PILGRIMAGE #2: Return to Alpine
My hunger for all things Colorado & Southern did not go unnoticed by my parents. It was but a year or two more before we returned to the Alpine Tunnel in the summer of 1991. This time we planned on visiting the east portal.
My hunger for all things Colorado & Southern did not go unnoticed by my parents. It was but a year or two more before we returned to the Alpine Tunnel in the summer of 1991. This time we planned on visiting the east portal.
So here we were, three years later with our newest victim rental car once again trundling up an old DSP&P grade. This time we were on the road to St. Elmo. St. Elmo was a ghost town and at this time it looked like
one too because there was not a soul around and a large sign at the end of the main street screamed in its large letters to respect the property. So we did. We turned around and headed back on the grade. I regret our 
minimal exploration, for when I returned in 2004, unfortunately, nearly the entire east side of the street was destroyed by fire. We did explore the two rotting outfit cars on an old siding at St. Elmo. One was nearly half gone and the other, while still structurally together was in poor shape. The lettering of “The Colorado Road” was still clearly visible.
Coming back onto the road we experienced something that today is no longer a possibility. Our rental car drove over the rickety trestle at Romely. Our tires had to fit onto long planks laid across the floor of the trestle. My mom was quite frightened, but, I, being a typical teenager, thought it was ‘totally cool.’
We reached the end of the travel-able road at Hancock and, since there were few remains of the town, we began the three-mile trek to east portal. Along the way, we signed our names into a registry. I wrote something like “The Alpine Tunnel Lives!” Remember, I was 17 at the time. I was so delighted at the authenticity of the eastern slope. Unlike most of the grade on the west, this side had not been converted for auto traffic. 
Ties still slept in the grade at various locations, sometimes for significant lengths. The tall pines around us betrayed the reality of the great heights we were climbing. Their veil was lifted abruptly, however, at one point. There the grade jutted out and clung to a steep rocky cliff. Below lay the deep canyon of Chalk Creek, also known as Tunnel Gulch. This was the most magnificent portion of the trip. We wriggled around and climbed over several fallen boulders until we reached the hallowed piercing of the Continental Divide.
Ties still slept in the grade at various locations, sometimes for significant lengths. The tall pines around us betrayed the reality of the great heights we were climbing. Their veil was lifted abruptly, however, at one point. There the grade jutted out and clung to a steep rocky cliff. Below lay the deep canyon of Chalk Creek, also known as Tunnel Gulch. This was the most magnificent portion of the trip. We wriggled around and climbed over several fallen boulders until we reached the hallowed piercing of the Continental Divide. As I approached the portal, the snow sheds boards were in a state of disarray, though a few upright beams still stood tall in case a railroad employee decided to resurrect the long dead tunnel. After climbing up some of the debris and dirt that had fallen around the entrance, I found a depression in the pile. There, still visible was a small portion of the top of the arch of the Alpine Tunnel. I crouched down to get a closer look.
I could see a few more arch tops for about a foot or two. A small pond of water rested below them. I took multiple photos and video footage and made sure to touch the California redwood timbers just to confirm that fact that I was really here, really touching the interior of the Alpine Tunnel! I had made it: Pilgrimage number 2 and, not only that, I had received a vision, a vision of the actual tunnel interior! Little did I realize that when I would return nearly a decade later, I would no longer be able to see these timbers.We took a short jaunt over Altman Pass following the old trail and got a beautiful view of the valley where Alpine station is nestled. 
Not much had changed since my last visit. We did find a peculiar critter called a marmot all around though. It looked a little like a fat squirrel that liked to stand up and swivel its belly. My dad took quite a liking to the creatures and they show up not just a few times in our home videos of our adventure. Soon, we headed back toward Hancock, hopped in the car, rolled over Romley trestle one more time (much to the chagrin of my mother again), and left behind pilgrimage number 2.
Not much had changed since my last visit. We did find a peculiar critter called a marmot all around though. It looked a little like a fat squirrel that liked to stand up and swivel its belly. My dad took quite a liking to the creatures and they show up not just a few times in our home videos of our adventure. Soon, we headed back toward Hancock, hopped in the car, rolled over Romley trestle one more time (much to the chagrin of my mother again), and left behind pilgrimage number 2. On a side note, we pulled down the road marked for the town of Fisher. Well, we never found much of anything. The road eventually seemed to dead end so we did a lot of backwards driving until we could turn the car around and off we went.
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