Mr. R.W. Raymond gives the following interesting account of the
remarkable scenery on this recently opened route from Denver to Salt
Lake:
Having just made the trip from Salt Lake City to this place on the
Denver & Rio Grande line, I cannot write you on any other subject at
present. There is not in the world a railroad journey of thirty hours
so filled with grand and beautiful views. I should perhaps qualify this
statement by deducting the hours of darkness; yet this is really a
fortunate enhancement of the traveler's enjoyment; it seems providential
that there is one part of the way just long enough and uninteresting
enough to permit one to go to sleep without the fear of missing anything
sublime. Leaving Salt Lake City at noon, we sped through the fertile and
populous Jordan Valley, past the fresh and lovely Utah Lake, and up the
Valley of Spanish Fork. All the way the superb granite walls and summits
of the Wahsatch accompanied us on the east, while westward, across the
wide valley, were the blue outlines of the Oquirrh range. One after
another of the magnificent cañons of the Wahsatch we passed, their
mouths seeming mere gashes in the massive rock, but promising wild and
rugged variety to him who enters--a promise which I have abundantly
tested in other days. Parley's Cañon, the Big and Little Cottonwood, and
most wonderful of all, the cañon of the American Fork, form a series not
inferior to those of Boulder, Clear Creek, the Platte, and the Arkansas,
in the front range of the Rockies.
Following Spanish Fork eastward so far as it served our purpose, we
crossed the divide to the head waters of the South Fork of Price River,
a tributary of Green River. It was a regret to me, in choosing this
route, that I should miss the familiar and beloved scenery of Weber and
Echo cañons--the only part of the Union Pacific road which tempts one
to look out of a car window, unless one may be tempted by the boundless
monotony of the plains or the chance of a prairie dog. Great was my
satisfaction, therefore, to find that this part of the new road,
parallel with the Union Pacific, but a hundred miles farther south,
traverses the same belt of rocks, and exhibits them in forms not less
picturesque. Castle Cañon, on the South Fork of the Price, is the
equivalent of Echo Cañon, and is equal or superior in everything except
color. The brilliant red of the Echo cliffs is wanting. The towers
and walls of Castle Cañon are yellowish-gray. But their forms are
incomparably various and grotesque--in some instances sublime. The
valley of Green River at this point is a cheerless sage-brush desert,
as it is further north. To be sure, this uninviting stream, a couple of
hundred miles further south, having united with the Grande, and formed
the Rio Colorado, does indeed, by dint of burrowing deeper and deeper
into the sunless chasms, become at last sublime. But here it gives no
hint of its future somber glory. I remained awake till we had crossed
Green River, to make sure that no striking scenery should be missed by
sleep. But I got nothing for my pains except the moonlight on the muddy
water; and next time I shall go to bed comfortably, proving to the
conductor that I am a veteran and not a tender-foot.
In the morning, we breakfasted at Cimarron, having in the interval
passed the foot-hills of the Roan Mountains, crossed the Grande, and
ascended for some distance the Gunnison, a tributary of the Grande, the
Uncompahgre, a tributary of the Gunnison, and finally a branch, flowing
westward, of the Uncompahgre. A high divide at the head of the latter
was laboriously surmounted; and then, one of our two engines shooting
ahead and piloting us, we slid speedily down to Cimarron. It is in such
descents that the unaccustomed traveler usually feels alarmed. But the
experience of the Rio Grande Railroad people is, that derailment is
likely to occur on up-grades, and almost never in going down.
From this point, comparison with the Union Pacific line in the matter
of scenery ceases. As everybody knows, that road crosses the Rocky
Mountains proper in a pass so wide and of such gradual ascent that the
high summits are quite out of sight. If it were not for the monument to
the Ameses, there would be nothing to mark the highest point. For all
the wonderful scenery on the Rio Grande road, between Cimarron and
Pueblo, the Union Pacific in the same longitudes has nothing to show.
From an artistic stand-point, one road has crossed the ranges at the
most tame and uninteresting point that could be found, and the other at
the most picturesque.
At Cimarron, the road again strikes the Gunnison, and plunges into the
famous Black Cañon. In length, variety, and certain elements of beauty,
such as forest-ravines and waterfalls, this cañon surpasses the Royal
Gorge of the Arkansas. There is, however, one spot in the latter (I
mean, of course, the point where the turbulent river fills the whole
space between walls 2,800 ft. high, and the railroad is hung over it)
which is superior in desolate, overwhelming grandeur to anything on the
Gunnison. Take them all in all, it is difficult to say which is the
finer. I have usually found the opinion of travelers to favor the
Gunnison Cañon. But why need the question be solved at all? This one
matchless journey comprises them both; and he who was overwhelmed in the
morning by the one, holds his breath in the afternoon before the mighty
precipices of the other. To excuse myself from even hinting such folly
as a comparison of scenery, I will merely remark that these two cañons
are more capable of a comparison than different scenes usually are; for
they belong to the same type--deep cuts in crystalline rocks.
Between them come the Marshall Pass (nearly 11,000 ft. above sea-level),
over the continental divide, and the Poncha Pass, over the Sangre di
Cristo range. This range contains Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Elbert,
Massive (the peak opposite Leadville), and other summits exceeding the
altitude of 14,000 ft. To the east of it is the valley of the Arkansas,
into which and down which we pass, and so through the Royal Gorge to
Cañon City and Pueblo, where we arrived before dark on the day after
leaving Salt Lake.
Salt Lake, the Jordan Valley, Utah Lake, the Wahsatch, Castle Cañon, the
Black Cañon of the Gunnison, Marshall Pass, Poncha Pass, the Arkansas
Valley, the Royal Gorge--what a catalogue for so brief a journey! No
wonder everybody who has made it is "wild about it!" If enthusiastic
urgency of recommendation from every passenger has any influence (and I
know it has a great deal), this road will continue to be, as it is at
present, crowded with tourists. It furnishes a delightful route for
those who wish on the overland journey to see Denver (as who does not?)
and to visit Colorado Springs and Manitou. All this can be done _en
route_, without retracing the steps.
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