(If you have not already done so, please scroll down and read parts 1-4 before reading this entry.)
August 19, 5:00 p.m. in Northern Nevada
Leaving Roseville, the train began its ascent into the Sierra Nevada Mountains, climbing from just above sea level this morning to the highest point on the Union Pacific Railroad, just under 7,000 feet in elevation. On the way, we followed the ridges of the mountains overlooking several deep passes, and prior to reaching Truckee, we passed by Donner Lake, named for the nearby pass and the party who died there trying to get Cailfornia in the winter of 1846-47. The track descended 600 feet into Truckee. From there, we followed the Truckee River through the Truckee Canyon, where we were treated to jaw-dropping beauty as we wound through the bottom of the canyon on both sides of the rapids-filled river.
The river brought us to Reno, Nevada. When we passed from California to Nevada (the ninth state this trip has brought me to for the first time), the mountains immediately looked different. Instead of patches of evergreen in the higher elevations, entire mountains are bare, appearing almost like mounds of dirty sand. The further east we travel, the flatter the terrain.
If you were pioneering across this land, you could journey for days and get nowhere. And without supplies, you would likely not live long enough to get through it. But it does have a certain beauty that grows on people passing by in a climate-controlled vehicle stocked with amenities. If it is not a threat to one’s survival, the starkness of the desert landscape holds a certain attraction.
7:30 p.m., in northern Nevada
Those distant hills got much closer right around Lovelock. They rose up suddenly and steeply from the flatland. Soon, a few patches of trees with buildings interspersed among them came into view. They reminded me of the oasis towns in the Middle Eastern desert of the West Bank, but before long, the desert landscape gave way to more greenery and even a reservoir (the Rye Patch Reservoir), which the conductor told us was fed by the melting snow running off the surrounding mountains. As we left the mountains, we began to pass hay fields and wheat fields very much like those we had seen in North Dakota and eastern Montana.
We’ve witnessed an amazing variety of terrain today – the lowlands near the bay, the forested mountains, the desert, and the prairie.
August 20, 10:00 a.m., Grand Junction, Colorado
At first light, we were passing through a deep canyon in Utah cut by the Price River. Then, we were back in desert territory, though the mesas and buttes on either side of us were quite impressive.
The biblical concept of the “River of Life” was dramatically illustrated when the train met up with the Colorado River. Suddenly, trees and grass were everywhere. The whole landscape filled with color. Even the bare mesas took on a red-orange tinge. (That means they were filled with iron ore, which may or may not have anything to do with the river, but they seemed to come alive with everything else.) Soon we wound through Ruby Canyon, visible only by white-water rafting or by train. As we pulled into Grand Junction, the high mesas of the Colorado National Monument were in full view. We’ll be following the Colorado River for roughly 200 miles as we climb into the Rocky Mountains.
8:00 p.m., in Northeast Colorado
I feel wholly inadequate to describe all that I saw today. Neither, I fear, will my pictures –taken through windows – do it any justice. Our long, winding trek following the Colorado River took us through Ruby Canyon, Red Canyon, Lower Gore Canyon, Azure Valley, and Upper Gore Canyon. Rock formations rise as much as 1,500 from the river in these spectacular gorges. Upper Gore Canyon is so rough and narrow that only rafters and the train pass through it. Once out of the canyon, the track is situated on a high ridge through the Upper Gore Range, affording several commanding views into the higher peaks as well as the valleys below. Between Glenwood Springs and Denver, we passed through 40 tunnels.
By mid-afternoon, I was having trouble getting enough breath, and soon realized the air was thinner in the higher elevations. So I checked our elevation with an app on my phone. At that time, we were at about 7,700 feet. For comparison, the elevation at Grand Junction, the first stop in Colorado, was 4,500 feet. But the climb continued. We passed 8,000 at Ganby, and then at the Winter Park ski resort, we entered the Moffatt Tunnel, which crosses the Continental Divide at 9,239 feet, the highest point on any Amtrak route in the country. The tunnel cuts directly through James Peak, which ascends to over 13,000 feet
On the eastern side of the tunnel, wildfire smoke obscured everything. The conductor, who provided helpful narration between Grand Junction and Denver, said it was the worst he had ever seen. When we came to the frontal range of the Rockies overlooking the flatlands below, we should have been able to see all of greater Denver, but nothing except yellowy smog filled the vista. Three wildfires are burning between Denver and Grand Junction; one in the Upper Gore Range. I could tell the conductor was genuinely disappointed for us, but after that breathtaking (yes, it was more than the elevation that took my breath) journey along the Colorado River, we had no reason to be disappointed. Given those fires, it’s a wonder we saw anything.
After dinner, Martha and I stepped off the train and walked around Union Station in Denver, another grand old public building like those we saw in Portland, Seattle and Chicago. We had time to stretch our legs and get some ice cream for dessert before the train pulled out again headed for Chicago.
©2018 by J. Mark Lawson
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