LAS CRUCES - After growing up in a family that would jump at
every possible chance to pitch a tent and make the wilderness their home, I had
more than ample opportunities to decide if I like camping.
I don’t, thank you very much, and ever since I’ve had the
means to select the lodgings of my choice, my idea of camping is staying any place
that rates less than three stars.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love communing with
nature, particularly on my own, sunny, day-tripper terms.
I was reminded of that on my recent vacation.
Soul mate Dr. Roger, knowing that I’d expressed a certain
weariness of vacationing in Northern New Mexico, particularly Santa Fe,
attempted to lure me northward with the promise that we’d get away from it all,
avoiding the Sturm und Drang of the City Different during its first big
Memorial Day tourist season opener.
When he led me from our favorite rendezvous on Canyon Road
to winding routes near Bishop’s Lodge and the Santa Fe Ski Basin, through the
picturesque village of Tesuque and ever onward into the mountain wilderness, I
wondered if he’d also forgotten about my aversion to camping.
But no. Before long, we’d entered a gated community and
turned into the long driveway of an isolated, art-filled home that seemed miles
away from the nearest residence, or any humans, for that matter. Inside and
out, there were lovely surprises, including rustic verandas, a secluded heated
swimming pool down the hill and some exotic stacked rock sculptures scattered
around the environs.
It reminded me of my long-ago home on a hilltop in Picacho
Hills, which always put me in mind of flying in a little Cessna aircraft: that
feeling of motionless silence, suspended in time and space, alone but never
lonely.
Thus fortified, I didn’t really mind when we couldn’t suppress
our Type A compulsions to explore the territory. We hit old and new attractions
from Los Alamos to Santa Fe: museums, art galleries, the downtown Santa Fe Plaza,
the Railroad District, hot restaurants and even the nutty darling of
international on-trend arts aficionados, Meow Wolf, a spectacular collection of
art installations in a converted Cerrillos Road bowling alley. But through it
all, we both found ourselves longing to get back to our mountaintop aerie.
I emerged from my favorite Santa Fe art galleries, looked
up, and realized I appreciated the neon lapis sky more than anything I’d seen
inside. Eons of history, eclectic cultural achievements and folk art seemed to
pale in compare to the wildflowers and mosaics of greenery in the vistas
surrounding museum hill.
Neither one of us could figure out how to turn on the TV,
though we devoted at least 15 seconds to the task. We never tried again. We
ignored the news aps on our iPhones and averted our eyes when we passed
newsstands on our infrequent trips into town. We didn’t know about violence at
a Trump appearance an hour’s drive away until we were told by friends, both erstwhile
Las Crucens, who drove up from Albuquerque for lunch. Roger, who so recently
had devoted many hours to do his civic duty in Iowa caucus sessions, changed
the subject.
Even the tequila siren songs of the 2016 Margarita Trail and
restaurants we’ve loved for years could not distract us for long. We stocked up
on fresh and colorful provisions at the Santa Fe Farmers’ Market and Trader
Joe’s and hurried back to compose big dinner salads and what became our
favorite entertainment: listening to chirping birds, and watching clouds, and
ravens and eagles and sunsets.
We watched some spectacular sunrises, too, and hiked, read
and enjoyed siestas. Each day, we settled in for some serious power lounging
and leisurely conversations. We relaxed and spent a lot of quality time
remembering what we love about New Mexico, Mother Nature, the world and one
another.
It was a very nice vacation.
S. Derrickson Moore may be
reached at 575-541-5450, dmoore@lcsun-news.com or @derricksonmoore on Twitter.
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