"It all begins here." It's a proud voice, directing our attention up the gulch, where at first we see only a wide dirt path that might have once been roadbed. Then there it is, dark black track, as if the rails were made from some kind of super-hard nylon, running jet-black against the dry orange-reds and light browns of the desert hillsides. There are scrub trees above the cutbacks; the railroad leads into the canyon.