Suburban Cowboy - part 3

It was just light enough so that there were no more stars visible when we approached Pueblo. I'd never been here before so I had no idea how big the town was or where the freightyard was, or even if there was more than one "yard" here, so two seconds after I bailed off at speed we stopped. Looking up ahead it did look like we were entering some freightyard but I walked alongside the train at a distance because I didn't know if there was a Bull here or not. Eventually I came up to a switchman's shanty and, leaving my pack outside, opened the door, but no one was there. Closing the door, I shouldered my pack and saw the lantern light of the switchman returning from throwing a switch behind my train as it cleared the edge of the yard. We greeted each other and I asked about a train to Denver. He said that "my" train would be going that way but they had some switching to do and since he was going off duty soon he had no idea how long that would take. As I was about to turn and leave he added that there was a piggyback train due in shortly going to Denver, if I didn't mind riding "outside", as he called it, and I assured him that I didn't. He pointed to a stack of ties that I could wait behind so nobody would see me, and I thanked him profusely and headed over to the tie pile.

By now it was getting light enough to make out landmarks in the distance and it became apparent that the mountains had indeed ended, and everything to the east looked flat and boring. Not wanting to go walking around looking for a coffee shop and end up missing my train, I unscrewed a fresh bottle of White Port that was actually almost cool in the early morning air and attempted to wake myself up the old fashioned way. After maybe a half hour or so of hanging around I heard a train in the distance and gathered up my gear. Unsure as to what railroad used this line, I had no idea how long it took them to change crews, so I planned to grab the first trailer that looked good. I didn't know how far it was to Denver but it was already pretty warm at 5 o'clock in the morning so I knew I wouldn't freeze. Instinctively I ducked down as the bright headlights of the units passed by, then cursed myself for not catching a glimpse of what railroad they were from. I figured maybe Denver & Rio Grande, which sounded appropriate, but I still wasn't exactly certain. Oh well, the train is going to Denver, which means that I'm going to Denver, so let's get on and get going, I told myself.

The train came in, I got on, and away we went. I don't remember much of the ride north, thanks to the White Port and the lack of much "quality" sleep the night before. All I remember is waking up coming into a large city with lots of tall buildings so I figured that this must be Denver, and rolled up my gear. Again not knowing anything about the yard we were supposed to go to, I bailed as soon as the train slowed down enough. This was comforting, knowing that I wouldn't have to hide from the Bull, but it later proved to be rather hastily thought out, as I ended up having to walk a long way into the actual downtown area.

It was weird being in a big city after riding trains — on a train everything around you is still and you're the one that's moving, but now I was standing on a street corner with everything around me moving. Not wanting to appear like an alien wandering the streets with my pack on, I dropped it off in a locker at the bus station and made my way around town looking almost as normal as the next guy. It wasn't long before I got the impression that mining was a big thing in these parts. And what's the deal with cowboy hats, anyway? There seemed to be some universal uniform, for all of the males anyway, of wearing tight-fitting, new Levis with some sort of Western-themed shirt, boots, and a cowboy hat. I've always wondered how, on TV cop shows, minutes after they arrest some guy they hold a "lineup" with a half dozen other guys who look like and are dressed like the guy who was arrested — how do they round up a bunch of people who look so much alike in such a short time? It would be easy in Denver, however, if the guy they arrested was dressed like a cowboy — they'd merely have to walk outside and in 30 seconds they'd find everyone they needed.

In no time I also discovered that it seemed to be next to impossible to go hungry in Denver. There were people handing out flyers with maps of several locations that served free food at different times of the day, as well as offering other services. I suppose that if one was creative a person could pick places on the map so that no two meals were obtained at the same location and at the same time either lay it out so that all of your meals were from spots located close together, if you were lazy, or maybe create a map so that walking from the breakfast to lunch and the lunch to dinner spots would provide almost continuous walking around the greater Denver area, thereby giving you an aerobic workout at the same time. My urban travels, however, provided contact with individuals who, almost as a group, would eschew any kind of aerobic anything.

My first night in town was spent in a corner of the Burlington Northern yard, which was far enough from the downtown area so that I could get a reasonably quiet sleep. I much preferred the sounds of a freightyard over the din of a big city — freightyard noises were predictable and familiar, which worked for me. The next morning was a repeat of the previous day — stash my pack at the bus station, then continue my walking tour. Hours were spent in thrift stores and used book shops, but I knew that it was time to hit the road, so after I retrieved my pack I walked over to the Rio Grande yard to wait for a westbound train. It was just getting "officially" dark when I was faced with a dilemma — I could catch a train at night so that I wouldn't be seen as easily, or wait until daylight so that I could go over the Rockies during the day. My mind was made up shortly when I heard the sound of engines approaching and I ducked behind some cars to check out the train. It was a junker made up of lots of car types that I saw on the West Coast, so I figured it to be a westbound, even though I think it was traveling geographically north at the time. Not knowing where the tracks went so I couldn't be sure where it was going, when an empty boxcar rolled by with the smell of pine and cedar emanating from within I had to take a chance and jumped in.

We seemed to go on forever at a snail's pace, which was good because I could still bail out if we turned any direction but west. At last it cleared the yard and made a gentle left turn and I could drop my pack and relax. Thanks to a run down liquor store on Larimer Street I was well stocked with White Port and I eagerly unscrewed what had to be a very "young" vintage as we made our way out of Denver and into the foothills. As we gained elevation and snaked our way along I moved from door to door and watched the flat land of eastern Colorado recede below me, though it was too dark to watch the mountains to the west approach. Soon it was bedtime, and I had to re-acquaint myself to the rocking motion and the sounds and smells of riding trains again...