We ended up in the bustling commerce district of Durango; there were lots of trendy specialty stores, some exotic restaurants, and other novelties there. Husband and I boarded a historic train which traveled all the way to a quaint old mining town called Silverton. This train wrapped progressively up and around a mountain laced with clear, rocky streams. Most of us who boarded the train caught sight of a bear trying to climb up the mountain as the train approached (guess he wanted to see what he could see). The air began to chill as we approached Silverton and, when we pulled in, there wasn’t a whole lot to see. The town was so eerily quiet, and plain, and gray from the wintry air. It resembled a ghost town, though there were some signs of life there. There were a few shops with nice things for tourists, and a decent restaurant where husband and I lunched.
We were there about ninety minutes before it was time to board for Durango. About halfway back, a huge rock tumbled down, stubbornly lodging itself in front of our train so we could not move. We were all very fortunate, of course, that the rock did not fall on the train and that the train was able to halt its course before approaching the rock. It must have been a boulder, because word got back to us passengers that a bunch of men had to get out of the train to break down the rock as best they could and get it off the track. This process must have taken about two or three hours. After this, we arrived back in Durango unscathed, although regrettably late to arrive my husband’s mother’s friend’s house a few miles away from the station. Apparently she had guests over to meet us upon our arrival and hear us play our music (husband and I brought guitars on the trip). Unfortunately we were so late the guests had to leave before we arrived.
Our nerves a little ragged, husband and I were happy to set up camp at our friend’s house for the night. She and her husband had dinner on the stove for us and, once we were properly sated, took us sightseeing around town. Our friend drove us to an old neighborhood where she grew up with my husband’s mother and went to high school with her. We saw the little old house where my mother-in-law grew up, which was interesting. As we drove along, we passed through other neighborhoods that seemed more high-end. The houses were old and stony-looking, yet beautiful and well-kept. Like the Rockefellers lived there.
After staying the night with our gracious hosts, we decided to hang our hats in Durango for a few more days and relax (this time boarding a hotel as husband was developing a sensitivity to the cat dander). We looked around the town countless times and shopped a bit, enjoyed lovely restaurants (my favorite being an Indian/Thai fusion place), and enjoyed the scenery.
At another point in our journey, husband and I went to Mesa Verde, an historic native mountainous region which housed the Pueblo and also currently possesses a museum with various native artifacts and histories. We climbed much of the steep terrain with a tour guide, until we approached the cliffs where the Pueblo made their home.
I didn’t want to leave Colorado when it was time to go home. I fell in love with it and hope we will be able to visit there again one day.