Smoke over the San Juans

The Ghosts of Pagosa Junction

by James Burke

Pagosa Junction, Colorado

The sparkling waters of The San Juan River graced this place with their music a million years before they knew their Spanish American name. The words “San Juan” were not heard ‘til after 1880.

At first it was pale-faced surveyors driving stakes and then the men laying rails along the river.

Then, General Palmer’s shining cars passed here in 1882 sailing steamily through in search of storied Silverton. In the next ten years the traffic of the The Silvery San Juans —both passengers and freight—exceeded expectations. The furious building and fires of the booming bonanza soon exhausted supplies of close by standing timber and more distant sources were necessarily sought.

The highlands northwest of the hot springs known as Pagosa were shaded by tall stately stands of Ponderosa Pines, and in the nineties saws were singing their songs there. But the rigors of hauling the fallen logs with oxen to the rails along the river some thirty miles away would absorb an excess of the proceeds of the process.

So came to pass The Rio Grande Pagosa & Northern Railroad from its connection with Rio Grande rails at Pagosa Junction and for most of a half of a century its passings were grand. An awe instilling sawmill and town arose at The Junction. All to process the lumber for forwarding into The San Juans.

Crowded coaches of Denver folks were trained to Pagosa Springs and private cars of czars and such sailed these rails also. The San Juan Express paused to sip at the staid water tank while society’s finest stepped down to expound on the sights, and the Utes on whose soil they stood stared astonished.

Turn-of-the-Century tourists of “The Narrow Gage Circle” on their land farings from The Antlers to The La Veta and The Beaumont and The Sheridan and The Strater necessarily stepped down here to stretch and strut—as did mining magnates and lumber barons and brazen ladies from the most magnificent molds—while their Iron Horse sipped the sparkling San Juan water.

Quiet has reclaimed Pagosa Junction.

The “Endless Tall Timber” proved not inexhaustible. The sawmill and town are down to foundations. The horseless carriage carried casuals to The Springs. The “Elite” elected to entertain elsewhere.

The last train from The Springs is seventy years past. More ominously The San Juan Express died a decade later leaving only occasional freights to slake their thirst. The last Iron Horse drank here 30 some years ago.

The sagging tank waits in the shade of aged cottonwood. The Utes have returned with the quiet.