Dipping into the Southwest for golden gorges, hot springs, and a little snow
People told me Taos was magical. Ghostly. Filled with an indefinable energy that increased as you got closer and closer to the mountains bordering Arroyo Seco.
I felt it. Maybe it was the elevation, a drastic 7000 feet up from my home in Seattle. Maybe it was the feeling of being landlocked after having lived next to the sea for the last six years. Either way, it was a stark departure from the increasing gloom of the Pacific Northwest in November.
We stepped off the plane in Albuquerque and hopped in Zoe's Honda Pilot to make the two and a half hour drive to Taos, at the foothills of the New Mexican Rockies.
Madeleine and I wandered out across the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, suspended 650 feet over the water below, Zoe waiting at the edge for us to return. We watched the sun set from her quiet home at the edge of town, the sky finally clearing after a day of rain. We drove even higher up to the forest of the Taos Ski Valley at 10,000 feet, my head spinning from the elevation as we stepped out of the car into a hailstorm. And we spent our Monday morning dipping into a secluded hot springs along the Rio Grande.
Here are the images from this weekend escape.
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