Durango Mountain Caballero
Take me for a ride
On the backbone of this mighty land
The continental divide
To the place where earth and heaven
Meet the mountains and the sky
In the heart of Colorado, Rocky Mountain High
-- John Denver (1982)
Take me for a ride
On the backbone of this mighty land
The continental divide
To the place where earth and heaven
Meet the mountains and the sky
In the heart of Colorado, Rocky Mountain High
-- John Denver (1982)
Hi, everybody! Dan and Robbyne this time. We want to share with you part of a trip we took in June, while Daisy was away at Camp Barkaway. Many
pretty pictures, but -- Spoiler Alert! -- sadly it doesn’t end well.
You’ve probably all heard about the recent mine spill in
Colorado, and the damage done to the Animas and San Juan Rivers, and how it has impacted all those dependent on the water for drinking, crops, livestock, and recreation. Likely, you’ve also seen the
pictures of the Animas River with the bright orange and gold-stained water from
the toxic plume. The pictures looked unreal, as though badly PhotoShopped.
Those pictures are pretty horrible. But what was generally
not reported was the “before” picture of what the river looked and felt like prior to the
spill. We’ll tell you now; because you see, we were there.
First, the backstory. In the early days of the American
West, mining was a big draw. Tens of thousands of mines opened, looking for all
kinds of precious metals, minerals, coal, and more. Today, more than 48,000 abandoned
mines in the U.S. have been inventoried through the Bureau of Land Management’s
Abandoned Mine Lands program. And likely
there are many more; we don’t even know where they all are. And when abandoned,
many of these mines saw little or no remediation, and over the years the
groundwater flows picked up toxic contaminants, either backing up into pools and/or
leaking out of surface openings.
On August 5, 2015, EPA contractors were assessing leaks from
the Gold King mine, near the town of Silverton and abandoned since 1923,
when they inadvertently loosened a debris dam that had been
holding back a massive amount of water laced with arsenic, lead, and other
toxins. Three million gallons of wastewater spilled into the Animas River,
carrying with it decades of mineral leaching. All that contaminated water gushed out, unstoppably, coursing down the
mountains and turning the Animas River a sickening shade of orange.
Lead was found below Silverton's 14th Street bridge at more
than 200 times higher than the acute exposure limit for aquatic life, and 3,580
times higher than federal standards for human drinking water. Levels of arsenic
were more than 24 times the exposure limit for fish and 823 times the level for
human ingestion. Cadmium was found at more than six times the aquatic limit, 33
times that for humans.
The plume has since dissipated, but its heavy metals are settling
into riverbeds along the waste's
300-mile journey toward Lake Powell, where the flow joins the Colorado River
that supplies water to much of the Southwest. It will take many years and many millions
of dollars simply to manage the toxic wastewater from that one
abandoned mine.
Now, back to us. In June, while Daisy was at Camp Barkaway,
we took a four-day trip to southwest Colorado with our friends Jack and Kathy. We stayed in
Durango, an old mining town founded by the Denver & Rio Grande Railway in
1880. Today, Durango is a hip and happening place of maybe 15,000, and a center
for arts, music, and all things outdoors. We stayed in town at the historic Strater Hotel, a grand Victorian hotel built in 1887. Durango was also our base for day trips to see Mesa Verde National Park, Aztec
National Monument, and more.
But a highlight of the trip was our ride on the Durango & Silverton
Narrow Gauge Railroad (D&SNGRR), 45 miles up to the tiny town of Silverton and back
again. It’s a "narrow gauge" railroad in that the track spacing is only 3 feet,
smaller than the 4-foot 8½ inch spacing most common in the U.S. and elsewhere.
In a mountainous area like this, the narrow gauge allows easier construction in
tight spaces, allowing smaller-radius curves and lower costs of construction.
The railroad arrived in Durango in 1881. The next year, the
tracks to Silverton were completed to serve that booming frontier mining town, and
the train began hauling silver and gold ore as well as passengers and freight.
The mines that gave rise to the towns and railroad are mostly
long gone, but the D&SNGRR lives
on. Today’s passengers know that it’s the view that’s truly precious. The D&SNGRR today operates as a historical train with coal-fired, steam-operated locomotives from the 1920s, running the same tracks that miners,
cowboys and settlers of the Old West rode over a century ago. The train winds
through the remote wilderness of the two-million acre San Juan National Forest,
with its deep canyons, snow-capped peaks, and the raging Animas River. The
D&SNGRR has been rated as one of the world’s top ten train rides.
On a bright sunny morning in June, we walked down to the train
station. The crew was making its final preparations, the boiler was firing up,
and smoke began rising out of its stack. We boarded the Silver Vista car, with its glass roof and outdoor viewing platforms. Tickets were punched, and we were
off.
As the train pulled out of the station headed north out of
Durango, we could tell that this was not going to be an ordinary train ride. Pedestrians would stop, look,
smile, and wave. Drivers at intersections, rather than wait impatiently, would
often get out of their cars just to watch, wave, and maybe wax nostalgic.
Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance.
Everybody thinks it’s true.
Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance.
Everybody thinks it’s true.
Everybody thinks it’s true.
Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance.
Everybody thinks it’s true.
-- Paul Simon (1981)
As the train moved northward, upstream along the Animas
River, the town gave way to suburbs, then cabins, then ranchland.
Before long, the train entered the San Juan National Forest,
a humongous area spanning 1.8 million acres of southwest Colorado. It’s a wild
and mostly undeveloped area, with stunning scenery and a host of outdoor
activities. As we climbed higher, the canyon grew deeper, the tracks curvier,
and the river wilder. Snow-capped mountains, some over 14,000 feet tall, loomed
behind the canyon walls.
The old mining town of Silverton is just off the edge of the
National Forest. Sitting at an altitude over 9,300 feet, Silverton is one of
the highest towns in the United States. We’d climbed nearly 3,000 feet since
leaving Durango.
Northeast of Silverton is a caldera, remnants of an ancient volcano,
collecting snow and rain to form the headwaters of the Animas River. The river
canyon, carved over time by glaciers and water, is narrow with steep walls. At
the bottom is the Animas River, churning through the channel on its journey to flow
into the San Juan River in Farmington NM, and later merging into the Colorado River.
After a meal and a couple of hours touring Silverton, we
re-boarded the train for the return trip to Durango. Retracing our route going
downstream, the late afternoon sun gave us long shadows and new views into the canyon. The engine’s chug-chugging and the clicking and clacking of the steel wheels
against the tracks formed a steady background rhythm, waves upon a distant
shore. The whistle blows resonated deeply, a ram’s horn blast from a
forgotten time.
It was a spectacular day, one to be long-remembered. The romance of travel in simpler
times meshed perfectly with the jaw-dropping backdrop of a wild and untamed
place. ‘Twas simply sublime. We felt we were witness to timeless things; surely they would last forever.
We never suspected that it'd be less than two months.
Time it was
and what a time it was.
It was
a time of innocence,
a time of confidences.
Long ago, it must be,
I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories;
they're all that's left you.
and what a time it was.
It was
a time of innocence,
a time of confidences.
Long ago, it must be,
I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories;
they're all that's left you.
-- Paul Simon (1968)
Dan & Robbyne
Santa Fe, New Mexico
August 2015
Santa Fe, New Mexico
August 2015
