The Last Forty Miles Of Our Railroad Journey Was Over A Line Only
Opened Ten Days Ago, By Which, I
Am thankful to say, we avoided
twelve hours more of the stage-coach and a night in a Colorado
inn,
Which, we are told, is anything but pleasant, there always
being many more bed fellows than what one bargains for; and we
should not have seen the Black Canyon and its thirteen miles of
grandeur and sublimity. The railway track is cut out of the sides
of the over-hanging rocks, and in places is built on a bed of
stones in the creek itself.
The rocks at times almost seemed to meet overhead, then widened,
we crossing and re-crossing the torrent by wooden bridges which
shortly are to be replaced by iron ones. The colouring was so
beautiful, the chasm being generally in shade with the mountains
above standing out in glorious sunshine, covered as they were in
many places, even as far down as the water's edge, with pines.
Nature is marvellous in its productions, but the ingenuity of man
is also wonderful, and we quite came to the conclusion that the
scenery of that canyon was worth coming all these thousands of
miles to see.
* * * * *
OURAY, August 27th.
The name of Ouray, given to this town, is from the last chief of
the Utes, who, with his tribe, lived to within a couple of years
on a reserve down in the Park. The first stake is said to have
been struck by white men in 1865, but no cabin was built until
1874, and from that time the town has been growing rapidly, having
now about 1,000 inhabitants.
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