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KELLEY AND DAVE’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE The Big Trip West…Notes From the road: WEEK TWO: From an
El Paso night of 100 degrees yesterday we woke on Thursday,
May 29 to a comfortable 54 degrees but the winds did not do much to improve the view of the mountains; they were still obscured by the smog (opening the door to the acrid tire-burning odor confirmed it was not haze). The guy dumpster picking in the parking lot behind us got us thinking about the large population (700,000) in El Paso and we wondered of El Paso’s population of 700,000 how many were here illegally. Watching the man dumpster dive I was hoping he was looking for bottles and cans to sell but Dave was wondering if he was an identity thief. I found a great visual contrast between what I could see of El Paso and what I saw of San Antonio, the 7th largest city in the US. San Antonio never seemed large yet the seemingly endless expanse of lights and buildings made El Paso seem much larger.
Our travel today marks the beginning of the second week of this trip and starts with the
Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Center. A quick detour to the El Paso Botanical Garden and Heritage Nature Park was quick indeed since the very tiny walled garden was only open on weekends but a stop at the welcome center in New Mexico was every bit as beautiful. At the welcome center with its vistas of desert willow, flowering cactus and pinion dotted mesas we added some new places to see in New Mexico including the Sky City Cultural Center west of Albuquerque. When I returned to the car Dave had placed a lovely desert willow flower on the seat for me, a nice reminder of how thoughtful and patient this quiet man is. I mention this now to remind me how good he is about stopping for my many photos but I won’t mention that he ended up nearly running out of gas at my beloved Bosque Del Apache National Wildlife Center which nearly brought me to tears.
Bosque (pronounced bos-KAY) del Apache runs along the valley of the Rio Grande River and serves as a major feeding and resting area for thousands of migratory birds such as the sandhill crane, snow goose, tundra swan and countless other waterfowl, song
birds, raptors, upland and game birds. The wide green waters of the Rio Grande are peaceful in this reserve and flanked with tawny grasses, rocky hills and lush green trees it presented not only a birding paradise but a photographer’s dream. I had just settled in for a major photo shoot and my dear husband informed me he had neglected to gas up before coming into this wild and lonely retreat. Needless to say it was a very quiet ride as we left the wildlife area on fumes. Did I say he tried to blame me and he was the one behind the wheel? Well I won’t mention it. First day of week two… let it go. San Antonio, NM was the nearest town, about 8 miles away from the wildlife center and the only gas station in this tiny town was closed. So on we went to
Socorro, 18 miles north and I sadly conceded that it was too late and too far to go back. I will think of a payback.
Socorro’s claim to fame is its lovely
San Miguel Mission nestled in the foothills of the mountains. It was originally built by the Spanish in 1627
and after the Indian rebellion of 1680 it was abandoned but finally rebuilt by the new settlers of Mexican and Spanish descent in 1891. On the way to the mission we walked through the town park with its old gazebo and watched a policeman haul the town drunk away from the base of his shady tree.
Another attractive feature of the town turned out to be the
Stage Door Restaurant with its cozy atmosphere and local art. An excellent restaurant, it also boasts fine entertainment each night and we were informed that the nationally acclaimed Huckaby Junction, a bluesy rock band calls this joint home. Dave and I both ate some remarkably fresh and tasty fish tacos for only $5.95.
I often talk about the importance of good light for paintings and photographs especially in the early morning or late afternoon. So far New Mexico has proved me wrong. The light seems to be good all day especially when it glistens off the tawny grasses with the deep blue sky and dark pinion pines in contrast. So delightful is this part of the country that I would be tempted never to leave. Still looking for the elusive road
runner, we spotted some orioles, red wing blackbirds, egrets and tanagers among other unidentified winged creatures.
Our marble-mouthed GPS navigator computer program really flunked in
Albuquerque but after locating our route (by ourselves) and phoning two hotels (what would we do without cell phones?) we found one with a room for the night. After a brief rest we headed out to the Albuquerque Historic District and had dinner at the historic
Casa de Ruiz or the Church Street Café. This Mexican restaurant is housed in the oldest residence in Albuquerque and built sometime after 1706, the building is also one of the oldest structures in New Mexico. The tamales (the owner tells me this dish put them on the map), chili rellenos, beans and enchiladas complemented the authenticity of the atmosphere but I was so tired I had a hard time keeping my nose out of my plate. We brought the sopaipillas drizzled with honey home for breakfast since we were both too stuffed to finish them there. It was a pleasant 65 degrees when we left the restaurant and we had just enough energy to walk around the town square passing the beautiful mission and lively restaurants. The
sky was incredible, clear and a striking, electric royal blue that was almost surreal. I wished I’d had enough energy to sit in the gazebo and soak it all in but I will have to commit this one to memory.
Friday morning,
May 30, in Albuquerque, the local weatherman told us, with his little Chihuahua cradled on his arm, that the temperature went down to the low 50s during the night and a brisk chill was still in the air. We started out with sweaters and a hearty breakfast at the Quality Inn having found a good value with a good meal and a clean and quiet room. Since we only were able to peek through the windows in the Albuquerque Historic District the previous night when most of the stores were closed, we headed back into town for a stroll through the plaza and an opportunity to shop in the stores and photograph this charming town. The sky was once again a striking deep blue and the air crisp which made the buildings and trees intense in their color and sharp in their shadows. The
San Felipe de Neri, the oldest church in Albuquerque, opposite the plaza stood
out starkly against the electric blue sky and everything in town seemed to come alive in a way that I have never experienced before. Local craftsmen laid out their wares under the porticos of the long ranch style buildings and of course I needed to investigate. I found a beautiful hand tooled silver bracelet created by a Navajo man named Curtis Platero from Tohajiilee, NM. He gave me a cloth and instructions for protecting my new acquisition and kindly told me the story of the totems on my new bracelet: the arrowheads are for protection; the bear, strength and courage; the straight and angled lines are for happiness and good health. I put on the bracelet and felt empowered! We talked a great deal about the Hopi and Navajo tribes and their adjoining lands and he said that despite many differences, the two tribes were cooperating in the use of their overlapping reservations.
Further down the street was a shop I had peered into the night before. I hoped it was open because I had wanted a black pottery rabbit I saw in the window of the Margaret Moses Gallery and I was in luck. As I had it
wrapped I learned my rabbit was created by the locally well-known Laguna Pueblo sculptor, Andrew Rodriguez. Rodriquez studied under Allen Houser and is recognized for his unique bas relief sculptures. His work has nationwide gallery representation. My little piece is created with “commercial” clay, fired, then hand painted with acrylic black paint, a technique that is becoming widely used in this medium. The old
Route 66 was close by running through Albuquerque and Santa Fe. We had wanted to drive on a portion of it but couldn’t find it until a shop keeper gave us directions to the
Turquoise Trail via the old Historic Route 66. We enjoyed a nostalgic trip down memory lane as we saw neon lights, art deco architecture and original old motels and diners reflecting a simpler time when travelers drove from Chicago to Los Angeles on that legendary road.
On our way to the famed Turquoise Trail we drove up to
Sandia Mountain to take the world’s longest tramway to the top of Mt Sandia 10,378 feet high. The tram only took about 15 minutes to the top but it was a breathtaking ride with drops as far as 1,000 feet. We learned that
bear, elk and sheep roam these mountains yet we only saw one lonely deer. It was very windy at the top and only 55 degrees which was a sharp contrast to the 80 plus degrees at the bottom. The views extended for 11,000 square miles and from the top we could see the snow-capped mountains in the
Sangre de Christo Mountain range in Santa Fe and Taos. The granite in these mountains is comprised of mica and feldspar which give it its classic pink cast and warm evening glow.
Once at the bottom we headed up route 14 or the Turquoise Trail towards New Mexico’s political and cultural capitol, Santa Fe. Along the road we saw the shiny metal yucca sculpture by well-known Napa artist Gordon Huether. The landscape was breathtaking on this road and we stopped many times along the way to take it all in. The state tree is the pinion pine and state flower is yucca and it is not hard to understand why as they punctuate the soft sand and grassy mountains in profusion. Our destination was
Madrid, an old mining town on the trail, but before Madrid we stopped at the breathtaking
Paa-Ko Ridge Golf Course for Dave to get a golf fix, or at least watch other golfers get theirs. Since it was only an 18-hole course Dave decided to wait for a 9-hole course to find out how far his ball will fly in the 5-7,000 foot altitudes.
We did finally make our lunch stop at the ethnologically unique
Mine Shaft Tavern, an authentic roadhouse tavern in the historic town of Madrid. The building was shabby and had I not read about this place we likely would not have stopped and would have missed a wonderful meal and unique experience. The sign as you enter said: “There is no town drunk in this town, we all take turns.” There was a buffalo head over the fireplace next to the neon beer sign and at the long bar we found aging cowboys with long white hair and mustaches, bikers in tight jeans and head scarves looking very much like Willie Nelson and a group of golfers in traditional shorts and polo shirts. The errant tourists, like us, filled some of the table groupings in the middle of the room. There was a dance floor and signs announcing the upcoming bands on evening
weekends.
Santa Fe was a short half hour drive from Madrid. Time was marching on so we hurriedly checked into our motel then drove into town to explore what we could before everything closed. On the way into town I read that the movie Buffalo Girls and the Lonesome Dove series were filmed in Santa Fe. It was still quite hot in the late afternoon and the plaza was crowded with people enjoying the fountains, the beautiful architecture and eating ice cream in the shade of the tall trees on the town’s center plaza. The Museum of Art was close by and when we entered we found that although it was already past 5pm they were open ‘till 7pm and they, as well as many of the museums near the plaza, were open and free that night! Our luck was still with us. We toured the beautiful
Santa Fe Museum of Art, the one story adobe Palace of the Governors (built in 1610 it is the oldest public building in the United States) and the
Georgia O’Keefe Museum where a special combined exhibit featured works of longtime friends Georgia O’Keefe and Ansel Adams. We also watched an informative movie
about the life of Georgia O’Keefe before heading out to The Shed, a highly recommended (and very busy) restaurant for a late bite to eat under the stars in their courtyard. Our evening was delightful until we found we couldn’t get out of Santa Fe…all streets seemed to be one way the wrong way or barricaded off. After much frustration and no help from “Marble Mouth” we finally headed out of town to retire at our hotel.
Saturday,
May 31. We checked out the last day of May with our bag of free “stuff” such as EmergenC, deodorants, lotions, soaps and other handy personal items, and headed north out of town on the 84/285 highway lined with bright blue bachelors buttons, to the
Tesuque Pueblo Saturday Flea Market with my promise to Dave of a very special breakfast after I shopped. I was overwhelmed by the hundreds of stalls of crafts, jewelry, rugs, clothes, hats and a multitude of ethnic purveyors and I over-stayed my time. A very hungry and probably deservedly grumpy Dave had gone back to the car to wait for me and when he could wait no longer he set out to find me. Of course
I could not go home empty handed and that did not sit so well on his empty stomach. We drove back into Santa Fe to eat at the well-known
Pasqual’s where Kate and I had breakfast 9 years ago. It was a long wait to be seated (more grumbles from the empty stomach) but I think all things considered the wait was worth it, and I think but am not sure, that Dave agreed. The food was wonderful, organic and mainly Mexican influenced although the prices were more than double those of the Silver K in Johnson City, home of the fluffiest pancakes on earth. The small room was decorated with wonderful Mexican piñatas, paintings, flags and carvings adding to the charm of this restaurant. We sat (in very close quarters) next to two very nice women who mentioned something about Boston. After a quick exchange we found that they had lived in and around my hometown, Jaffrey, NH, in fact one of the women worked for Yankee Magazine and new many of my best friends. Small world!
There were still some museums and churches to visit before leaving Santa Fe so after our delicious meal of pancakes, Mexican
hot chocolate and breakfast tacos we set out for the
Institute of American Indian Arts Museum. The museum turned out to have excellent works by Indians throughout America and the
Allan Houser Sculpture Garden I had been looking for was in their courtyard. The
Lorretto Chapel was next with its free-standing curved staircase, then on a long walk in search of the Inn of the Anasazi, I stumbled across a jeweler that happened to have a turquoise and gold ring I had been looking for for many years and since it was about to be my 60th birthday…well I am now a very happy camper.
The elusive
Inn of the Anasazi turned out to be right under our noses just off the plaza but I headed in the wrong direction and ended up circling back on the same stores and galleries I began with, losing precious time according to Dave my punctual guide. It was hot in the city and our overly hot car was in the sun, without a sun shade. I have had a hard time trying to explain the lack of shade in the desert but I think Dave is finally getting it. On our way
out of town we stopped to see the El Santuario de Guadeloupe built in 1610; it is the oldest church in the US and archeological digs beneath the foundation revealed evidence of Native Americans living on the site as early as 1300 AD.
Leaving the beautiful church and art of Santa Fe behind, we headed north on the
High Road to Taos. An important stop not to be missed on this route is the
El Santuario de Chimayo, better known as the Lourdes of America. On a long ride seeming to nowhere you will find a humble church nestled in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. There is a simple and honest holiness about this place that I have found in no other church in the world and even though it was the second time I visited here I was brought to tears sitting in the quiet of the small chapel. Devout people come from all over to pray and seek cures for their ailments and on this day there were many, young and old, who came in wheel chairs and on canes. There are countless accounts of miraculous cures but the story of the origin of this Santuario tells
of the miraculous crucifix found around 1810 by a local church member Don Bernardo Abeyta. On the night of Good Friday, Don Bernardo discovered a light shining from one of the slopes in the hills along the Santa Cruz River in Chimayo. He followed the light and found it coming from the ground. When he dug with his hands he uncovered a crucifix and called others to come and venerate this precious discovery. Word was sent to Fr. Alvarez at Santa Cruz and upon hearing this story Fr Alvarez set out for Chimayo to collect the crucifix and bring it to his church. The crucifix was placed in the main altar but the next morning it was gone, only to be found back in the hills of Chimayo. Three times this crucifix was brought to Fr. Alvarez’s Church and three times it disappeared only to be found in its original spot. By then everyone understood that it was there in these mountains the El Senor de Esquipulas Crucifix wanted to remain, so a small chapel was built. Legend has it that if you take dirt from the spot where the crucifix was found, put it under your pillow and pray
for healing as you go to sleep it will promise miraculous cures. I too collected my dirt and will share with others who need it. We all need hope and peace in this world and whatever your beliefs, I don’t think anyone can visit this place without being moved in a profound way.
After a peace filled visit we continued on the High Road to Taos. The landscape changed from the open vistas of sand, juniper and pinion pine to the dense and dark green forest of tall ponderosa pines. In a clearing in one little town I was happy to find some lilacs still in bloom at this high elevation (in Taos I found poppies and hollyhocks in abundance). The distant snow capped peaks grew larger from Albuquerque to Taos. When we arrived at the
Taos visitor’s center we were told that we would not be able to climb to Williams Lake near Wheeler Mountain (New Mexico’s tallest peak at over 13,000 feet) because the snow was still waist deep. I then asked about rafting the Rio Grande River and the woman said the heavy snow melt made the river very rough and it would not be possible
for me to do the river unless I paddled. Of course I had strict orders from my doctor not to paddle since my rotator cuff surgery was barely 6 months old. I later met a fellow Floridian at Ojo Caliente who had just done the river. She said it was fabulous but her shoulders were very sore. ‘Nuf said.
I asked the woman at the desk about the symbol that resembled a sun on the New Mexico State Flag, on license plates, and it seemed everywhere else I looked. She said I was right, it was a symbol for the sun originating with the ancient
Zia Indians. The design reflects their tribal philosophy, with “its wealth of pantheistic spiritualism teaching the basic harmony of all things in the universe.” That sounded fine to me. Four is the sacred number of the Zia and from the circle in the center four lines radiate in varying lengths to personify the number most often used by the giver of all good gifts. It also represents the sacred number embodied in the earth, the four directions; in the year with four seasons; in the day, with sunrise, noon, evening and night; in life,
with four divisions - childhood, youth, manhood, and old age. Everything is bound together in a circle of life and love, without beginning, without end. I thought this to be a beautiful symbol for a beautiful state
We decided to check into our room at the rustic
El Pueblo Resort near the well known Taos Pueblo home to the Taos Indians on the north side of town to give some time to rethink our strategy for the next few days. Maybe golf for Dave would not be as dangerous as hiking in knee-deep snow or rafting in treacherous waters. Also we had been eating out every night since we left and we decided this night we would have a bottle of wine, some cheese and fruit for a nice quiet meal on our quaint little porch overlooking the courtyard, the beautiful tall pines and the hanging bunches of chili peppers on each of the porticos. But for the chili peppers, this little resort in the mountains reminded me of my childhood growing up in a similar resort in the mountains of New Hampshire.
The weather is so dry to us Floridians and the high altitudes in the past
few days has caused many problems with nose bleeds, head aches and congestion so it was nice to have a space to kick back and restore. Okay, I could make nice about the beauty of the rugged landscape, but the truth of the matter is you walk around feeling like your head is in a vice, your eyes are so dry they sting, you feel like you have bloody cotton balls stuck up your nose and an eighty pound gorilla on your chest…but hey, let’s go climb a mountain!
Sunday,
first day of June, and I woke up high in the mountains so stuffed I couldn’t breath and my skin was dried up like a prune. I need water, moisturizer, a massage, I need Ojo Caliente!!! We began this day with a nice relaxing breakfast in the main lodge of the El Pueblo resort, then headed up to the
World Heritage site, Taos Pueblo, the “Place of the Red Willows” where Native American Indians still live today. This place is another photographer’s dream; everywhere I turned I saw dramatic shadows contrasted with light, clean architectural lines, punctuated with stark white and soft adobe colors lit by the bright New
Mexico sun. A wonderful example of this architectural beauty is the
San Geronimo Church. Built in 1850, it is one of the youngest buildings in the village and stands as a testament to the architectural skills of these people. Striking in its simplicity it stands in the center of their world. The melodic sounds of Indian flute music lead us around the corner of the church where a resident of the village played his flutes by the river. As he played his sweet music he spoke about Tiwa, his native language that is a spoken language and is never written or recorded. He also told us about the challenges of living in this beautiful place. Most of the Indians live on the reservation but no longer in the sacred center, instead they live in government built homes that are inferior in quality to the old pueblo but have the modern “improvements” of running water, electricity and other conveniences. It is cheaper for the Indians to live in the sacred pueblos where electricity and other things we take for granted are not allowed because of their reverence for the land and the holy site in which these buildings rest. But of
course many young families have been exposed to television, electric light, refrigerators and the like so they move out of the pueblo community and into the “new and better” homes. Unfortunately these new homes are so poorly insulated that the cost of their utilities plus the $60 or so a month charged for the homes becomes a significant financial burden for them. Many of these Indians rely on their crafts, tourism and their building techniques to support them but in most cases this is not enough.
From another Indian woman we learned about the
horno, their outdoor adobe oven used for baking. She explained that the
kiva is a sacred underground room where ceremonial fires, fueled with cedar, are burned. The kivas were off limits to the public and their rituals are kept a mystery to outsiders. The use of fire in a kiva has generalized to the name given the round bellied outdoor “kivas” popular throughout the southwest.
Since Dave and I have fallen in love with the deep blue southwest night sky we found a painting by a local artist David Gary Suazo, a Taos Pueblo Indian Artist. His work, found in his gallery Evening Snow Comes
Gallery in the pueblo, beautifully typified the color and feelings we had about the night experience here. The painting is of the Rio Grande with a shooting star streaking across the deep blue night sky. Later at Ojo Caliente we would soak in the hot springs and watch a star streak across a similar blue sky.
I left Dave shaded by a willow and talked to Carpio Bernal another puebloan artist. He showed me beautiful wood carving boards, walking sticks and architectural features all inlaid with turquoise. I admired his work and he showed me his techniques as he dipped his finger in a bowl of powdered turquoise and placed some in the palm of my hand. The turquoise colored my skin and left a soft silky feeling. When he saw that I noticed a book about Helen Mirren on his shelf he took it down and showed me her inscription. Then, turning some pages he showed me some early photographs of Helen and Carpio in a romantic embrace, and others with Helen and Carpio in the Native American Theater Company in NYC. It is a small world.
The smell of southwest chili wafted across the courtyard as
we toured the soft sand colored adobe buildings and we engaged in conversation with the woman responsible for the tantalizing smells. She told us about status of the local schools, that many of the teachers are much improved and the children are finally getting a good education. In the not so distant past when their students had left the reservation they were so far behind the students on the outside that most simply dropped out or were left behind. Her daughter was out of school and helping her make change in the sale of her Indian Tacos and Frito Pies. We ordered an Indian Taco with chili beans, lettuce, cheese and tomato on top of home made fry bread and took it to the edge of the Red Willow River to share under the shade of the aforementioned willow tree while we watched the Indians’ daily lives unfold in this very foreign and beautiful land.
After several hours we took our leave of the pueblo city and drove back into Taos to visit the locally known artist,
Ingir Jirby, whom Kaity had worked with several years ago. She was delightful and gave us a tour of her sculpture gardens,
her casitas and her art gallery. Inger then went on for a long time discussing the local art culture and politics of the town. She had just been featured on the front page of the local paper as the Matriarch of Ledoux, referring to her influence in the art community in Taos. She told us this title was not suggested by her and it had gotten her into a lot of trouble with the artists in town, but she does have a strong voice about what needs to be done to protect the art industry in Taos so I think the paper may have rightly labeled her. We had just enough time left to quickly tour the
Blumenschein Museum and to photograph the most photographed church in America, the stark and beautiful
San Francisco de Asis Church.
It was late in the afternoon so we left Taos and headed north to the
Rio Grande Bridge. The river was most impressive from the bridge and although I am not usually bothered by heights, I found the dramatic drop to be a little disturbing, especially as the traffic rolled over the bridge and gave an uneasy sensation of movement over this
vast expanse. Despite the heat we did walk the rim for about a mile and got quite close to the edge to view the drop and the rushing water beneath us. Further down the road we stopped to see some of the world headquarters for the
Earth Ships, the environmentally sustainable dwellings mostly underground at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Many of these homes have solar exposures and are made of recycled materials such as tires, hay bales and adobe. They use solar-thermal heating and cooling, solar and wind electric power, have contained sewage treatment, utilize water harvesting and have unique food production systems. It was like looking at a hippi culture gone underground 40 years later. I think with the increase in gas and other products, they will have the last laugh.
At last, after another hour of winding roads, we arrived at around 6pm at the hot springs resort of
Ojo Caliente and when we went to the historic hotel to check in the manager took one look at us and said “You two had better go straight to the pools and soak for a few hours!” We were still Destination Driven, on over-drive
and tired and apparently we looked it. We checked into our room, jumped into our bathing suits and headed to the pools as we were instructed. Ojo Caliente, with its 10 healing natural spring pools, is one of the oldest natural health resorts in the US and has been a gathering place for indigenous Native Americans for thousands of years. It is the only place on earth where Lithia, Iron, Soda and Arsenic springs occur together. Lithium is believed to relieve depression and aid digestion; iron is considered beneficial to the blood and immune system, preventing fatigue and promoting healthy skin tone; soda is known to relieve symptoms of arthritis and relieve digestive problems; arsenic also is beneficial for relief from arthritis, stomach ulcers and to heal a variety of skin conditions. Dave did not have a problem sinking into this small stone pool but I took my time to adjust to the 109 degree waters bubbling up from this subterranean volcanic aquifer but soon we both began to relax in the very hot arsenic pool. As I lay back on the smooth stone-surfaced edge of the pool I began to imagine what it was like for the ancient cultures
that discovered and used these same healing waters.
We did begin to slowly unwind but soon found that we were cooking in that little hot spring so we cooled down for a while in the largest pool with its 80 degree mixture of iron and arsenic. The air is so dry here that even though the evening air temperature is in the high 70s the heat from the pool’s waters was not overwhelming and we were pleased to find out that these springs did not have the sulphur smell commonly associated with hot springs.
The iron pool was across the peaceful graveled courtyard punctuated with sculptures, flowers and cacti. This pool was outside but against a tall, rugged rock outcropping that soared above us. Waters from this cliff-side pool poured out from the rock wall and bubbled up from the stone floor tickling our feet. Soaking in this pool renewed our strength and gave us energy for a late evening dinner.
The dining room was in the old hotel, a short and lovely walk from the peaceful oasis of the pools. The old wood paneled dining room, located off the large porch in the hotel, was filled
at 8pm mostly with relaxed couples and a few single women. Tall beakers of iced mineral waters were brought to our table and replenished often. After a light meal we returned for more soaks in the soda pool and iron pools. The soda pool is enclosed inside a building and with the heated waters surfacing we had the feeling we were in a water-sauna. In the furthest iron pool, (a two-tiered stone pool, past the mud pool and the enclosed soda pool), iron and arsenic rich waters bubbled up in the center of the pools. Little waterfalls cascaded down from the mammoth springs insuring a constant renewal of the hot, healing minerals. We lay back in these pools watching the beautiful stars and glorious sky and even saw a shooting star bless us with good luck. We closed the pools at 10pm and briefly watched a bonfire before finally retiring to a wonderful long sleep.
We must have been very tired because we didn’t wake up until well after 7am on this bright sunny
Monday, June 2. We went for a nice walk before a hearty breakfast and then we both went straight for the mud pool. I wished
I’d had my camera as, like kids playing in the mud, we slathered the healing stuff over each other and then baked in the sun until all the mud dried on our skin, face and hair. Someone mentioned we looked like some ancient relics from the cro magnon era. Even though it was quite warm out, there was a soft morning breeze that felt quite cool on our muddy bodies. As soon as I was stiff and dry I washed myself in the mud-washing pool. After rinsing the cakey mud off, your skin feels like silk, all the toxins are removed and you feel new and refreshed. Once rinsed, I headed over to the spa for a salt and oil scrub while Dave continued to read and relax by the pool.
After our treatments we decided to take a short day trip about an hour north to
Georgia O’Keefe’s Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu. The name Ghost Ranch, derived from the local Spanish folklore, was el rancho de los brujos, the ranch of the witches. Today it is a farm and retreat with camping, rooms, hiking trails and peaceful views. I had wondered if it was a good idea to
get on the road again or whether we should have just stayed and relaxed at the resort but after we got to the ranch we decided the hour-long mountainous drive there was worth it. The red rock landscape just begs for a painting everywhere you look. We brought a picnic and relaxed in the Adirondack chairs overlooking the red rocky cliffs that once inspired Ms O’Keefe and many other notables in the art world. It was no wonder they all were drawn to this remote and beautiful place.
Reluctantly we left this red rock magic and headed back to Ojo Caliente, and of course when we returned we were glad to be there as well. We sat in a hanging swing on the porch watching the hummingbirds, swallows and phoebes dart in and out of their nearby nests and then went to the pools to soak up the minerals in the late afternoon sun. We sat on logs by the outdoor fire pit after dinner gazing up at the stars in the chill of early evening. I must note here that I had anticipated exceptional spa cuisine at this restaurant and was disappointed to find the food average and
definitely not a healthy low-cal menu but still we enjoyed the food and the ambiance. Tired but very relaxed from the day’s adventures, we retired to our room with a window to the large porch and the smoky fire which occasionally wafted into our room making us feel like we were camping out.
Tuesday, June 3 we woke early and climbed the mile and a half trek to the
ancient Posi-Ouinge Pueblo Ruins high above the Ojo Caliente springs. The views of the mountains and sage covered desert landscape on top of the mesa were beautiful but the ruins of the Tewa Indians were left to the imagination. These ancient people were among the many tribes who came in various seasons to make use of the hot springs of Ojo Caliente. After breakfast we soaked in the pools and I reluctantly left for the next leg of our trip.
We drove an hour south to
White Rock Overlook, 6365 feet high along the Rio Grande, the dramatic site for the film Silverado. We continued south to
Bandelier National Monument and spent the better part of the day hiking at the bottom of this canyon into the pueblo ruins.
Even though this site is at the bottom of a canyon it is still 6,660 feet above sea level, enough to make us short of breath and dizzy as we climbed the ladders into the ancient cliff dwellings. There is not much information about the people who lived here over 10,000 years ago in over 3,000 sites at Bandelier. It was humbling to learn that they existed in this harsh and difficult terrain in those primitive times.
Late in the afternoon we headed south again through the winding switchbacks toward Jemez. There are more hot springs there as well as one of the largest natural craters from a still active volcano where elk were peacefully grazing as we watched from high up on the road. The road was not well marked and we missed the natural springs but we did find the
Jemez Falls after hiking a quarter mile from the road.
We met some people at a rest stop who told us about a turn in the road ahead onto 485 west about 4 miles to some dramatic tunnels and waterfalls. I would have gone but Dave was getting tired and hungry and we still had over
an hour to drive to Albuquerque so I gave in. We checked into the same hotel we stayed in on the way to Santa Fe and I negotiated the same deal I made with another manager for a reduced rate! We decided to hit the old Route 66 for dinner and found a classic old diner called the
Frontier Restaurant near the UNM campus. I had a chicken taco dinner for $3.99 and with the guacamole and green chili salsa I was stuffed. A bargain at any price.
Wednesday, June 4, destination: Arizona. Our day began with a quick trip to Jiffy Lube for our 6,000 mile oil change and lube on our newly road-tested car. A quick plug for Hyundai, this car has been quiet, good for communication with Dave’s hearing problems, has driven like a dream and thankfully, no issues to report. Next stop,
Sky City, the oldest continuously inhabited community in North America sitting on top of a 370 foot high mesa where at nearly 7,000 feet above sea level the average summer temperature is between 110 and 120 degrees. They get very little rainfall here and they collect what little rain they get in natural
stone swales in the village. The small swales had puddles of water that provided enough drinking water for the pigs, turkeys and chickens that roamed the streets. These puebloans practice “dry farming” in the pueblo and irrigated farming in the lands below.
This pueblo has been a vibrant spiritual home to the people of Acoma for over 2000 years. The Acoma pueblo women own over 300 adobe and sandstone structures that they pass on to their daughters. One would think that this is a matriarchal community but on closer inspection we found that the women are not allowed to be on their governing council (the men are asked and when asked cannot refuse) nor are the women allowed in the ceremonial kivas. In fact if a woman wanted the attention of a man in the kiva she would have to call through a small round hole in the adobe wall. Like other kivas we saw, these were accessed by tall ladders. In this pueblo community the ladders were painted white and had points carved at the top “leading to the holy spirits.”
Most of the dwellings in Sky City are between 1,000 and 2,000 years old but they
are still building new homes. If the new homes are built using concrete blocks instead of the traditional adobe, they will not have the natural cooling or heating properties of the ancient structures. The majority of these pueblo people do not live in Sky City full time but return here for their ceremonies and cultural events.
Although the kivas house the Acoma people’s spiritual tradition, in 1629 the Spanish Catholics, when determining that the Indians needed “saving”, forced the pueblo people into slave labor to build the 21,000 square foot
San Sebastian del Ray Mission and Convento, directly on top of their holy kiva. The men and women who tried to escape from their slavery were shot with cannons. Those that survived were hauled away and their legs were cut off to their knees preventing any future escapes. Most of the people were angry and wanted to destroy the church but since some of their people had died during the construction of the Spanish Mission and were entombed in the walls of the church it would have been impossible to remove the structure since it would have desecrated the bodies and souls of their loved ones. Eventually many pueblo
people embraced the Catholic religion. Today there are some who combine traditions of both religions and some who use this church solely as a pueblo kiva since the Catholic mission was built on top of their holy place.
There are three layers of bodies buried in the cemetery that was adjacent to the mission. Over the years it was the women who had to carry dirt up to the cemetery to build upon the layers of their generation as they were buried. The cemetery, which was off limits to photography, faces vast expanses of picturesque desert hills, sandstone mesas and sandy valleys dotted with pinion and juniper. It is enclosed by an adobe wall topped with carved faces looking inward to guard and protect the souls within. No one is allowed in Sky City without a guide but we were free to talk to any of the people we encountered. Our guide “Gary” (the English version of his Acoma name), was very helpful in making us feel at home in this special place.
We left Sky City and headed west toward
Gallup on the border of New Mexico and Arizona, our junction point for Canyon de Chelly in
northeast Arizona. The winds were blowing sand and tumbleweeds at gusts of 45-55 miles per hour and the skies were getting hazy on that long straight road west.
Flexibility, Change, Adaptation words that serve you well on a road trip. Due to the weather conditions entering Gallup we made a decision not to go to Canyon de Chelly as we had planned on this leg but to visit this site on the return loop to Colorado hoping the weather would improve giving us better visibility to see that magnificent site.
It was nearly 2pm, well past lunch time, when we arrived in Gallup, the self proclaimed Indian Capital of the US. We headed straight for the Gallup Information Center to find a place to eat and were greeted by a very informative Native American who told us about the Navajo myths and legends represented in a mural inside the building. One of the legends portrayed in the mural was of the trickster coyote (featured in many of the Navajo stories) who, as he watched the Fire Man and The Woman make stars out of stone fragments and place them in the constellation one by one, became impatient with
how slowly they were accomplishing this task, so he grabbed at the remaining “stars” in their blanket and threw them into the skies creating the milky way.
We patiently listened to all of his stories until he finally recommended
Earl’s Family Restaurant where we could find good local food and where the Native Americans were selling their wares. He was right about the food. We split a delicious Navajo Taco, similar to the one we had at Taos Pueblo but smothered in greater quantities of meat, beans, green chilies, lettuce, tomatoes and cheese. Dave and I had a hard time finishing it all and while we struggled to eat it we were interrupted every few minutes by friendly Indians selling jewelry, dolls, and pottery. Most of it was of dubious quality but these people were not pushy and when we said we were not interested, they politely took their leave.
After lunch we stopped to see the
El Rancho Hotel, a landmark hotel built in 1937 by the brother of movie magnate, D.W. Griffith. Autographed photos of many old film and TV stars graced the large open two story lobby with its over stuffed leather chairs, grand circular
staircase, stone fireplace and heavy beams. The hotel is a large, old, rambling fire trap of a building with wonderful charm and character. There were Navajo rugs hanging from beams, large horned leather benches against the wall, an old victrola and a double seated leather shoe shine stand. We were tempted to spend the night there and make our decision about Canyon de Chelly in the morning but when we toured the town we found a mostly depressed downtown albeit with many colorful outdoor murals on a few of the buildings in the town center. We had sand in our teeth and eyes from being blown about by heavy winds and beyond looking at the multitude of Navajo handicraft stores (most of them rather seedy and closed) there would be nothing to keep us entertained for the remainder of the day so we decided to push on to Flagstaff.
The 2 ½ hour
drive to Flagstaff should have been spectacular as we were driving through the
Painted Desert, but since the sand storm obscured much of the landscape we missed most of the wonderful scenery along the way. We began to see signs like “Lithodendron Wash” and wondering what a “wash” was I later found that it, like an arroyo, it is a dry creek bed that fills with water during a heavy rain. The rains did come as we got closer to Flagstaff but not enough to fill the washes along our route.
When we arrived in Flagstaff it was cold and rainy and we were chilled to the bone. We were hungry and desperate to find a nice clean, quiet place to sleep. There were many long trains along the way into Flagstaff, some with as many as 5 engines, and as soon as we began looking for a room we discovered that the majority of the motels were right along the railroad tracks! All we needed was one train whistle to tell us we needed to be far away from that noise. We called all over asking for rates and locations and after several calls, we finally found a small Mom and Pop motel, The Arizonian, a vintage 1960’s motel ala Route 66, far away from the noise of the train. I was satisfied with our accommodations but Dave was lamenting the scratchy towels, the dim lights and nowhere to plug in our computer, not to mention no remote for the TV, but oh well, this city boy has to get a life. Once we checked in we drove up the old Route 66 and found the Grand Canyon Café, a vintage Route 66 restaurant that served Chinese and American comfort food. The place was as funky as the town but it was clean and we got what we needed: big bowls of delicious home made chicken mushroom soup. Dave and I split a huge, very good chicken stir fry, all for under $15.00. Can’t beat that good old cheap comfort food while you’re on the road.
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Huel
non-member comment
Great to see the photographs
Hi Kelley and Dave, Great photos which took me back 15 years; the Sky City mesa is brilliant, so much magic in that area! Love to you guys and family, be safe on your boat ride and land excursions (is anyone doing a pool on what day you, Kelley, will miss the boat because you wanted to see one more magical ), hugs and kiss from Jan and Huel