“At the Glacier Club community north of Durango, Colo., we sit on the second-floor porch of our cliffside cabin. Above us, midsummer stars ignite, and the lights of luxury residences peek from 7,800-foot-high ridgelines. Tomorrow morning, a half-mile or so down in the valley below, we will hear the whistle – and see the steam plumes – of the day’s first train as it climbs to Silverton, the once booming mining town. . . . ” And that’s just the first stop of this trip: Tickets, please.
