Colorado: Chasing Trains, Mountains, and Maybe Bigfoot (Part 2)

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Why I Missed the Durango & Silverton Railroad

Yesterday I mentioned that I wasn’t able to ride the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad during my Colorado trip. I was staying in Breckenridge at the time, and thanks to the pandemic, many of the time‑share resorts I normally used were either closed or operating with limited availability. When my vacation week rolled around, Breckenridge was the only place I could find a room—so that’s where I landed.

Breckenridge sits in central Colorado, not far from Denver and within reach of places like Pikes Peak. Ironically, I managed to miss that too. Meanwhile, the Durango & Silverton is located in the far southwestern corner of the state. From Breckenridge, it would have been a four‑to‑five‑hour drive just to reach the station. Even if I made it in time for a late departure, I’d have no way to return the same day without losing another full day to the commute. In the end, I decided it was better to save the experience for a dedicated trip to that part of Colorado.

A Bigfoot Twist I Didn’t Expect

Of course, now I have even more reason to go back. Do you believe in Bigfoot? As the old X‑Files tagline says, I want to believe. I grew up in Upstate New York, not far from Whitehall—one of the most famous Bigfoot hotspots in the country. Sightings there go back centuries, and a major 1976 encounter involving law enforcement helped cement Whitehall’s reputation among cryptozoology fans. I somehow missed all of this growing up, but the lore fascinates me now.

So when I heard about a possible Bigfoot sighting in southwestern Colorado, right near the Durango & Silverton line, that train ride shot straight back onto my bucket list.

My Love for Vintage Trains

Steam In The Snow, Conway NH

There’s something magical about riding a vintage steam train. It feels like stepping back in time. I’ve taken the North Conway “Steam in the Snow” excursion and ridden the 1880 Train in South Dakota, where our guide kept us laughing as he pointed out scenery—and the “summer cows,” some white, some black.

Filling up with water for steam- 1880 Train SD

I’ve also experienced the Grand Canyon Railway and several modern sightseeing trains, each with its own charm.

Grand Canyon R R

Why the Durango & Silverton Is Still Calling My Name

But the Durango & Silverton is in a league of its own. Durango was founded by the Denver & Rio Grande Railway in 1880, and the line to Silverton was completed just two years later. Originally built to haul silver and gold ore from the San Juan Mountains, the route quickly became beloved for something even more valuable: the views.

This historic steam train winds through rugged canyons, along cliff edges, and past forests where wildlife still thrives. Elk, mule deer, black bears, and bighorn sheep are all possibilities. And if the legends are true—maybe even something a little more mysterious.

Either way, the Durango & Silverton promises a scenic adventure worth waiting for. And next time, I won’t be five hours away.

Looking Ahead to the Next Adventure

Colorado didn’t unfold the way I expected, but sometimes the trips we don’t take end up shaping the ones we will. Missing the Durango & Silverton, battling altitude sickness, and stumbling into a possible Bigfoot mystery have all given me new reasons to return—this time with a clearer plan and a sense of curiosity leading the way. Whether I go for the history, the scenery, the wildlife, or the chance to glimpse something unexplained, I know the next journey will be worth the wait. Until then, I’ll keep dreaming, researching, and adding new pins to the map, because the adventure isn’t over. It’s just on pause.

Colorado: The Trip I Didn’t Expect (Part 1)

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Reevaluating Travel After Retirement

I used to joke that I worked so I could travel. Then I got laid off, which quietly turned into retirement, and suddenly that old expression felt very real. These days my “trips” are mostly to the local grocery store.

But that hasn’t stopped me from dreaming. I still read, plan, and binge travel videos while I explore side hustles to support my travel habit.

Why Colorado Became My Last Big Trip

Colorado was the last real adventure I took as COVID wound down and life began to feel normal again. I’ll admit—it wasn’t one of my favorite trips. Even before I left, I struggled to choose which part of the state to visit. Colorado is huge, and the list of iconic destinations is overwhelming.

Colorado’s Endless List of Must‑See Attractions

From sweeping landscapes to historic sites, Colorado is packed with bucket‑list stops:

  • Rocky Mountain National Park
  • Pikes Peak
  • Garden of the Gods
  • Great Sand Dunes National Park
  • Royal Gorge Bridge, the world’s highest suspension bridge
  • Four Corners Monument, where Colorado, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico meet
  • Mesa Verde National Park, high on my personal list

I even watched Josh Gates explore the Telluride region and retrace the steps of Butch Cassidy, which only added more destinations to my already long list.

Why I Ended Up in Breckenridge

Despite all those options, I landed in Breckenridge. And instead of hiking and exploring, I spent more time lying down than standing up. Altitude sickness hit me harder than expected and slowed me to a crawl.

I searched for bighorn sheep with no luck, but I did spot a couple of moose—small victories count.

The Train Ride I Missed

I managed to squeeze in a train ride, but not the one I really wanted: the iconic Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. That one is still on my list, and it’s going to play a big role in Part 2 of this story.

A Curious Colorado Mystery

That train came back to mind recently when I saw a video clip making the rounds online. It appeared to show a huge, hairy figure striding across a hillside near the tracks. Whether it was a prank, a shadow, or something more mysterious… well, that’s a tale for the next post.

 

When Technology Takes a Coffee Break

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🐾  My Morning Link Routine Hits a Snag

For more than ten years, my mornings have followed a familiar rhythm: coffee, sunrise, and a quick click over to The Animal Rescue Site. One tap earns food and supplies for shelter pets, and sharing the link on Facebook helps spread the word. It’s a tiny ritual, but it feels like a good way to start the day — a little kindness before the world gets noisy.

Lately, though, my dependable routine has hit a pothole.

💻 The Mysterious Case of the Spinning Share Button

Since the New Year, Facebook has decided to get… dramatic.
I click “Share.”
Facebook asks, “Who can see this?”
I choose “Public,” like always.
And then — nothing. Just spinning. Spinning. More spinning. Enough spinning to power a small wind farm.

It’s the digital equivalent of someone nodding politely while slowly backing out of the room.

I’ve tried refreshing, reloading, coaxing, pleading, and even giving my computer the side‑eye. No luck. The share button has apparently taken a personal day.

🐕 Why This Matters (At Least to Me)

I wrote a blog post ages ago promising readers that if they ever misplaced the link, they could always find it on my Facebook feed. It felt like a simple, reliable promise — until Facebook decided to reinvent itself on January 1.

Now I feel like I’m letting people down, even though the problem is clearly not on my end. Technology has a funny way of making us feel responsible for things we can’t control.

🌬️ Letting Go (Just a Little)

So here’s the update: I’m still clicking daily. The animals are still getting their points. And I’m still trying to share the link — even if Facebook is currently acting like a moody teenager who refuses to come downstairs.

If you’re looking for the link and don’t see it, that’s why. I’ll keep troubleshooting, and hopefully Facebook will snap out of its New Year funk soon.

In the meantime, consider this a reminder that even the smallest routines can go sideways — and that’s okay. Life, like a dusty road, is full of bumps, detours, and the occasional spinning wheel.

Longest Dirt Road in The World

 

National Quitters Day

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 The Holiday We Didn’t Ask For (But Definitely Earned)

The Great January Stampede

Every year, January 2 arrives and suddenly the gym parking lot looks like a Black Friday doorbuster sale. People show up armed with brand‑new sneakers, color‑coordinated outfits, and the kind of optimism usually reserved for lottery winners and people who’ve never tried burpees.

For a few glorious days, the treadmills are full, the dumbbells are missing, and someone is always loudly announcing they’re “finally taking control of their life.”

Then January 9 rolls around… and the gym is quieter than a library on a Tuesday morning. Half the newcomers have vanished, leaving behind only a faint scent of ambition and a few abandoned water bottles.

Enter: National Quitters Day

National Quitters Day—celebrated (or… acknowledged?) around the second Friday of January—is the moment when most people officially abandon their New Year’s resolutions. It’s not exactly a party, but it is a collective nod that says, “Yeah… we tried.”

It’s the holiday equivalent of shrugging and saying, “Maybe next year.”

Somewhere, a marketing team probably intended this to be motivational. But honestly? It feels more like a cosmic permission slip to stop pretending we enjoy 6 a.m. cardio.

 

Meet Your Resolution Accountability Coaches

This year, I decided to bring in reinforcements: Banner and Balboa.

Banner, the orange cat, has taken on the role of Head Coach of Enthusiastic Oversight. His method is simple: sit directly on whatever you’re trying to use—planner, yoga mat, laptop—and stare at you like he’s questioning your life choices. If judgment burned calories, we’d all be marathon‑ready by now.

Balboa, the black cat, is more of a Silent Enforcer. He doesn’t say much, but he appears out of nowhere whenever you reach for a snack that wasn’t part of the plan. He’s like a furry little ninja of accountability. One glare from him and suddenly you’re reconsidering that second cookie.

Together, they form a coaching duo unmatched in intensity, dedication, and the ability to knock over your water glass for dramatic effect.

Why We Quit (Spoiler: We’re Human)

Old habits cling to us like cat hair on a black sweater. We want to change—really, we do—but life is cold, the couch is warm, and the gym is full of people who seem to know what they’re doing.

Plus, resolutions are often built on the shaky foundation of holiday guilt and leftover fudge.

Maybe the Real Resolution Is… Not Making Resolutions

What if we stop pretending that January 1 magically transforms us into new people? What if we let ourselves grow at a normal human pace—slow, imperfect, and occasionally powered by donuts?

National Quitters Day isn’t a failure. It’s a reminder that change doesn’t follow a calendar. And sometimes the best thing we can do is laugh, reset, and try again when we’re actually ready.

Until then, Banner and Balboa will be here—coaching, supervising, and knocking pens off the table in solidarity.

Happy Quitters Day. You’ve earned it.

 

Razorbills of Bolungarvík, Iceland

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A Morning Surprise: The Razorbill Pair

I absolutely love this picture. Yesterday I mentioned how I’ve been very visual lately, and here’s another example of what I mean. Each morning when I log onto my computer, I never know what visual treat might be waiting for me. My wallpaper rotates every couple of days—sometimes it’s a misty bridge, other times a fierce tiger mid-prowl. The photography is always stunning. I envy the talent behind these shots. It’s the kind of artistry I once dreamed of mastering.

But today, I want to spotlight one image in particular: a pair of razorbills standing close together on a rocky ledge by the sea.

Texture, Contrast, and Connection

It’s not that razorbills are the most elegant birds. Their plumage is simple—dark brown above, white below—but this photo captures something extraordinary. The contrast is brilliant. The clarity is so sharp I can almost feel the downy softness of their feathers and trace the texture of their chocolate-brown heads. The white bellies pop against the deep blue of the ocean, and the whole composition feels like a masterclass in natural lighting and framing.

A Quiet Moment of Devotion

What really gets me, though, is the sentiment. These birds aren’t just standing side by side—they’re touching heads, mirroring each other in a way that feels tender and intentional. There’s a quiet devotion in their posture, a kind of avian intimacy that’s rare to catch on camera. It’s a reminder that beauty isn’t always loud or flashy. Sometimes it’s found in the stillness, in the connection, in the way two creatures simply exist together.

This picture has it all—texture, color, emotion. And I’m so glad it found its way to my screen.