San Juan Skyway - towns

The San Juan Skyway reaches almost to the treeline before descending into Silverton, dropping nearly 610 m (2,000 feet) over 16 kms (10 mi).

Silverton was Incorporated in 1876 and, unlike most mining towns, somehow never burned down. Thus, it retains something of its historic roots in rickety timber buildings. From Silverton the road climbs again for more great views of the mountains and the valley below. This must have been a tough journey on a mule. Heading down again the scenery shifts. The trees change and the ski resort at Purgatory Ski Area appears on the right. Any ski area called Purgatory sounds far too threatening for my taste. Actually, the mountains in this area are very steep and the few that are open to skiers are very advanced slopes.

Then, suddenly, the dry, craggy terrain becomes lush and rich. The town of Hermosa is in a wide, fertile, flat canyon with red rock walls. A few hayfields are left here and there, but most have been swallowed up by vacation houses with enormous windows and luxurious golf courses.

Leaving the cliffs behind, I entered the plateau town of Durango. This 1880s railroad town boomed with the success of the San Juan mines. A steam train still chugs back and forth between Durango and Silverton several times each day.

I paused to take a photograph of the 1882 train depot and then headed straight back out of town, which was full to bursting eardrums of motorcyclists on Harley Davidson cruisers. Motorcyclists like to say that "loud pipes save lives." That's only true to a point. Beyond a certain level of decibels people start aiming for you.

My dawdling up and down the San Juan Highway meant that I arrived at Mesa Verde National Park far too late to properly experience the ruins of ancient Pueblo villages and cliff dwellings built between 550 and 1270 AD. I decided to skip the park, continue the drive until night fell and return the following day when I could do justice to one of National Geographic's "See before you die" sights.

The scenic drive looped back into the jagged, glaciated peaks of the San Juan Mountains. The road climbed through layers of sedimentary rock that surged upward in long ago volcanic activity.

This is Lizard Head Peak, about 16 km (10 mi) north of the funky little town of Rico. My guidebook tells me that this isolated column of rock is almost 4,000 m (13,113 feet) high.

I finished my drive in the ski town of Telluride which, unfortunately, was in the grip of some incredibly extensive roadworks. The entire town's roads seemed to be under construction as I crawled through town at the posted limit of 15 miles per hour, trying not to be one of the many people booked for speeding by diligent policemen who were lying in wait behind heavy machinery.

Telluride was founded as a mining town in the late 1870s and its fabulous Victorian buildings still boast of its history. By the time I managed to find the bank that Butch Cassidy robbed in 1889, it was getting to dark to take photographs. It's hard to believe that this busy town was almost abandoned for years before skiing rejuvenated its economy.