Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi

Despite very deliberately not belonging to any organized religion, I am fascinated with church architecture and Christian art.
(The highlight of actually living in Aurora was that my regular run took me through a cemetery past a gothic chapel built in the 1800s). Otherwise, I mostly pay attention only when I am in tourist mode, and it's hard to compare American churches (especially Western ones) to the deep history of foreign ones. I should like to make more of a concerted effort to visit notable American churches.

So even though we've been to Santa Fe a handful of times, I'd never actually been in the Cathedral. The first time or two, in fact, it was closed due to renovations for Santa Fe's 400th anniversary. Of course, the Loretto Chapel is worth a visit, and a few dollars admission, to peer at the wooden circular staircase.
But today, St. Francis, the patron saint of animals and the environment, beckoned us inside:



The low sun on a bright winter afternoon was perfect for illuminating the 12 Apostles, 6 on either side:


This church was rebuilt several times after prior destruction. The latest incarnation still dates to the 19th century, on an original site that was hundreds of years older, and had the honorific status of basilica bestowed by the current Pope in 2005. In a chapel (an older portion of one of the original churches) to the side of the altar lies several historic artifacts. A glass-enclosed case contains several relics, notably a bone relic of St. Francis, but the most important is La Conquistadora, a 400-year old statue of the Virgin Mary, the oldest in the New World. The statue, in fact, has a separate wardrobe of hundreds of pieces of ornate clothing, and is changed regularly.

A kindly woman was explaining the history to myself and another woman, a photographer from Colorado. With surprising, graphic detail, she stated how that, although La Conquistadora was not enclosed in any protective casing, it was highly protected by electric alarm systems.
"If you were lying, bleeding to death in the street," she said to the woman, "and he jumped over the fence to get that statue" (I appreciated the compliment to my assumed stealth), "the police would rush right past you toward the statue. That's how important the statue is!"

To some, or maybe just her. As much as I do appreciate history, the photographer from Colorado was lovely enough, so I know my decision would have been different. And easy. Ironically, my faith was reaffirmed.

By the way, among the veneration of images is a hierachy of (in order of precedence):latria, hyperdulia, and dulia. This means that the honor bestowed to Mary (hyperdulia), and the relative honour bestowed upon relics, lies between the highest honour bestowed to God alone (latria), and a lesser honour bestowed upon saints (dulia).

This, I expect, to be helpful in Scrabble sometime.

Santa Fe Skyline Run: Atalaya and Picacho

Santa Fe Foothills Skyline
Atalaya Mountain (9117')
Picacho Peak (8577')
~13M Roundtrip (rough estimate) from downtown Santa Fe

*

A couple Thanksgivings ago, I ran up to check out Picacho Peak, a pointy and prominent knob in the Santa Fe foothills. I ran out of time to explore the nearby, higher Atayala Mountain, but this time came prepared to check out both.


View Larger Map (Picacho on left, Atalaya on Right)


On these trails in winter, "prepared" means mandatory traction, as much of the trail is shaded, but either sees enough traffic from other folks, or has creek/melt runoff from sunnier locations so as to coat large sections of the trail in solid ice. The only other tracks I saw consistently showed the shape of Yaktrax embedded in the mud. In this case, I put on Microspikes fairly early and was glad to have them for the duration.

Like last year, I left from Pueblo Bonito Inn, which is a great B&B bargain in the offseason: in this case, $75. And by leaving before sunrise, I knew I could do some damage to the breakfast buffet when I was done. I headed up Atalaya first, paralleling Camino de Cruz Blanca on a trail that was mostly a dirt sidewalk with low desert brush, but also solidly covered in ice. This trail was easy to follow before the climbing began. Eventually, there's a trail split, with the left fork labeled as "steeper." Not only was that one obviously more fun, but it had less traffic and better traction.
The Atalaya summit itself is the non-descript highpoint of the ridge to the East of town, just over 2000 feet higher than town. Great views, yes, but the irony is that most of the hiking guidebooks I've glanced at mention Atalaya (which also had a summit register jar) but not Picacho. By being more prominent and having a better view, Picacho is still my preference. That's an easy roll down to the saddle and then brief climb back up, so I headed that way. With the snow and ice, and with no idea of the actual map distance, the previous year I had estimated about 20 minutes between the two, and that was pretty much accurate.

I enjoyed the sunshine on Picacho for a bit before heading down the familiar, but very icy, trails on the Dale Ball system. The Microspikes worked great, in combination with moving very conservatively. The added insult to injury on these trails would be slipping on ice and then falling onto a cactus.

In all, this is a fun loop that is very accessible from town. Some sort of traction (microspikes or at least Yaktrax) would be mandatory in winter. From most places, the road approach is only 2-3 miles on road. The road parts are enjoyable runs past adobe buildings and art galleries, with the scent of woodsmoke in the air. Just be careful around blind corners for inattentive drivers.

I had also explored the lower Dorothy Stewart trail on a separate run. My opinion here is that the lower trails would be fun on a mountain bike, but the higher ones around both summits would be more of a chore on a bike.

Map is below in case it's useful, the Dale Ball system is well-marked but I had been hand-drawing the other sections:

Pajarito Mountain: New Mexico Nordic

Pajarito Nordic Area
~5.5M total ski, Groomed, Free

*

J and I were eager to try out some new (to us) New Mexico-area XC trails, nearer to Santa Fe. With decent snow (compared to Colorado, especially), we had some good choices, but decided to check out the trails near Pajarito Ski Area above Los Alamos.

This trail system has free access, and is maintained quite well by the Southwest Nordic Ski club. The trails start from the far corner of the Pajarito Ski Area parking lot (note: the ski road is steep and requires 4WD or chains in any sort of inclimate weather). The main loop is about 5k out with gradual climbs to a gorgeous meadow, with a few parallel trails and loops along the way.

There was just enough snow (thanks to some of the shade fences) in the early parts to make it into the shade and higher elevations, and the snow was fantastic in the meadow. Before we started, we had met Tarik from the SW Nordic club, who gave us much-appreciated trail updates and recommendations, so we pretty much stayed to the better snow on the rightmost trails towards the meadow.

We reached the meadow with full sun and temperatures in the 40s, so we hung out for a bit and had lunch. With just a bit further of bushwhacking, we were able to peer into the Valles Caldera preserve (which does have its own set of ski trails in the winter). Above the meadow, albeit south-facing, are glorious glades of tall aspen and pine, on gentle, nearly rock-free hills. Right after a storm, this would be a fun place to practice turns.

On our way back, we ran into another woman who was training for "some ski race in Wisconsin." Of course, I knew she was talking about the Birkie, which is somewhere on my lifelong list as well. We talked about the poor snow conditions in Wisconsin, as well as the poor conditions in Colorado, as she has a Copper Pass and called it the "worst conditions she's seen in 40 years." At that moment, at least, it seemed New Mexico was the place to be.

New Mexico Thanksgiving

Each year, J and I try to head to New Mexico for a quick getaway to another world.
Cities and towns like Santa Fe and Taos have a different vibe and history that is unmatched in North America, and the surrounding landscape of the "Land of Enchantment" evokes imagination and wonder.

Plus, they've got Trader Joe's.

So with a few days for Thanksgiving, and in celebration of J's 30th birthday, we headed down to Santa Fe. As usual, this will end up being mini-restaurant reviews, since a big point of going there is to eat.

We stayed at Pueblo Bonito inn and enjoyed the rooms and hospitality. Rates are very reasonable and it's got cozy rooms and a great location. Breakfast is a simple buffet.

Most importantly, the rooms have kiva fireplaces.



I'm almost afraid to go to New Mexico in the summer, because I enjoy it so much in the fall and winter. The elevation and dryness of the air means that the temperature drops quickly and noticeably, but a stroll around town ensures the consistent aroma of burning pinon. And, not being natives, we're also not bound by law to wear layers of expensive scarves and boots that Santa Feans need to avoid hypothermia, apparently, when chile serves the purpose even better. Also, the late Fall means expanses of gold, green, and brown, along with snow, which looks best in the flat light and shadow of a low sun.

La Choza
We arrived just in time Wednesday night to make a quick run to TJ's and then tried La Choza for dinner. La Choza was recommended since it's owned by The Shed, which has been one of our favourites, yet was supposed to have lower prices while still having great food. The top Google search, in fact, shows very good *lunch* prices -- but the dinner prices still start at ~$13-$15 and chips and salsa are not included (d'oh), although sopapillas are. Even still (and we did order chips and salsa), I finished my food quickly and could have eaten a bit more (not healthily, mind you, just sayin'.) Santa Fe Nut Brown though (just like at The Shed), always good stuff.

Thursday proper, with most things closed, we pretty much slept in and had breakfast at the inn, being pleasantly surprised with a light dusting of snow and blazing sunshine. The rumor was that the big cold front was coming through New Mexico and Colorado on Thursday, butit seemed fairly nice in the morning. We pretty much chilled out and I kept a promise to J not to make us run around and do a bunch of stuff. In the afternoon, though, she took a nap and I snuck out for a run up Picacho Peak.

Picacho Peak

Picacho Peak is a little knobby point in the foothills above town, part of what looks to be a great trail system known as the Dale Ball trails, known for good mt. biking on one side and hiking on the other. I headed generally through town up Canyon road, hoping that the knobby thing ahead of me was the peak since it looked sufficiently interesting. (Not much further past Picacho is the higher but more bulbous Atalaya Peak).

I'll admit, around this time I felt kind of in a bit of a funk, with many things either going on or not going on in life. School has been busy but I can't say different than expected; I've been limited in running somewhat both with time and a persistent abdominal/groin pain (though it's not as bad as before, and doesn't hold me back on trail running or skiing -- it's just there). Enough of that whining though, you didn't sign up to read about that: I really wanted to mention because, ultimately, I felt significantly better after this run (why do things like that continue to be surprising?) as well as discussions with J about how, yeah, we pretty much have it really good (usually I'm the one doing that reminding) and everything in our control can and will get better. I guess that has something to do with Thanksgiving.

So yes, it didn't feel as cold as advertised -- and why should one's feeling about the weather be based on what's advertised? -- so I headed out in shorts and a long sleave shirt. I caught the unmistakable scent of masa being cooked, in addition to wood smoke, and started thinking about fossil fuels versus wood, thinking about how wood is so much more fresh and humane and direct and intimate, like eating a fruit, versus some artificial and unknown heavily-processed concoction. I probably then started thinking about food after that.

The TH toward Picacho was on the right (South) side of the road, and the trail system is nicely marked at each trail intersection. It's only a couple of miles to Picacho, and starts out somewhat steep and switchbacked, and with the snow and shadow there is potential for ice, but in this case it ended up being the perfectly runnable cottony snow that feels exactly what a children imagine when drawing clouds or heaven, then most of us forget again until we tread on fresh snow.

I encountered just a few parties on the trail, with a few saying things like, "Nice work" or "That's studly" while kindly yielding, which is nice but was really a very short, routine run on what ended up being a very pleasant, windless afternoon. "Black Friday?" Give me a trail day on Thanksgiving or Christmas, and I promise you'll see the best of humanity. Go shopping the next day, and you're purposely choosing to see the worst!

At the top were great views in every direction. Here, I met a group: Jeff, Lucas, Gemini (my first Gemini!) and ? (unintroduced wife). All were in great spirits, and everyone was from out of town (California), visiting Jeff, the oldest of the group, who lived in Santa Fe (near the bottom of the trail) and gave a brief description of the surrounding environs. Atalaya was very close but required a descent to a saddle in the trees, and I thought I'd be pushing my time allowance, so I spent some time up top chatting and then headed down, figuring I'd tack on something at the end if I had any extratime. Jeff had headed down first out of paranoia of "holding up the group" -- I encountered him shortly but found him running - he made me laugh because he was so self-deprecating but obviously gets out and hikes and runs when he can. I hung behind him and chatted a bit, then decided to head back down. I did have some extra time so I took a longer loop around between marker 30 and 31, when I encountered Jeff again, almost at the bottom, sweaty and *way* ahead of the rest of the group.

"Did you happen to see a blue glove?"
Crap, I did -- sometime after passing him near the top. I didn't know if somebody else going up or down would see it, so I had left it. Since I knew where it was, I headed right back up again, thinking I'd probably see the rest of the group and find out if they had picked it up. Turns out, they bushwhacked in a different direction and were probably 15 minutes back, and the place where I had seen the glove was actually pretty close to the top, so I ended up going up about twice, though it's more fun when there's kind of a reason or a "quest." The guys said they'd jog down now that they were back on the trail, so we all jogged together and chatted.

Anyway, I got back in around 2:15 and felt significantly better.

Thanksgiving Meal
First, we had sushi and $3-buck Chuck in our room, then took a stroll around town.

We were waiting for 7pm, when we would join friends John and Kelly from Fort Collins for dinner. Jessica works with Kelly, and I've met them briefly twice: the first time, coincidentally, we saw them while waiting for a table at Snooze in Ft. Collins. They had an hour wait, but instead we shared a table and I enjoyed meeting them. We never had a chance to get together before moving, but they were at J's birthday party the previous week, and talked about how they were headed to Santa Fe for Thanksgiving! So we decided to meet up for dinner at Los Mayas.

Los Mayas Restaurant
We decided against typical (and more expensive) Thanksgiving faire for New Mexican instead. We had a cozy table at Los Mayas next to a fireplace, and enjoyed delicious chips and salsa with our meal. They only had bottled Mexican and American beers though, and prices seem to have gone up a bit. The food looked beautiful on big square white plates, but I was dismayed to have large, big white gaps between my food, mostly because they were (silently) out of both the rice and pozole that are supposed to accompany it, meaning that I stood a good chance of still being hungry. Another strike was that my "green chile and cheese tamale" ended up being an "(implied pork and) green chile and cheese tamale." Still, what I had was delicious, and I'm only being picky because there's so much emphasis on having a delicious meal that you can only really get in New Mexico, but this isn't really a problem in the grand scheme of things. I'm just telling you, The Shed, Pasqual's, and Tia Sophia's (breakfast) are still at the top.

We headed over to Del Charro Saloon for some drinks.



Now that's a fun place, as we sat in a covered patio with a fireplace and heat lamps, enjoying Santa Fe Brewing Co. beers, cocktails, and great hot mixed drinks. I really enjoyed getting to know John and Kelly more, as we all seemed to have quite a bit in common.

Tia Sophia's
By Friday, the tourist throngs were back out and things lost a bit of their magic. The Shed had a 1.5hr wait, so we had lunch at Tia Sophia's (only had breakfast there before). They're quick, attentive, and have a solid menu -- nothing stands out as great for lunch (prefer the breakfast menu) but everything is predictably very good.

We headed back Friday, so it was a quick trip, but fun as always. Lots to be thankful for!

Mass Happiness in New Mexico

There's a new Mexico?
-Mr. Burns, "The Simpsons"




Every Fall, we love to go to New Mexico. The cool, crisp, dry air refreshes the soul as much as strolling around looking at the best art of the West. Outside and out of town, the low sunlight dances through the trees, among the snow dust and golden underbrush, daring decades of photographers to ration their film (and, if the digital age has spoiled patience, stretch a canvas instead and make it so!)
When the sun sets, and before it has risen cleanly, the temperature is downright cold. Ladies of a certain age take this opportunity to layer themselves in elaborate scarves, hats, shawls, and jewelry; while the men, or at least this one, choose a baser course: chile.
By putting a fire in the belly, one can continue to stroll New Mexican alleys morning and night in perfect comfort.

OK, besides chile, another way to put fire in the belly is through copious amounts of wine: part of the fun of visiting northern New Mexico is to visit Trader Joe's and stock up on 3-buck chuck.
This year, we also made it a goal to visit the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta. Jessica has been wanting to visit this for the past several years, but manana manana manana...Time's a wasting, let's head down to the A-B-Q.

Leaving early afternoon, dreaming of southwestern food, we made it about an hour before pulling off for Wahoo's in Denver. Good ol' Wahoo's, but it cost us: a $25 parking ticket for having a foot or so of my car in front of the meter. Ah, the delights of the big city. Again we were off for Albuquerque, eventually arriving around 9:30 or so. Just a few miles north of our hotel, we spotted a strip mall Chama Brewing Co, and stopped in for a bit, quite pleased with the flickering fireplace and trickling fountain near the entrance, a friendly staff, and a delicious pumpkin spice ale on tap. Satisfied, we made it down to the hotel...almost: picked up some Dunkin Donuts donut holes first and some coffee in the thermos for the next morning.

The next morning was to begin at 5am, so we could make it to the park 'n ride and eventually the fiesta grounds by 6:30 or so. Although we had extra donut holes in hand, it turns out this Days Inn near I-25 and I-40 was kind enough to begin breakfast at 4am. MMM, frosted flakes and waffle, together at last. Soon we were in line at Cliff's amusement park for the ride to the fiesta. As expected, the area was abuzz with folks trying to get there, and the park 'n ride was definitely the way to go.

We took our seat on the school bus, on a 'hump' (the right wheel well), and half-napped until getting closer, when we saw the gorgeous glowing lights of early balloons taking off for "Dawn Patrol." This was just a taste...

The grounds themselves were alighted with various vendors of various burritos, and it just got better from there.


Dunkin Donuts, yes, was in the house, and other memorabilia and things for the kids. We headed to the middle field, at the end of dawn patrol, and watched a few balloons start taking off toward the moon.


And then, the "Mass Ascension" began. For about an hour, the grounds were a stimulation-fest of color and motion. We raced around, staring and taking pictures, getting as close to the balloons as possible. What a refreshing return to pre-9/11 -- without rules and paranoia -- to a time when we were, maybe, 9 or 11 years old, when the world still had magic. This is said to be one of the most photographed events in the world, but like most things, the pictures don't do justice to the feeling of craning your neck straight up, twirling around, and seeing all the colours.



There is also no shortage of novelty balloons, often competing for "fan favourite." Announcers provide play-by-play description of the balloons as they're taking off, similar to the Macy's Parade.

My favorites?





After a few hours, as the sun finally started warming us, it was time to head back.
Let me not mince words: Every child, and every parent, every childless parent and parentless child, child at heart and heartless alike, should go see this event at least once. Mt. Rushmore and Disney-whatever are far down on my list for kids, but this is near the top.

So long, Albuquerque! It's off to Santa Fe and Taos. We can never decide which one we like more, so why not hit both?
First, we stop in Santa Fe just in time for breakfast at Tia Sophia's. We haven't been there in 3 or 4 years, but the huevos, blue corn tortillas, and chile are worth the inevitable weekend wait.
Jessica finds "bead heaven" next door anyway, and has enough baubles to keep her busy in the coming months. We stroll around some more, fairly leisurely, before hitting Trader Joe's on the way out of town. Several cases of wine later....we're off to Taos, where the Dona Luz Inn B&B is waiting for us.

By mid-afternoon, we meet Paco at the B&B, store our things in the room, and head off to town.
Again, we stroll around fairly aimlessly -- the only specific store I can think of is the bookstore, which always has a cat that needs scratching -- yes! there she is, sleeping upon a shelf. Before the sun drops too low, we grab some drinks outside. An old woman and a younger man are chatting nearby -- she doing most of the talking, as she not-so-surreptitiously smokes a cigarette, while describing various aspects of her past life across the world. Who could she be?
An Aunt thinks Jess, but why the long biography?
Old French Whore says I, as Jess furrows her brow at my judgment. Am I not made in the image of my creator? Eventually, the waiter asks her to snuff out her cigarette -- "I know, I was seeing how much of it I could get before you said so."
And then, we head back for a quick nap, before the main event:
Dinner at Orlando's.

Yes, we love Orlando's, on the edge of town, we love it so much that last time a drunken driver (in New Mexico, no less!) drove straight at us in our lane, and still did not deter us. It's small and packed, yes, but we don't mind waiting outside by the fire with drinks: Santa Fe Nut Brown for him, and a "Mike-a-rita" for her -- they don't do tequila (in New Mexico, no less!), but they mix up a Mike's instead.
We had a brief conversation with a former Front-Ranger who raved about the technical mt. biking in the area, and then settled in with a couple from South Africa who were touring North America.
Starting from the Arctic Circle.
They had swung down from Alaska to New Mexico, where they enjoyed Taos, and were headed east to Houston (sorry!), where they were to take a brief flight to Costa Rica (Pura Vida!) before resuming a swath across the American south. With limited experience, we told him about our voyage along the World's Longest Yard Sale; his eyes lit up, as he was looking for the authentic, deep south, little diners and all. While we can't speak for Mississippi, we put in a good word for Alabama and Tennessee backroads. "Don't waste too much time in Atlanta," I suggested, "but spend some time in Charleston for sure."
As we talked, our seething envy must have been obvious, as he politely suggested that we lobby Obama for more vacation time for citizens.
Amen. At least some people are able to see and enjoy all of this great land, even if the folks that live here can't, won't, or simply don't.

Our number was up, dinner at last, where I will skip the intimate details, except to say that not a single shrimp, pizole, or pinto bean survived on either of our plates.

We retired in comfort to the B&B, where I enjoyed keeping a wood fire burning all night in the kiva.
Breakfast in the morning was a surprisingly simple affair of boiled eggs, yogurt, toast, etc. Filling, and it does make the B&B cheaper, I suppose, but doesn't fare well for ranking of the second B in B&B.

Onward and upward, for a hike to William's Lake!
William's Lake is a popular hike at the top of the Taos Ski Road. We've enjoyed it up there in the winter, so decided to check it out in the Fall.
Some of the aspen in the area were still clinging to golden leaves, and a few skinny-tire enthusiasts were out enjoying it. Soon, we were up on dirt roads past the Ski Area, to the trailhead.

The hike is an easy and popular couple miles through the forest, up to a cirque, with the lake resting in the shadow of Wheeler Peak, the highest point in New Mexico. We hadn't ruled out tagging Wheeler as well, but decided to play it by ear. We saw a manageable handful of folks enjoying the day, but were slowed by some ice and snow on the trail, a little more than expected. We carefully picked our way up, where the view and the wind opened up abruptly.



We poked around the northeast end of the lake, finding a trail that went straight up into the trees on Wheeler. The trail was a bit sketchy but still manageable. Clearly, past treeline, it looked quite snowless and easy, but that's where the wind would be even fiercer, as shown by swiftly moving clouds swirling over the cirque, so we decided to turn around, leaving it at a mellow lake hike. We carefully returned down the snowy trail, hoping to return some other time perhaps for a shot at the peak. At this point, however, the cotton and dogged masses were awake and coming up toward the lake, so I shudder to think about the summer crowds. Nonetheless, this undoubtedly saved us hours of time and probably marital happiness. With some extra time, why not...
Stop at the Bavarian Lodge at the base for lunch?

We had been there before during a ski day and enjoyed soup by the fireplace inside. Today, we opted for the sunny Sunday sundeck, and two surprisingly delicious, sausage-like veggie burgers.


Full on a German double bock, we doubled back down the mountain, where I made it about 4 miles down, before a nap hit me head on.
I looked at Jess, seeing if she minded pulling over or driving. Was she snoring?
25 minutes of napping in the car, my vigor was renewed...enough to make it a few more miles down to Arroyo Seco, a cute little pueblo with a few artsy shops and Taos Cow.



Mmm, ice cream and sunshine, and I seem to recall the coffee being good.
Turns out, I drained the pot with my trusty Thermos, and they gave it to me free. Sweet. Out of guilt, I had to buy (and devour) a small cone of Cherry Ristra. I wasn't even sure what was in Cherry Ristra -- would it be spicy? -- but they had me at the name, and it turns out it had chocolate in it, too.
Everything's coming up Milhouse!

Now, satiated for a few more minutes (I only had a dollar left in my pocket, anyway), why not tack on a side trip to the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, only 7 miles from the intersection at the ski road?
We'd been to Taos a fwe times, but never made the effort. This time we did, parking on the edge, walking across, and taking pictures:


Turns out, it's just about as overrated as we thought it was. Meh. A native was soliciting money as his car broke down and was getting towed, so I gave him my last buck. We doubled back and headed north, treated to a face full of fourteeners as we hit Fort Garland, and then headed home.