Taos

Taos Pueblo, NM

This was our day to see the famous Taos "art community". Taos is a small town about 70 miles north of Santa Fe in the upper reaches of the Rio Grande river. It's supposed to be a really neat place according to our friend Rae although later, after we had been there, we've come to doubt that she had ever been there herself. The other reason for going was to see the Taos Pueblo.

Click on the image for a photo album.

The scenery was quite lovely on the way up; we are following the Rio Grande River for part of the way. There are magical mountains on the way, the "Land of enchantment", and winding mountain roads that cars take at high speeds — even passing we slow tourists on solid line curves. On the way we passed several wineries and on the way back we stopped in one for a tasting. The one we stopped at had awful wine but a great gift store.

Taos is a mountain town and as you arrive looks much like the small towns in the mountains of BC. However, the tourist area in the old town, with lots of adobe, is arranged around a square, a plaza, as in Santa Fe and Albuquerque. We parked in a lot adjacent to the plaza for $3 rather than driving into the plaza and parking for 25 cents. Oh well! The traffic was bumper to bumper in the square the whole time we were there. It's a busy town but most of the traffic seemed to be beat up pickup trucks.

Although we expected Toas to have some high class tourist shops, in fact most of the shops, especially in the plaza area, were more on the order of Niagara Falls tacky. We did manage to find a few interesting stores, one with expensive but interesting hippie clothes, and another with very nice pottery. We also toured the nearby Kit Carson cemetery and saw where the sainted explorer, or nasty murderer depending on who you believe, was buried.

"During the late nineteenth century, Kit Carson became a legendary symbol of America's frontier experience, which influenced twentieth century erection of statues and monuments, public events and celebrations, imagery by Hollywood, and the naming of geographical places. In recent years, Kit Carson has also become a symbol of the American nation's mistreatment of its indigenous peoples." Wikipedia 2021.

On the way to Taos we saw signs for several Indian pueblos — these are communities with buildings of mud adobe that Reg was expecting to see in Canyon du Chelly. The ones in Canyon du Chelly are mud and stone built by the ancient Anasazi not the current active adobe pueblo communities built by the Pueblo indians. Each of these Pueblos seems to have bingo and "pull tabs" — they advertise on the roadside. The latter are, we believe, some kind of number game. Kate is not at all keen to visit a pueblo, Cindy is indifferent, and Reg is really keen. Our plan therefore is for Reg to visit the Taos Pueblo a few miles to the north of the town while Kate and Cindy shop. But we shop together for a while to get a feel for the town and so Reg can buy some souvenirs for his workmates and shoot some photos of the town. It turns out the shopping is enough and we all head out for the Taos Pueblo.

The Taos Pueblo is built along a swift-flowing tributary of the Rio Grande. The creek is the water source for the village. The village has been occupied for over 1,000 years making it one of the older towns in the United States. On each side of the creek is an open space, quite large and quite dusty. Behind the open space, on each side, is a rambling three story Pueblo community built of red clay and straw. These aren't the permanent concrete and stucco erzatz adobe of the city. Santa Fe has all that adobe in the historic center on purpose — it's a tourist draw and a local building requirement. Likewise for Taos and Albuquerque. On the other hand, here there's a crew of fellows who are reworking the adobe on some homes with fresh clay and mud. You can see fresh adobe and other areas where the adobe is quite worn away by the rain. Maintaining the Pueblo must be a full-time job!

It costs us $5 to enter the Pueblo and park our car along the creek. In addition Reg pays $5 to use his camera; Kate and Cindy decide to rely on his photos and postcards. There is a guided tour of about half an hour but we decline that as well and just wander about unattended. However, our first job is to find a loo. We approach that a idea with some trepidation for the Pueblo is quite dusty and dirty. And, within the Pueblo there's no running water or electricity! Fortunately there's a tourist restroom at the entrance that's clean and bright.

Kate and Cindy decide to explore some craft shops and Reg explorers things on his own. The shops are in public buildings and are, in general, cool and tidy with the usual Indian crafts (silver, pottery, jewelry, etc.). We see a nice T-shirt, "Custer's Last Shirt"; it is covered in arrows. Some shops have gas lights but skylights are more common and make things very bright inside. Interiors are whitewashed, floors are usually covered but I'm sure it's packed earth underneath.

Several stray dogs wander the plaza at the creek mooching food. We meet one mutt who is paralyzed in his back legs, very skinny, but it manages to shuffle about dragging its hind quarters along! Really pitiful. He must have had a run in with a car some time ago. Unfortunately, he survived. Kate and Cindy feed the fellow some pretzels and have nightmare dreams for days about him — what should we do? Reg thinks he ought to have been put down and out of his misery.

The Pueblo is supposed to have some 1,500 permanent residence and is certainly big enough for that. Kate and Cindy were talking to a native who tells them that most people live outside the Pueblo — especially since the arrival of electricity which isn't allowed within the village. Those who live outside return to their homes within during the summer for special occasions, e.g. religious ceremonies, dances, etc. .... and to sell trinkets to tourists like us.

On the way back we saw some white water rafting on the Rio Grande between Taos and Santa Fe. The river is pretty wild in spots. We stopped to take some photos and Reg caught an upset where two were dumped into the river. One they pulled back into the raft very quickly. The other made it safely to shore. We ask ourselves, "Is this really fun?"

Back at Santa Fe we decide to try out the restaurant in our hotel. We are plesantly surprised and glad to discover that the hotel has an enclosed patio out back with trees, a fountain, running water, umbrella tables and lots of birds. The finches are especially noisy — they're busy with spring mating. These are small sparrow sized birds that are brown in color with reddish heads. Is this what we call a "house finch" back home? The restaurant has a gateway on Water St but I think the main entrance is through the hotel. It's aptly called "On Water". 

We have an excellent dinner — not as exotic as at the other places but probably the best in a while. There are so many good restaurants in town. Kate and Cindy have sworn off the chardonnay but Reg orders a glass and lets them have a sip. They change their minds and a bottle is ordered. The girls are pretty moderate.

After dinner we wander the narrow side streets for a while and find a club several blocks from the square but within easy crawling distance of our hotel. It's done up as an English pub but Reg avoids the fancy imported beers and sticks to the Budweiser on tap. Kate and Cindy are "on the wagon" but Kate has a few sips of a glass of wine (the restaurant only serves beer and wine). We have to buy some chips and salsa with our drinks — this is an old practice we had in Ontario years ago. It must be due to licensing requirements for "restaurants".

We're about the first to arrive at around 9:00 and take a table near the front. We engage the singer in conversation. He's a lanky cowpoke kind of character named Jerry Ferris. He's originally from Brownsville Texas and moved here in 1963. One reason we get to know him so well, apart from the fact that we're the only ones there, is the beers we buy him.

Jerry is quite a good singer and sings his own songs. Kate says it wouldn't be a good idea to make any Guy Clark request. At the break, this is a literal break in that the sound system quit, he comes to our table, we buy him another beer, and we find out most of his life story. He knows people we like.

"Jeepster" — that's what he calls Gary P Nunn. Kate thinks it's a derivation of Gary P, to GP, to Jeep, and then Jeepster. That makes a lot of sense but at this point we have no data or any other theories. We asked Jerry about the extreme weather in Santa Fe. Is it anything like Canyon du Chelly where they get cold winters?  We've seen a lovely frame photo in our hotel of the plaza covered in snow so we're curious. We're told that the summer seldom gets over 100°! Say Jerry, that may not be as hot in Brownsville but it certainly is hot enough for us!

Reg stumbles back to the hotel with the assistance of Kate and Cindy. It's within crawling distance and it's our last night in Santa Fe. He pays for it later that night ...

These notes, originally composed by Kate, Cindy and Reg at the time of the trip, were transcribed '21/07/07 with the help of Google voice recognition.