In which the road less traveled made a good day
Spending the weekend in New Mexico presented me with some time to enjoy one of my favorite regions of the country. On Sunday (Dec. 17) I headed for Santa Fe, but not the usual I-25 route; I took the Turquoise Trail.
The Turquoise Trail is distinguished by a mine at Mt. Chalchihuitl in the Cerillos Hills north of the town of Cerillos, that is probably the oldest mine in north America, having produced turquoise and other minerals possibly as long ago as 1000 BCE. Cerrillos Hills mines were one of the most important and productive sourced of turquoise in Meso-America; turquoise from this region is said to have found its way into Aztec artifacts, into native tribes across North America, and after the arrival of the Spanish, into the Spanish crown jewels.
The Turquoise Trail was also a section of the "Long Walk" - the forced march of Navajo and Apache peoples to the "reservation" of Bosque Redondo near Ft Sumner in eastern New Mexico. In 1864, the Navajo were starved into submission in Arizona and herded 400 miles in winter by Kit Carson across New Mexico toward Bosque Redondo. 200 people never made it; more died of disease and starvation once they arrived at the desolate reservation. One wonders how many survived the fifty or so miles of the Turquoise Trail. Surely the sacred nature of the region must have been in some way fouled by the misery of the Long Walk.
I started out early on Sunday, intending to grab a burrito breakfast from Dos Hermanos. Dos Hermanos is on Wyoming between Caldeliaria and Menaul, and has been a favorite breakfast spot while we've been working in Albuquerque. Sadly, I couldn't find it that morning (forgot to look for the green awning) and settled for the (ugh) McDonald's at Wyoming and Central. As it was Sunday morning, they might not have been open anyway, but it was worth a try.
Heading east on Central - the fabled Route 66 - I picked up I-40 and then exited at NM 14, the Turquoise Trail. 14 runs generally northward toward Santa Fe, behind the Sandia Mountains that define the east side of Albuquerque. The landscape is lovely, a montaine desert. In the early morning sunshine, the drive was lovely, and the highway was quiet. I passed through several mountain communities, from the bohemian to the bourgeois. I bypassed the road up to Sandia Peak (which I regret, but that's an adventure for another day), and stopped at the village of Cerillos.
Cerillos is picturesque enough that they boast that several westerns were filmed in the town. The one business open at that early hour was the Casa Grande Trading Post. It's mostly a rock shop, but has a good selection of jewelry and other tourist-y things. There is also a museum attached, about the history of the area. Mostly the Anglo history, but interesting nonetheless. I paid my two bucks, and would have spent more time there if I knew where the next potty was. I picked up some rough turquoise for Evan's Christmas rock tumbler, and moved on toward Santa Fe.
I found the next potty south of I-25 at a gas station and "general store" fashioned as if made of adobe. One expects to see people of native or Hispanic heritage in this part of the country, but the Indian behind the counter was a bit inapposite; he was Sikh.
I had a few destinations in Santa Fe in mind. I wanted to go to High Country Gardens, a greenhouse from which I've ordered a number of plants suited to our high, dry conditions. I know from their catalogues that they have demonstration gardens there, and I wanted to see them. Even in the cold winter, I was impressed and took some pictures. Should we ever buy this house, I have plans.....
From High Country Gardens, I went to the Plaza and had a truly multi-cultural Winter Holiday afternoon. At about 4:00, the local Jewish community held a Hanukkah celebration. One of the rabbis showed up in a menorah-bedecked car. I should have gotten pictures - the menorah was mounted to the roof of the car like a roof-rack, each of the nine branches decorated with a strip of reflective tape and sporting a light bulb for the flame. The shamash was lit, as well as the two candles marking the previous two nights of the holiday. There was a cantor (very good!) and food, and people were handing out candles and joining hands and dancing. A full-sized black poodle wore a blue and white kippah with a Hanukkah ruff around his neck - very festive. I called Rivka to share with her Hanukkah in Santa Fe.
After dark, Las Posadas was held on the Plaza. This ritual commemorates Mary's and Joseph's search for lodging in Bethelehem before the birth of Christ. The procession starts at the Palace of the Governors, with a traditional song requesting lodging. El Diablo paces the roof, denying lodging. It's all in Spanish, and so I didn't get the translation, but the devil presumably is rude and insulting in denying a resting place for the family, and the crowd responds with "boo"s and hisses. The procession moves clockwise around the square with the same request, and again the devil appears (although in slightly different costume; on wonders about the men behind the masks) to hisses and boos. After failing to find lodging on the four sides of the plaza, the procession moves up the street to the west of the Palace, where they finally gain admittance. I heard rumors that there were treats inside, but time was getting short and I needed to move on. Besides, I'd tripped over enough flaming luminarias, and gotten candle wax on my jacket, and it was time.
Bishop's Peak Road is really dark, and as usual, I fretted about missing the turnoff to Ten Thousand Waves. But there it was, better marked than in the past. I had the One Wave tub, perfect for a single or couple. I could have used the massage, too, but at $90 an hour, it was too rich for my pre-Christmas budget. The night was clear and cold - the tub too hot to stay in, the night too cold to stay out of the tub. I suppose I achieved an equilibrium about 2/3 of the way into my hour. I watched the stars move overhead and contemplated the season.
Always hungry after a soak, I inquired about the natural food for post-Japanese-spa visits, sushi. Alas, no fast-food sushi is to be had in Santa Fe. It's too bad Tokyo Joe's hasn't entered the Santa Fe market. There was a Panda Express, and so I got kinda close with orange chicken. I took the highway "home" and poured myself into bed.
The Turquoise Trail is distinguished by a mine at Mt. Chalchihuitl in the Cerillos Hills north of the town of Cerillos, that is probably the oldest mine in north America, having produced turquoise and other minerals possibly as long ago as 1000 BCE. Cerrillos Hills mines were one of the most important and productive sourced of turquoise in Meso-America; turquoise from this region is said to have found its way into Aztec artifacts, into native tribes across North America, and after the arrival of the Spanish, into the Spanish crown jewels.
The Turquoise Trail was also a section of the "Long Walk" - the forced march of Navajo and Apache peoples to the "reservation" of Bosque Redondo near Ft Sumner in eastern New Mexico. In 1864, the Navajo were starved into submission in Arizona and herded 400 miles in winter by Kit Carson across New Mexico toward Bosque Redondo. 200 people never made it; more died of disease and starvation once they arrived at the desolate reservation. One wonders how many survived the fifty or so miles of the Turquoise Trail. Surely the sacred nature of the region must have been in some way fouled by the misery of the Long Walk.
I started out early on Sunday, intending to grab a burrito breakfast from Dos Hermanos. Dos Hermanos is on Wyoming between Caldeliaria and Menaul, and has been a favorite breakfast spot while we've been working in Albuquerque. Sadly, I couldn't find it that morning (forgot to look for the green awning) and settled for the (ugh) McDonald's at Wyoming and Central. As it was Sunday morning, they might not have been open anyway, but it was worth a try.
Heading east on Central - the fabled Route 66 - I picked up I-40 and then exited at NM 14, the Turquoise Trail. 14 runs generally northward toward Santa Fe, behind the Sandia Mountains that define the east side of Albuquerque. The landscape is lovely, a montaine desert. In the early morning sunshine, the drive was lovely, and the highway was quiet. I passed through several mountain communities, from the bohemian to the bourgeois. I bypassed the road up to Sandia Peak (which I regret, but that's an adventure for another day), and stopped at the village of Cerillos.
Cerillos is picturesque enough that they boast that several westerns were filmed in the town. The one business open at that early hour was the Casa Grande Trading Post. It's mostly a rock shop, but has a good selection of jewelry and other tourist-y things. There is also a museum attached, about the history of the area. Mostly the Anglo history, but interesting nonetheless. I paid my two bucks, and would have spent more time there if I knew where the next potty was. I picked up some rough turquoise for Evan's Christmas rock tumbler, and moved on toward Santa Fe.
I found the next potty south of I-25 at a gas station and "general store" fashioned as if made of adobe. One expects to see people of native or Hispanic heritage in this part of the country, but the Indian behind the counter was a bit inapposite; he was Sikh.
I had a few destinations in Santa Fe in mind. I wanted to go to High Country Gardens, a greenhouse from which I've ordered a number of plants suited to our high, dry conditions. I know from their catalogues that they have demonstration gardens there, and I wanted to see them. Even in the cold winter, I was impressed and took some pictures. Should we ever buy this house, I have plans.....
From High Country Gardens, I went to the Plaza and had a truly multi-cultural Winter Holiday afternoon. At about 4:00, the local Jewish community held a Hanukkah celebration. One of the rabbis showed up in a menorah-bedecked car. I should have gotten pictures - the menorah was mounted to the roof of the car like a roof-rack, each of the nine branches decorated with a strip of reflective tape and sporting a light bulb for the flame. The shamash was lit, as well as the two candles marking the previous two nights of the holiday. There was a cantor (very good!) and food, and people were handing out candles and joining hands and dancing. A full-sized black poodle wore a blue and white kippah with a Hanukkah ruff around his neck - very festive. I called Rivka to share with her Hanukkah in Santa Fe.
After dark, Las Posadas was held on the Plaza. This ritual commemorates Mary's and Joseph's search for lodging in Bethelehem before the birth of Christ. The procession starts at the Palace of the Governors, with a traditional song requesting lodging. El Diablo paces the roof, denying lodging. It's all in Spanish, and so I didn't get the translation, but the devil presumably is rude and insulting in denying a resting place for the family, and the crowd responds with "boo"s and hisses. The procession moves clockwise around the square with the same request, and again the devil appears (although in slightly different costume; on wonders about the men behind the masks) to hisses and boos. After failing to find lodging on the four sides of the plaza, the procession moves up the street to the west of the Palace, where they finally gain admittance. I heard rumors that there were treats inside, but time was getting short and I needed to move on. Besides, I'd tripped over enough flaming luminarias, and gotten candle wax on my jacket, and it was time.
Bishop's Peak Road is really dark, and as usual, I fretted about missing the turnoff to Ten Thousand Waves. But there it was, better marked than in the past. I had the One Wave tub, perfect for a single or couple. I could have used the massage, too, but at $90 an hour, it was too rich for my pre-Christmas budget. The night was clear and cold - the tub too hot to stay in, the night too cold to stay out of the tub. I suppose I achieved an equilibrium about 2/3 of the way into my hour. I watched the stars move overhead and contemplated the season.
Always hungry after a soak, I inquired about the natural food for post-Japanese-spa visits, sushi. Alas, no fast-food sushi is to be had in Santa Fe. It's too bad Tokyo Joe's hasn't entered the Santa Fe market. There was a Panda Express, and so I got kinda close with orange chicken. I took the highway "home" and poured myself into bed.
posted by Melanie Unruh-Bays at
10:35 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home