All right, a short geographical/topographical photo lesson. You’ll like this.
Below is what we call “la Bajada.” This is generally considered to be the geographical southern border of el Norte, or northern New Mexico. As you can see, you’re looking at the edge of a significant plateau, as seen from several miles away. Santa Fe is up and over the top, then north for maybe 20 minutes. Those snow-capped mountains you see in the far distance are the ones the city nestles up against. If you happen to get to Taos, you’ll find similar mountains even closer to the town.
At any rate, the point here is that el Norte is quite separate and distinct: you jump up almost 1,000 feet higher in altitude, the animals, plants, and weather are different, and so is the culture. There’s more in common with southern Colorado than lower, warmer areas of New Mexico, in fact.
You always see it coming
Today the highway (I-25) goes smoothly up the long, curving grade, although it’s still a struggle for an underpowered vehicle. In the old days before they blasted out a straighter route, the road used to crawl up hazardous switchbacks — you can catch a gander at them here — and the New Mexico Highway Dept. once posted signs there that read, “This Road Is Not Fool Proof, But Safe For A Sane Driver.” I trust that gets your attention.
Below is a blow-up from the previous image. If you look carefully, you can see the ribbon of asphalt curving east and upwards under a whitish highway overpass. If I get my ’87 Ford pickup up to over 75 mph (the speed limit, BTW), about 2800 rpm on the big straight six, I can go all the way up without slowing down. Our ’89 Dodge Spirit begs to be pulled over to the side and shot, no fun.
Check out that link above, too. You’ll be amazed.
Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel
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{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
Hey John-
Have you spent any time in Flagstaff, AZ? If so, how would you compare Flagstaff to Taos in terms of terrain, elevation, flora/fauna, etc.? I’ve never been to Flagstaff, but am planning a recon trip there in May… My perception suggests it’s very very similar to Taos. Ty
I’ve only driven through Flagstaff, and it’s probably a fine place, but the topography isn’t at all like Taos, and I imagine all the rest is different, too. Flagstaff is also obviously much closer to being a “normal” American city, whereas Taos is as far away from the United States as I could get and still be in America. That’s no joke.
People move to Taos to blow up their lives and have everything be forevermore different. If they come here expecting to “retire” or continue with their old lifestyle in any way, they’re constantly struggling uphill, and most of them sell out and leave soon. This is no place for anyone who’s happy with brand names and suburbia. This place kills people, literally, or wakes them up. There’s no compromise or in-between. The Chamber of Commerce are all idiots and keep promoting the town, but they’re really just throwing up false expectations for profit. Taos is ruled by Nature, not the other way around. Flagstaff has an Interstate highway through it. See?
Topographically, Taos is utterly unique, due to the rift valley of the Rio Grande. The earth is pulling itself apart here, with hot springs, old volcanoes, and inifinite weirdness. Much more desert here than around Flagstaff, too, from what I can remember.
Expansive scenes call out for spiritual interpretation, compadre, and I like the ones you give us. I’m not like that, however. Having grown up entirely in West Texas, which also has quite a bit of emptiness, I longed for big cities, with their cramped spaces and smoky rooms (well, smoky in the 60′s anyhow), their hustle and harshness and anonymity, the sheer magnitudes of the unknown people in them. That was where the romance lay for me. I threw away my dog-eared copy of “Walden” after my second year in Chicago. Except for one brief period of living in a small town in north Ontario, I’ve lived either in very large cities (Chicago, Memphis, New York) or a moderately-sized one (Ottawa). Small towns give me the willies. I feel free and excited and alive only when people are clashing, jawing, living and dying all around me. I reckon that’s an old American tradition – the hayseed from the boonies drawn to the bright lights of the big city. So be it. There’s room in my psyche to at least imagine a life in empty beautiful spaces, yet I shudder just a bit at the thought.