Down The Santa Fe Trail

My first trip to Red River was in 1978. I had never been to New Mexico and Santa Fe and Taos were real eye-openers for a son of the prairie, born and raised.

My lady had been to Northern New Mexico before as part of a climbing group that scaled the formidable Palisades in Cimarron Canyon. She survived in style, vowing to never, ever do that again. So much for the rugged outdoor life.

Our trip in ‘78 came about because she was beginning a career as a stained glass artist and was interested in seeing what the art markets of Santa Fe and Taos had to offer. As an entertainer, I was looking for a place to make a living, too.

The City Different was fascinating. It still is today, despite the crazy growth that has turned the place into a madhouse of speedy lunatics on Cerrillos Road. It was kinda cool to see Amy Irving and Robert Redford across the dining room, too.

Taos. Well, it’s always Taos. Then as now, the works of the finest artists in the world are displayed in the windows of some of the most interesting galleries in the world. Plus, the architecture of the place is unlike the rest of the USA. I still get a kick out of the plaza, even though it has ceased to be the center of social life as it was once. No, that honor now goes to the aisles of the Wal-mart store, where locals gather to socialize and talk about the things going on around them in a world changing too fast.

And the Pueblo...a magic place, a powerful place, filled with the energy of the wondrous people who have occupied the spot for nearly two thousand years. It was and is a strong presence of the human spirit. There are other spirits there, too.

It was Red River, however, that was the star of that 1978 trip down the Santa Fe Trail. The tiny mountain town nestled in a narrow valley and covered in snow, snow and more snow was an unexpected treat. Picture postcard come to life.

In fact, popping over the hill, rounding the big right-hand corner and seeing the town stretched out below was one of the most memorable things in my life.

It was a reality so far removed from my day-to-day life on the prairie that it appeared as a dream, not real but better than real.

The street lights at dusk cast dramatic, high altitude shadows on the road through town. The lights on the storefronts and glowing through the windows of the shops, stores and restaurants filled with people promised great magic.

The people... the people were alive, especially the locals who seemed to be living bigger than life.
Funny how some things change, while others remain the same.

Fritz Davis, Editor