High Road to Santa Fe

April 29 - Taos to Santa Fe:

Not that we'd really had enough of Taos, but it was time to get on down the road to Santa Fe.  The sky was gray and dark, threatening snow or rain, but we meant to be driving for a good part of the day, so we weren't too concerned.  As we left town, we drove to the famous church called San Francisco de Asis, which was closed.  The curving mudded walls of the church have been painted and photographed by every artist and photographer who comes through the region, so I joined ranks with them and took photos.  The wind was pretty cold and blustery, but dark clouds seemed appropriate as a backdrop.  I could smell pinto beans cooking nearby as well as the wonderful aroma of juniper smoke.

The High Road out of Taos circles east and south, following the route the Spanish people traded along and on which they established several churches 300-400 years ago.  As we drove, we climbed up into Ponderosa pine forests but were unable to see very much more than 20 miles away, surely a beautiful vista on clearer days.

First stop was at the Sugar Nymphs Bistro cafe in Penasco, a stop recommended by a friend.  One of the owners used to work at the famous Greens Restaurant in San Francisco, and the bistro gets raves.  They welcomed us as their first customers of the day with French press coffee and some almond honey cake.  We chatted a little while and were told to top at the Hand Arts Gallery two towns over.  Off we went.

We took a quick look at another old church in Trampas, closed like all the others.  We are here early in the season; in the summertime these places make themselves available for tourists as well as their own parishoners.  This particular church features interesting relics and icons inside that we'd hoped to see.  It's hundreds of years old and looks it, appearing a little tilted and very worn.

We found the Hand Arts Gallery with a bit of poking around in the high elevation artists colony called Las Truches.  From the outside, like all the rest of this helter-skelter collection of rough buildings, it looked like a house.  Inside is entirely devoted to displaying contemporary art pieces, all fine work from the look of it.  We enjoyed some conversation with the gallery owner and then were on our way again.  On finer days with warmer temperatures and the visibility New Mexico is known for, the vista from the hilltop where the artists are all inspired to work is stunning.  In the Fall, they are one of the stops on the High Road Arts Tour, which is said to be very popular for art collectors.

The clouds seemed to be clearing as we approached Chimayo, an ancient village in a more sheltered valley with a pretty stream running through.  La Santuario de Chimayo is a place that attracts as many as 40,000 people to its small rustic church on Good Friday every year.

Like Lourdes, miraculous healing has taken place many times, so the faithful come in their thousands to gather a small bit of holy dirt and pray for others or themselves if they are sick.  We spent a few hours touring the sanctuary, many makeshift shrines with holy candles, nearby small shops and streets.  After 400 years, the unique and special allure of the place is still strong.

On a bit of a whim, mostly due to the fact that we were ahead of schedule time-wise, we drove west about 30 miles to Bandolier National Monument to see some ancient cliff dwellings that were discovered there in the 1920s by an anthropologist studying the region.  Again, I was interested to discover that there had been an ancient volcanic blast that covered the region in thick ash for centuries.  The result is that hundreds of feet of the stuff solidified to porous, fragile rock.  On steep cliff faces in a subsequently formed canyon, the rock has zillions of caves now that have been formed by wind and water erosion.  Native people a few thousand years ago took advantage of the easy-to-carve rocks and built apartment-style homes with caves at their backs and left petroglyphs.

The park is actually about 33,000 acres, of which we probably saw only 300 or so in the main, flat area by the visitors center.  There is a gentle interpretive trail that was fun to walk along and look into kivas, caves and along the rushing creek that flows in the middle of the canyon's small valley floor.  It felt good to stretch our legs and there were very few visitors around, so we pretty much had it to ourselves.  The sun even peeked out and backlit the narrow-leaf cottonwoods lining the creek and blazed on the cliff face for a short while.

Taking one last look at the remnants of a very old, vanished culture, we got going again in the car and headed to Santa Fe in late afternoon traffic.

I don't know if I even have to say it:  Santa Fe is a beautiful and interesting city, unique among many such cities in the country.  It's celebrating its 400-year anniversary this year and never looked better.  Adobe-colored buildings in the pueblo style with vivid hues of blue and red trim line every street.  Cold, penetrating air chilled us quickly once we arrived at our "casita" just inside the so-called plaza circle of town.  Lo and behold, snow began to sprinkle lightly down.  I felt like I was in a Southwest Christmas snow globe.  Magical but chilly.

After settling into our little funky house with dark green and purple walls and the creakiest floors possible and layering several jackets, we walked briskly over to the plaza where I immediately began running around in circles trying to take in all the color and texture, which is actually impossible.  With every second, the sunlight changes intensity and direction, popping some new feature into high relief and stopping you in your tracks with its visual beauty.

We found The Shed one block away from the central plaza, got very lucky and were able to land a seat for dinner with only a 15-minute wait.  Dinner was roasted onion enchilada, posole and beans.  I guess I just can't get enough of it; I'm a green chile fan now, through and through.  Perfect food on a very cold evening.  There was a glowing and inviting small kiva-style fireplace in the front lobby space, burning juniper wood, distinctively fragrant, forever associated with Santa Fe.

Santa Fe, city of Holy Faith, was making itself felt even before we'd ever reached it.  The whole state should be called Santa Fe.  From the barely known Anasazi to modern-day faithful, many kinds of people find affirmation of the sacred in this region.  As we looked back on the day, layers of time, history and faith were woven all through it, ready to impart wisdom to us when we were ready to listen.