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Life is a collection of chance encounters and fated circumstances, but seldom do we stop to consider the sequence of events that lead us to our present day.

Consider for a moment where we would be today if David Moffat hadn't been steadfast in his desire to bring the railroad to Northwest Colorado. Or if former Steamboat Springs mayor J.G. Houston hadn't rallied the townspeople to dig deep and pitch in additional funds to ensure the tracks wouldn't circumvent this small but growing pioneer town, and stop instead in the long-defunct mining town of Mount Harris.

Perhaps the descriptor "long-defunct" answers that question.

This January marked the 100th anniversary of the first train to arrive in downtown Steamboat Springs. The event altered Steamboat's history forever, bringing new opportunities and visitors to our remote corner of Colorado.

In reality, the arrival of the railroad signaled Steamboat's beginning as a tourist destination. Front Range travelers could make the trip to Routt County to see the quirky Winter Carnival held on snow-covered Lincoln Avenue or bathe in the area's hot springs. Riding the train sure beat the arduous journey via stagecoach or early automobile.

But like so many other things in our world, the utility of trains to Northwest Colorado was finite. The growing popularity of automobiles and the completion of a highway connecting the Yampa Valley to the Front Range diminished the popularity of the train. Passenger trains arriving at the Depot in downtown Steamboat have been a thing of the past for more than half a century now.

Of course, trains are still part of daily life in Routt County. But today we consider them mostly a nuisance - a loud, clumsy mode of transportation for the high-grade coal mined just a few miles outside city limits. We sit helplessly at the crossings, waiting for the blinking of the lights to cease so we can go about our lives, hoping not to get caught behind the descending arms again on the way back to wherever it is we came from.

At least that's what I used to think. Not anymore.

The next time I'm forced to wait for a passing coal train, I'll close my eyes and imagine the scene in downtown Steamboat Springs in January 1908, when the sound of the locomotive chugging toward the historic depot on the west side of town represented something far greater.

- Brent Boyer