Cumbres & Toltec

The Last Crusade

As ridiculous fans of the Indiana Jones franchise, we purposely detoured out of northern New Mexico to Antonito, Colorado to catch the terminus of the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad.  Knowing we held tickets for the Durango-Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad the next day, we opted against riding the rails between Colorado and New Mexico, but we couldn’t miss the sight of this old-fashioned locomotive carrying its passengers through the southern slopes of the Rocky Mountains.  Roughly twenty years after the start of the American Civil War, the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad laid tracks in support of the mining industry, but in our day, we arrived here strictly as tourists catching a glimpse of a scene we recall from a different period in history.

The primary focus of seeing the train evoked cinematic memories from the third (and as my sons’ believe, the final) adventure of the archeologist named for the family dog.  The Cumbres-Toltec pulled a less-typical cargo of a circus train through the Southwestern United States where a young Indiana Jones sought to elude treasure hunters by hopping aboard the mountain train as it passes through a grassy flatland.  For us, seeing the locomotive would be another movie moment on our vacation adventures (see “Field of Dreams,” February 2013).

A Race Downhill

We inevitably find unique places to stop for a photo moment and somewhere between Santa Fe and Antonito, a winery, a bridge over the Rio Grande, and a nearly dwindled patch of mountain snow (see “The Progression of a Snowball Fight,” January 2012) slow our journey to the railroad’s end.  But we spy the tracks and follow them as best as the narrow roads through the mountains allow.  When we stop at an inspiring outlook, we hear the whistle blow in the distance, echoing off the peaking at our backs.  We race onward in search of the historic locomotive and its length of cars being pulled through the wilderness.  And with winding swiftness, we gain on its caboose and parallel its path for nearly a mile.  When it bends westward, we push forward attempting to get ahead of its steaming engine so we can watch its approach and feels its thunder as it meets our vantage point.

 

We zip ahead and see a marked crossing where we strategically position ourselves and prepare for its approach.  First we hear the vibration of the rails stinging from the weight and motion pulsing towards them.  Next, we hear the engine pounding, chugging, working less difficultly than it must have through the mountains, but nonetheless exerting its force to move towards us.  Then we see the mighty machine round a bend to the north and the puffs of smoke are left hanging in its wake.  Then as it approaches the crossing and the road we previously skirted, it blasts its whistle, a sound unmatched by modern technology, and a sweet reminder of the history behind this mode of transportation.  But it’s no longer a mode of transportation, nor is it even a reminder of a historic era faded into the past.  For us, it is a piece of our favorite adventurer claiming the Cross of Coronado and riding off into the sunset.  And once the engine and its full length pass us, we hop back in our car and do the same.

Overnight On The Amtrak

Less Than Glamorous

Just to be clear, for those who have never had the pleasure of riding the rail, train travel is less than glamorous.  Even the Orient Express isn’t what it used to be.  Once a luxury, modern-day train travel connects numerous stops and less-than-reliable timetables.  No bartender pours glasses of champagne in the club car while Bing Crosby croons about the upside of snow; in fact, you’ll be lucky to purchase a bowl of overpriced Campbell’s soup.  Most people utilize the tracks as an alternate form of commuting from the city, not a vacation to see the countryside.

Imagine the irritation of drivers stopped at a train crossing especially when the train slows down.  Passengers in their cars sit anxiously waiting for the final car to move its way on down the line to allow crossing traffic to get on its way.  And at the end of the train, how often is there a cute red caboose bringing up the rear?  Never – that era of train travel no longer exists.  In fact, most trains seem to be a mismatched collection of graffiti-tainted box cars strung together like a seemingly endless hodge-podge of tractor trailers not worthy of eighteen wheels of their own.  With unknown contents and mysterious destinations, these hauling bins seem empty of cargo and character, lacking romance and ridership.

No Sleeper Car

We climb the narrow stairs onto the Amtrak in mid-afternoon with barely enough time to snap a photo while boarding to capture the memory.  Away the silver tubes pull from our simple station and we spend the first hour seeing our familiar city from vantage points we miss from our automobile’s limitations of the existing roads.  We peer into backyards, some dumping grounds and some miniature meadows, and we glimpse behind the scenes of our city as we stop periodically in the suburbs and depots near our hometown.  Just when we pick up steam and the train begins its rhythmic clatter, we slow down for another town, another passenger, and another stop on our travels north.  Walking loses any semblance of grace as if every passenger attempts their first steps out of infancy.

And through the night the pattern repeats: depart a station, leave another town behind, fall back asleep to the rocking of the passenger car, awake to the squeal as the train slows into another town, bounce awkwardly as the engine fumbles to a stop, and listen to passengers try to find their

seats as the train lurches again and the passengers attempt to doze until the next application of the brakes.  Somehow, this is not how the song sounded when Professor Harold Hill hopped across the Iowa state line, but at least I can say I’ve ridden the rails.