How I Stumbled into the Taos Pueblo

After a night in Los Alamos, I had a rather busy Sunday for my day off. I drove up through the laboratory grounds to the remnants of the Valles Caldera nearby. It is the remnants of what once was a giant volcanic mountain that exploded a couple million years ago. The mesa of Los Alamos is actually on the ancient flanks of this explosion (ironic considering the purpose of Los Alamos). I parked and marveled at the size, only later finding out that I was seeing only the a small quadrant of the entire crater.


View Larger Map Around noon I descended down the flanks to Bandelier National Monument, my first visit there. I'd bought National Geographic Trails map over a year ago, and I was pleased to finally get to use it for a couple hours of hiking on the cliffs, and inspecting the picturesque Anasazi ruins.

In the late afternoon I headed up the Rio Grande Valley in the Bimmer. I didn't realize how scenic it was, how the river cuts a snaking gorge amidst a pristine wide valley visible from the highway. It felt a bit like being in heaven.


View Larger Map When I got to Taos I checked into the Super 8, where I had reservations. I'd passed through Taos on a road trip, but had never stopped, so I was looking forward to exploring the town for a few days.

In the morning, I went out to my car and discovered I'd left my lights on overnight. The battery was dead. I decided it was an excuse to leave the Bimmer in the parking lot and explore the town by foot.

I walked all the way downtown looking for a coffee shop to put int some work. It was harder than I thought to find one, and I wound working at a tiny little place inside the swanky La Fonda Hotel in the historic plaza. There were no power outlets in the place, so I could only work as long as my battery held out.

Afterwards I decided to take public transportation back to my hotel, but I wound up missing the bus by just a few minutes. So instead I headed the other direction on foot. I kept going a couple miles out into the country, all the way up the road to the Taos Pueblo, the historic settlement on the Indian reservation. I knew there was a bus stop there, so I figured on riding it all the way back.

When I got there, I found out that technically I wasn't supposed to walk on that road at all. "Too late," I told the young Indian guy in the orange vest directing traffic. He told me I'd have to take the bus back. "Good, that's what I wanted to do anyway," I told him. It was one of the awkward moments where a person in authority wanted me to feel bad and inconvenienced somehow, yet I refused to feel that way, and it clearly irked him a little that I was feeling the way he wanted me to feel.

Until I got there, I didn't realize what a big deal the Taos Pueblo is. It is one of the few remaining places where people still live in the classic adobe structures with ladders (which visitors are prohibited from climbing, as advised in large signs at the entrance). I had to pay ten bucks admission. The woman at the window asked if I had any cameras. It cost six bucks for a camera permit.  I didn't want to use my cellphone camera. She told me to leave it my car.  I decided not to tell I didn't bring a car.

I wandered around the buildings for about a half hour, and went inside one of the gift shops in the old buildings. The woman there, whose name was Flower Basket, chatted me up a while, and I wound up buying one of her "peace doves" as a gift for my parents, since my mother likes southwestern stuff like that.

She told me that the Pueblo had actually been closed for visitors for six weeks for tribal ceremonies. It had opened up only that very day. I had actually been one of the very first visitors in over two months. This kind of random timing seems to happen to me a lot when I travel in the way I do. I rarely get surprised by it anymore.