There is much talk these days about finding "the bottom". I may not have found the bottom of the stock market, but I have found the bottom of the Western Hemisphere. It is is 282 feet below sea level and is called Death Valley. After living for more than a year on the edge (i.e., the edge of the Grand Canyon) I decided it was time to take a step or two back and get to the bottom of things. You will still find me behind a hotel front desk, but this one is in the Furnace Creek Inn. Since arriving I have discovered that a railroad once served Death Valley. The locomotive a (Baldwin 2-8-0 oil-burner) now stands in a museum here. I have been too busy to start taking pictures and will leave talk about Death Valley for another jounal entry.>
Before leaving Grand Canyon, I did take a vaction trip to Colorado where I once again rode the Rio Grande Scenic RR based in Alamosa. The steam locomotive pulling trains this year, a 2-8-0 locomotive, came to Alamosa from the Grand Canyon Railroad. The steam engine which headed up the train when I rode last summer is being overhauled and sits in pieces in the yard. Unfortunately, I managed to lose most of my photos when I lost the data card. Very unfortunate because it was a beautiful autmn day. The aspen trees were turning and provided a wonderful backdrop as we climbed up and over Laveta Pass.
The mixed train was only a half day trip. When we arrived back in Alamosa I got on the road to Durango. The highway took me through South Fork, over Wolf Creek Pass, and through Pagosa Springs. The Rio Grande tracks never crossed the Pass, but at South Fork turned north to the mining town of Creede and the end of the line. The track between South Fork and Creede lies abandoned. Trains no longer run regularly between Monte Vista and South Fork. The tracks are used by the Rio Grande Scenic to store cars for other railroads. Right now mile after mile of TOFC spine cars occupy the tracks. These cars are being held for the scrapper, victims of the move to containerized shipping. South Fork once boasted a moderate sized saw mill. Nothing remains today but foundations for the many buildings and an old D&RG water tower. In addition to the spine cars there were other unexpected rolling stock stored on sidings. At least I for one would not expect to see a Seaboard passenger car sitting in the middle of the Rocky Mountains.
I had no time to spend exploring South Fork further, because I was due the next day to ride a photographers' special train in Durango.
The Durango & Silverton Narrow Guage Railroad is the holy grail of Colorado railroading and a Mecca for narrow guage fans the world over. It rained overnight but the clouds seemed to breaking as I arrived next morning at the Durango Yard.> It was a false hope, however. No sooner had we left Durango the clouds thickened and it began to rain. The rain and clouds were to dog our trip until shortly before we arrived in Silverton. The weather was not the only problem. With a train full of passengers intent on photographing every mile of the trip, it was impossible to get a shot from the moving train of anything more than the back of heads leaning out the side of the cars. 
It was nearing sundown when we arrived in Silverton. The photo special would return to Durango the following day, but my calendar required instead a return to the Grand Canyon. The bus for our ride back to Durango was an hour late. I was to stay that night in Cortez, an hour's drive from Durango. It was a long drive at the end of a long day. I could not sleep in the next morning because I wanted to take a side trip to Monument Valley on my way back to Grand Canyon. I was brought up on the old movie westerns of the 1950's so I couldn't drive past the Valley without taking a look. It was a dusty, rough road but worth it to see the backdrop for so many of those old movies. Even with the side trip, I was able to arrive back in Grand Canyon in time to see the sunset. Soon I will be uploading to the Station Master's home page website new photo albums of this trip and a collection of Arizona landscapes.
