Durango
I’ll admit it.
I’ve fallen in love with Durango, Colorado.
We first went in March and arrived as the snow started to fall. The next morning was a quiet blanket of 5 inches of fresh snow, quiet as night. We were going to go over the passes but decided to stay another night in Durango and wait the worst of the roads out and I’m really glad that we did. Not only did we find really fantastic places to eat, had a train ride into the Rocky Mountains in a fresh, pristine snow-covered wonderland and stayed at the cutest little Inn, but I also met some new friends and got to eat some of the best diner breakfast I’ve had.
This time, it was perfect peak of autumn, all the oaks and aspens in stunning yellows and the whole town crisp and wonderful.
We took the Durango Silverton Narrow Gauge Steam Train back into the mountains, though we got to go all the way to Silverton this time (the train only goes to Cascade in the winter due to the heavy snows) and spend a few hours shopping. All the trees were blown in Silverton at 9500 feet, but as soon as we started to descend into the San Juans, the aspens were shaking and quaking as we rode past.
The train was once again, sublime. We sat in the parlor car and chuffing back into Durango having fallen so in love again with the tall, cinnamon-barked ponderosa pines and yellow-orangey narrow-leafed cottonwoods and bright yellow-green aspen groves in the upper elevations. There was that very distinct coal-fire smell along with dead leaves and crisp air. I was lulled into relaxation, rocked to dozing by the rhythmic swaying and clack, clunk and creaking. The hot chocolates helped a lot too.
We stopped in at my favorite Himalayan restaurant where I just tell the waiter to bring me the best thing on the menu. It’s wonderful comfort food against the chill and had breakfast at Durango Diner (and ordered a case of green chili for Hubsand for his birthday). We arrived in time for the Cowboy Poetry Gathering and was able to catch the parade on Saturday morning, forgoing a trip further up into the mountains to leaf peep in order to sleep in, ogle the cowboys and sip hot pumpkin spice lattes on the corner of Main Street. We met up with a friend of mine that I met when I was there last time and had really good sushi (in landlocked Colorado mountain town? Really.) They served cotton candy as a dessert and I had Henry make a cotton candy mustache for me.
Originally published at A Well-Armed Laura Ingalls Wilder. You can comment here or there.