Normally, you wouldn’t think letting a stranger tumble you through class III rapids on a rushing stream called the River of Lost Souls was a particularly good idea. On a bright, 90-degree July day in Durango, however, it seemed like just the thing to do. A little kiss in the face from the cold water sounded sweet. (A word to the wise: grab a seat toward the rear of the raft, as the front-sitters often get a full body embrace from the river.) Taylor, our cheerful guide, laughed as she cinched up our life vests and explained how she would fish us out of the drink if we “decided” to go swimming. With those portentous words, we put in.

As we eased down the slackwater, approaching the first riffle, I thought about what a compact package of delight Durango was. Mountains of fun, wild rivers, charming historic stone and brick mining towns turned tourist havens — it’s all right here. The Animas River (short for El Rio de las Animas Perdidas, so named by Spanish explorers who lost a party of their comrades to its waters) flows right through town. It was, in fact, the river that earned the town its name; Durango means “water town” after the Basque word for water, urango. At 15,000 found souls, it is both the metropolis of the region and a friendly, accessible village. Stop at the visitor center on the way in and the supernaturally cheerful welcoming committee will answer all questions, advise you on best choices for restaurants and entertainment and fill your arms with flyers.

It’s easy to orient yourself in Durango. Mainly, it is Main Street. Park your RV or car and put your best foot forward because most of what you’ll want to see and do is to be found within a half a dozen blocks of lovely old brick and stone buildings. If you’re a history or architecture buff, tuck a historic walking tour guide in your back pocket for reference. And if you tire of walking or want to see something further off, such as the Animas History Museum, hop the red trolley that comes along every 15 minutes. The one exception to the walking rule is the Center of Southwest Studies up at Fort Lewis College. While I was there the center had an excellent exhibit called, “Circle of the Spirit: Navajo and Tibetan Wisdom for Living.”

What to do in town? Plenty. I started with a simple stroll down Main, poking my head into the sundry shops and galleries. You’ll find lots of Native pottery — Navajo, Ute, Zuni — and jewelry, with an emphasis on silver and turquoise. Historic Durango also boasts a number of antique stores, fun to explore for both curiosities and lore. Need rejuvenation and an energy boost? This town earns my coveted Four-Cappuccino Award for providing the bracing brew every 50 paces. I liked Magpie's Newsstand where I could sit outside with my café au lait and strike up a conversation with the locals. Two teenage authorities on hanging out sadly opined that there wasn’t that much for underage kids to do in town, but brightened when they spoke of climbing, snowboarding and mountain biking. The latter craze, they informed me, had its beginnings at Durango Mountain (formerly Purgatory, in honor of those same lost souls) the ski and summer resort just north of town.

Within a block of Magpie’s are no less than three booths where you can sign up for rafting trips. Despite my earlier jesting, I heartily recommend the two-hour trip through town. Smelter Rapids bestows on you the pride of having run a Class III series of waves and the guides are well trained, vigilant –– and pretty darn funny. Anglers take note: on this trip you will pass through gold medal trout waters, restricted to flies and lures, so do bring your rod. For those of you who favor sports that take place on firmer terra, there are three magnificent courses near town where you can bask in the mountain sunshine, be stunned by the scenery and –– oh, yes –– even play golf.

A word of caution about that mountain sunshine: You’re at 6,500 feet in Durango –– the lowest we’ll be on this trip through southwestern Colorado –– so sunscreen is highly advised at all times, as is drinking plenty of water to offset the dehydrating effects of the altitude.

Okay, you’ve peeked, poked, purchased and played; it could be you’re a little peckish by now. Dozens of restaurants vie for your hunger here, offering a variety of cuisines that range from your basic steak to east-west fusion, combining the flavors of the Southwest and Asia. It is my duty to mention that there are three good breweries in town, with aliments to match their ales. Want some good old-fashioned hearty barbecue put to music? Head north of town nine miles to the Bar D Chuckwagon. Dinner is promptly at 7:30 and you’ll eat to the tunes of the Bar D Wranglers, four singin’, fiddlin’ and guitar-pickin’ cowboys. After dinner, or — what the heck, you’re on vacation — before it, try a treat at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.

You can find live music in many of the restaurants, cafés, bars and breweries of Durango. For old-time fun, head to the Diamond Belle Saloon in the Strater Hotel and be entertained by a ragtime piano player while costumed dance hall girls and bartenders take you back a century. Need to add a little drama to your visit? How about a little melodrama? The Diamond Circle Melodrama & Vaudeville Show is a don’t-miss-it opportunity. The acting is wonderful, the director and cast have the timing down perfectly, the story is, well, melodramatic, and the whole thing’s a hoot. I saw, “Death at Devil’s Cave, or, No Mother to guide Her,” by Lillian Mortimer, a play that had been popular around the turn of the century –– that would be last century. Before the play and during the admission, you can order drinks and have a rousing singalong with Rosie at the piano. After the play –– as if this wasn’t enough –– the actors perform several vaudeville acts. There is great singing and dancing and, of course, gut-busting humor. You don’t want to miss the deadpan take on pie-in-the-face techniques.

Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad is a mouthful, but why not? This authentic steam engine trip back through time and up the breathtaking Animas River Gorge is an eyeful. No highway parallels this gorge so there are exactly two ways to see it. Ply its soul-misplacing, expert-class whitewaters in a flimsy rubber bubble of air or…take the train. I took the train. This huffing, puffing, coal-consuming behemoth is the same meticulously maintained train that once carried supplies to the mining town of Silverton and ore back to the smelter in Durango. Get your tickets early, a day or two in advance, because it does fill up. Also, you might want to take the train one way and then ride the bus back, because the trip is long and that translates into a lot of lurches and bumps. You can choose either an enclosed or open gondola car. I picked the latter, the better to lean out, camera in-hand, and capture the endlessly awe-inspiring views. I did pay heed to the warnings of the brakeman: the clearance between the train and a rock wall is sometimes six inches, so check ahead before you poke your mug out, and watch for smoke and cinders from the engine. In the rearmost car these are reduced, but anyway, such is the price of adventure.

Before you ride the train –– and, particularly, if you are a railroad buff –– visit the museum to discover the history of rail in this region. Long before there were highways here, the iron horse was the lifeline that connected the remote mining communities. Men, mules and hand tools built the DSNGRR in just eleven months, a fact I found difficult to fathom as I watched the train snake along its slim shelf of rock chipped out of a mountainside and stared several hundred feet straight down to the Animas.

Is there any man-made sound quite as satisfying as a train whistle, at once forlorn and full of anticipation? With such a cry our tireless engine tugged us into Silverton, sighed a black puff of smoke and, like the miners, merchants and madams of old, we were loosed upon the town. (That last sentence begs an explanation.) The first Silverton street you will encounter, Blair, was once better known as “Notorious Blair Street,” where thirty-four saloons and scores of “soiled doves” once competed for the earnings of hundreds of miners. Gambling and prostitution were officially prohibited, but it appears that, although Silverton was founded in 1874 on gold and silver, it was partly funded by a more gritty than glittery trade. Arrive Thursday through Saturday and you can catch an old west gunfight –– more fanciful than historically accurate –– but still fun. The Sheriff and Miss Kitty will be in attendance.

Things have toned down from Silverton’s rough beginnings. Saloons have become inns and restaurants –– some with their original furnishings –– but you can still sense the rugged soul of this once bustling boomtown as you stride the gravel byway of Blair. Enhance the atmosphere with a stage coach tour of town, or stop into the Bent Elbow Saloon (now a family restaurant) where an old time piano player tinkles out the tunes on a tinny upright. Paved Greene Street offers a colorful continuation of the pageant, with shops, trading posts and restaurants housed in refurbished, original buildings. Nab your lunch at Natalia’s or a dozen other establishments, follow up with a madly delicious slice of pie from Mad Mama’s Pies and stop to see the working weavers at Weathertop Weaving. Also, be sure to go to jail why you’re here; it’s now the San Juan County Museum. You can take a tour of the Mayflower Mine or the Old Hundred Gold Mine –– panning for gold included free. At 9,318 feet, Silverton is already reaching for the sky, pardner, yet the only way to go from here is up into those towering peaks that ring the town. To discover beautiful lakes, high country vistas, camping and fishing by jeep or horse, book your tour in town.

Train passengers have a scant two-hour stay in Silverton, so you’ll want to come back to fully enjoy the living heritage of this town. I returned on the Fourth of July to watch the spectacular fireworks with a mountain backdrop, but only after I had taken in the sights of the nation’s highest highway. The aptly named San Juan Skyway is 232 miles of jaw-dropping splendor. You can easily drive it in a day, or take a leisurely week. What will you see? Mountains, mountains and more mountains. After all, this is Colorado, where there are over a dozen 14,000 footers in the San Juan Range alone. Stop and gawk at 10,222 foot Lizard Head Pass and 11,057 foot Red Mountain Pass in the “Million Dollar Highway” section of the Skyway between Ouray and Silverton –– so named because it cost a million dollars a mile to build it, back when that meant something.

Set between the peaks, are jewels of towns. Drop into Telluride –– literally –– by parking in Mountain Village and taking the free gondola up over the ski mountain. You’ll get the bird’s eye view of this Victorian mining town turned summer and ski resort as you descend. Telluride is five by ten blocks, so you won’t need a car. I arrived on July 4, too late for the annual parade, but in time to join the picnic in the park, hosted by the Fire Department. At least a quarter of the town’s 2,200 residents was there. A fireman atop a pumper truck directed kids in a race to find their scattered shoes while on the other side of the park nonstop barbecued chicken and corn were being served.

Downtown Telluride is a complete charmer; a beautiful town befitting its beautiful surroundings. The hanging pots of colorful blooms everywhere are testament to the town’s pride. You can take a walking tour, window shop, stop for lunch in one of dozens of restaurants, casual to chic, or take a short hike up to Bridal Veil Falls, Colorado’s highest. There are festivals and events all year, and plenty of high country adventures if you’re staying longer.

Ouray, named after a famed, peace-keeping Ute Indian chief, was also in full Independence Day swing when I drove in. The activities centered around the town park and pool, which is fed by natural hot springs. It’s a great place to stop and soak away some of the road’s rough edges. Ouray shares a mining legacy with its neighbors and the same evident pride in its well preserved past that makes for such a vibrant present. Folks here just seem to live an easy, take it as it comes pace. Why wouldn’t they? They’re smack dab in the middle of a natural paradise, after all, and they’re in no hurry to go anywhere. They’d rather welcome you here.

Interestingly, there were more people living in the four corners region around 1,000 AD than there are now. To learn who these inhabitants were take a side trip to see the cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde National Park. For hundreds of years a nameless people dry-farmed the canyons here, became skilled stone builders and highly talented basket makers with extensive trade practices. Interpretive tours by well-informed Rangers and the excellent displays of the Chapin Mesa Museum help you imagine what life was like for them. It now appears that a 20-year drought forced these people to abandon Mesa Verde, but where did they go? Though they left no written records, a clue lies in their modern name: Puebloan Ancestors. Today’s Hopi, Zuni, Pueblo and other Southwestern tribes claim them as their forebears.

If that’s the case, then they aren’t lost to us at all. In fact, the only lost souls in this beautiful region where the past extends seamlessly into the present are those unfortunate Spanish explorers of legend. Everyone else seems to have found themselves here.