Wilderness railroad

We had a tumbleweed moment today. The first event of the Digital Storytelling festival is tonight so after checking my email and responding where needed we headed along the highway in search of a train. Across the highway blew a ball of tumbleweed. It had misjudged its crossing and collided with our "fender". We were reminded of the nwild west heritage of this area.
The train runs on a 36 mile track from Clarkdale through a canyon cut into red rock. The Verde Canyon Rail Road was fully booked. A slightly officious booking clerk told us,
"It always is. You have to book the day before," so she took our names and put us on the standby list. She told us to come back at 12.30 to see if any tickets had been returned. We headed for Cottonwood.
Cottonwoood was established in 1879. It's only 125 years ago but the people here think it's old. In many ways it is. There is a village store that sells tourist tat at one side and hardware at the other. Steel shelves hold a small stock of bottles and tins on display. Stacked in single lines one or two items deep there's a sense that thing are not as good as they used to be around here. It is like stepping into the past - and who knows some of the things may be as old as the town. The Stars and Stripes flys outside and signs invite you to buy liquor and have your old clocks mended.
A lady sits in a shops with a few shelves of tourist information leaflets next to cut out figures of John Wayne and Mae West. Cottonwood was once the set for cowboy and other films. John Wayne and Elvis both stayed in the rooms above this shop. Suites named after them still attract tourists to stay there today. Elvis lives on here pursued by Hollywoods most famous cowboy!
Enough browsing. Time to return to the ticket office. No news of any returns yet. We buy lunch and join the hundreds of mainly retired Americans booked in by their tour operators for a ride on today's 1pm departure to Perkinsville.
After lunch Rupert gets assertive with the ticket clerk and comes away with two $40 tickets for the four hour trip. We're on our way.
There's a difficult moment as we rearrange the furniture in the rail car to get a better view. A sweet American lady, who's here house sitting in Sedona, is unsure about these two English men muscling in on her space. In the event we spent almost the entire journey in the open caboose one car down and she sat alone reading her book as though it was commuter train.
There's a cowboy on board. He does the commentary on the way out and sings to entertain the passengers on the way back. By his style he could be selling Mother Herbert's Secret Medication, but in this case he was selling the the views alongside the track. The most hype was the build up to the location of the bald eagle's nest. We expected to see proud parents with excited chicks - but no - they flew away weeks ago, leaving only a few sticks and a lot of white droppings on a cliff face. Bald Eagles are now rare south of the Canadian border, so the pair that migrate here from Alaska each winter do create a lot of interest but we felt let down after the sales talk!
Pulled by a huge double deisel locomotive the train wound its way through the canyon. The second largest in Arizona we're told - but at 21 miles long it compares badly with the Grand Canyon. The track clings to the valley side and twists it's way alongside the river taking us close to steep and tall red rock formations. Cacti with yellow flowers line the route and the river gives life to a snake of green growth that marks out the route for much of the way. The train carried it's excited American passengers nearer to the line's destination. Perkinsville comes into sight after two hours. Three huts, a derelict water tower and a wrecked jeep. The loco is detached from the front and using the double track here it's positioned at the other end for the journey home. As the engine passed we were encouraged to photograph the unique site of a locomotive decorated with a huge bald eagle, ther work of a wildlife artist who's also festooned the interior of the cars we were travelling in. The return trip felt like a journey too many. Surely we'd seen it all before. We had, but the gentler mid afternoon sun mellowed the rocks and changed our view We took even more pictures on the way back.
Driving back up the highway the beautiful red rocks of Sedona glowed scarlet in the evening sunshine. I drove and Rupert's pointed his camera through the windscreen and rattled off another film.
Time for the opening reception of the Digital Storytelling Festival.