New Mexico Off the Beaten Path

Pushing 80 mph through the wastelands of Southeastern New Mexico, passing by no name towns I became grateful that our road trip was a loop and the return drive a different route.  I thought if we had to do this portion of the drive again I might jump out of the car.  I wondered how far I'd roll through the flat, dusty, barren landscape.  We passed a tree- the first in about 150 miles, and instinctively I grabbed my camera as I do whenever I see something of interest.  Then I had to remind myself- it's just a tree!  We stopped for a snack and a stretch at a retro 50s shiny diner in Vaughn for an incredibly satisfying burger and fries and a large chocolate malt.  Back on the road, back into nothingness.

Hours pass and the landscape gradually holds interest again.  Mountains can be seen in the far distance and cacti of all shapes and sizes grow.  We arrive at Valley of the Fires recreation area.  After filling our water bottles and applying ridiculous amounts of SPF 50 we are ready to head out into the black lava fields.  It is hot, dry and windy, but it is not uncomfortable.  At these low humidity levels, you don't even realize you are sweating as it instantly evaporates and helps keep you cool. 

From our stop at the visitor center, we learn that Little Black Peak erupted about 5,000 years ago and flowed into the Tularosa Basin.  The lava flow we were about to venture into is from four to six miles wide, 160 feet thick, and considered to be one of the youngest lava flows in the continental US.  While a boardwalk takes you safely through the lava fields, the signs encourage you to explore off the path.  I carefully step in between cacti and sharp lava rocks while at the same time keeping a watchful eye and ear out for tarantulas, scorpions, and rattlesnakes (oh my!)- props to those people who actually camp here! One of the online reviews I had read prior to our visit was from a lady who observed a "herd" of tarantulas run by her while in the lava field.  As spectacular of a scene as that might be I had serious concerns I may pass out at the sight.

Continuing though the Tularosa Basin we stop at the next site of interest according to my "New Mexico Off the Beaten Path" guidebook.  Three Rivers Petroglyph is an area that boasts more than 21,000 rock carvings of birds, humans, animals, fish, insects, plants, and various geometric designs within 50 acres of the northern Chihuahuan Desert, dating between 900 and 1400.  The carvings were created by the Jornada Mogollon people for reasons still unknown.  We followed the rugged, uphill trail into the petroglyphs again keeping a watchful eye for small critters that might sting or bite.  I stepped down on something very sharp- ouch!  A cactus needle right through the sole of my minimalist trail shoes... in hindsight not the best choice of shoe for the desert.

We continued on our way and eventually arrived at the White Sands Motel in Alamogordo, our stop for the next two nights.  Too tired from our hikes in the sun to venture into the white sands that evening we picked up a six-pack of Santa Fe Pale Ale and hunkered down in our clean, air conditioned room. 

Diner in Vaughn, New Mexico

What was left of our meal after we got to it.

The boardwalk that winds through the Valley of Fires

The only tarantula we spotted on our hike

Lava caves

Lava leaper

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site

White Sands Motel- a welcome site after a long day in the sun

A New Mexico State of Mind- Day 1

It is a long drive down to White Sands National Park- 1141 miles total, round trip.  After finding a good car rental deal we decided it best to leave our aging cars at home.  We picked up our rental on a sunny and warm Friday afternoon, and, after listening to a lot of threatening words from the man working behind the counter (liable ... collision ... impounded) we still managed to refuse all that extra pricey insurance.   We were off!

Our first stop- Las Vegas, New Mexico- not Nevada.  Las Vegas, New Mexico is a town that at first glance is a little rough around the edges.  But, after pulling up to the historic plaza and hotel I felt like I just walked into a movie set- with all the historic buildings it's not surprising that countless big name movies have been filmed in town such as Wild Hogs, Not Forgotten, Beer for my Horses, and  No Country for Old Men, which was mostly filmed right in the plaza and inside The Plaza Hotel, our stop for the night.  The receptionist told me that when they were filming No Country for Old Men, set on the Mexican Border, the signs in town were changed ("You are now entering the US" or "you are now leaving Mexico").  Apparently there were a lot of confused tourists wandering into the hotel, trying to figure out when they drove into Mexico!  But looking around town and experiencing the rich Hispanic culture that dominates it wouldn't be too hard to believe. 

Everything about the Plaza Hotel, built in 1882, is grand- the massive lobby and staircase, the renovated rooms with 15 foot tall ceilings and bathrooms so large you could do a cartwheel in.  Everything but the price that is; I found our room as an online off-season special for $69.  Included in this price was a sit down breakfast for two in the hotel's restaurant.  I ordered huevos rancheros on blue corn tortillas, covered with green chile and my husband the breakfast burrito with red chile.  "Red or green?" is the question most often asked while traveling through New Mexico. Just about everything is, or can be covered in or made with red or green chiles (not chili!)- from the obvious like burgers, burritos, enchiladas, chile rellenos, and tamales to the more strange- pizza, chocolate, even beer!  The finest chile peppers are grown in Hatch, New Mexico (a stop for later in our trip).  The green chiles are picked earlier and the red chiles are allowed to fully ripen.  The best chiles impart heat, fragrance and a touch of smokiness.  On this trip I would learn to no longer tolerate or accept a  red chile sauce with a slightly brownish hue that is made from powder or (gasp!) the canned variety.  Real red chile sauce is made with freshly roasted chiles and is unmistakable in its bright, fire engine red color.  During harvest season in late summer you can find farmers roasting and selling their chiles in large, cylindrical roasters over hot coals on the side of the road.  The smell is enough to make you salivate.  Luckily, for the rest of the year dried, whole chiles (chile ristas) can be had that still make a fine sauce.

The Historic Plaza Hotel, Built in 1882

A Grand Stairwell

Inside the Room

The Haunted Byron T. Saloon

The Lobby

Historic Building Fronts in the Plaza

Burrito with Red Chile and Enchiladas Christmas Style- Half Red/ Half Green Chile

Dried Red Chile Ristas

The Tao of The Valley

Racing through the endless expanse of the San Luis Valley is like finding a remote portal into space. You don't know quite where you are going, but the general sensation is that it will be somewhere fantastic and otherworldly. This suspicion is further validated by nearby attractions in the valley such as an UFO watchtower and Colorado Gator Farm. This is a place that pulls me in, providing repair and rejuvenation to my spirit. I need this place.

It may be impossible to accurately describe the sensation of the San Luis Valley, but once you experience it, it would be impossible to forget. Imagine a valley flat and endless to the north and south, bordered on the east and west by towering mountain ranges that appear to rise from nothingness. It's not surprising that people have been spotting UFO's in this region for decades; the visibility in the cool valley at night in this high altitude desert region, away from any light or city pollution, is unmatched.

A visit to the valley is not complete without a trek through the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. Located roughly 16 miles east from the impossibly straight CO Route 17, the dunes tower up from the valley floor in grand style. We arrived at the gate on a lost October afternoon, not a cloud or person in site, other than the ranger who collected our $3 entrance fee. We paid with a five dollar bill and were given a two dollar bill as change. This exchange provided enough for conversation with the lonely but friendly ranger for a couple of minutes, ending with his well wishes. "Isn't receiving a $2 bill considered good luck?" my husband asked. Exactly 1 hour later, after a stop at the visitor center and well on our way to trek up to the tallest dune his question was answered. Amazed that we even had cell phone service and surrounded by dunes in all directions, he answered the call and agreed to a job interview the following Monday. This was the interview that led to a job offer and ultimately his move to Colorado. I often have wondered if it was the magic, magnetic pull of the dunes and San Luis Valley that ultimately sealed his fate and destiny to move.

That evening we left the cooling dunes as the sun edged its way below the mountains. We again raced through the endless valley roads, on our way to Crestone, a small town at the dead end of a road that seems to stop merely because if it continued it would run into a mountainside. Crestone, population 73, is a sort of hodgepodge of religious and spiritual centers, a mix of new age and Eastern cultures with an underlying "hippie-ness" and when you dig even deeper, a layer of authentic Coloradoan mining history. We arrived just as it was getting dark and, in deep contrast to the 60 degree sun from the afternoon- cold. The dry, frigid mountain air smelled of the positively addicting woodiness of burning piñon firewood. Crestone is a sleepy town without street lights. As we stepped out of our rental the view of the Milky Way streaking across the sky was as dazzling as it was dizzying.

We walked to the Laughing Buddha, the only place in town with a pulse on a Friday night. Entering through the swinging saloon doors, it was one of those odd what type of alternative universe did I just walk into kind of place. A disco ball glittered the room with lights that the patrons- a mix of inebriated zombies, witches, and wizards already dressed for Halloween, large but well behaved dogs, and a scattering of the ubiquitous Coloradoan in cowboy hat and boots, socialized under. We committed the ultimate sin of ordering a red meat hamburger at a hippie joint- an order of the which the pierced and dreadlocked female bartender, reeking of hemp and patchouli, seemed less than thrilled to place. The burger killed my theory that a good meal could be found in even the smallest of Colorado dive bars, however the pints of local microbrews did not fail to satisfy.
 

In the early morning we nursed waters and unbelievably aromatic cups of coffee at the Lotus Cafe. The locals spoke of last night's festivities and their plans for the upcoming evening. A young local man and self proclaimed cat lover who proudly announced he had not left town in weeks entered the cafe with four healthy kittens nestled in a blanket in a cardboard box. Within 10 minutes he had all but one sold (the last kitten was his favorite and was not to be going home with anyone but him). Crestone is that kind of place, existing by living according to its own rules and on its own watch.

The Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve

Racing Through the San Luis Valley at Sunset

Drive to Crestone

The Lotus Cafe

Crestone, Colorado and The Laughing Buddha

Street Life in Crestone

Victor

Victor is a town that stirs a wild heart.  There is a palpable feeling of isolation and remoteness as you walk through town, only made more intriguing by the knowledge that in its heyday, over 40,000 people lived there.  Today, there are roughly 400, and the abandoned legacy of the town of Victor resting at 9700 feet at the dead end of a dirt road is as exciting and authentic as it gets.

We arrived as the sun was setting on a Friday night.  Parking on Main Street was widely available right in front of the grand Hotel Victor, our haunted rest stop for the night.  In the massive lobby with sky-high ceilings, the owner gave us a brief intro to the hotel and explained that she would be gone for the night, but rest assured if there were any emergencies or disturbances she was just a few miles away.  I wondered if we were the sole guests for the night.  Judging by the lack of street traffic, this couldn't be far from the truth.  She handed us the keys- "Room 301" inscribed in gold on the tag.  I shivered.  Room 301 was Eddie's room, a gold miner staying at the hotel who had quite an untimely death in the elevator shaft, just a few feet from where we were now standing.  His body was laid out in his room (Room 301) for his friends to say their goodbyes.  This room is known for its haunts. 

Later in the evening we walked across the street to the only other open business, Dirty Sally's.  Other than one elderly couple, we were the only patrons.  The bartender was friendly and personable.  Like the high altitude trees, her tall, thin body seemed well adapted to the harsh climate of Victor.  She told us stories of her own ghost and orb sightings and sensations in Victor and gave us her best wishes for our stay at the hotel for the night.  I felt like I was on assignment for the filming of the Blair Witch remake.  After way too many high altitude beers and quarters spend on pool and the jukebox, we left the lonely bar around midnight and realized a couple of inches of snow had fallen during our time inside.   The town was buzzing with silence.  I looked across the street to our hotel and spotted lights on in the massive windows of the 4th floor- a floor once used to store the bodies of the deceased when the ground was too frozen for burial.  I half expected (and desired!) to see a dark figure cross by.  Armed with a hefty beer buzz, I was ready for some real haunts.

We decided to take the old birdcage elevator to the 4th floor and have a look around.  Instantly after exiting the elevator a cold chill crept up my spine.  Something  felt "off".  We decided it best not to linger...

Drive out to Victor

                                                              
                         

The Victor Hotel

                                                                   

A Grand Old Hotel Lobby

                                                                

Inside the original birdcage elevator

                                                               

Room 301- Eddie's Room

Our hotel room

Another view of the birdcage elevator

The 4th Floor- where something just didn't feel right...

Scenes of Victor

Dirty's Sally's

I Miss the Rain

We haven't had a good rain since September.  Not a gentle, therapeutic, rhythmic rain, nor a thundering, pounding, soul stirring rain.  I miss the rain.  The weather seems to contradict itself in Colorado.  We have had many strings of sunny days in the 50s, 60s and 70s since September, but no rain.  We've had days that have come close to topping out at 80, only to have it crash the next day followed by snow.   Precipitation in the winter seems to only follow these severe crashes and fall in the form of snow.  March is supposedly the snowiest month of the year in Colorado Springs, which would likely make an outsider shudder, but what they don't realize is that these short lived snowstorms are almost always preceded and followed by days of extremely dry, sunny, and mild weather, often in the 60s.  But it does not rain.  It likely will not rain with much conviction until early summer, and even then it doesn't really get kicking until mid to late summer, when the Colorado monsoon season begins and every afternoon brings the potential for some serious lighting storms often accompanied by hail and buckets of water.  It's a fantastic show to watch, and even better knowing that within an hour or so it will blow through, the sun will be back out and the only way to know that a storm blew through is the 20 degree temperature drop.  Open your windows and you are convinced you have central air.  The rain tempers the summer heat just as the lack of it brings a warm brightness to our winters. 

                                    Late August storms in the Wet Mountains, Westcliffe, Colorado