The Road to Taos

April 27, Eagar to Taos.

We drove nearly due north and then angled northeast, back into New Mexico.  The drive took us through arid and "empty" high desert with the intention of taking a look at Zuni Pueblo whose small town is also called Zuni.  This is a medium-sized collection of brown-mud pueblo-style buildings.  A few door and window frames were painted the wonderful turquoise blue popular in this area, but mostly everything was the same mocha brown as the very dirt itself.

This pueblo boasts one of the very oldest churches built by the earliest Spanish explorers.  If we wanted to take the requisite tour, we'd have to wait two hours until 1 PM.  Instead, we browsed the museum and art exhibit there, which is small but well done, bought a small seed bowl and then left.  The people were hospitable and warm, which left a very good feeling with me.  I would have liked to have stayed and visited more local shops in order to learn about the local artisans there, but we had miles to put under our tires.

Curious about a geologic feature we'd heard about, we drove further northeast across undulating land.  Buttes and mesas stood out in sharp relief the further north we went, and one in particular was of special interest:  El Morro National Monument.  Dating back to a few centuries before Christ, the top of El Morro was inhabited by ancestors of the pueblo natives who live throughout the region now.  It has a small water reservoir on top, 200 feet above the plains below, and afforded the people a safe haven and easily defensible home.  At the foot of the sheer cliffs is a large pool of fresh water that collects runoff from the rock above.  It's been an oasis dating to prehistoric times including Spanish conquerors, armies, explorers, expeditions and homesteaders.

People found respite from the arid world around them and inscribed names and dates in the soft sandstone face of the rock.  It amounted to thousands of bits of graffiti or, more accurately, a guest book of travelers.  The National Park Service has built a very informative and pleasant visitor center nearby.  For a stunning $6 you can listen to a 15-minute video describing the inscriptions and history and then explore the whole park at your leisure.

Some of the signatures rival John Hancock's and date back to 1530.  Of course, ancient petroglyphs outdo that date by a few millenia probably, and they are easily visible along the gentle walkway.

Leaving El Morro, we felt subdued but very impressed by the amount of human history the area was witness to.  We drove in relative silence and let it all sink in.

Ahead loomed the huge and busy city of Albuquerque, bright in the midday haze and glare.  It was time for a break and some lunch.  A landmark eatery awaited us:  Mary's and Tito's Cafe.  With help from our iPhone GPS, we drove right to the place, a very modest and just-folks cafe in a dusty and well-worn part of Albuquerque.  It's a long story as to how we'd known about it, but there we were and happy to be sampling what is considered some killer red chile, New Mexico style.  Delicious flavor, heavy on the red chile (must have used a whole entire tin full of it!); keep the tortillas and iced water coming.

With steam coming out of our ears and bellies full, we were now headed full-bore for Taos, legendary and fabled home to many fine artists and a World Heritage Site, the Taos Pueblo.  It was about 6 PM.  For now, we needed to rest, refresh and get our bearings.  We'd reserved a utilitarian hotel room at the Indian Hills Inn, which was more than fine for us at about half the price of most other hotels in town.  It's only two easy blocks south of the heart of old Taos, right on Hwy 68, the Paseo del Pueblo as it's called.

Believe it or not, we decided to eat again.  Mostly, we wanted to walk and move around, so we took off on foot for the plaza.  The altitude of about 7,000 got us huffing and puffing, and the uneven pavement along our route totally eliminated sight-seeing while walking.  You either look or you walk.  I was fine, but I had a few ungraceful strides here and there.  Yikes!

Doc Martin's at the Taos Inn beckoned to us with live music that echoed up and down the Paseo.  We were seated in a very warm, comfortable room with wooden beams, thick adobe walls and glowing orange candles in hammered tin dishes.  I had an elk burger with sweet potato fries - just delicious.  Full to my eyeballs, it was time to walk our weary selves back to the motel, which felt very good to do at the end of a long but interesting day of travel.

A ghostly full moon veiled in cirrus was lifting over the Sangre de Cristo mountains in the distance; it set off with the soft glow of lanterns and small pinpoints of lights in trees and shrubs along our way.  Taos seemed homemade and unpretentious, in the darkening night and promised us some good fun ahead.  But first, some sleep at the inn.