill run requires the train to work harder. The Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad (D&SNGRR, yes, they really use that too-long acronym) is a genuine coal-fired boiler train, and so twice had to stop for water. Mountain spring output channeled into tanks provide plenty of available water, which otherwise drains into the Animas. (The tanks and pipes are quite leaky, which I expect is deliberate, keep the water circulating and prevent any mineralization or buildup of algae.) At one water stop, immediately beside the Animas, the riverbank is a rocky slope, from which quickly poked up several chipmunks. They obviously have learned a good lesson -- the noisy train stopping means it is time to charm humans into tossing snacks. And, of course, we did (popcorn for us; gotta be better than corn chips or candy).

Each train ride is 3 1/2 hours, and that's a bit long to command the attention of youngsters. Carson napped down after about two hours, and Amalie a half-hour later, so they were both asleep for the last ten to fifteen miles, which is the stretch the train must work the hardest. Riding in an open-air car, we were dusted with cinders (I got one or two in my eye, and they do sting; not hot, but just irritating). We shrouded both kids best we could with jackets, but by the time we reached Silverton, our clothes were all covered with ashes and soot. Up by Silverton, the Animas is much tamer, more a wide brook just getting started. We hove to in Silverton right on time, and the kids roused without too much fuss. We had about two hours to explore the town.

Honestly, I had seen enough of Silverton the night before, looking for a hotel, but it was daytime and most stores were open, so we walked over to the main street and sought lunch. A place called the Brown Bear Cafe looked promising, and did provide good burgers. Fortified, we headed back out, and Carson pointed out a souvenir store he wanted to explore. Okay. These types of stores don't much interest me, as much of the merchandise is mass-produced items (of variable quality) that can be found elsewhere, sometimes for less -- but then, I'm a jaded 40something, and he's only 3 (now officially 3 1/2, as of August 11). I picked out a woodcrafted nightlight, and reminded the kids to look for things they cannot easily find elsewhere. Nonetheless, Carson chose polished rocks, and Amalie selected some postcards. Well, neither is so bad. Val found a southwest-style candle holder as a gift for Jenny.

Things purchased, we wandered up the main drag aimlessly, then east a few blocks to where a stream was bridged. We took pictures, both of the family and surrounding mountains. Silverton is too small and low-profile to get lost in, so we easily found the train depot again. We climbed aboard, took our seats, and at 3:30 on the dot, the whistle blasted and we were off again. Once out of the Silverton valley, the train is downhill, and the engine works very little -- only one water stop. Twenty minutes down track, Val spotted a young black bear halfway up the hillside -- it watched us a moment, then went back to foraging. (She's the best at spotting critters -- sighted a black bear on a Canadian road trip in 2004, as well -- I never spot anything unless it is standing almost in front of me, waving a flag.)

The D&SNGRR has one real stop between Durango and Silverton, a small, passenger-only depot named Rockwood. Our train had stopped on the way up to pick up a handful of passengers, and was to stop again on the south trip. As we approached the station and began to slow, Carson, who had been playing with his Telluride-discovered Hot Wheels car, jumped up to grab the handrail and see what was happening, and the car in his hand smacked the rail and bounced overboard. I quickly sighted it and gauged some landmarks -- it landed on a tie on an adjoining track, which had just sided off from our track, nearby a shed. I sped forward to find our conductor, Mike, and told him Carson had dropped a toy and I knew exactly where it was, could I run back for it? Conductor Mike said no, we were only going to be stopping a moment (true), but he radioed the train-end conductor about it, and they asked the line inspector -- who would make the last run of the day -- to check as well. Carson was disappointed, but recognized that it was his own actions that led to the car being lost, and that he should use his pockets for toys. Plus there was the hope that the train personnel would find it.

Conductor Mike took up position near us for a stretch -- the open-air cars make it very easy to lean out and check the train fore and aft -- and was happy to answer some questions. He pointed out where a scene from Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid was filmed (I haven't see the movie in years, and didn't recall the scene -- a train robbery, naturally). I asked him what the last movie to use the D&SNGRR was, and he named The Prestige -- a movie which, coincidentally, I had seen on satellite TV at the ranch for the first time just days earlier. There was a very brief shot of a mountain railroad -- an establishing shot for "Colorado 1899" -- and I thought that, hey, there can't be too many trains that run along mountainous cliffs. Sure enough, Conductor Mike said, that was the D&SNGRR, and we had just come around the turn seen in the movie -- he pointed back toward the curve behind us, which we could easily see since the train was chugging back around the next curve. Conductor Mike was brimming with train trivia, and entertained us until his job required him back to attention.

Carson was quite sedate for the next few miles, but perked up to his usual, energetic self for the last stretch into Durango depot. We spotted some groundhogs, who popped out of their holes as the train rumbled by. Our train ground to a stop, right on time, and we disembarked. Conductor Mike told us that Inspector Jason would be the last off the line, and he might find Carson's toy car. Another agent told us that Inspector Jason would be along shortly, since the inspection car stopped about a mile north at a maintenance depot, but that he would bike down to finish up his day's reports. The agent also told me how to drive to Rockwood Station just in case. While Val and the kids roamed the gift shop, I waited and watched -- and a man biked up. I asked if he was Inspector Jason, he affirmed, and I told him my boy was the one who dropped a car. Jason apologized, but he could not find the car. He described where he had searched, and it sounded to me like he had missed the key area, that communications were a bit garbled and described the wrong side of the train. I thanked him and told Carson the hard news -- no toy car (yet). But, I knew how to get back to the station, and would drive up right after we checked in to our hotel. We did that, and I asked Carson if he wanted to drive up with me. No, he wanted to go swimming, so I departed alone.

The D&SNGRR agent's (I wish I'd gotten his name) directions were true -- up Rte. 550 for 18 miles, then turn right. The road down to Rockwood Depot was twisty (typical) but there were no turnoffs to confuse the issue. Rockwood Depot -- little more than a gravel yard -- appeared. I turned in, and drove almost to the end, where the rail sidings began branching off. I walked directly to the shed -- a Best Western-lent flashlight at the ready, there was but a glimmer of sunlight left as the sun had set 20 minutes ago -- and started searching the side track back toward the main line. Not twenty steps along, there it was, blue side up, sitting on a tie. I picked it up, briefly studied it (no damage), and walked back to the car. Lucky little Hot Wheels toy; if we lose it and find it again, I'm taking it to Las Vegas, because it will have proven itself one of the luckiest cars in the history of the world.

I drove back to Durango. On the way back up to Rte. 550, I spotted some quadruped critter -- fox or small coyote, probably -- slinking off into the bushes. Good hunting, little beastie. A better night for you than me, as this was an extra 42 miles of Colorado that I was not compelled to see a second and third time.

Back at the hotel, I spoke with Carson. He agreed that he will use his pockets to hold his toy cars more often, especially if there is a chance he might drop one where we cannot easily recover it. Then I pulled out the blue car and handed it to him; he was very happy. That made it worth the many extra miles.

However, everyone was hungry. I ventured out on foot to find some dinner, but many of Durango's eateries pull in the sidewalks at 9:00 pm on a Sunday night, and it was just after, curse the luck. After a few blocks, I happened upon a bar, Farquahrt's, that was still serving pub foods, so I sat down and placed a take-out order -- a pizza, salad, and turkey sandwich. While waiting, I had a draft pale ale, which was delicious. So I had another, and then nursed a third. I cannot remember the last time I had three beers, and certainly not within 20 minutes. (I paid for this indulgence during the night and into the next day -- cor, but alcohol can assault the gastrointestinal tract in so many ways.) Food secured (thanks so much, Bartender Mark!), I headed back. Val was dozing but roused to munch some pizza, and the kids were ravenous -- they tore the pizza (which was delicious, much better than I had expected) to shreds. The room's small refrigerator preserved the sandwich and salad and few pizza remains for the next day's drive.

Teeth brushed, we bedded down for the night. Long, long day, some frustrations, but much more fun.