Day 5. Driving only to and from the train station in Durango.  We awoke early, as the train tickets claimed that boarding would end 30 minutes before departure.  We planned on getting to our 9:00am train by 8:00am just to be safe, and because the first train out would leave at 8:15am, and I knew that Keith would want to see that.  We walked the long walk from our room down to the main lobby area, where yet another continental breakfast awaited us.  Upon entering, we were greeted with a very special sign on a door that, until yesterday, led to the damaged meeting room area.  Just what you want to see near your food.

The breakfast here was easily the worst of the breakfasts we had eaten up to this point on our trip.  It wasn’t terrible, it just wasn’t all that great.  For instance, the “orange juice” out of the dispensing machine was essentially orange colored water.  No matter, as we didn’t pick this place for the food, anyway.

We drove into town, paid the $7.00 to park the car, and walked over to the train station, where Engine 481, the same one we saw pass by our motel yesterday, was coupled up to the first train.  Another locomotive sat waiting it’s turn to move in once the first train was gone. The engineer was nice enough to let us pose near the cab of 481, and then we walked further down the platform to the station.  Ruth went in to get coffee, and Keith and I wandered down to the end of the platform and into the roundhouse, where half of it has been made into a museum (the other half is a fully working roundhouse).

Keith and I enjoyed looking around the museum, and Keith really was happy that he could get into the cab of some of the display locomotives, rail cars, and cabooses.  Amusingly enough, despite having real, live trains all around him, he was distracted by the model railroad display they had set up on one side of the museum.  Kids…

Having spent a decent amount of time in the museum, we headed back to the platform to find Ruth, and to watch the first train pull out.  Once it was gone, boarding could begin on our train, which was sitting on the adjacent track. We climbed aboard and found our seats.  Our locomotive was not yet coupled to the train, as they apparently wait until the last 20 minutes or so to do that.  I took some pictures out the window, and then got off the train to take some from the platform back at Keith and Ruth on the train.  While I was on the platform, Engine 480 backed into place to be coupled to our train.  Engine 480 just happened to be the same locomotive that pulled the train my father took us on 20 years before.  My day was made, and we hadn’t even pulled out yet.  I turned to get back on the train, and just as I raised my foot to take the first stair, the train shifted back a bit as Engine 480 was coupled on.  I paused to let the train settle, laughed at my timing, and got back on the train and to my seat.

After the requisite announcements about buying lots of stuff in the cafe car, general safety, and cinder protection, we pulled out of the station headed for Silverton, just 45 miles and 3 1/2 hours away (the train’s average speed is 18 mph, due to small driving wheels, steep grades, and sharp turns).  Ruth had picked up a guidebook at the station for 10 bucks that detailed all the things of interest along the way, listed by mile-markers, which were located on on the east side of the tracks.  It was a great thing to have, as there were few announcements as to what we might be passing at any given time.  It was actually quite nice to not be bombarded with announcements or humorous chit-chat from the staff.  The brakeman or conductor would come through, say what they needed to say, add a witty comment or joke at the end, and continue on about their business.

Still in the flat valley, we passed by our motel, and began to notice prairie dogs popping up alongside the tracks as our train passed small farms.  Very cute.  Keith was thrilled to have railroad crossings to see, as well as bridges to cross. Finally, about 30 minutes after we started, we began a noticeable climb upward.

Sooner than I anticipated, we were 240 feet above the raging river below, on the edge of the mountain and pulling sharp turns.  The train slowed to allow everyone to get pictures, as this was one of the most famous views of and from the railroad along the route. We continued on, stopping twice to refill the tender with water, as nearly the entire trip to Silverton is uphill: 2800 feet higher than Durango. Along the way we passed damaged bridges, track that had been washed out years before, and areas of repeated avalanches.  We also visited the cafe car a few times.  Keith claimed he didn’t like walking through and between the cars, but he volunteered to go with Ruth or I every time we went.  Just before arriving in Silverton the Head Brakeman reminded us that we would have the same train and seats for the return trip, so we could leave our things behind if we so wished, but to please take anything we considered valuable with us, “such as cameras, purses, or small children.”  He also asked us to close the windows, as they were at the end of the rainy season, and rain could be expected during our 2 hour stay in Silverton.  Sure enough, about 10 minutes later, it began to rain.

We got off the train in the pouring rain, I took a quick picture or two of Keith with our locomotive, and we headed for shelter and food.  Keith was surprised to see that the trains just pull right into town in the middle of the street, stopping just shy of the intersection, with no track bumper or other means of preventing the train from rolling right off the end of the track and down the road through town.  We at 3 dollar burgers at 10 dollar prices, and then wandered around Silverton for a while.  I bought Keith a gold panning pan at the local outfitter, and Ruth found a great silver horse necklace.  Keith also made 2 of the obligatory squished penny souvenirs from the hand crank machines nearby.  We ended with some locally made fudge, and headed back out to see our locomotive, now having turned our train around on the wye and backed into the same track we had disembarked from.  We took more pictures of the family in front of Engine 480, and I tried to take a video of the sounds it was making just sitting there, but managed to be photobombed by some guy who was too involved in his own video to notice anyone else.

We boarded the train, and listened to it blow the 10 minute warning whistle at full steam.  Five long blasts to let you know the train will be leaving in 10 minutes, with or without you.  Finally the train pulled out, heading back into the narrow valley and toward Durango.

As the train had been turned around, our seats now had a view of the other side of our journey.  We saw another large bridge, abandoned by the railroad after major flooding weakened the foundations. We also discovered just how close the rock face of the mountains came to the train: just 8 inches in some spots!

Between the fudge and the scenery (and watching and hearing the steam release over the bridge), the time flew by, and soon we were nearly back to the Durango station.  It had begun to rain again, and we closed our window a bit.  Keith had been wearing safety goggles to protect his eyes from cinders, but up to that point we hadn’t had a problem with cinders coming near us except when crossing between the cars.  But the combination of most of the windows being closed, the back door or our car being open, and our little window being open all of 3 inches, caused a suction which, combined with the wind of the passing storm, caused cinders to blown right in through our window.  Of course, by now Keith had taken the goggles off, and irony being what it is, a cinder got in his eye just 15 minutes before we pulled in. Fortunately it didn’t hurt much, and after a few minutes he managed to work it out.

After we arrived back in Durango, we took Ruth to see the roundhouse museum.  Keith showed Ruth around, and I got into a discussion with a guy who had done the woodwork on a locomotive they had restored to working condition, and currently on display.  I later found my family outside near the turntable, where a viewing area had been setup so the public could watch the locomotives be turned and use the roundhouse.  What a time to discover that I was nearly out of space on my memory card!  I managed to get a video of Engine 480 backing onto the turntable, another of her being turned, and a final photo of her as she began to steam off the turntable.  With that, the card was full.

We headed out, past Engine 486 which had just brought in the final train of the day, and bought Keith an engineer hat and a Durango & Silverton RR pin. We stopped at the store, picked up some dinner and a fire log (our motel room had a fireplace), as well as more beer, and headed out just as a big storm began coming over the mountain.  We made it to our hotel room just in time.

The storm was so thick and dark that the mountain across the valley from our motel disappeared, except when lightning would hit it.  We settled in to watch the storm and talk about the day.  I laid out our “haul” from the day and took a picture.  After the storm cleared, we lit the fire log and sat in the flickering light from the fireplace.  Exhausted from the day, we collapsed into bed, with the realization that we needed to be up early to get a good start on Mesa Verde tomorrow.

Next (final?) post in this series: Mesa Verde, driving back, finally seeing the big engines in North Platte, and Iowa vows revenge for my public insults.  More photos from the trip on my Flickr page.

Day 3. Minimal miles driving in the area.  We finally dragged ourselves out of bed with enough time to partake in the hotel’s continental breakfast.  Ruth was up first, as usual.  She headed down for breakfast while I helped Keith get up and get dressed. As we were heading down, Ruth sent me a text saying that she was on the porch.  Keith and I grabbed some food, including hot chocolate for the chilly morning, and headed out to the back deck of the hotel.  No Ruth.  It was later that she came up and reminded me that they have a front “porch” seating area just outside the front doors.  No matter: the view out back was great!.

I double-checked the maps and loaded our backpack, and we headed South toward Granite. Ruth was less than happy to subject her Mustang to the bumpy gravel road that leads to the ghost towns.  The map we had was not very helpful in terms of distances, but we soon found the first ghost town of Beaver City. I was amused that the remaining outhouse was a two-seater.  We wandered around for a bit, looking at the preserved cabins and those that had collapsed, and then headed for the next ghost town down the road: Vicksburg.  Vicksburg is well preserved, and most of it is still owned and used by descendants of the original residents.  We were more interested in less preserved buildings, and skipped stopping at the next ghost town of Rockdale when we noticed it still looked fairly good.  We also knew that the afternoon thunderstorm would be coming, and we needed to get to our abandoned mine soon.

We drove to the end of the road to the ghost town of Winfield, a fairly well preserved town, and parked the car.  The Leadville website’s link said that the Swiss Boy silver mine was relatively easy to get to.  Just follow a wagon road that starts about 1/4 mile East of Winfield.  The mine was supposedly located just 1/2 a mile up the wagon road, with about 400 foot change in elevation.  So we headed back down the road to find the wagon road.

The wagon road is not marked (which the site had told us), so we had to look into the woods alongside the main road for noticeable parting of the trees.  Sure enough, as we walked along the wagon road appeared, Brigadoon-like, as we passed. We climbed up to it, and headed on our way up the mountain. The wagon road was decently wide, but understandably overgrown with the years. It also was a constant grade upward.  Not overly steep, just constant. We hiked and hiked, confident that the trip would be no worse than walking to our son’s school, just with a lot more uphill involved.  We finally reached a noticeable tailings pile, but it wasn’t the Swiss Boy Mine.  The website had shown photos of at least two buildings, plus the water-filled entrance to the mine itself.  This had nothing more than the tailings pile, some wood with iron bolts through it, and a collapsed mine entrance in the mountainside.  We headed on up the road.

Keith was not doing as well as Ruth and I.  He was dragging pretty early on, even before we found the collapsed mine area.  My guess was that he was out of shape from the long car rides with minimal exercise, and not handling the altitude difference well.  But as we knew the hike should be a fairly short distance, we took our time, allowing him to rest often.  I went on ahead, and discovered that the mining road crossed the more recently built Continental Divide Trail.  We crossed it and headed ever upward on the mining road.

The further we went, the more overgrown the trail became.  The website had warned that the trail would become nearly completely overgrown at some point, but would open up again.  Finally we hit a point were we had already gone at least 1/2 a mile.  Keith was beat, and Ruth and I were annoyed that we hadn’t found the mine yet.  We rested for a bit, and I told Ruth to wait there with Keith while I headed further up the road to see if the mine was close.  The road really did become completely overgrown, with only a slightly visible path through the plants and trees continuing on.  Some of the time it was right on the edge of the road, which was the edge of the mountain.  Finally after climbing over rock-slides and through more brush, suddenly the road was blocked by two large large steel cables, crossing the road at a 45 degree angle.  I was tired and frustrated by this time, and nearly yelled out “what the hell is this?!” before I realized that this was the mine.

I quickly scrambled up and around the two structures, taking pictures in case Ruth and Keith didn’t want to come the rest of the way.  I looked around the immediate area, but didn’t see the mine entrance.  Resigned to the idea that it may have collapsed, I headed back to my family.

They were still tired, but the idea that the mine was just ahead pushed them to keep going.  We fought our way back through the dense growth, and again emerged at the mine buildings.  During my travel down and back to get them, another hiker had arrived from higher up and was in the cabin.  I helped Ruth and Keith up to the area behind the cabin, and explained that I had just been there 15 minutes ago, but hadn’t seen the mine entrance.  “Oh, that’s up the mountain,” he said, “I just came from up there.“  He showed me a photo of it he had taken on his camera.  I asked where it was. “700 feet,” he said.  As we had supposedly gone at least 400 feet up already,  I asked if that was 700 feet further down the road, or 300 feet further up the mountain.  “No, 700 feet up the mountain from here,” he replied.  This wasn’t mentioned on the website.  Also not mentioned: that there was no trail between the mine and the mine buildings.  The only way to find the mine was to follow the mining cables up the mountain.

Ruth and Keith had set-up our portable hammock while I was talking to the hiker, and neither of them had any interest in heading further up the mountain.  But after a quick snack of a granola bar and some water, I was ready to go.  They stayed put while I attempted to follow the cables.  It wasn’t remotely easy.  The ground at this point was loose dirt and rocks, and the incline was a good 45 to 50 degrees.  If I had thought to bring my gloves, I might have used the cables to pull myself along, but as it was, I had to zig-zag back and forth just to find decent footing and things to grab on to.  I’m guessing I only made it 150 to 200 feet up before finding a rock wall and giving up.  I knew I was too far away for anyone to hear me if I fell and was injured, and a storm was long overdue.  I took pictures and a video from where I was, and started back down.

While I was gone, Ruth began to get worried, for the same reasons that I had stopped climbing.  She mentioned this to Keith, saying that if I was hurt, there was no way for them to know, and no way for them to find me, as our cell phones didn’t work up there.  Keith thought about this for a minute, and then replied, “Mom, we just have to admit that he is gone.“  Thanks kiddo.

I was nearly back when Ruth called up to me.  I yelled back that I was nearly there, and also found a rock that had some silver vein ore in it.  I somehow managed to bring it down with me, though I was sure that carrying it would cause me to miss a handhold and fall.  We regrouped, packed our things (Ruth admitted that if I hadn’t called back and hadn’t returned in 15 more minutes, she was going to head down with Keith to avoid the approaching storm.) and began our decent.

On our way down, we passed by the first mine.  I headed closer to view the collapsed entrance, and realized that there had been two mine tunnels dug there.  No idea why that was done, but it seemed pretty neat.  Just as we left this mine, thunder rolled quickly overhead.  Tradition was continuing, as we had been chased off Mt. Elbert 10 years ago by a thunderstorm (back then then it took us 4 hours to climb up the mountain, and only 90 minutes to run down with the storm hitting all around us).  We just reached the main road when it began to rain.  Ruth and I shrugged and laughed, remembering 10 years before, and we quickened our pace a bit.  Then it began to pour.  We moved faster, straining to see how much further away the car was.  Just then lighting hit about 1/4 mile away, making us jump.  Ruth remarked that “at least it isn’t hailing.“  You can guess what happened next.

Keith and I broke into a run as windswept hail pelted us from the side.  I tried to use my body to block some of the hail from hitting him, to minimal effect.   I even managed to drop the car keys while trying to unlock the car doors.  Ruth climbed in after us.  Drenched, lightly bruised, and exhausted, we drove slowly back along the bumpy gravel, hoping that the road wouldn’t seem as long.  We even turned the heat on.

We finally arrived back at our hotel, and collapsed, stirring only to head out for another great meal at Quincy’s (where the line wasn’t nearly as long this time).

Day 4: 253 miles.  Keith wasn’t happy to leave his in-room hot tub, but when reminded that we were headed for the train, he perked up.  After another quick breakfast from the hotel, we headed South out of Leadville.

Leadville is essentially at the northern point where two mountain ranges meet.  As you head south, they spread further and further apart, widening the valley from just a few miles, to nearly 50 miles across.  I was afraid that we would be bored with the mountains fading back.  I was greatly mistaken.  The drive was great.  We first learned that the old stagecoach road to Leadville was still visible along the riverbank.  Then we began to marvel at how the valley just opened up more and more the further South we drove.  We stopped for gas near the town of Center, and then headed West through Del Norte (which just sounds cool to say), crossing Wolf Creek Pass, and stopping for lunch in Pagosa Springs. Pagosa Springs is known for its hot springs, some of which are right in the public parking lots.

After gassing up again, we headed on to Durango.  We passed the railroad yard, and headed to our motel, the Iron Horse Inn.  We we amused to discover that they were in the process of tearing down the swimming pool and meeting hall buildings, which had been damaged from heavy snow the past winter.  Nothing like seeing a bulldozer knocking part of your motel down to greet you for your stay.  The major claim of the Iron Horse Inn (besides being cheaper than any of the chain motels/hotels in the area) is that they have trackside, bi-level rooms.  I knew Keith would love being able to see the trains go by that first day.  Sure enough, the first train back from Silverton for the day steamed by soon after we had unpacked, and the engineer even blew the whistle for a very excited Keith.

We headed back into town to splash in the river and marvel at the scenery, and picked up some food for dinner.  Despite our running, Keith and I managed to miss seeing the final train of the night as it passed by the grocery store.  Upon our arrival back at the motel, Ruth and I were amused to find that the doorway to the bathroom was equipped with a bottle opener.  The sunset was beautiful, and the stars bright as we settled into our beds for the evening.

Next post: the Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad.  More photos available on my Flickr page.

Ten years ago my wife and I went to Colorado for our honeymoon.  Our main destination then was Leadville, Colorado, home of the tallest mountain in the state, Mount Elbert (14,443 feet, which is also the highest of the US Rocky Mountains).  On that trip we made stops in Nebraska (unknown town, it was dark and we were tired), Denver, Leadville, Golden, North Platte, and Des Moines.  We failed to make the summit of the mountain, but discovered some neat places along the way there and back.

This year was our tenth anniversary, so we decided that our special thing to mark the occasion would be to head back to Colorado.  We immediately started planning based on what we wanted to see again, what we wanted to avoid, what new things we might want to see, and what would interest our 7 year-old son, who we would be bringing along.

(Interesting side-note: My first trip to Colorado was with my father, brother, and soon-to-be stepmother, 20 years ago.  This year’s trip was starting a “Colorado every ten years” tradition.)

First things first.  What did we want to see again?

1. Leadville. While we were no longer up for attempting Mt. Elbert, we liked the town and the area, as well as a bar/restaurant we found the last time we were there.  I found there were some ghost towns and an abandoned silver mine that were relatively easy to get to, so that replaced mountain climbing.

2. The Argo Gold Mill and Double Eagle Mine.  Ruth wanted to take our son Keith there.  It is on the way to Leadville, just past Denver on I70, in Idaho Springs.

3. North Platte, Nebraska.  Home of the world’s largest railroad yard: Union Pacific’s Bailey Yard.  They also have two of the largest locomotives ever built in one of the town parks. Also Buffalo Bill’s home.  We just happened to stop there on the way back from Colorado 10 years ago, and discovered all that.  Keith and I love trains, so we knew we had to go again.

Second up: What did we want to avoid this time?

1. Denver. Denver sucked big time on our trip 10 years ago.  Did not like.

2. Wasting time stopping for the night too early.  This cut down on the number of days available to us. We cut an entire driving day out on this trip, giving us more time to see more things.

3. Getting back from the trip and heading back to work the next day. This trip had a built in day off at home upon our return.  Also was helpful in case we needed an extra day to get back.

Third: What new things did we want to see?

1. Ghost towns. Easy enough, as the Leadville area has a bunch of them.

2. Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. My father took us on it during our trip 20 years ago, and I knew my son would like it because it was a train, with steam locomotives, old rail cars, and lots of road crossings (loves those for some reason).  I knew Ruth would like it for the amazing scenery.

3.  Mesa Verde.  There’s no excuse for being in Durango and not driving the hour west to Mesa Verde National Park.  It is right there, and incredible.

4. The Continental Divide.  We would go under it on I70, but I wanted Keith to have a chance to go over it as well.

The trip was planned out, reservations were made and train tickets were purchased, and the car was taken in for an oil change and new tires.  The car decided that it also didn’t like its vent fan, so we had to get a new one of those as well. (Don’t want to be driving in the summer without A/C, especially on the edge of the desert. I’ve done it, and it sucked.) We packed up stuff for a 7 year old to occupy his time during the longer boring drives of the trip, and were ready to go.

Day 1. Saturday, August 7th: 780 miles.  Up at 4:30am. Showers had been done the night before.  Keith was already awake, as he was excited to get going.  Packed the car with the remaining gear, shoveled some quick food in our mouths, and we were on our way by about 5:20am, only 20 minutes late (which for us is pretty good for a big trip).  Keith waited until I had put the car into Drive to pull out into the street before asking “Are we there yet?” and then giggled uncontrollably. Ruth and I were both amused and impressed.  The early start got us through Chicago in just 40 minutes, which is good since we literally have to pass from the NE corner of the city down and out through the south end. We hit I80 and headed west for North Platte, Nebraska.

Keith had been playing his games for a while, but eventually the lack of sleep that night, and the monotony of western Illinois caught up with him.  He was sound asleep when we crossed the Mississippi River, despite my attempts to wake him for the moment.  We stopped at The World Largest Truck Stop near Davenport, Iowa for gas, a bathroom break, and snacks.  Ruth and I also continued our attempt to switch drivers every 2 hours or so, so the other wouldn’t get bored or jealous.

Iowa.  At the risk of offending my many friends and colleagues from and/or in Iowa… I really don’t like driving through Iowa.  Others don’t understand this, as Nebraska is much flatter. But my reasoning is this: In Nebraska, if there is a hill, or trees, or some other feature in the distance, it is because there is actually something there, such as a town, or a river.  Nebraska is flat and endless until something interrupts it.  Iowa is continuous, long, rolling, hills.  That’s it.  Iowa gets your hopes up that something may be just over the next hill, only to dash those hopes when you realize that over that next hill is just another hill.  Iowa on I80 is 300 miles of having your hopes crushed, over and over and over again.

Also, the Iowa drivers were the worst of the entire trip. And remember that this is coming from someone who has to deal with Chicago drivers on a regular basis.  Iowa’s high speed limit is 70mph, but apparently they prefer the slower drivers to stay in the left lane, and want faster drivers to pass on the right. By slower, I mean going those going 55 to 60mph, and there were a lot of them.  It would be helpful if they posted this little quirk at the state line to inform out-of-state drivers to this difference from the rest of the US interstate system. Also: major accidents passed during both this year’s trip and the one 10 years ago were only in Iowa.

Lunch at a Des Moines’ Wendys, and we were off again looking for the promise of Omaha.  We cheered as we crossed the Missouri River into Nebraska, only to discover that the route between Omaha and Lincoln was fairly popular, and crowded.  Now we were content to look out over the endless flat fields, roads, and telephone poles stretching to the horizon.

A construction traffic jam slowed us to 25 mph or less for more then 10 miles, all because no-one could figure out how to merge into one lane.  This put us at risk for being too late to see Bailey Yards in North Platte, as the Golden Spike Tower built to look over the yards closes at 7:00pm.  We finally managed to get to North Platte at 6:04pm and grabbed one of the last hotel rooms they had (should have made a reservation). We left Ruth at the hotel with her bag and swimsuit, and Keith and I high-tailed it to find the tower.

We managed to find it by 6:20 (I had an idea of where it was, but some better signage would be helpful).  Keith and I marveled at how big it was: 8 miles long by 2 miles wide.  We watched some the 3000 cars be sorted daily on the “hump,” the engine shops, and coal trains passing through.  Keith was too busy looking out the windows to listen to the engineer who was telling another group about his work with the Union Pacific Railroad, and the some of the amusing and scary moments of his career.  Eventually, Keith was bored just watching, and as we can’t go into the yards, we bought some things at the gift shop, and headed for the park where the big locomotives were.  We drove along the south side of the yard toward town, and noticed signs in the grassy area between the road and the yard which said something to the effect of: “Danger.  Do not enter upon tracks.  Trains are operated by remote control and moving locomotives may not have anyone in the cab.”  Essentially: no one will see you, and the train won’t stop if you are in the way.  My internet research told me that the Tower closed at 7:00pm (which it did) and the park that had the two locomotives closed at 8:00pm.  But upon our arrival at the park at 7:10pm, we discovered that closing time had changed to 7:00pm.  Keith was very disappointed, as you could actually go in the cabs of these locomotives.  I promised him that we would come back during our return trip home.

The hotel (Hampton Inn) had given us discount cards for the Whiskey Creek barbeque place nearby, but the wait was 45 minutes when we arrived.  We checked out the Fort Cody Trading Post, and then headed over to the Village Inn, which had seats, but no-one seating those waiting.  We stood behind a family of six who finally gave up waiting and left.  Finally someone showed us to a table.  Short version: we should have waited at Whiskey Creek.  A dip in the hotel pool brightened spirits some, and we finally went to bed after an eventful day and 12+ hour drive.

Day 2: 360 miles.  Amazingly we managed to wake up fairly early, even though we didn’t need to.  Hampton Inn provides a pretty nice continental breakfast, with some variations from hotel to hotel.  We gassed up and headed out around 9:00am, crossing into the Mountain Time Zone fairly soon, and giving us an extra hour!   I76 branches off from I80 for the trip into Denver, and the moment you cross into Colorado you know it.  High prairie, and right on the crest of it most of the way.  Right when you start thinking the prairie will never end, you start to see mountains in the distance, even though it will be an hour or more before you get to them.  Colorado has also redone some of their Rest Stops (BTW, in Iowa, “Modern” Rest Stop means it has such technological marvels as an outhouse, or even a toilet.  If it isn’t a “Modern” rest stop, it just has picnic tables and some trees.  Another reason to dislike Iowa…).  If there was an exit and town near a rest stop, they simply closed the rest stop that was isolated to the interstate, and built a new one off the exit.  It works well as only one rest stop construction can serve traffic going both directions (instead of building two, one for each side of the interstate), and it encourages drivers to use the local businesses they see/pass as they exit to get to the rest stop.

Denver was nearly as bad as before, due to traffic and poor road maintenance, and was only better because we wouldn’t be stopping there.  We did discover that the overdrive on our Mustang was never intended for mountain driving, and for the first time in a long time we turned it off.  No longer restrained by gas mileage concerns, all 230 horses burst forth to get us through the mountains.

We headed to the Argo Gold Mill around noon, and Keith was quickly dismayed to learn that he would not be allowed to actually mine for gold and become rich.  Once that information sunk in, he no longer cared about going into the mine, and just wanted to pan for gold.  Regardless, we went into the mine.

The Double Eagle Mine is located just above the Mill.  It was hand dug for about 300 feet into the mountain, yielding approximately $50 worth of gold: equal to a double-eagle $50 coin in those days.  The Argo Mill was built to process the ore coming out of the mines nearby, and above the Argo Tunnel.  The Mill was special because it was designed to extract all valuable metals from the ore, such as gold, silver, and lead.  The tunnel was special because it was built to drain water from multiple mines that existed above its path, as well as to take each mines’ ore to the Mill.  Previous to the tunnel, each mine had to use pumps to keep out water, and haul their ore to the top of the mine for transport.  The tunnel allowed them to drain water down, and lower the ore down, using gravity.  The mill and tunnel charged for this use.  Keith didn’t care all that much, except to pan for gold.  He did a great job at finding pyrite, and also found a flake or two of real gold.

We grabbed some sandwiches at the local Safeway, and headed for Loveland Pass near the Eisenhower Tunnel.  Chicago is at 579 feet elevation.  North Platte is at 2800 feet elevation.  Loveland Pass is at 11,990 feet elevation.  Not bad for never leaving the ground.  Being at the top of a mountain range means thin air and winds, so it was a bit chilly.  After eating our lunch, we headed back down and through the tunnel, and on to Leadville.

Leadville was right where we had left it, and still as pretty as a postcard.  We again stayed at the Columbine Inn, and managed to get the exact same room that we had on our honeymoon.  Keith was impressed that it had a hot tub right in the room.  He loved sitting in the tub and watching TV. We rested for a bit, and then headed into town, only to discover that we had just missed the end of a town festival.  We checked out the same antique shop we had looked at the last time, and found some cool stuff.  We then headed over to Quincy’s Steak and Spirits, which we had also discovered just walking by on our previous trip.  Quincy’s only serves Filet Mignon (starting at $7.99 for 6 oz to $13.99 for a 15 oz), unless it is Friday or Saturday, when they serve Prime Rib.  Awesome!  It was a long wait to get in, both due to the festival crowd, and how good the food is.  Keith and Ruth wandered for awhile, and I got to hear some of the local political hullabaloo.  Ruth noticed that the local head shop was having a “Bake Sale.“  Once we got in, Keith was surprised that he was getting a grown-up meal, as they don’t have a kid’s menu.  All of it was great. One more dip in the hot tub, and we were out for the night, excited about ghost towns and abandoned mines tomorrow.

Ghost towns and Durango in the next post.  More pictures on my Flickr page.

I’m heading out to Colorado tomorrow morning, and following that trip I’ll be in the northern wilds of Michigan.  This means there will be two weeks straight of me not being able to do much with emails, posting on this blog, or the Twitter account.  All BackstageJobs.com sites will continue to operate as usual, I just won’t have much chance to deal with user problems or questions.  Nearly all questions and problems I am emailed can be answered on the Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) page.

And before any of you get any ideas about using my place to throw a kegger while I’m gone, I’ve already got someone to do that.

My awesome wife, Ruth, works here in Chicago at Chicago Spotlight (who have been kind enough to sponsor BackstageJobs.com in the past).  She’s made a great spreadsheet chart of the majority of stage lighting fixtures out there, and all the lamps that each one can/should take.  She’s shared it before through ESTA, and is happy to share it with you.

The chart is sorted by manufacturer and model, with images for many of the fixtures. It lists each type of lamp the unit can take based on manufacturer specs and common use, as well as wattage, voltage, rated lifespan, color temperature, lumens, and field angle (if applicable).

You can download the chart here as a PDF file.  We also encourage you to report any errors or missing information in the comments section below, and she will update the file as needed (we are aware of rated lifetime errors in the ETC Source Four Ellipsoidal and Source Four Zoom sections.  I will post the correction soon, and remove this parenthesized section. The same lamps are listed correctly in the Source Four Jr sections, so you can use that in the meantime.).

However, this chart does not mean that you don’t still need to have some knowledge about the fixtures you are lamping.  For instance: An old Altman 360Q ellipsoidal is listed as being able to take an FLK/HX600, which is true, but ONLY if the fixture has had its original reflector replaced with the Super Reflector upgrade.  The filament of the FLK is shorter than the EHD and EHG lamps that the original reflector specified, and as such, you need to have the Super Reflector upgrade installed in order to use the FLK lamp in the fixture (unless of course you don’t want the full amount of light coming out of the front of the unit, or the ability to sharpen the beam). And of course, putting an EHD in a unit with the Super Reflector upgrade will also result in lower light output for the same reasons.

You also need to know the difference between lamps that output color temperature at 3200 Kelvin and those that output at 3050 Kelvin, and why that difference is more important than just the possible lifetime lamp hours and price.

So there you go.  I hope this helps you in your season purchases, and I also hope I don’t now need to explain why using the crappy 16/3 orange extension cords you can get at any Walgreens or Target is a bad idea with stage lighting and foggers.

USE ONLY THE LAMPS SPECIFIED BY THE INSTRUMENT MANUFACTURER!

I’m sorry.  Perhaps I wasn’t clear.  Let’s try again.

YOU ARE NOT SMARTER THAN THE ENGINEERS THAT CREATED YOUR LIGHTING GEAR!

For example, it is possible to fit other lamps into the bi-pin socket used in an ETC Source Four cap.  But the wrong lamps don’t fit very well, and they don’t work very well.  Shall we take a look?

As noted in the Source Four manuals, they tell you to use an HPL lamp of either 575 or 750 watts, depending on needs, and age of the cap.  That’s it.  HPLs.  Here is what an HPL 575 watt lamp looks like in a Source Four Ellipsoidal cap:

See?  It has a nice fat base/heat sink, which fits snugly not only in the pin base, but also in the cap base. It is wide enough at the base to allow the lamp clip to hold it firmly.  This is what your lamp and cap should look like together.  Now let’s look at lamping your cap incorrectly:

No. This is an FEL lamp.  It is rated at 1000 watts, which means it is using too much power for the base, and burning too hot for the entire unit.  In addition, the base of the lamp itself is too small, which means the lamp clips don’t hold it down, nor do the side pressure clips.  It also doesn’t easily fit into the pin base.  Higher wattage does not equal more light.  (We’ll go over filament design later).

No. This is an EHG.  Granted, it is 750 watts, but it has the same problems as the FEL with the base.

No. This is an FLK/HX600.  Granted, it is 575 watts, but it still has all the base problems of the other incorrect lamps. (Plus it is rated at 115 volts, and I can tell you from experience that these damn things don’t tolerate even a tenth of a volt more without popping.)

Again, no. This is an EHD.  Yes, it kinda fits in the pin base.  Yes it is rated at 500 watts. But it doesn’t fit in the base, and it’s filament is wrong.

Ok, no one has (hopefully) done that.

Now that we’ve established the basic power and physical connection issues, lets move on to the actual light being emitted:

Left to right: FEL, FLK, EHG, EHD, and a 575 watt HPL.

The entire reason that the Source Four is named that way is that all previous units had been designed around the same basic lamps and filaments.  ETC convinced lamp manufacturers to produce a new compact filament lamp, and designed new reflectors, and units around it.  Notice that the FEL, EHG, and EHD all have long single filaments (the FLK was designed after the HPL, and as such has a shorter filament, which is also burned out in the photo above), while the HPL filament is essentially a grouping of four small filaments.  This produces more light within a smaller area, allowing for more of a point source of light, instead of a line source of light.  A line source ends up wasting more light within a reflector, whereas a point source wastes little, and can produce a cleaner output from the reflector.  Cleaner output means sharper projections, and more even coverage across the beam.  Even the FLK will not work correctly for a Source Four, as the filament, though smaller than the other wrong lamps, is not situated the correct distance from the base, which means the reflector won’t be able to use its light as fully as an HPL.

If all this is getting too much for you, here’s the basics: the wrong lamps will not give you good light out of the unit. The light will be dimmer than it could be with the right lamp, due to the optical design of the unit being specific to HPL lamps.

So to sum up: the wrong lamps may cost less to buy, but you will get less light out of them, risk damage to your units, have higher maintenance costs, waste time trying to get them to fit and stay in the base/unit, and potentially (if you use lamps pulling more than the 750 watt maximum that the cap/base/wire is rated for) risk an electrical fire .

Plus you will be considered an idiot. So there’s that, too.

“Theatre Loop” is the Chicago Tribune’s attempt to make up for the cutting of arts coverage in their print addition over the last two decades, as well as join the internet generation.  Head critic Chris Jones is the primary writer, and tends to break Chicago theatre stories hours before any other media source.  It is well known that press releases sent to the rest of the media may have requests from the theatre to hold off publication until a certain date or time, only to have the Theatre Loop publish the same story hours in advance.

It is also well known that some comments posted on Theatre Loop stories tend to disappear: usually comments critical of the story, or the subjects of the story.  Now granted, those reporting that their comments disappeared tend to those that claim to have posted something critical, who then returned to see if anyone responded to their comments.  People who say nice things don’t usually come back to the same article.

It doesn’t help that these missing comments, or their content, are rarely addressed by Mr. Jones or the Tribune.  As such, it is hard to prove the problem, or attest to the validity of the commenter that their comment(s) did not rise to the level of being harassing, or otherwise worthy of being considered inappropriate.  However, my laziness in closing browser tabs has finally proved useful.

The first screen-grab is from earlier today, on the Theatre Loop post about The Theatre Building’s name change:

But now check out this grab from two days ago, when I first read this post Tuesday evening:

“Aaron” wasn’t lying about his earlier comment.  It used to be there, and now it’s gone.  Some 24 hour rule shouldn’t apply, as older posts still have comments from last week or earlier.    Neither one of the older comments above are exactly complimenting the subject of the story, but they hardly could be considered as abusive. There isn’t even consistency in what comments are removed versus the one that are kept, as shown in this post.

So what’s the deal, why does it keep happening, and why is the problem never addressed?

An Amber Alert has been issued for the son and husband of Maile Hernandez, a Phoenix area singer, actor, and theatre reviewer.  If you are in Arizona or in a surrounding state, please read!

Max Hernandez, age 7, was last seen on May 7, 2010. He may be in the company of his father, Conrad Hernandez. Conrad wears thick glasses. They may be traveling in a red 2009 four door Mazda Sedan with Arizona license plates AEZ7035. Max and Conrad may be in need of medical attention.

Maile’s twitter post from earlier today:

My husband and son are missing. My husband is suicidal and my son is autistic. Amber alert is out. http://bit.ly/cszqBq

Again, if you are in Arizona or a surrounding state, please keep an eye out for Max and Conrad, and their red 2009 Mazda sedan, with Arizona plates AEZ7035