The Place of Red Willows – West Trip – Part Three
We woke June 29 in Taos to a clear sky, 52 degrees. The air is different in the high desert of northern New Mexico, the light is different. What a contrast with the muggy mid-summer below-sea-level swamplands of southeast Louisiana. Each morning the Prof would leave the room before we all woke up, get himself a coffee, and find a porch rocker to enjoy a contemplative hour. He’d fetch a fresh cup for me on the way back to the room, and I’d enjoy it while playing Wordle and reading the news.
This was our Boy Scouts’ last full day before the backpacking trip where the predominant food on offer would be rehydrated freeze-dried Mountain House backpacking meals – kind of like astronaut ice cream, if you ever had that as a kid. The Prof was keenly interested in enjoying a few last good meals, so we decided to order a nice breakfast at the hotel on this morning. The boys all got pancakes – Jack had his “fully loaded” with whipped cream and strawberries, hold the pepitas (sunflower seeds, a lot of stuff on Taos menus had pepitas as a garnish). Liam and Craig had plain pancakes with syrup. The Prof had eggs Benedict smothered in green chili, and I ordered a breakfast burrito with “Christmas” chili – aka both green and red chili. When in Rome . . . do as the Romans do, put chili on everything.
June 29 was one of my agreed-upon work days, so after breakfast the Prof took the boys to the pool in the morning so I could work uninterrupted in the room. The pool at this hotel is indoors, in a sort of greenhouse setup, because it’s never quite consistently warm enough outside to swim. They were there for hours.
After handling a number of minor crises, I took a late long lunch break with the boys. We took a ten mile drive north of Taos to the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, the tenth highest bridge in the United States. It is 600 feet from the bridge deck to the Rio Grande river below, and only 3 out of 5 of us had any interest in walking across.
Safe on the fenced side of the gorge.
The “High Bridge” is just a few miles north of Taos, and every restaurant and bar in the town has pictures, magnets, artist renderings, and references to it. We drove up to the bridge and crossed it, then parked at a large pull out area on the other side. The gorge is fenced off from the pedestrian areas, and we picked our way through the desert terrain to get a peek through the fence at the pretty spectacular gorge below.
The bridge itself has elevated pedestrian walkways on both sides, and Jack, Craig and I walked across. Jack gave me repeated forceful lectures about holding onto my phone tightly while on the bridge, and I laughed at the role reversal. Craig slipped a tiny bit at one point near the railing. He was never in any remote danger, but it is now his favorite story to tell about how he nearly died from a spectacular fall at the Rio Grande Gorge.
We saw a memorial near the rim – far too close to an unguarded drop off for us to get anywhere near, but the boys mused about whoever it must have been who fell. I did not tell them that it was most likely someone who had jumped. We walked all the way across the bridge on one side, and then all the way back down the other, snapping pictures and peering contemplatively into the distance and giggling nervously when big heavy vehicles made the bridge bounce up and down. Then we met Liam and the Prof, who had stayed firmly planted on solid ground. We piled back into the car and turned left, then left again, driving south along the river, Rio Grande to our left, heading for the Taos Junction Bridge a few miles away to the south. This bridge is much tinier, and maybe 10-20 feet above the river – much less impressive, but still got us to the other side!
Just before crossing the bridge (you can see my 3 underwhelming photos above), we took a short hike starting at the La Vista Verde trailhead. Our Boy Scouts were not keen to do a ton of “extra” hiking before their 12 days of non-optional hiking, so we kept it short. We snagged a couple Jolly Ranchers for the hike, and then piled out of the car and walked single file between the juniper and jumping chollo. Craig pointed out every single cactus. Years ago in Texas he got snagged good, and it took days to find and remove all of the tiny spines in his tiny hand. He has not forgotten that experience.
We walked about ten minutes down the trail, then turned around to come back. I stopped to take some photos and got a little turned around – even with no trees, I couldn’t see the car. It was hard to breathe at 7000 feet, even for fairly even walking.
Eventually I backtracked and found the car, and we headed down into the gorge and across the tiny bridge, then followed the Rio Grande along its southeast bank for several miles. It was wide and muddy here. We saw yellow kayaks, green leafy trees in the band of riparian habitat that clearly marks the river from a distance. We followed, followed the river, going fast and slow, wide and narrow, muddy and never very deep. At Pilar, a little unincorporated town with rough stick fences and small adobe homes, we turned left and headed back north to our hotel in Taos. The whole drive, we played a road trip game – you pick five common words that no one in the car is allowed to say, then try to get them to say the words. Our words were LOOK, LONG, IS, THE, AND. I definitely failed immediately by pointing and saying “Look!” a million times.
I did a few more hours of work at the hotel, while the boys got snow cones from a cart in the parking lot – Craig had cotton candy pink, Liam had orange, Jack had bubble gum pink. At last it was quittin’ time and we took the kids to a playground area called Twirl for an hour. Even Jack got up in the climbing frames and had a blast with his brothers, until some teenaged girls showed up with their families, when the teen facade came over him like a stage curtain. I tried not to laugh in order to spare his pride, but it was like somebody pushed a button – so funny.
Having learned our lesson from last night, we picked a dinner place (Taos Pizza Out Back) and headed out early, 5:20 or so. We had to wait a long time, maybe until 7 to be served – the kitchen was backed up – but we didn’t mind. We folded ourselves into pretty short picnic table benches in the cool and airy courtyard and played games. The tree above me sprinkled random drops of water the whole time – none of us could figure out where it came from – but I just decided we’re on vacation and I’ll take it as a refreshing spritz. We had two beers each while we waited and they were great – mine was a blonde ale, Pirate1888 – Patrick had a Kiltlifter. Jack watched a show on his phone, which was fine – he had some anxiety about the hike and we figured it was best to just let him be. He joined in any time we asked him to take the ear buds out, an was never sullen about it, so he gets a break sometimes from “family time.” Craig and I played dots and boxes. The pizza eventually came, and it was good.
We drove home and put on Despicable Me again. I read a murder mystery, Jack watched his own show, the Prof snoozed. We had a rough night’s sleep – Jack stole Craig’s blankets, so Craig came and joined the Prof and me in our queen. He’s wiggly at the best of times, and even a king is not big enough to sleep comfortably with him. Eventually the Prof left to sleep by Jack. After a night of musical beds, the morning came, and we prepared to drive our Boy Scouts to their next adventure.