A brief visit

A full moon followed me as I travelled to Cimarron Canyon State Park (CCSP) in the Sangre De Christo mountains of New Mexico and provided enough light to read by in the dead of night when I reached my destination, or so it seemed. I used to like to go on a ramble in October, after work around the place was less pressing and I was ready for a break. For the last several years (not counting last year), Joyce and I would stay in hotels but prior to that I had car-camped by myself since Joyce had no interest in doing that. I had purchased a tent-like enclosure for the Pathfinder, so that when the rear door was opened, I was able to stretch out in my sleeping bag while still being protected from the elements. As the fall approached, I wondered if I still wanted to do that. The idea appealed but I knew the reality might be different, so I finally settled on CCSP as a not-too-ambitious proof of concept. Thus did I hit the road and set up camp in one of the CCSP camping areas.

Besides being reasonably close, a five-hour drive from home, Cimarron Canyon also offers some pleasant scenery in the form of the Palisades sill formation, and I thought there might be a photo op or two. There were only two other campers in the campground I chose, and I picked out a spot not far from the facilities. It had a picnic table and a fire pit. The fire pit I didn’t need but the table was handy since I forgot the folding chair I usually take on my escapades. Night comes early in the mountains, so I retired to my sleeping bag to wait out the long night.

The full moon soon rose over the mountains and banished the dark, bathing the campground in sliver light that contrasted with the dark of the forest. I could have easily seen the approach of any hostile aborigines or bears, but I found it more pleasant to lie back alone with my thoughts and dreams and let things take care of themselves. I did enjoy the illumination on the occasions when I needed to get up and answer the call of nature, as men of a certain age frequently must do. I wanted to be up and at the Palisades just as the sun peeped over the mountains in the hopes of getting some pictures during the morning golden hour.

My long night was punctuated by a few hours of restful sleep, and, though I wasn’t eager to abandon by warm sleeping bag, I managed to push myself out into the chill morning, fold my tent, stow my gear and be on my way just as the sun was peeping over the mountains. I began taking pictures when the sun had just started making its way down the rock face of the Palisades and kept after it as it continued down until the golden hour was spent.

From there I drove through Eagles Nest and Angel Fire toward Taos. It was not far as the crow flies, but it was a long and twisting drive up high into the mountains and back down across the plains to Taos. Bless its heart, Taos has always been chaotic to me, what with its narrow streets and traffic. It hadn’t changed much. If anything, there was more traffic. Hard to tell since there was street construction that made getting around that much worse. I stopped at a McDonalds for coffee and only the drive through was open. There was a sign pleading for people to fill out an application; seems they can’t find enough people to work to open their inside dining area.

A sign pointing in the direction of the Rio Grande Gorge caught my attention and I decided that was worth going to have a look-see. About halfway down the walk along the bridge there was a small area jutting out from the bridge and affording a view straight down to the river. There was also a telephone encouraging people who were considering taking a dive off the bridge to call. I was not so inclined and would probably have just gotten a recording to press one for English or some other number for Spanish, or simply been put on hold anyway. There is also a visitor center in the area and there were plenty of visitors. I had to circle around the parking area a couple of times before a spot opened up and I could park my vehicle. The day had warmed up and I enjoyed a stroll along a path that runs along the canyon rim. I also enjoyed looking at the wares on offer at about a dozen booths along one side of the visitor center. There was an emphasis on Indian jewelry and crafts, all very nice, but none I wanted to add to my already too large collection of stuff. I talked to one fellow selling pieces of rock with crystals in them. I don’t remember what kind of crystals he said they were, but he told me he finds them in the area of the gorge, sometimes in the gorge, and sometimes in the area between the gorge and the nearby mountains or just along the rim. Each piece was enclosed in a small, maybe 3X3 inch, wood and glass frame, and they ranged in price from $20 to $75. He said the day before he collected six or eight hundred dollars’ worth of the fragments. It appeared he was making a living from his little enterprise.

One of my objectives for the trip was to visit La Chiripada winery. Looking at my map, I determined Highway 64, which I had taken to the Rio Grande Gorge, would eventually go south and intersect with Highway 68, which would take me to Dixon, NM where the winery is located. It didn’t, or at least I didn’t manage to follow 64 to 68. After driving for a while I wound up pretty far from where I thought I should be, but I wasn’t sure where I was. It seems one can travel some distance on a New Mexico road without seeing a road sign identifying the road one is on. This further reenforced my opinion that New Mexico is more like a foreign country than one of the states. I didn’t want to use my cell phone to navigate because I trust it even less than New Mexico maps out in the hinter lands. Finally, I went all the way back to Taos to connect with Highway 68, but did finally reach the winery and purchase a bottle of wine. It was 3 o’clock then and I was considering my options. Did I want to return to Taos and retrace the route back to Cimmaron Canyon? I already had had enough of Taos, even though I had planned to dine at Orlando’s, a restaurant there where Joyce and I had dinner a couple of times and liked. The prospect of following the same winding mountain road I travelled over in the morning didn’t appeal to me. The drive is scenic, but once in one day is enough for me. Then I considered going north to pick up the road through Questa, Red River and Eagle Nest. It is more straight forward and less winding than the first route. Then I thought about what I was going to do the next day. For sure I wasn’t going back to Taos. The Cimmaron River valley is narrow and there may be trails around but I hadn’t seen any, so I wasn’t sure what I would do in the morning. Looking at my map, I saw that the road through Dixon and on which the winery is located gives a straight shot to Las Vegas and from there to Santa Rosa where it is another straight shot home on I-40. And that’s what I did, arriving home shortly after 9 p.m. to sleep in my own bed.

As soon as I crossed the Texas-New Mexico state line headed for home, my old friend the moon rose above the prairie as though to welcome me back to Texas. I have always heard of the man in the moon and, yes, if one squints a little one can kind of see that, but I had never seen a full moon just above the horizon in flat country and never seen such an obvious man in the moon, looking jolly and friendly. At first, I thought it was a billboard but realized quickly it was too big for just a sign. Clever fellow that I am, I quickly worked out that it was the moon in all its orange glory with THE MAN beaming out across the prairie. That right there made the trip worthwhile.

As Halloween looms, October is going out with the sunny skies and warm days that characterized the month. Everyone is congratulating each other on what a nice fall it has been, much deserved, I say, after the nasty spring, particularly the wind and heat of May and June. We even accumulated 2.85 inches of rain over 9 different days, the big one, 1.46 inches, coming last Monday. We celebrated Rebecca’s 16th birthday with cake and a symphony concert in Hodgetown ballpark. Abigail joined us for that. I’ve been trying to take advantage of the mild weather to spray the weeds which the moisture caused to germinate. If I can whack them this fall, then I won’t have to deal with them in the spring. The place is all mowed and the grass is green, sort of. Trees are turning rapidly, so SA is, after being baked and brown most of the year, looking pretty good.