The Account During Which I Tire Myself Out Attempting to Record How I Tired My Tired Old Self Out Trying to Cram As Much As Humanly Possible Into A Five Day Period...
Remember I got to spend the day with Dominic last Wednesday? Well, after a day of spoiling my boy, I got to turn around Thursday and get spoiled. Dan and I made an escape and headed south to well-loved old haunts. We got to spend Thursday and the first part of Friday together and it was lovely. No hair-raising tales to share like my trip with Dominic... But, well, no, come to think of it, there were some thrills -- just not necessarily our own, and not necessarily hair-raising.
The shot below shows the Silverton/Durango steam locomotive. It travels every day in the non-snow season over the American Alps (aka: the San Juan Mountains) on a meticulously maintained hundred-year-old narrow guage railway. The staff and engineers are highly trained, efficient and cheerful and there is hardly ever a mishap on this tourist route. Very seldom. Almost never.
Until the day we were in Silverton, of course. Slurried loose perhaps by the recent monsoon moisture in the southwestern mountains here, a landslide crashed down on the tracks about half way along the journey and the locomotive full of day-trip tourists was stalled for a couple of hours while the tracks were repaired. A scene right out of the old west, huh? I would have been tickled to death to have been on that train just for the bragging rights! Apparently, though, according to one of the shopkeepers we were talking to, some of the passengers were irate and carried on about the inconvenience. Puh-lease! Like the railroad folks planned the landslide? Ya just want to smack some people, don't ya?
|There he is with a mouth full of pulled beef...|
My husband, Dan... you know. Not to be
confused with or considered a part of
the pig collection I was photographing.
Here's a shot of one of the dusty streets of Silverton. I believe most of the buildings in this town are at least a hundred years old. These streets have been used in the filming of countless western films and the town is on the National Registry of Historic Places. If it weren't for the bazillion tourists and the modern cars, it really would feel like a slice of the old west.
|(You can see we had a close encounter with Big Foot.|
He wanted to know where he could get a pair of sandals
|(There he is again, that mustachioed man. I don't know|
how he keeps getting into this post. Looks like he's drinking
an IPA here. Name of which I have forgotten.)