Name: Scott, aka "The Santa Fe Naturalist"
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Bio: New Mexico is an almost perfect place to explore the Earth’s history, because it’s all laid out here for you to see. From the ancient rocks that glitter coldly in the mountains above Santa Fe to the ashy cliffs west of town that have barely cooled off, travelers here can find windows into the past wherever they look. Let Scott Renbarger, Director of Sales at the Inn on the Alameda, be your online guide to the remarkable natural world that surrounds Santa Fe.
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Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument
January 29th, 2012
The classic view: Seven Dwarfs Overlook
One of the most remarkable hikes you can make in the entire American Southwest is all of about 40 minutes drive southwest of Santa Fe, in one of our newest National Monuments, Kasha-Katuwe. This phrase means “white cliffs” in the Keresan language spoken by Cochiti Pueblo, which you will drive through on your way over to the Monument. For those of us around here it’s always been known as “Tent Rocks” – for obvious reasons, as you can see from the photograph above. It’s an amazing geological window into an apron of white volcanic tuff ejected from one of the older volcanic centers in the Jemez Mountains, and its display of bizarre “hoodoos”, or earth pillars, is about as perfect as any on the planet.
The drive into Tent Rocks is well marked now, and since its induction into the Federal Park System, the road from Cochiti to the parking area has been completely paved. There is an entrance station where a $5 charge per vehicle will be taken, and once you get to the parking area, you’ll find plenty of paved spaces, some shelters, an interpretive kiosk, and a restroom. There are two trails in the park, one short loop that takes you to a small habitation carved into the soft tuff, similar to ones in Bandelier National Monument, and another, a little over a mile and a half long, that takes your into a beautiful slot canyon and then out again, and then up a mesa for some of the most expansive views in the Southwest.
The view as you start your walk
After crunching across a short distance of soft pumice underlying the typical juniper biota of this part of New Mexico, the trail will veer into a much more enclosed canyon:
Entering the canyon
There’s an unusual assemblage of vegetation here, highlighted by the white tuff. A few Ponderosa Pines thrive by virtue of water channeled by the canyon. An almost endemic species of manzanita grows here and nowhere else I’ve seen in the region. At the appropriate time of year, in May, you’ll see cholla cactuses blooming in every shade of magenta, prickly pear in festive yellow, with their rose-like extravagance of stamens, clusters of hedgehog cactus in scarlet bouquets, and sidebells penstemon flowering on short spikes growing out of impossibly arid slopes.
Soon the canyon literally closes over your head:
The Slot Canyon
It is extremely narrow in places and you might find yourself walking sideways. This is NOT a place to be caught during a summer thunderstorm. On this visit, a layer of icy snow, covered in wind-blown grit, actually smoothed the walk through this confined place.
Overhanging walls of volcanic tuff
This part of the walk has an almost cave-like feel. Eventually the slot opens again into a light-drenched Shangri-La of desert landforms:
A pyramid of tuff
Everywhere you turn there seems to be a photographic opportunity. You’ll start channeling your inner Ansel Adams before you know it:
A spire of tuff
The trail turns again, shortly, and you’ll begin your ascent onto the mesa that crown the Monument:
Ascending the mesa
In summer you’ll be reaching for your water bottle at this point. In winter, you’ll probably be wishing you’d put on crampons; this part of the hike faces north and there are some treacherous places, slippery with ice.
Once on top, however, the views are unsurpassed:
This could be you!
Every mountain range in Northern New Mexico is on display, in panoramic vistas.
Looking back toward Santa Fe
Looking into the Jemez Mountains, with the canyon below.
If you have any interest in geology, Kasha-Katuwe is an imperative stop. Almost every way that volcanic pyroclastics can be deposited is displayed here, from air falls of tephra, to pyroclastic flows, to volcaniclastic aprons laid down by floods. If you’re interested in landforms, well, the place speaks for itself. Be sure and get a copy of the High Desert Field Guides for Kasha-Katuwe before you go!
Whatever you do, bring the camera:
Light
The Coyote Call Trail
January 15th, 2012
Looking north into the Valle Grande from the Coyote Call Trail
The winter light is so beautiful here in northern New Mexico that every weekend calls out for a walk somewhere in the country. This weekend was no exception, and that intriguing volcanic range on Santa Fe’s western skyline, the Jemez Mountains, was particularly seductive – the range catches snow as if to cool down its hot and turbulent past, and the great caldera in its heart, with its vast meadows, simply radiates light on a clear winter day.
Much of this range is protected now by the Valles Caldera National Preserve. Under the terms of its establishment with the Federal Government, the preserve must attempt to pay for itself through a variety of services to the public. There’s no charge to drive though it, but it is not a National Park – yet – and you generally can’t go hiking just anywhere you like without making arrangements and paying a small fee. There are, however, some short and delightful trails on its perimeter that are free, and a friend and I decided to check out one we’d driven past many time before – the Coyote Call Trail.
This is a popular trail for viewing elk, of which the preserve has an enormous population, and in the winter it makes a wonderful loop for snowshoeing or cross-country skiing. Openings in the forest give views north of the Valle Grande and its crown of volcanic domes:
At one time this vast meadow held a crater lake, and today, its dense lake-bed soil and the fact that the basin traps cold air inhibits the encroachment of the forests on the surrounding mountains. Small creeks wind their way across the Valles, meandering in a lazy way until they find exit through the rugged lavas to the southwest. These are buried in ice and snow now, although we did see one ponded spring, apparently fed by volcanically-heated water, covered in happy waterfowl.
This trail just cries out for a saucer sled, to speed you back to your car:
Views through the trees on the east end of the trail (where we were stopped by uncompacted snow) show the Sierras de los Valles that cradle the Valle on its east side, and form the western backdrop to Los Alamos on the other side:
As you can see, this ridge has been severely burned by the Las Conchas Fire, the largest of all the fires that ravished New Mexico this spring. There’s very little of this loop that hasn’t been scorched, so if you are wanting to visit a verdant forest this summer, this walk isn’t for you. It’s still beautiful in the winter, and the animals haven’t forsaken it:
Sketching odd animal tracks on the snow
There are plenty of untouched groves that will seed future growth:
A pristine aspen grove
And the views are marvelous. Look how small the Valle Preserve Staging Area – the visitor’s center just right of the La Jara dome – looks, swallowed up by the snowy meadow:
The smallest lava dome in the Preserve, with the Staging Area to its right
Oh – we did see a coyote. He wasn’t on the trail – he was out in the Valle Grande hunting rodents under the snow – but I wanted to mention it. These mountains never fail to hand you a wildlife encounter.
View through a clearing
A natural sculpture of fire and ice
A New Year’s Story
January 8th, 2012
Can you see them?
“When the world was very young, a beautiful tree began to grow in the forest. With every day that passed, the tree grew taller and taller. From its lofty place, the tree could look down on all the life of the forest, both the very small and the very large. It could see how difficult life was for the smallest animals: the mice, the rabbits, and the squirrels. The tree watched hawks and owls swoop through the forest every day, hunting the small animals and making them run for cover. Each day, the hawks and owls got better and better at hunting. This made the tree sad because it liked all the animals of the forest, even the hawks and owls. One day, the tree watched a tiny mouse run from a hawk until it had run out of places to hide. The tree could see the mouse cowering amidst the cones that lay on the forest floor, bravely awaiting its fate. “Quick”, said the tree, “make yourself as small as you can so that you can hide between the scales of one of my cones.” The mouse did as it was told, squeezing its body under one of the cone’s woody scales, with its tiny hind legs and tail just peeking out from beneath the scale. Frustrated, the hawk flew off and the mouse was safe, its life spared by the kindness of its tall friend. To this day, Douglas-fir cones have an unmistakable three-pointed bract between each cone scale, one that looks just like a little mouse in hiding and reminds us that we must always look out for others”.
Variations of this simple tale are many. This particular version is related by Audrey DeLella Benedict at the beginning of her chapter “The Raven’s Forest: Douglas-fir forests” in “The Naturalist’s Guide to the Southern Rockies” – a book I highly recommend if you are making a visit out our way.
From Stardust to Sardine Cans: a guided walk in the Cerrillos Hills
December 3rd, 2011
One of the most common cultural artifacts found in the Cerrillos Hills
Consilience. That’s the word I suspect was trembling on the lips of our guide for the afternoon, Ranger Sarah Woods, as she led us for a walk with that eye-catching title, along a dusty, juniper-dotted trail in Cerrillos Hills State Park, Sunday afternoon. Consilience literally means a “jumping-together” of knowledge, and when you’re wanting to link stardust with rusty old sardine cans from late 1800′s, while standing in the arid hills of the oldest mining district in New Mexico, you need all the jumping together you can get.
The biologist E. O. Wilson revived that unusual word in his 1998 book “Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge“, and appropriately enough, Sarah’s background is ecology, one of those sciences that concerns itself with the way organisms relate to each other and their environment. Perfect for taking the big-picture, “how does this relate to that” viewpoints so necessary when you need to relate stardust to sardine cans. Or to turquoise, or bald-faced lying miners, or old holes in the ground, or State Parks in New Mexico, for that matter.
We met in the parking lot of the Cerrillos Hills State Park, about half an hour’s drive south of Santa Fe, just off the famous “Turquoise Trail“, NM Highway 14, the picturesque back way to Albuquerque from Santa Fe.
That's Sarah Wood, our ranger and guide for the afternoon
Cerrillos Hills State Park is the newest park in New Mexico’s state park system, and its network of trails is dotted with helpful interpretive signs. The park also features a remarkable calendar of guided walks with naturalists and historians for the daylight hours, and, for those of you wanting to explore the night sky, a dedicated ranger-astronomer with telescopes hosting frequent evening excursions into the Universe.
One of the new signs at Cerrillos Hills State Park
Soon we were off on the Jane Calvin Sanchez trail, up a dusty path of crumbling shale, the once-murky, muddy floor of an ancient sea, now baking in the New Mexico sun.
On our way
Sharp eyes can find marine fossils from the Cretaceous Period in these fragments of shale. And while these rocks are baking in the sun these days, it wasn’t long ago – geologically speaking – that they were broiling in the heat of violent intrusions of scalding magma, forced up from the lower crust as New Mexico began to decompress after all that “building the Rocky Mountains” business. I mean, 34 million years ago is the new 20, don’t you agree?
The forcefulness of these intrusive episodes can be gauged by the completely upended strata – shouldered aside by wedges of magma – that you see on your drive down to the park, at New Mexico’s little “Garden of the Gods”, on Highway 14 just before you get to the village of Cerrillos:
Colorful tilted strata along the edge of the Cerrillos Hills intrusive complex
These magmas carried up the traces of gold, silver, lead, copper, and other elements which gave birth to the Cerrillos Hills and Ortiz Mountain mining districts.
All of this is stardust, you know. Giant stars, bloated with hydrogen and contaminated with the 91 heavier elements born via long-acting and complex thermonuclear reactions, carry the seeds of their own destruction by virtue of their massive size (And we’re talking big – Sarah showed us pictures). When these stars finally implode/explode under their own stupendous, self-inflicted gravity, they fling these elements as dust and gas out into the universe. And in the course of time, some of this material is gathered into new stars and planets, among which is one system with a modest star and a planet we call home.
Peering at the Ortiz Mountains in the glare of our own little star
To find out what this has to do with rusty sardine cans littering the New Mexico desert, you’re going to have to go on Sarah’s walk, yourself. There are all sorts of fascinating side-tracks related to these cans, such as these holes in the hills:
A mineshaft dug into bleached rock in the Cerrillos Hills
And the presence of this rather attractive mineral:
Fragments of turquoise found in these hills - and mined for centuries
Plus it’s pleasant just to be out here, under the vast – turquoise – skies:
A walk in the Cerrillos Hills
So have a look at that calendar of events and choose something that piques your interest. It’s all related, one way or another. It all hangs together. Sarah quoted John Muir: “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.” Muir also made this happy observation: “In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”
And to that I say, Amen.
Soaring on Raven’s Ridge
November 24th, 2011
A Gray Jay enjoying the view from Raven's Ridge
The other weekend I just had to get out for some exercise, and since my thoughts lately have been occupied planning some hikes up in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado next summer, I decided to head up to Ski Santa Fe and get a good workout on Raven’s Ridge, the spur of the Santa Fe Range that divides the Tesuque watershed from the headwaters of Nambe Creek, and which makes up the northern boundary of the Aspen Basin, which we enjoy seeing from Santa Fe nearly every day.
The mountains have been getting light snows most weeks lately, but typically the high country trails are firmly packed this early in the season, and snow shoes aren’t necessary. So I put on my layers, made a thermos of my favorite tea – Formosa Oolong No. 8 from Adagio Teas, grabbed a breakfast burrito from La Montanita Co-op, and headed up the mountain.
On a clear and sunny day the normally sombre spruce forests above 10,000 feet in elevation literally glow with an inner light, fragrant and invigorating, putting one in mind of Christmas and the holidays.
Looking up into towering Englemann Spruce on the Winsor Trail
There simply isn’t anything nicer than walking through these Snow Forests on a calm and sunny late morning, taking in the pure air and radiant light.
Packed snow on the Winsor Trail above Ski Santa Fe
The section of the Winsor Trail from the parking area of Ski Santa Fe up to the saddle on Raven’s Ridge is always a bit of a test – sort of the dues you have to pay to gain entrance to the Nambe Creek watershed and the peaks beyond. You gain over 800 feet in less than a mile, and since the trailhead is already at 10,200 feet elevation, you generally have to make some stops to catch your breath. I was huffing and puffing like a steam locomotive on the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad, myself.
Soon enough the trail levels out and you reach the saddle on the flank of Aspen Peak which marks the boundary of the vast and beautiful Pecos Wilderness.
The new sign at the entrance to the Pecos Wilderness along the Winsor Trail
It’s at this gateway that you leave the Winsor Trail and turn right to follow the fence line along an informal trail that follows Raven’s Ridge through the trees. The climb is a little gentler than the switchbacks of the Winsor Trail, but there are a few more places where you’ll have to pause for breath. And there are no views to speak of – until you reach 11,200 feet and the tie-off point of the fence:
The headwaters of Nambe Creek from Raven's Ridge
Perched on ancient gneiss above the glacial canyon that holds Nambe Lake, you’ll feeling like you’re soaring in a glorious Rocky Mountain High. To your right is Lake Peak, a mountain horn that carries Ski Santa Fe on its west flank, and the headwaters of the Santa Fe River on its south:
Lake Peak
By the way, if you are in the mood for some real adventure, my friend Mar’ Himmerich of Celestial Guides (celestialguides@yahoo.com) will be happy to take you skiing up there.
To your left is the bold massif of Santa Fe Baldy, the highest peak near Santa Fe:
Santa Fe Baldy 12,622 feet high
Below you is a vertiginous drop with more diagonals and verticals than a vintage Italian travel poster:
Winter light
It’s a perfect place to stop for a well deserved break. And as often happens up here in the alpine realm, with a soft fluttering, a flash of grey, and maybe a gentle whistle, you might have guests for tea:
Care to share that Clif Bar with me?
This is the Grey Jay, or Whiskey-Jack, the notorious camp robber who will eat out of your hand (or snatch food from it while you’re not looking). A pair of these birds kept an eye on me the entire time I had my snack.
After a blissful time of taking in the view and enjoying the sun on my face, I grabbed my daypack and headed back down the trail. As I approached the parking area, I could see the that the slopes of Ski Santa Fe are nearly ready for opening:
Ski Santa Fe, seen through spruce and aspen along the Winsor Trail
Soon enough I was back in my car and cruising down NM 475 back to Santa Fe for a rendezvous with Starbucks. It was a Good Day. Come out and see us this winter, and have a good day of your own!
Somebody loves you in Santa Fe!
November Snow
November 13th, 2011
The Forest Service sign at Aspen Vista, changed out for winter
Nearly ever year, sometime around the end of October, Santa Fe gets its first little snowfall to let us know that winter is on its way. This year the reminder came a little earlier, the weekend before Halloween, and the more turbulent conditions up in the mountains put a quick end to the colorful aspen leaves. We had a week’s respite of wonderful weather here in town, but by last weekend another storm swept through, and as far as the highlands are concerned, winter is officially here.
Once the sun came back out I had a drive and a short walk along the Aspen Vista Trail, about a 25 minute drive from downtown Santa Fe. The county is good about keeping the road clear:
The road to Ski Santa Fe, at the Aspen Vista Trailhead
I had a short walk, in dazzling light, along with a few other fellow travelers:
This could be you!
The vivid blue of the alpine sky never fails to seduce me:
Aspen stretching toward the light
Ski Santa Fe is only a few more minutes drive from here, and at this rate there should be some skiing by Thanksgiving. Many of their lifts reach up the Tesuque Peak, which was liberally frosted by the storm:
Tesuque Peak above Santa Fe
Ski Taos is even further along. Taos is beautiful in the winter, and it makes a great day trip from Santa Fe when you’re making your stay with us:
Sacred Taos Mountain, wreathed in clouds, shining over Taos
So start sorting though your warm fleeces and limbering up your knees for a glorious winter vacation in the Southern Rockies! We’ll keep your home base snug and warm for you:
Home at the Inn on the Alameda
Little things
October 30th, 2011
Brightly colored autumn forbs on the forest floor
Most of the leaves have come down from the aspen in the mountains above Santa Fe, and the highest peaks are already shining with the first snows of the season. The glorious light of late fall streams over the forests now, warm and raked, dappling the trails with shadows and spotlighting the minor characters of the forest floor for a fleeting moment of fame. Often overlooked by view-seekers on summer hikes, or health-enthusiasts on their mountain bikes, the little things of the forest come into their own this time of year.
I had a meditative walk on the Chamisa Trail not far from town last Sunday and I gave these small players my attention for the afternoon.
Shadows along the Chamisa Trail
Light sifting through the canopy picked out late season flowers here and there:
Harebells defying the frost
A patch of columbine taking in the afternoon rays
A choir of asters looking up from the leaf litter
The dour oaks throw off their usual reticence this time of year, and give a grudging blush of color:
Gambel oak at trail's edge
Aspen leaves shine on the ground like golden coins:
Leaves on stone
Even the cool conifers take on a warmer hue:
A spray of Ponderosa needles
So go have a walk this afternoon and keep your eye out for those little things. It’s their time to shine!
Autumn light
The Grand Canyon
October 23rd, 2011
Desert View - the glorious Grand Canyon
The Grand Canyon is too far from Santa Fe to qualify as a day trip – it’s about a seven hour drive from here to either the main visitor’s entrance at South Rim, or to the closest edge of the canyon at Desert View, where Mary Coulter built her famous Watchtower.
The Watchtower, viewed from a lookout west of its perch
But the Grand Canyon is such an iconic feature of the American Southwest that you may very likely be making it a stop on your grand tour of the western states. If you are a European traveller this likelihood increases to about 100%. The confusion of tongues at Mather Point, just a short walk from the Visitor’s Center at South Rim, must be heard to be believed. The confusion of trying to find your car in the Mountain Lion parking lot, Section C, will nearly equal this babel. I just want to point out the fact that there are other ways of admiring the Grand Canyon that will preserve your peace of mind and let you focus on the True Star of the Colorado Plateau. Go camping at Desert View.
An inquisitive raven checking out our campsite at Desert View
Desert View isn’t any further from Santa Fe than South Rim. There isn’t any hotel-style lodging there, but there is a well maintained campground among the pinyon and Utah juniper where you can stay. I spent a couple of nights there with a friend earlier this year in September, when the last of the summer monsoon was wringing itself out over Arizona. It made for some spectacular atmospherics:
First evening's look at the Canyon, wreathed in cloud
There was rain in the night, but in the morning, only a short walk from the tent, we were treated to this intimate scene from our improvised breakfast veranda:
Morning light at Desert View
The main visitor center is about 28 miles west of Desert View, and a good road with plenty of spectacular turnouts links the two places. Only a handful of tourists ever seem to be at these viewpoints at any given time:
"Do people ever fall into the Grand Canyon?" (on sign at Desert View)
A short scramble and you’ll have this masterpiece all to yourself:
Yours truly in his natural environment
The Grand Canyon is considered the greatest exposure of stratified rock on the planet. On the eastern side, the chasm cuts deeply through the flat-lying Paleozoic section, with familiar names like the Coconino and the Redwall, to expose tilted beds of almost unimaginable age:
The Grand Canyon Supergroup of ancient strata below the famous cliffs
I had no idea these rocks were so immensely thick.
So don’t let the threat of crowds and belching tour buses stop you from making a visit to the Canyon. Spend some time at the less visited parts, which are easy to access. And if you can camp, that’s all to the better. The Grand Canyon reveals its most subtle moods at dawn and dusk. It even saves some secrets for the night, when, if you are as lucky as we were, you can watch lightning playing over the mysterious North Rim in the darkness. Don’t miss it.
A morning shower over the South Rim
The Galisteo Studio Tour
October 16th, 2011
The spirt of Georgia O'Keeffe in Galisteo, New Mexico
One of the great joys of the autumn season in Northern New Mexico is the annual round of village studio tours. Artists open their homes and studios to wandering aficionados of the arts in many of the picturesque small towns around Santa Fe over the weekend, beginning in late summer, with the first hint of fall in the high country, and ending in mid-November, when winter is starting to show on the peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Over the years these events have become remarkably well organized, with flyers and websites, welcoming stations with friendly folks passing out maps (surrounded by the inevitable bake sale), large and colorful signs guiding you along the obscure calles, and groups selling traditional meals and snacks somewhere in a village gathering spot.
The village of Galisteo hosts one of my favorite tours. This old town, about half an hour’s drive southeast of Santa Fe, always picks a mid-October weekend to host, basking in autumn light and the golden glow of the cottonwoods along Galisteo Creek.
Crossing little Galisteo Creek on the village bridge
As always, the local Catholic Church is a good place to stop and plot your afternoon.
The church in Galisteo
The gnarled old roots of old New Mexico poke up from the earth here, as they do in every village:
A crumbling adobe, returning to the land
If you really want to see how an artist works, and find out what inspires him or her, a visit to the studio will go far to satisfy your curiosity.
Catherine Ferguson's sign hanging outside her house and studio
Everyone seems to be happy to talk to you, and to show you the tools of their trade. You’ll probably be offered a snack from the kitchen and the privilege of wandering around the house and yard – and if you see a work you can’t live without, you’ll very likely be able to purchase it on the spot.
A yard full of art
Well over half the fun of making a studio tour is peeking into people’s normally private homes and gardens, seeing how they arrange their creative lives, and enjoying the rich intermingling of art, landscape, and livelihood that might well cause a twinge of envy as well as admiration.
An illuminated wall
Behind adobe walls. Paintings were hung all along this box of light.
A questionable invitation
So if you’re planning a visit out our way next year around this time – and what could be more delightful than the Southern Rockies in September and October? – take a moment to look into the local studio tours and make some time for a day trip. I think you’ll discover then, for yourself, why the arts and New Mexico are so firmly joined.
Looking toward Galisteo from the house of the chocolate artist
Upper Tesuque Creek
August 22nd, 2011
The view down the Tesuque Creek watershed, toward Santa Fe
It’s been wonderful being able to hike again in the mountains above Santa Fe, and maybe even more wonderful that the summer rains have finally come through for us. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains east and north of town have gotten soaking rains most afternoons, lately, some of them jazzed up with spectacular pyrotechnics. The grateful forests are swollen and vibrantly green with the showers, and grateful hikers are enjoying the newly opened trails.
The last couple of weekends I’ve made some hikes in the Rio Tesuque watershed. Many of the Forest Service Trails near town traverse this drainage, or depart from it: the Chamisa Trail, much of the lower Winsor Trail, Borrego, Bear Wallow, Big Tesuque, and all of Aspen Vista. I’ve been parking at the Big Tesuque Campground lately, and walking up that part of the trail that heads east to join Aspen Vista, and beyond, up to the “Butterfly Meadow” and, yesterday, all the way up to Tesuque Peak.
Even a short walk will bring you intimate rewards. Late summer flowers are in bloom along the creek:
Asters in a meadow along Tesuque Creek
Butterflies abound.
A Variegated Fritillary enjoying a thistle
There are places to sit and listen to the falling water that have all the serenity of a Japanese garden:
Sprays of grass along Tesuque Creek
More strenuous efforts to climb higher will bring the usual rewards:
A rustic bench thoughtfully constructed on Tesuque Ridge
Views from these elevations often show intriguing meadows that you rarely see from the lower trails, even if they happen to pass nearby. Here’s a little Shangri La of a meadow on the flank of Aspen Peak that is isolated from any path:
A meadow on the flank of Aspen Peak, above Ski Santa Fe
You might have noticed that the atmosphere in these photos is completely sodden with moisture, very typical of August in the Southern Rockies. Although I was spared any rain, much later in the afternoon this humidity discharged itself in a stupendous cloudburst over Santa Fe, flooding the streets and washing away the lingering remnants of this year’s Indian Market.
At the very crest of Tesuque Peak the land drops abruptly away into a cirque that cradles Santa Fe Lake and the headwaters of the Santa Fe River. Look at the spectacular view:
In the clouds on Tesuque Peak
Trust me. For a few amazing moments the clouds parted and this scene took on a Technicolor clarity that had to be seen to be believed. And then it was gone, back into the void. The Donovan lyrics sprang to mind: “First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is”. I realize these lines refer to a deeper spiritual reality – consult the Vajracchedika Prajnaparamita Sutra for details – but it was nice to see things manifest in sunlight and stone.
So come see us. The mountains may not be eternal, but they’ll be here for you.
