Russo, your mention of the first train into Chama back in 1970 brought back a lot of memories as I was there. It indeed was a battle to get all of the debris cleared up in the Narrows to allow #483 to get through, but more about that in a minute.
The repair of the road crossing was accompained by raised voices. There were those who opined that it was safe to cross, but others - whose opinions finally won out - said naught. But what to do? Well, the problem was solved by going into town to the wye and lifting a rail to replace the defective rail. But now how to get said rail to the crossing. That was solved by chaining one end of the replacement rail to the back of a pickup truck and dragging it down Terrace Avenue. That should have been an attention getter for the citizens. I wish that someone had been able a photo.
Meanwhile, back up in the Narrows there were about four of us working to make sure that all of the debris left over from the highway construction was clear of the track. It became apparent to us that #483s right cylinder was not going to clear. So here are the four of us heaving on pry bars trying to push a downed aspen tree out of the way. In the midst of all this, one of the guys said (with tears streaming down his face):
"MOVE YOU SON OF A BITCH, MOVE"
I can't think, using very few words, a phrase that sums up the efforts of a group of selfless individuals - past, present, and future - who somehow kept, and continues to keep, our beloved streak of rust from becoming an historical footnote.
CJ