Blog #2 of this truck camper trip was finished, published, and emailed out by early afternoon today. As I now write this, here at the Taos Valley RV Park, in Taos, NM, I’m keeping an eye on the sky. Ohh, that rhymed!
A thunderstorm is in the forecast for this afternoon and that will put a damper on my plans to dump the Grey/Black tanks this afternoon. This is a “dreaded chore” that has to be done…so I’ll do it at some point…soon…eventually…come hell or high water. Ohh, the wind is picking up a bit (tis now 2:15 pm).
The nighttime temps do plummet up here in New Mexico’s higher elevations. In Taos, it’s 6,969 feet. Up north in Questa, NM, where I’m going tomorrow, it’s 7,500 feet. By comparison, Palm Springs, CA, where I live, is 479 feet, give or take. Now that I got one of my two propane tanks filled yesterday, I’ll be fine, as far as the camper’s heating system, for a good long while. The fridge is coming along just fine, too!
It's now evening as I write this and we did have some rain, some strong winds, and some very foreboding dark clouds for several hours today. Took some pics –
Sunday, September 22, 2024
First thing this morning…now that it wasn’t raining and the sun was out…I got ready to dump the tanks. I hadn’t done this chore in nearly two years, so I told myself to just take it slow and the process will come back to me. “Like riding a bike” – but I haven’t done even that in years!
The task took me all of about 40 minutes and I’d say I did do a decent job of it. Since I’m pretty sure I usually make, these days, all sorts of grunting sounds when I’m trying to get up from a kneeling position, I brought my stepstool outside with me for this task. That certainly did help a lot! In addition to giving me some leverage as I got up from that unavoidable kneeling position, the stepstool did double duty, providing me with a seat as I watched and waited for both tanks to void their contents.
At the conclusion of this, every RVers’ least favorite task, after I’d done pushing shut all the tank-related levers and stowing the sewer and [gray] water hoses away in their respective compartments, I turned to lock the levers’ compartment cover. No matter how many times I coaxed my compartment key to turn and lock that dang cover, the lock wouldn’t budge. “Just be glad and relieved, Mapita, that the thing UNLOCKED in the first place so I could dump them tanks!” Since that compartment cover must be in the locked position at all times – until dumping time, that is – the only thing I could do was walk over to the office and seek assistance. The same sweet young lady who helped me the other day regarding the propane greeted me and, after hearing about my situation (and probably not for the first time either) she immediately made contact with someone who said he would meet me at my site.
My “someone” came, took ten seconds to analyze the problem, left to get what he needed (actually, what I needed!), and came right back. Using pliers (which I do have) and a WD-40 Silicone Quick Dry spray solution (which I certainly don’t have), he fixed the lock in five minutes. I was jotting down crucial information on a piece of paper and when I asked for his name he wrote “Brad…Biff’s husband.” That sweet young lady (very pretty, too) in the office? Yes, he said. And her name is “Biff?” Yes, he said, smiling. I thanked Brad for helping me and I thanked Biff, too, when I later went back that way to take a shower.
On my way by 11:30 am, I drove over to “Taos Pueblo” – designated as “…a living Native American community located at the base of the beautiful Sangre de Cristo Mountain range. The multi-storied adobe buildings have been continuously inhabited for over 1000 years.” From the online planning research that I previously did for this trip…
Who lives in the pueblo?
Approximately 150 people live within the Pueblo full time. Other families owning homes in the North or South buildings live in summer homes near their fields, and in more modern homes outside the old walls but still within Pueblo land. There are over 1900 Taos Indians living on Taos Pueblo lands.
How is the pueblo governed?
A tribal governor and war chief, along with staffs for each, are appointed yearly by the Tribal Council, a group of some 50 male tribal elders. The tribal governor and his staff are concerned with civil and business issues within the village and relations with the non-Indian world. The war chief and staff deal with the protection of the mountains and Indian lands outside the Pueblo walls.
What language is spoken at taos pueblo?
Tiwa is our native language. English and Spanish are also spoken.
How large is the taos pueblo land?
The land base is 99,000 acres with an elevation of 7,200 feet at the village.
What is the economic base of taos pueblo?
The tourist trade, arts, traditional crafts and food concessions are important employment sources at the Pueblo. Some tribal members are employed in the Town of Taos. The Pueblo has a centralized management system where tribal members are employed in a variety of occupations.
Regulations
Taos Pueblo is a living community, there are rules and regulations to abide by during your visit.
- Please abide by “Restricted Area” signs.
These areas are designated to protect the privacy of our residents and the
sites of our native religious practices.
- We ask not enter doors/homes that are not
clearly marked as businesses. Some of the homes are used as a place of
business which are clearly marked with signs. Other homes are not open to
the public.
- Please do not photograph tribal members
without permission.
- Absolutely no photography in San Geronimo
Chapel.
- Please respect our cemetery by not
entering, it also holds the ruins of the old church. An adobe wall
surrounds this area, this is the boundary.
- Do not enter the river — our sole source
of drinking water.
- And last but far from least, as we welcome
you into our home please respect it as it was your own home. There are
rules in place to ensure a great visit for visitors and to ensure the
culture and traditions of our home are maintained and kept intact.
I spent two hours here, walking around and taking quite a few pictures, where allowed (see below). I bought a loaf of freshly baked “oven bread,” which the Taos Pueblo residents bake in their “adobe ovens, or hornos.” I also bought, from one of the vendors, a bracelet that he made, and, from another vendor, a fry bread -- fried just for me – and smothered with honey and powdered sugar. Earlier, I went inside St. Jerome’s Chapel and sat in a pew to quietly look at the small, but impressive altar. Noticing the white candles in front of the altar, I paid my $1.00 for a candle. I’m not Catholic, but since the significance of a prayer is universal, I lit my candle and extended a prayer for the safety of our nation and our democracy. The people of Taos Pueblo, the young Indian rock artist at Spider Rock (Canyon De Chelly), the descendants of the people who lived in what is now known as Salmons Ruins – and the man in the next paragraph – with respect to their lives and their histories, here on this land, in these mountains and hills, within these forests, lakes, rivers, and streams, these hunting grounds for food and clothing, these rocky cliffs and bluffs…they deserve no less.
When I initially stopped at that jewelry vendor’s table, there was another Taos Pueblo fellow there, maybe in his 60s, just chatting away with the vendor. They both looked at me as I walked up – and since I didn’t want to come across as rude in case they spoke to me -- I let them know I was Deaf. As the older man walked off so I could look at the items on the table, the vendor asked me if I used sign language. The other man, overhearing the question and my response, came right back and started smiling and talking to me. I could not understand him at all but, by all appearances he really wanted to tell me something that he thought was humorous, so I smiled back and tried to “listen.” He held up all ten fingers and, somehow, call it “divine intervention” – or more appropriately, “divine help” - I understood his joke to be that the sign language people do understand is the middle finger. He was laughing at his joke and, laughing along with him, I decided to show him what else he can do with his fingers. I showed him, and told him to copy me, our finger signs for the letters I and L and Y and what it means when you display those three letters at the same time. He loved it!
Shortly after 2:00 pm I was on my way from Taos Pueblo, via Rt. 522N, to Questa, NM. Located 30 minutes north of Taos and 30 minutes south of the Colorado border, Questa is within the easternmost section of Carson National Forest. Nearby is the Wild Rivers National Recreation Area, popular for hiking, fishing, cycling, canoeing, and whitewater rafting. Since I don’t partake of those activities (except for short hikes) I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided, months ago, to plan my route to stop at this town after Taos. But here I am. And for three nights, too! As it turned out, this was the perfect spot for me at this stage of my five-week truck camper trip. In the quiet solitary manner that a forest can offer, I’m getting a sort of R&R here at the Questa Lodge and RV Park! Much needed!
Since I had already done an online check-in this morning for the campsite that I selected, I went straight ahead to my site when I arrived at the campground. Soon as I got the camper set up, I walked the few steps next to my site to the Red River, which flows through this campground. But for a middle-age man leaving his RV on a motorcycle, I saw no other person…no late arrivals, no kids, no dogs. No cats either.
While working on my blog this afternoon/evening, I kept getting these calls on my iPhone from the Questa RV office. Although that number is for text only, I continued to press the “phone” icon key, hoping that whatever the caller heard on the other end would tip him/her off that this is a text number. I said to myself, “Betcha, Mappy, that maybe, just maybe, I’ll have a visitor soon.” How right I was!
Paoli was his name and, being from Portugal, he spoke with an accent. Too tired to even try anymore today, I grabbed my notebook and a pen and he wrote that he had been calling me regarding payment for my site. Momentarily confused because I thought I had already paid when I made my reservation, Paoli explained that that charge was to hold my reservation. Official payment is now due. Such a nice guy Paoli was, courteous, sweet smile, patient with me, we agreed that he would email me their payment due invoice and I can submit payment that way.
Oh, my dear Gregory Lee…You would be so proud of me!
Before he passed away last year, Greg Pard would occasionally tease me about my refusal to use the GPS during my truck camper travels. He would read my blogs about misadventures on the roads -- unknowingly going the wrong way, getting lost, etc. He would text me “GPS” and I, never one for wanting to learn new technology, would respond “No friggin’ way!” or words to that effect. Three weeks into this trip, I’m finding myself using the GPS practically all the time now. I still love my paper maps and will always use them, and the online “Navigation” maps as well, primarily for route pre-planning purposes. The on-the-spot GPS information – the upcoming turns or route changes, the miles remaining to your destination, the arrival time, and the road alerts - I now appreciate very much. The GPS has lessened the stress on my vision and on the constant need to be on the lookout for directional signs, landmarks, etc. Wherever he is, I just know Greg has that “Told ya!” grin and twinkle in his eye.
The sun shone all day today, producing daytime temps in the high 60s. The nights continue to be cold, but I’ve got my sleepwear and heat control down pat. I stayed put in the camper much of today, catching up on Blog #3, stopping for an “oven bread” sandwich, and looking out the windows now and then. Oh, just now, a couple in a trailer just pulled into a nearby site.
Calling it a day with my laptop around 4:45 pm, I stepped out of the camper and walked the 30 or so steps to the river. The sun, dropping below trees, was still high enough to bounce its rays off the surface of the water. From there, I took a walk around the property. Coming upon two ponds, I found ducks and two geese hanging out there. The geese, based on online pictures, look like a species called Chinese Goose. I found the office where Paoli works (when the office is open). Nearby were cabins for rent and there was one really nice-looking home (with a fence…très importante!). The resident dog came running out barking when he saw me, prompting the human resident to come outside and shut him up. I asked and the nice man confirmed that he lived there year-round and that it does get really cold up here in the winter.
I returned to my camper by way of the River Walk path. The thick foliage along the bank of that path, as I discovered, makes it difficult to see the river. Although there is a cluster of small trees at my campsite that does prevent me from seeing the river directly from my camper, the river’s edge at my spot is all grass. I can practically sit there and dip my toes in the water. That I haven’t done and probably won’t because the river runs a steady flow downstream. [Addendum: I did get on my knee and put my hand in – cold!!]
Tuesday, September 24, 2024
It’s been another nice, warm, sunny day today. I did a few more stuff on the laptop and then took full advantage of my R&R. Plopped my camp chair out by the gently flowing Red River…made myself comfortable…and, finally, started reading a book – The Things They Carried, by Tim O’Brien, a veteran of the Vietnam War.
I waved goodbye to Paoli just as I was leaving my campsite. He waved back and, in response to my finger-rubbing gesture for “money,” he gave me the thumbs up that my online payment went through. I had to smile at our brief exchange – gestures are effective if one doesn’t know sign language.
Back on Rt. 522N for five minutes, I found myself about to embark on a truly gorgeous 29-mile two-lane scenic drive on Rt. 38E towards Eagle Nest, NM. This highway, which winds along with the Red River (“my” river these past three days), “…traverses the Sangre de Cristo Mountains through portions of Carson National Forest and Moreno Valley.” I stopped at a Food Mart at Red River, a resort town popular for skiing in the winter and for a full range of outdoor activities in the summer/fall. On this drive, complemented by an equally beautiful calm and cloudless blue-sky day, I found places to pull over for pictures. I hope my pictures (below) do a little bit of justice to this gift given to us, courtesy of a higher power.
At Eagle Nest, I connected to Rt. 64E, another two-lane scenic drive through the Cimarron Canyon State Park – “The park extends for 8 miles along the Cimarron Canyon…The Palisades Sill forms spectacular cliffs above the Cimarron River here.”
Those diamond-shaped alert signs are ever present, naturally, and I came upon one that featured the symbol of a…huh, what was that? Was that a ram? Yes, it certainly was! I checked online later and there are Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep “…on Gold Hill in the Carson National Forest.” Matter of fact, “…Cimarron is Spanish for wild and untamed and originally was used in New Mexico to refer to the wild bighorn sheep…”
On both highways 38 and 64, everywhere I looked, trees covered every inch of ground on the slopes -- the pine trees and the leafy species both. The abundance of the yellow signs of fall, mingled with green, made for a lovely pastel of colors. I had to look with caution, too, as this was a winding drive. There’s one section of Rt. 64 that has a tight 20-mph “U” hairpin turn (remember your physics!) and there were a good number of 25-30 mph curves along the way. I soon reached flatter terrain, passed the town of Cimarron, NM, and arrived at the nearby Ponil Campground. I’m here for one night.
Fall colors along Rt. 38.
Thursday, September 26, 2024
I didn’t need to turn the heat on last night (for the camper’s water lines) but sure did need to warm up the interior a little bit when I got up this morning. Taking a short walk around this small campground, I looked up and didn’t see a cloud in the sky. Not long after I returned to the camper three deer sauntered by – a buck, another buck, a doe. The bucks had antlers – and double checking with my binoculars – testicles, too. To quote from online -- “The rutting season for mule deer in northern New Mexico typically begins in late November and lasts until mid-January in the southern areas of the state.”
Since my next destination is in Raton, NM, about an hour’s drive north, and 4:00 pm is the check-in time at the state park up there, I had all day to explore. Around 11:15 am I went back to Cimarron and stopped at the Visitors Center to (finally!) pick up an official New Mexico state map. I had been using my AAA map but the state maps are always much better. I told the lady assisting me that I was going up to “Sugarite” today. [The word “rite” is pronounced like “right,” right?]. She didn’t understand me, so I said “The state park up there.” She goes “Oh” and then pronounces Sugarite as “sugareet.”
I then strolled over to the local coffee shop called “Hikers Coffee Co.” It’s a fairly large and roomy place with cozy armchairs, sofas, and coffee tables. They serve coffee, tea, seasonal drinks, pastries and ice cream. They sell gift items, too. I was the only customer there at that moment and had myself a hot chocolate with a Churro Donut. Enjoying my soft armchair and my sweets, I took a look at this general area on my much better map and spotted “Maxwell National Wildlife Refuge.” I found online information on my iPhone, verified that this is a self-guided auto tour, and, noting that the refuge is on the way to Raton, I decided to go there today.
Based on past experience, I told myself not to expect to see very much at this wildlife refuge. There’s an ideal season to visit (migrations) and an ideal time of day (dawn and dusk). Some species of birds, especially waterbirds, may have already started to migrate and may be seen at the lakes on the refuge. It now being midday, however, I didn’t think I’d see any four-legged critters. Besides, my truck’s loud motor is a dead giveaway that I’m approaching and anything that was there ten minutes ago no longer is.
Giving my GPS a rest today (I got a better map, yay!) I took Rt. 64E to Rt. 505E, a narrow two-lane road through flat grazing terrain. I had to keep my eyes on the pavement directly in front so as to avoid potholes, many of which had been repaired but already had broken up pieces of tar. At the sign, I turned left towards the Refuge Headquarters. It was closed but there was a covered kiosk with informative signage, including a map of the refuge. All the brochure cubicles were empty so I took a picture of the map and referred to that as my guide. My captioned pictures below will describe my visit here today.
“Lake No 13” – the largest one on the refuge.
Waterbirds were too far away for a decent photo, but present were hundreds of
Canada Geese, ducks and loons, and I counted three white pelicans. 
Leaving the refuge, I took a series of routes to the Sugarite Canyon State Park in Raton – 505E, 445N, 64E, I-25N, 72E, 456N -- the entire way without using the GPS. [“Gotta exercise my brain sometimes, Greg!”] I arrived at the Visitor Center just before they closed at 4:00 pm. The man assisting me became a little bit flustered when he realized that he had to write for me to understand him. He accidentally knocked down a metal stool next to him which caused me to jump because I felt the thud on the floor. The ranger in the nearby office started laughing and told me I was making the guy nervous. I replied that “I have that effect on people sometimes!”
Stepping outside I discovered I had zero internet connection. I couldn’t even send a text to let Ev and Bill know I had arrived here safely. As my new friend, no longer nervous now, was leaving, he said there is no internet access at this state park and advised that I go back down to the bottom of the hill where I’d get a signal. I did that and then came back up to find my campsite. Backing up into my site, I noticed a metal bear-proof food storage container, situated now right next to my camper. Okay, I don’t need convincing that there are bears around here.
Friday, September 27, 2024
I woke up to a cloudy and breezy morning. At my dinette table, working on my laptop, I’d occasionally see leaves falling from the trees. It’s a nice view…something I don’t see often, living in Palm Springs, CA…
According to my brand new NM map, Raton is less than 10 miles from the Colorado state line. This region is also famous for the Santa Fe Trail. To quote from the brochure – “The grasslands of the Great Plains and the forests of the Rocky Mountains combine at Sugarite Canyon to form a cool, wooded retreat. Here mule deer can be found in abundance while elk, wild turkey, foxes, black bears, and mountain lions make occasional appearances. The park’s 4,500 acres, with nearly 20 miles of trails, range in elevation from 6,900 feet at the Visitor Center to 8,320 feet atop Little Horse Mesa.”
Coal mining was the industry here from 1912 to 1941. Hundreds of workers were recruited by the St. Louis, Rocky Mountain and Pacific Company to mine Sugarite coal. About a thousand people, including the miners’ kin, and other workers, lived in what was called the Sugarite Coal Camp. They represented 19 nationalities speaking seven different languages.
I took it easy today, catching up on my blog and sitting outside in my camp chair with my book, enjoying the environment. Soon as the sun disappeared behind the trees, I took a walk to the campground’s entrance to check out the posted messages on the wooden board. A couple walking by with their two dogs exchanged greetings with me. After reading the posted information about bears and mountain lions and rattlesnakes and the rangers’ “what-to-do” advice should you encounter any one of those here, I continued on my walk back to my camper. Seeing movement, I looked and there was a female mule deer looking at me. I saw another one and another one. The lady I had just passed was outside her RV taking pictures. Since the deer, being the docile creatures that they are, were busy sniffing around a vacant campsite, I quietly approached the lady. I flashed four fingers, she responded with five fingers. Gestures again, effective again! Showing me her pictures, I asked if she saw or heard them. She saw them, deer are very quiet, she said. That prompted me to say “Better to come upon deer and not a bear!” We said our good nights, safe travels, etc.
Saturday, September 28, 2024
My campground, which I selected, has electric and water hookups. There’s another campground here at the state park and that one has no hookups. Since I wanted to see what it looks like, I left my site at 9:00 am and drove over there. Spotting the sign, I turned left and found myself going up, up, up for two miles on a dirt road. Unlike my campground, surrounded by trees, this one is open-air and surrounded by hills and cliffs. Standing at the nearby lookout spot, I had a 180-degree view of the spread of trees, grass, other plants directly below, and, in the distance, the outlines of other mountains and hills. The volunteer Camp Host came over to greet me and she said one of the campers told her he had seen an elk down there earlier this morning. Rugged and wild, this place, but beautifully so.
Looking
down to the valley. You can see the dirt road I drove on.
Raton emerged as a prosperous town in 1880 because of coal, ranch land, the Santa Fe Trail, and the railroad. Today, “…five blocks of Raton’s original townsite have been designated the Raton Downtown Historic District.” I drove on Second Street, looking at the architecture of those buildings, and then made a U turn on Third Street to look at the houses on that street. Old towns like Raton – there’s very little “sameness” in the sizes and architecture of private homes.
Interestingly, I didn’t find any restaurants or coffeeshops in the downtown district. I found place a little further out, had breakfast there, and then checked in at the Raton KOA. I’ll be here tomorrow as well and my plan is to publish this Blog #3, hopefully this evening, and do my laundry tomorrow.
Incidentally, I took this picture on September 15th, not long after I started my trip. I was making the bed when I noticed -- really noticed -- the bedsheets and the pillowcase. Nothing uniform here…Mom and Dad would be appalled!
