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View from the High Road near Chimayó
I’m far from the first person to wax lyrical about New Mexico, and, so long as the chiles ripen and the highways go on endlessly, I’m sure I won’t be the last. People have been discovering the magic of this spectacular corner of the planet for eons, but the magic never ceases to amaze.
For me, New Mexico is travel. My first real experience with travel, when I was five-and-a-half, was a two-week journey around New Mexico. Some of my strongest, earliest memories are of that trip: absorbing the vastness of a mostly treeless land, staring at clouds, road-tripping, scrambling up mesas to 1000-year-old Pueblo cities, descending into valleys filled with centuries-old Spanish towns, watching faith-filled pilgrims collect sand at a two century-old sanctuary, waking up to breakfasts of blue corn enchiladas doused in red chile.
Me at Taos Pueblo, age 5 (Photo:
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