DEER PARK CASCADE, ANIMAS CAÑON.
OURAY AND SILVERTON STAGE-ROAD.
All over the central and western portion of Colorado we find a succession of beautiful and magnificent scenery, mountains, waterfalls, cañons, landscapes of surpassing loveliness, and everything to charm the eye and please the most diversified taste. The region about Ouray is one of the most picturesque in the entire State. The mines are among the richest in Colorado; and the hot springs, added to its other attractions, make this locality a famous resort. A good idea of the grandeur of the scenery is conveyed in the photograph of the stage road from Ouray to Silverton, which occurs on this page.
LAKE BRENNAN, IN SOUTH PARK, NEAR PLATTE CAÑON.
The trip southward from Pueblo possesses comparatively little interest until Cuchara Junction is reached, where one branch of the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad starts directly west, while the other continues south to Trinidad, and there forms a junction with the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad.
At Cuchara the scenery changes from waste plains to a tumultuary landscape similar to sections which we have just described. The road follows the valley of Cuchara for a distance of twenty miles, and then begins a rapid ascent towards Veta Pass, which is, in some respects, more wonderful than even Marshall Pass. In one place the grade is 216 feet to the mile, so steep that two locomotives are required to haul even light trains, and so serpentine that to passengers the cars appear to be moving in a circle. When the summit is reached, an altitude of 9,400 feet above sea level has been gained, and there is a panorama presented that it seems almost sacrilegious to attempt to describe. Away to the south rises up, like monsters plucking stars from the sky, the Spanish Peaks, whose frosted heads are often hidden by clouds that gather about them; towards the west, dim with distance, is seen the commanding form of Sierra Blanca, whose crown is the very heavens; and northward, La Veta Mountain, stupendous and sublime, stands like a grizzly sentinel, surveying the lesser wonders of nature and protecting them against the fierce storms that beat the bronzed breasts of the Rockies. Muleshoe Curve, over which we made the approach up Dump Mountain, is plainly visible, as are the numerous tracks that gridiron the slopes, and the waterfalls that play hide and seek along the mountain sides. Looking down we see the fast-receding banks and almost perpendicular cliffs, and the giant bowlders that have been hurled from the summit into the abyssmal depths a mile below, gathered into dams to impede the flow of waters. The view towards the east is unbroken, and there, spreading out like the lap of bounty, we watch the green prairie running away from the mountain base to meet the horizon.