LOCOMOTIVE # 486
Cliffhanger!All Aboard!
Durango’s main claim to fame (other than National Lampoon Vacation) is the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad (D.&S.N.G.R.R.). Thanks to Alfred Nobel’s invention of dynamite in 1867 (money from which invention allowed him to endow the Nobel prize), 19th century navvies were able to blast a track over 26 miles of steep mountains from Durango to Silverton in only nine months! The first train made it through on July 4, 1882 and since then the Durango to Silverton has never stopped operation!
Our original steam powered, coal fired locomotive (#486 above) does a five hour round trip to the historic Silverton mines. (Although in winter we only go as far as Cascade Canyon to avoid avalanches.)
The track is “Narrow Gauge” meaning the tracks are about half the usual “Standard Gauge” width. This allows the locomotive to negotiate tight spaces and sharper curves while saving on the cost of construction. The Standard Gauge is 4 feet-8 ½ inches between the inner sides of the parallel rails. About sixty percent of the railways of the world use this gauge.
A legend exists that “Standard Gauge” comes from the width of existing wagon ruts on 18th century roads in England. These ruts, in turn, were carved when Julius Caesar built the first roads and brought Roman military chariots to Britain during his conquest of 55 B.C.E. All subsequent wagons built on the island were made to this dimension so that wagons could easily follow the Roman chariot ruts. Hence a 2000-year-old chariot became the ‘Standard’ measurement for most modern railroads.
We hop aboard the D.&S.N.G.R.R at the Durango depot. Our car is a 1920’s vintage with leather bench seats and oak trim. As we enter, we both look at each other in consternation. It’s another scene from National Lampoon Vacation! We’re surrounded by families with small children. The Dads are paying big bucks for the “authentic steam train experience” advertised in the slick RR brochure and their children aren’t buying it. Kids who aren’t sprouting ear-buds or playing Nintendos are impatiently kicking the seats in front of them. Rena is not amused. As the train picks up steam, the Dads begin to escalate and the kids won’t even look out the windows!
“Well, cow-lady,” I drawl to my spouse, who looks like she may escalate sometime soon. “I’m thinkin’ it’s high time to blow Dodge City.”
“Agreed,” replies Rena tersely.
We mosey to the back of the train. Just as we can’t go any further, we zig left then zag right and step into the last car. It’s another world – plush carpet, hardwood tables, brass lanterns, and velvet-cushioned seats – the whole exuding a smell of fresh-brewed coffee and oiled teak. A fully-stocked bar occupies the front of the parlor. And a private outdoor viewing platform at the rear completes the ensemble.
“Follow me,” I whisper. “This looks like an opportunity for adventure.”
Using Julius Caesar’s tactics of boldness combined with the element of surprise, I stroll down the car and take two seats at the only unoccupied table. Rena, still smarting from kicks to her backside by pint-sized impatient feet, dutifully tags along.
Sarah, our server, approaches:
“I see you folks decided to upgrade,” she says with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply. “Purely by accident but it seems the right thing to do. What a magnificent car you have here!”
Without a wink or a blink, Sarah asks, “Coffee, tea or soft drink? All complimentary.”As she departs to draw our café-au-lait, I turn to Rena and ask how she likes the accidental upgrade.
Rena closes her open mouth and takes a deep breath. “Can’t complain,” she acknowledges.
“Now, now - Sarah’s a girl who knows how to earn a generous tip,” I aver soothingly.
“Chutzpah,” mutters Rena.
Ensconced in parlor class with complimentary beverages in hand, we make the acquaintance of our parlor mates, Allan and Joan of Elkhart, Indiana. Allan is a railroad buff and commercial pilot (retired). Joan is an opera singer. She’s a mezzo-soprano. Somehow the conversation turns to yodeling, and Joan obliges with “The Lonely Goatherd” from the Sound of Music. This cheers Rena up immediately; she always laughs when someone yodels. From Joan I learn a new medical fact – the loss of estrogens at menopause causes your vocal cords to dry up. That’s why post-menopausal sopranos are few and far between.
As we yodel our way up the mountain, the train noodles it’s way through tight passes and across swaying wooden trestles. The Animas River is visible some 500 feet below. The view is vertiginous and the rapids far below are a beautiful jade color. This may be due to copper in the old silver-mine tailings. At one stop, the water tank is frozen solid, and we have to back down the tracks to find a tank with liquid water. Allan informs us that a steam engine without water is called a bomb!
We stop at Cascade Canyon for a light nosh and a hike along the river’s edge. Our return to Durango is uneventful. We arrive at 3 PM and Rena partakes of some retail therapy. Durango’s Main Avenue boasts used book shops, boutiques and outdoor outfitters. Also good bread and hot chocolate.
Our son, Daniel, plans to return from the desert to meet us this evening. We try his cellphone but it’s still out of range. We wait at the NLV for a long time and finally order Chinese take-out. It’s the night before the Iowa Caucuses and we watch election hype on TV while plying chopsticks on Chevy Chase’s eponymous bed. When did Chinese food first come to Durango? Were the navvies who built the Durango to Silverton Chinese? I peruse the police blotter for the day:
10:17 PM A woman in the first block of Pinon St. is bitten by a dog/wolf hybrid.
6:41 AM Delivery personnel, who didn’t have the code, trip a back-door alarm at a building on Florida Road.
8:56 AM The driver of a dark-colored van is tailgating and making obscene gestures at the driver ahead of him on US Highway 160.
10:10 AM A garbage can is reported stolen Christmas Eve in the 400 block of Jenkins Ranch Road.
3:10 PM A pedestrian was not hurt when struck by a silver-colored van.
11:49 PM A caller reported loud music from the vicinity of the Middle School.
Dan finally arrives around 8 PM to liven up our evening. But that really is another story!
Our original steam powered, coal fired locomotive (#486 above) does a five hour round trip to the historic Silverton mines. (Although in winter we only go as far as Cascade Canyon to avoid avalanches.)
The track is “Narrow Gauge” meaning the tracks are about half the usual “Standard Gauge” width. This allows the locomotive to negotiate tight spaces and sharper curves while saving on the cost of construction. The Standard Gauge is 4 feet-8 ½ inches between the inner sides of the parallel rails. About sixty percent of the railways of the world use this gauge.
A legend exists that “Standard Gauge” comes from the width of existing wagon ruts on 18th century roads in England. These ruts, in turn, were carved when Julius Caesar built the first roads and brought Roman military chariots to Britain during his conquest of 55 B.C.E. All subsequent wagons built on the island were made to this dimension so that wagons could easily follow the Roman chariot ruts. Hence a 2000-year-old chariot became the ‘Standard’ measurement for most modern railroads.
We hop aboard the D.&S.N.G.R.R at the Durango depot. Our car is a 1920’s vintage with leather bench seats and oak trim. As we enter, we both look at each other in consternation. It’s another scene from National Lampoon Vacation! We’re surrounded by families with small children. The Dads are paying big bucks for the “authentic steam train experience” advertised in the slick RR brochure and their children aren’t buying it. Kids who aren’t sprouting ear-buds or playing Nintendos are impatiently kicking the seats in front of them. Rena is not amused. As the train picks up steam, the Dads begin to escalate and the kids won’t even look out the windows!
“Well, cow-lady,” I drawl to my spouse, who looks like she may escalate sometime soon. “I’m thinkin’ it’s high time to blow Dodge City.”
“Agreed,” replies Rena tersely.
We mosey to the back of the train. Just as we can’t go any further, we zig left then zag right and step into the last car. It’s another world – plush carpet, hardwood tables, brass lanterns, and velvet-cushioned seats – the whole exuding a smell of fresh-brewed coffee and oiled teak. A fully-stocked bar occupies the front of the parlor. And a private outdoor viewing platform at the rear completes the ensemble.
“Follow me,” I whisper. “This looks like an opportunity for adventure.”
Using Julius Caesar’s tactics of boldness combined with the element of surprise, I stroll down the car and take two seats at the only unoccupied table. Rena, still smarting from kicks to her backside by pint-sized impatient feet, dutifully tags along.
Sarah, our server, approaches:
“I see you folks decided to upgrade,” she says with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply. “Purely by accident but it seems the right thing to do. What a magnificent car you have here!”
Without a wink or a blink, Sarah asks, “Coffee, tea or soft drink? All complimentary.”As she departs to draw our café-au-lait, I turn to Rena and ask how she likes the accidental upgrade.
Rena closes her open mouth and takes a deep breath. “Can’t complain,” she acknowledges.
“Now, now - Sarah’s a girl who knows how to earn a generous tip,” I aver soothingly.
“Chutzpah,” mutters Rena.
Ensconced in parlor class with complimentary beverages in hand, we make the acquaintance of our parlor mates, Allan and Joan of Elkhart, Indiana. Allan is a railroad buff and commercial pilot (retired). Joan is an opera singer. She’s a mezzo-soprano. Somehow the conversation turns to yodeling, and Joan obliges with “The Lonely Goatherd” from the Sound of Music. This cheers Rena up immediately; she always laughs when someone yodels. From Joan I learn a new medical fact – the loss of estrogens at menopause causes your vocal cords to dry up. That’s why post-menopausal sopranos are few and far between.
As we yodel our way up the mountain, the train noodles it’s way through tight passes and across swaying wooden trestles. The Animas River is visible some 500 feet below. The view is vertiginous and the rapids far below are a beautiful jade color. This may be due to copper in the old silver-mine tailings. At one stop, the water tank is frozen solid, and we have to back down the tracks to find a tank with liquid water. Allan informs us that a steam engine without water is called a bomb!
We stop at Cascade Canyon for a light nosh and a hike along the river’s edge. Our return to Durango is uneventful. We arrive at 3 PM and Rena partakes of some retail therapy. Durango’s Main Avenue boasts used book shops, boutiques and outdoor outfitters. Also good bread and hot chocolate.
Our son, Daniel, plans to return from the desert to meet us this evening. We try his cellphone but it’s still out of range. We wait at the NLV for a long time and finally order Chinese take-out. It’s the night before the Iowa Caucuses and we watch election hype on TV while plying chopsticks on Chevy Chase’s eponymous bed. When did Chinese food first come to Durango? Were the navvies who built the Durango to Silverton Chinese? I peruse the police blotter for the day:
10:17 PM A woman in the first block of Pinon St. is bitten by a dog/wolf hybrid.
6:41 AM Delivery personnel, who didn’t have the code, trip a back-door alarm at a building on Florida Road.
8:56 AM The driver of a dark-colored van is tailgating and making obscene gestures at the driver ahead of him on US Highway 160.
10:10 AM A garbage can is reported stolen Christmas Eve in the 400 block of Jenkins Ranch Road.
3:10 PM A pedestrian was not hurt when struck by a silver-colored van.
11:49 PM A caller reported loud music from the vicinity of the Middle School.
Dan finally arrives around 8 PM to liven up our evening. But that really is another story!
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