Chicago Basin

I feel like I could fall asleep right now, but it's only 8:30 pm. The skies are dark and the air is frigid. My fingers are so numb that I can barely move this pen, but at last I am in a warm tent and in a warm sleeping bag.

We are camped over 11,000 feet in elevation, under the brisk September sky. Our journey started far from here, several hours ago.

This was the fifth time I took the Narrow Gauge Railroad from Durango. The first was when I was a young boy. My brother and I went with my grandpa Lacy during winter when the train turned around at Cascade Station. I remember heavy snow on the ground and a large herd of elk that Grandpa spotted through the window.

I also came twice to search for a silver mine, and once with my wife. That was the only time I took it all the way to Silverton.

Taking the train to the trailhead.

This time I came with a friend and his three adult sons. We got off at the Needleton Stop and waited for the man to unload all the packs. I have been wanting to do this hike for more than twenty years now.

As soon as I strapped on my pack, I remembered how heavy these packs were! I had enough food to keep me alive for three days, two nights, and then some.

Crossing the Animas River. 

The grade up Needleton Creek wasn't steep, but still took a toll on my legs. The waist strap alleviated the weight of the pack from my shoulders, but instead transferred it to my hips.

The trail we followed ran parallel to the creek, usually staying quite a bit higher. I read that in times past, during the mining days, the path was closer to the stream, but after a flash flood they moved it up higher to where it is now.

Most of the trail was redundant, but beautiful. Here and there waterfalls cascaded down the canyon.

One of many waterfalls on Needle Creek.

After 5½ miles the mountain began to open up, and after 6 we were no doubt in Chicago Basin. We saw on a slope one pile of gold-colored tailings, reminding us that at one time this basin was mined.

We hoped to get as far as possible up the trail to alleviate our burden for tomorrow, so we didn't find a camp until around mile 7.

Entering Chicago Basin.

Looking north in Chicago Basin toward Windom and Jupiter Peaks. 

We found a nice location overlooking the basin, and beneath peaks that towered to over 14,000 feet. As we set up camp we noticed the temperature becoming dramatically colder. Before long I donned a long-sleeved shirt, coat and beenie.

We were able to explore some of the surrounding area and found another pile of tailings. Next to it an opening, just large enough to crawl through, led to a tunnel inside the mountain.

Tailings pile in Chicago Basin. 

Old Mine. 

Nearby and in the trees were a couple wooden cabins. Neither were very large and one was small enough we surmised it could be a tack shed. The larger one was big enough possibly for a couple beds. My guess is that these cabins were not connected with the mines, but built at a later date for recreation.

The first known white men in the basin came before 1877. They originally accessed it from Vallecito Creek, which is on the east side of Chicago Basin. When the railroad was completed in 1877, the easiest access came from the west side via the predecessor to the Needle Creek Trail. I don't know if that trail was wide enough for vehicles to come up, or only a pack mule. We have not see any abandoned machinery while up here, so that offer a clue.

Modern cabin hidden in the trees. 

Old wooden shed. 

It is such a peaceful setting up here. We have no connection to the internet and even though there are a few other campers, they are scattered throughout the basin and it feels as if they're not here.

Dave and his boys pulled out their portable camp stove and began cooking a bag of stuffing they brought from their pantry. For me, dinner was not hot. I chose not to bring a stove. We'll see later if that was a wise move or not. I scooped pulled pork from a vacuum-sealed bag onto the top of a cold pita bread.

They say there are mountain goats around here that are likely to scavenge around campsites. We haven't seen any yet. There is a friendly doe that likes to hang around.

Looking back across Chicago Basin. 

Tame doe coming into camp. 

I hope I am able to sleep. My body is exhausted. I thought about going outside and looking at the stars, but I'm comfortable inside my little tent.

After writing this I will lull myself to sleep with an Edgar Allen Poe story. I haven't decided which one yet, but they all go well with the dark night, far away from anywhere.

Chicago Basin

Distance from train: 6.7 miles

Elevation gain: 2,979 feet

Final (campsite) elevation: 11,147 feet

Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad

One of the fond memories I have with my grandpa Lacy is riding the Narrow Gauge Railroad from Durango. Although it was over thirty years ago, some of the memories have remained with me.

It was wintertime and north of Durango we saw a herd of elk that must have been two hundred in number. They grazed at a distance, in the flat of the valley. It was early when we began the ride and I remember thinking that it must have been cold for the elk and that hoarfrost must have grown on their fur.

Once the train left the sparsely scattered houses and any hint of civilization, we entered higher timber with ponderosa pine trees and then we rode through a slit in the rock and came to a narrow gorge. The train hugged the edge of the cliff and it was a long ways down, but it was the most beautiful sight I had ever beheld. At the bottom of this massive gorge, swishing down-river with visible whitewater currents, was the Animas River. I remember the turquoise-blue color of the river, and that it was more vibrant than any river I had ever seen.

Although it was winter, we sat in the open-air coach for part of the ride, feeling the crisp wind on our face and occasionally getting a burning cinder that floated past. We were with my brother, Walt, and younger cousins, Karson and Lehi. They were young and I wondered if they took in anything they saw.

At Cascade Canyon we turned around and made the trip back to Durango. That is as far as the train goes during the winter.

As an adult, I've ridden the Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad three times. Each opportunity was unique in its own way. My favorite time of year was June, when the Animas River is at a turbulent rage from melting mountain snow. If you take the train to its terminus, you will end up in Silverton, elevation 9,318 feet.

Here are a few pictures of what you might expect along the way.

Trains leave every morning from Durango, Colorado's historic downtown. Not only do passengers line up for the train, but tourists also come to watch it depart.

The railroad reached Durango in 1881, and just eleven months later, in 1882, the spur to Silverton was complete.  In the early days it was used to haul silver and gold from the San Juan Mountains, but these days it carries tourists and backpackers.

The Durango to Silverton line is one of the few places in the United States that has seen continuous use of the steam locomotive. This series was built in 1925 by the Baldwin Locomotive Works. 

And we're off!

The route follows the Animas River for 45 miles to the old mining town of Silverton.

The San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado are some of the highest and most rugged of any mountains in North America. Dozens of peaks soar above thirteen thousand feet in elevation, and a handful topple the fourteen thousand mark. These mountains are very rich in minerals, drawing miners and prospectors alike.

Inside the coach passengers feel at ease sitting next to the window, gawking at the scenery. Windows are usually down and occasionally a burning cinder flies inside.

About an hour into the ride, and during the climb between Hermosa and Rockwood, the train passes beautiful Shalona Lake.

One of the most photogenic spots is where the train enters a slot in the mountain and emerges high atop the gorge of Animas Canyon, with the river far below. When everyone rushes to one side to take a picture, you worry that the train will tip over and topple off the edge!

From time to time, the conductor will blow steam over the river and create these eye-catching rainbows.

In early summer, when water levels are high, rafters can be spotted rolling on whitewater.

Just past Tank Creek is the Tall Timber Resort.  Anytime the train passes, you're sure to find a show-off going down the zip-line.

Needleton is one of the few stops along the route. A bridge that spans the river connects with other trails, including the path to Chicago Basin, a popular spot for peakbaggers. Here, a lone prospector plans to try his luck panning for gold.

Needleton was a station on the old Denver and Rio Grande Western railroad, with a post office between the years 1882 and 1919. Today there are just a few relics that remain.  

Just beyond the Needleton flag stop, there are two water tanks.  This wooden water tank seems to be more for appearance. . .

. . . while this one serves a more practical purpose.  Here the train stops to fill up with the water that will help run the steam engine.

It is silver that gave its name to the area. Since 1860, the San Juan Mountains have been a destination for those hoping to strike it rich. Hidden on steep mountain slopes and behind thick timber are abandoned silver mines such as this one.

Also hidden, but sometimes peeking out, are beautiful waterfalls cascading down the hillsides. Several streams feed into the river, most of them having to wend their way through tortuous landscape to get there.

The Animas River is cold and clear. I had no hesitation stooping down and taking a long drink from its rushing waters, or filling up my canteen.

Riding through some of Colorado's most scenic country, it would only be natural that you would find the Colorado Columbine.

You never know who you might find loitering along the track.

Before the days of the railroad, the ore was hauled out on burros and mules, each being able to carry 150 and 300 lbs., respectively. A packer normally led the mules tied together by ropes, and just herded the burros like sheep, along a variety of pack trails throughout the mining district. It was a daunting task considering the amount of animals and men needed to do the job, and the terrain of the mountains.

An old bridge crosses the river alongside the new bridge, just south of Elk Creek and Elk Park Siding.

The narrowness of the mountain canyons open up and the valley of Silverton comes into view.

The arrival of the railroad to Silverton in the summer of 1882 was a blessing. Ore could now be shipped to the smelters in Pueblo, Colorado at a rate of only twelve dollars per ton. The new, cheaper transportation proved to be a boon to Silverton, drawing both miners and businessmen alike, and dubbing it “the new Leadville.”

The train stops in Silverton (elevation 9,318 ft.) for a couple of hours and we take in a meal at Grumpy's Saloon. Without the tourists that come in on the train, Silverton is a sleepy town of 531 people; but a few times a day, it sees a significant influx.

Our saloon is complete with mounted deer heads on the wall, and a tireless girl at the piano.

Anytime during the day, especially along the upper elevations near Silverton, be prepared for a sudden burst of rain. This storm drenched the street just outside our saloon, but only lasted about ten minutes.

The mining district suffered some major setbacks, including the silver crash of 1893, and the Spanish Influenza that killed 10% of Silverton's population in 1918. Eventually, the train shifted from hauling ore, to hauling tourists.

After a little over two hours in Silverton, it is time head back to the train. People tromp over muddy ground to the train yard.

The three and a half hour ride back to Durango seems to take a bit longer.  We are tired and have just seen the same scenery. Now we struggle to stay awake. But there are moments when one can't help but to pop their head out the window and get that perfect picture. ♠