The road from Ghost Ranch to Taos turns north just east of Abiquiu, winding through lonely valleys toward El Rito, population 1200 and invisible, thunderstorms in the distance waking up the quiet countryside. In town, Indian children run through the empty streets undeterred, three smiling Native American kids manning the world’s most optimistic lemonade stand, waving at the paucity of vehicles which serve as traffic. We wave back, admiring their pluck if regretting their certain fate.
A few miles south of Vallecitos, we surrender our trusty Route 554 for newcomer 111, a short conduit to U.S 285, where we have a choice. We can head to our eventual destination at Taos or meander on south to the famous springs at Ojo Caliente, a rare opportunity unlikely to be repeated. Only a fool would demur. Siobhan, whose turn it is to drive, surveys the surroundings and asks “Are you sure this is the right road? Seems like we’re in the middle of nowhere,” a question she will pose twice more. Understandably so, because we are in the middle of nowhere. The best of hot springs seem downright determined to pop up where they’re most unlikely and hardest to reach, and Ojo Caliente---in English, the much less romantic “Hot Eye”---is no exception.
Shortly, we arrive at the entrance to what the tourism department calls “this secluded oasis.” Ojo’s legendary waters have been soothing and replenishing body, mind and spirit for thousands of years, the place being one of the oldest natural health resorts in the U. S. and the only hot springs in the world with four different sulfur-free healing mineral waters. The accompanying hotel and full-service spa offer a barrage of restorative treatments, daily yoga classes and 1100 acres of hiking and biking trails to get your ya-yas off.
Unlike most spas, which offer but a single choice in dunking pools, Ojo Caliente can submerge you in mineral water containing lithia, iron, soda or arsenic, take your pick. We opted for Not Arsenic, remembering all those youthful stories of elderly ladies dispatching their unwary husbands, but Siobhan doubted the pool filters could keep all of it out, so we may be wasting away as we sit. By the way, the spring’s waters run in the neighborhood of 102 degrees so you might want to bring your hat-fan. The cost for all this therapy is a perfectly sensible $56 a couple, for which you also earn a towel and a locker, but not a lock. The lock is another $5. I bought one and tried to give it back when I left but the desk staff wouldn’t hear of it. So now I’ve got a lock but nothing to secure with it. I’m thinking of renting it out.
In case lithia, iron, soda and arsenic aren’t enough to scratch your itch, Ojo also offers their exciting mud pools. That’s right---mud. For years, your mother tried to keep you out of the stuff, now you’re a senior citizen and it’s therapy. Siobhan insisted, so we tried it. The mud is very dilute and the idea is to soak for awhile, then lie out in the sun and let it bake in. Fortunately for us, we had places to go, people to meet and a whole lot of baking was out of the question. We showered by the mud pool, changed and were on our way. If you want a review, we both felt that our legs were less tired than after the morning hike at Ghost Ranch. A positive experience, all in all, another bright spot in a lively day. As we tootled off toward Taos and reflected on our good fortune, I had but a single regret from the journey. I sure wish we’d stopped at that lemonade stand.
(1) The friendly hotel at Ojo Caliente, (2) The Lithia Pool, (3) You guessed it—the Mud Bath, (4) A word from our sponsor.
It’s Nobody’s Fault But Their Own
If you approach Taos from the west on U. S. Route 64, you will eventully engage the famous Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, the second-highest bridge in the U. S. Highway System, a three-span steel continuous-deck-truss structure with a concrete-filled steel grid deck. Completed in 1965, this was the original Bridge to Nowhere because when it was built the funding did not exist to continue the road on the other side.
The bridge is 650 feet above the trickling Rio Grande, 1280 feet long with two 300-foot long approach spans and a 600-foot long main center span. In 1966, the American Institute of Steel Construction, whatever that is, awarded the bridge the pretty title of “most beautiful steel bridge” in the long-span category. The bridge had cameo appearances in the films Terminator Salvation, Natural Born Killers, Wild Hogs and White Sands but earned no Oscar nominations. Alas and alack, the nice Rio Grande Bridge has been the site of numerous suicides since people in New Mexico don’t have too many alternate choices. There is a little sign on a center railing asking folks please not to do it since there is little chance of hitting the sparse amount of water below and nobody likes the sound of a falling body smacking into slime. There is a conveniently placed telephone buzzer adjacent with some helpful phone numbers in case anybody wants to discuss the matter.
The bridge spans the Rio Grande Gorge, part of the Rio Grande Rift, an area of more than 160,000 square miles reaching from central Colorado almost to Big Bend National Park in Texas. The Taos Plateau is part of this rift system and lies in the San Luis Basin, which is nearly a hundred miles long and forty-seven miles wide. The basin is one of four major basins created by the faulting and volcanic energy. Some scientists believe that several million years from now the Rio Grande Rift will become an ocean, thus speculators are encouraged to load up on that Taos real estate. Pretty soon, you’ll have mountain and ocean views.
On the western side of the bridge, there is a small park where local artisans, mostly Native Americans, set up tables and sell their work, some of which is created on-scene. Most of the exhibitors live either in nearby Taos Pueblo or in the mountains beyond. The prices are far more reasonable than you will find elsewhere and the work is good-to-exceptional. In the latter category is a primo turquoise-inlaid knife, one solid piece of steel Siobhan bought Bill for his upcoming birthday. Birthdays have to have some compensations, right? Anything even approaching the quality of the gift would be triple the price in Santa Fe. I’m keeping the thing in the console of my Caddy to take the scalps of would-be carjackers.
(1) Bridge over troubled water, (2) Every rift has its faults.
The Last Resort
Siobhan and I are generally not the resort types. They’re too expensive and we don’t play golf, so why bother? An exception was made, however, for El Monte Sagrado in Taos, an exceptional spot on nine lush acres with a creek and waterfall thrown in for free. The suites were huge and quiet, the staff was exceptionally accomodating and it was just a ten-minute walk to downtown if you didn’t use the shuttle. All this for a mere $192 a day. Don’t ask what it costs during ski season.
A view of the resort building and grounds at El Monte Sagrado in Taos.
Taos & Environs
Taos is a town of about 6000 located in northern New Mexico’s high desert, bounded by the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. With a healthy corps of tourists, it seems like more. The town is known for its historic adobe buildings, which includes the adjacent Taos Pueblo, a multistory adobe complex inhabited by Native Americans for centuries. Taos is also a longtime artist colony, offering a variety of galleries and museums showcasing regional artwork, including the Harwood Museum of Art and the Taos Art Museum.
Taos features a sprightly downtown with colorful shops and restaurants, all in walkable distances from one another. The Taos Center for the Arts auditorium features New Mexico’s only full proscenium stage north of Santa Fe, guaranteeing its popularity as a venue for local and touring concert groups. Visitors would swear that Taos is a younger town than Santa Fe, it has that youthful vibe, but in both towns the average age is 44. The food, as it is in most of New Mexico is unique and dependably delicious. We had lunch at the iconic and crowded Bent Street Cafe and dinner at Doc Martin’s in the Taos Inn, both first-class operations.
Taking up residence in Taos is not cheap. Two or three-bedroom homes start at $250-$350,000 with modest rentals running around $1500 a month. Many artists have decided it’s worth the price. There are five different play groups in town offering a wide variety of theater, numerous local musicians who play in the town’s many venues and at least forty art galleries. The Taos Community Auditorium hosts a number of music opportunities, including high definition Live from the Met performances, and there is a film club which shows a variety of independent flicks. Oh, and one more thing: if you don’t like the price of housing, you can scrape together a few dozen tires, a few solar panels and a landfill of used bottles and erect your own place west of the bridge at Earthship Taos. These days it seems like everyone’s doing it.
Taos scenes: a pause in the day’s occupation.
“Ground Control To Major Tom….”
It all started in the 1970s when architect Michael Reynolds received a Message from God. Build me some houses, the Big Guy said, using sustainable architecture with materials indigenous to the area or at least recycled stuff and relying only on natural energy sources. Make them independent of the grid and capable of being constructed by any Joe Blow. And make it snappy. “Sure,” said Reynolds, who got right on it. Before you know it, he had built the “Thumb House.” People drove by, looked at it and said, “That Michael Reynolds, you know….he’s crazy.” Well, they said that about Nicola Tesla, too, didn’t they? Oh, that’s right---he really was crazy.
We’re having fun now!
Michael Reynolds decided to kill two birds with one stone. There was far too much trash in the world and there was a lack of affordable housing in Taos. His first creation was the unprecedented “can brick.” Ten empty cans, four flat and six unflattened, were wired together to make a building block. For his early buildings, Reynolds used discarded steel or empty tin beer cans as free units of space with which to form light, strong concrete walls. Over the following decade, his designs constantly evolved to incorporate thermal mass, passive solar and natural ventilation. His current buildings with earth-rammed tires are so strong that no foundation is required, providing load-bearing walls and thermal mass storage. Solar glazing along the entire front of the structure allows the sun to heat the floors and walls, providing comfortable stable temperatures inside without fossil fuels or wood. Operable windows and skylights provide natural ventilation to cool the buildings. If Michael Reynolds’ Earthship Biotecture builds your house for you it will cost about $225 a square foot and take around two years to complete.
There is, of course, a welcome center at the Earthships site. This might be the only location on the properties where visitors are appreciated. There are signs near the entrance reminding everyone that people actually live here and would just as soon tourists not cavort through their bizarre neighborhoods. Outsiders who walk around taking pictures often get a frosty reception. The welcome center will provide information on land purchases and construction options. So far, there are 77 homes either completely built or at some stage of development. You can even build an Earthship yourself, which could be big fun. After all, how often do you get to build a house where nobody can tell how many mistakes have been made? There are no neighborhood codes to observe and you can paint the place a fetching combination of heliotrope and mauve and nobody will make a peep. There is, nonetheless, one hard and fast rule the locals insist on. It is an unforgivable offense to use right angles.
That’s all, folks. Except for this here picture of Bill’s birthday knife. When you’re seventy-eight (on November 2, 2018) you oughta get something just for showing up.
