What is it like to travel to a rocky mountaineer?

Some resemble elephant penis, while others are like a dizzy whirlwind of meringue rising from the desert. The one on my left looks as strange as fried chicken.

I'm perched on a rock in Arches National Park, Utah. It has a seemingly endless spread of red-orange sandstone arches and rocks of various shapes and sizes. A visit to the park, home to the world's most dense natural stone arches, is part of Rocky Mountaineer Train's Itinerary to Rocky's to the Red Rocks, a route launched in 2021. Departs from a nearby city. Click Moab and sprint through the canyons, ghost towns and wine regions that end up in Denver, Colorado. I'm excited by everyone waiting for me, but as far as passionate biologist and park guide Kris Tull is concerned, it's not much better than where I stand now.

“It's like you woke up dead in wonderland,” he says, gestured to the almost spectral landscape around us. “The depth, complexity and nuance of the arch brings back again and again.”

The 120-square-mile park is a maze of passes and lookout points, with over 2,000 arches. Chris said he has visited the park hundreds of times, but only 190 of them have seen them. On a morning trip, you will find four or five arches and rock formations. It has a hoodoo (a rock pillar) shaped like the Egyptian Queen Nefertiti. Nefertiti covers weathered mountains with layered layers of sedimentary rock in the park's distinctive colour. And there is the delicate arch, a 52-foot-high wishbone-shaped landmark that is distinctive to every license plate in the state. It is in the background by Mount La Sal on the far horizon, reminiscent of the unique style of painting by landscape artist and television host Bob Ross.

“This place goes back to the Jurassic Times,” Chris tells me, adjusting his Ray-Ban. “Ten thousand years ago, this land would have been a coniferous pine forest. You could not see the desert because of the trees. Wool mammoths, cave bears, giant sloths – they were walking around here. I guess so.”

As the morning slips into the afternoon, the clouds begin to clear, revealing the snow-capped summit of La Sal. I'll take a look at the phallus and fried chicken for the last time before heading to Moab.

I'm heading east

An hour later, I sink into a marshmallow soft chair in a rocky climber's glass-driving lounge car as the train trains pull away from the station. The next day, half chats about 350 miles of eastward facing, following the upstream serpentine Colorado River. Utah's red sandstone rocks run mile to mile into the snowy, alpine Colorado landscapes, making it the most mountainous region in the country.

We squeal along the cane creek plot, sweeping through crimson canyons and desolate deserts. I head to the bar, leaving my fellow passengers chatting in my seat. Here we meet 75-year-old host Sheryl Yates. She fixes her signature vodka gymlet to me and pinballs around the bar. “I've been to 48 out of 50 states, and there's nothing like a rocky route,” she says as we walk through the golden hinterland towards the Utah Colorado border. Masu. “For example, when you're approaching Denver, it's like you're going to Emerald City, the views are just beautiful.”

Take your first bite of Gimlet and your voice will reach the PA system. “Women and gentlemen, we're approaching Ruby Canyon right now,” says Jessica Byrne, from London, the main train guide. Within seconds, you'll be enveloped in a staggering truffle-like sandstone cliff. The canyon extends 25 miles across the state's border, but the cliffs are said to be visible only by train or by rafting along the canyon river. Sure enough, when we hand over a huge set of protruding rocks, we run around him and see a solo rafter.

A few miles away from Colorado, we pass through Palisade, home to the state's major wine regions. It was beneath a towering cliff with lush vineyards strung along a desert valley. Going further east, you'll see the 11,000-foot-high Grand Mesa, the world's largest flat-top mountain, slowly looking like a city rising from the ground. A few miles later, winding north, we get a glimpse into the town of parachutes. In 1904, infamous outlaw Kid Curry held the conductor at the muzzle after fleeing prison.

It was one of the final sights of the day. We get off at Glenwood Springs, at the foot of the Rockies, and check in at the hotel in the evening. Drawing the curtains, I find the train resting at the station. And in my head I can hear it click and flapping along the track.

New grassland

“This is some of the most beautiful scenery in the country,” says Jessica as she travels through Glenwood Canyon just minutes on her next morning trip. The 1,300-foot-high canyon wall covered in oak brush trees lined with towers above the train.

At breakfast, the scenery is caught up in a world away from the red hues of Utah. The cliffs, a mixture of sandstone and Cambrian rocks, are covered with spruce and Chartreuse shrubs. In the distance is a snowy mountain in Rocky, beneath a group of isolated clouds. The closer you get to the boulder, the more snowy mountains will appear on the ground. We are now at home runs through small towns and ski resorts. It's hard to believe that he's been through a scene like Mars in just 24 hours.

When the train takes its final approach to Denver, you can get a view of the emerald city-like views that Cheryl mentioned. On the Gangway, he bumped into Thomas Franz, a self-proclaimed train doctor on the ship, who helped build a portion of the car for Rocky Mountaineer, Canada. Denver natives oversee everything from getting spare parts to making sure the engine works properly.

“I've been on this trip 300 times. I know every electric pole, every boulder, every rock, and I'm not tired of it yet,” he says, his Say it before you get a message on one of the three transceivers attached to the belt. “It's never going to get old. It's too gorgeous here.”

His words echo in my head as I climb the Denver platform. It's fascinating to come straight back and relive every electric pole, every boulder, every rock again.