by Karon -

The Magic of Wandering: From Pueblo Lands to Mountain Forests

Some days are made for wandering. I left the house early with a full tank of gas, a list of places I wanted to see in the Jemez Mountains, and no idea what surprises the day would hold.

My first stop was the Jemez Pueblo Visitor Center. This was my first visit onto a reservation, and I wasn’t prepared for how beautiful the land would be. The red cliffs seemed to rise out of nowhere, and the landscape felt both peaceful and ancient. Before continuing on, I wandered through the visitor center, explored the small museum, admired a colorful courtyard mural, and found a few souvenirs for my grandsons.

Next on my list was Gilman Tunnels. Another beautiful surprise! I really had no idea of what to expect. A woman I met in a shop in Santa Fe suggested I stop there if I was in the area. The tunnels were about five miles off of a main road that meandered along a small river and into the foothills of the mountains. The road narrowed into a one-lane road carrying two-way traffic. Thankfully, I never met another vehicle. As I rounded the final curve, the first of two tunnels appeared, seemingly carved straight through solid rock. It was hard to imagine trains once passing through these narrow openings. The tunnels were blasted through Precambrian granite in the 1920s so logging trains could reach Guadalupe Box Canyon. After I had gone through the second tunnel, there was enough room to pull over, get out, and look down into the canyon with a small waterfall and river running through. I was a little nervous about where this road went and if I would find another place with enough space to turn around, so I went ahead and turned around. As I headed back toward the highway, I couldn’t help but think… It’s pretty amazing what you might find just a few miles off the main road.

Eventually I rolled into Jemez Springs, a tiny mountain town dotted with art galleries, hot springs, and old southwestern charm. It felt like the kind of place where people linger instead of hurry. I wandered through a couple of art galleries before stopping at the local saloon for lunch. I ordered New Mexican tacos, curious how they would compare to the Tex-Mex version I’d always known. The meat wasn’t seasoned the way I expected, and instead of being smothered in cheese, they were served with chile sauce on the side. They even came with black olives—a combination I’d never had before but ended up loving.

The next part of my trip was completely magical. As the road climbed higher into the mountains, the scenery began to change. The red rock gradually gave way to towering pines, shimmering aspens, and evergreen trees that looked as if they belonged on a Christmas card. Until that day, I hadn’t realized this side of New Mexico even existed. Now this Texas girl was in her happy place. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d missed the smell of pine after spending more than a month in the high desert. I pulled into a small parking area where a Boy Scout troop was gathered in a circle nearby. I tried not to disturb them as I walked a little way down a trail, found a fallen log to sit on, and just breathed in the cool mountain air and the forest smells. The towering pines reminded me of the forests back home. I kicked off my shoes and put my feet in the grass for a bit before I got back on the road.

For a few quiet minutes, I forgot all about my itinerary. I just sat there with my feet in the grass, breathing in the mountain air, grateful to have stumbled onto a little piece of home in the middle of New Mexico.

by Karon -

Churches, Art, and a Musical Road: A Day on the Turquoise Trail

Before my day on the Turquoise Trail even began, I stumbled across one of the most unexpected things I’ve ever found on Route 66—a musical road! For about a quarter of a mile, special rumble strips play America the Beautiful as you drive over them at the speed limit. The first time, I was almost through it before I realized what I was hearing. Since the original signs marking the spot have been removed, I turned around and drove it again. Then I drove it a third time with the windows down, the A/C off, and my tires right on the rumble strips. Perfetto! The first time I ever experienced a musical road was during my years in Japan, so I was delighted to stumble upon one in Albuquerque.

You pick up the Turquoise Trail in Tijeras on the east side of Albuquerque. It’s a scenic byway (NM- 14) that runs from Albuquerque to Santa Fe through the Sandia Mountains. Native Americans mined turquoise here as far back as A.D. 900. Later, settlers also mined the area, giving the trail the name it still carries today.

I had barely started my drive when I saw the top of an old church with a small white cross against the blue sky. I just had to stop and take a look. Three people sat at a picnic table in front of the church having a snack. It turned out that they had spent the morning working on upkeep on the cemetery. I’m sure it was already close to 90 degrees, but they didn’t seem to mind the heat. They told me a little about the church, about the best place to eat along the Turquoise Trail, and about some other old churches along the way.

The San Antonio Mission Church, also known as Nuestro Señor de Mapimí Church, was built in 1886. It’s a small adobe church with a single white cross and has changed very little over the years. It wasn’t open, so I could only look at the outside and the grounds, but I was so glad that I stopped. It was just a quick look and a brief conversation with three strangers, but their warmth stayed with me as I continued on my way.

I drove on, following their directions to the next church about ten miles up the road. For this church, I had to wind up a little gravel road to the top of a hill. I would have driven right past it if not for their directions.. San Francisco de Asis Catholic Church was built in the 1830s to serve the miners and families of the first gold rush west of the Mississippi. To reach the church, I walked through a gate and along a path that meandered through a cemetery dotted with weathered wooden crosses. It felt wonderfully secluded. After the gold rush ended, the town gradually became a ghost town, and the church was abandoned before being rebuilt in 1960.

The next town on the trail was Madrid (pronounced Maa-drid), where the movie Wild Hogs was filmed. Until I talked with the church volunteers, I had no idea this was the town from the movie.

Madrid was such an artsy and quirky town. I had lunch at the Mine Shaft Tavern and wandered through several art galleries meeting and visiting with the artists in many of them. I was in a little bit of “hog” heaven.

One gallery featured the work of seven artists who are all friends, the youngest of whom is seventy-five. I think if I lived in this area, I would want to hang out with them. I left feeling so energized and inspired.

After I left Madrid, I lost my GPS connection and had to make the rest of the trip on my own. Lucky for me, it’s just a straight shot through to Santa Fe, but it was an unusual feeling to be completely on my own. I was reminded of traveling in my twenties with just an atlas and a general idea of where I was going. It felt kind of freeing to trust my instincts while following the directions of the people at the church to the next church in Cerrillos.

St. Joseph’s Catholic Church was established in 1884, but the current church was built in 1922. This time, the church was open. The historic artwork and stained glass were just beautiful. Most of the sculptures inside had a very Spanish and rustic feel. Outside there was an enclosed garden with a Pieta and other sculptures. The church is still active today.

The town of Cerrillos is a fun stop because it has an old west feel with dusty, dirt roads and an old, weathered hotel. During its heyday, it had 21 saloons and 4 hotels and was once considered a possible capital of New Mexico.

I drove on to Santa Fe and was pretty exhausted from all of the sightseeing in the heat. Even though I brought plenty of water, I felt dehydrated, so I headed home. All in all, a great day! There were still places I missed, but maybe that’s the beauty of a road like this. It gives me a reason to return.

by Karon -

Not Every Place Is Meant to Steal Your Heart

Every morning, right at sunrise, I step out into a backyard that doesn’t look anything like the ones I was used to in Texas.

No grass. Just gravel, a stucco wall, cacti, flowering plants, a couple of trees, and a turquoise lounge chair waiting for the first rays of the morning sun.

Somewhere along the way, it has become my favorite place in Albuquerque.

Which is funny, because Albuquerque itself hasn’t quite stolen my heart.

And that’s been surprisingly hard to admit. Usually, by now, I’ve found a favorite coffee shop, a neighborhood I love wandering, or a place that keeps calling me back for one more visit.

I’ve always been drawn to places with little downtowns to explore, coffee shops where conversations happen naturally, colorful art districts, scenic drives, and streets that make me want to keep wandering long after I planned to head home.

Albuquerque hasn’t been that place for me. Between the summer heat and the slower pace, I’ve found myself spending much more time at home than I expected—and, at first, more than I wanted.

But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. After months of constantly exploring, driving, and moving from one place to the next, perhaps I needed a little downtime more than I realized.

The mornings, though, have quietly become my favorite part of the day.

For the past two and a half weeks, I’ve been outside by six o’clock, stretching in the first light of the day and savoring temperatures in the sixties, knowing that within a couple of hours they’ll climb into the nineties.

I sit on the turquoise lounger and soak in the sunshine while it is still low in the sky. I watch the hot air balloons float over the neighborhood and wonder if I would be brave enough to challenge my fear of heights in one. Then I water the mismatched collection of flowering pots and the raised bed filled with basil and rosemary, breathing in their fragrance as I look through the gate toward the green grass of the park beyond.

Soon I’m out for my walk.

Some mornings I’d rather linger in the backyard, but I know if I wait, the cool air will disappear. Every morning I notice something I somehow missed the day before—a sunflower that opened overnight, the way the light catches the tops of the cacti, a gate with a metal roadrunner, or a tiny bloom tucked into a corner of the garden.

I love that this rhythm has become second nature. Just something I do every day. I’m not walking as far as I did in Colorado, but between my walks and time at the gym, I’m moving every day and feeling stronger.

And this routine is such a peaceful way to start the day.

I may never fall in love with Albuquerque the way I have with some of the other places I’ve visited this year.

But I think I’ll always remember this backyard at sunrise.

by Karon -

Choosing Movement: My June Project

It’s a little hard to believe that I am already halfway through a year of monthly projects. They haven’t always been easy, and some months have evolved more than they were planned, but one thing is certain—I have learned something from each one. Sometimes I’ve learned something about myself, sometimes about people, and sometimes about life in general. Looking back over June, I realized this month’s project wasn’t one I intentionally chose at the beginning of the month. It quietly chose me.

At this phase in my life, I am choosing movement. Not just moving my body, but also embracing movement in my lifestyle. Choosing to sell nearly everything I owned and become a nomad after retiring was a deliberate decision, one I try to approach with openness and positivity. There have certainly been challenges, although in the big picture they have been very small. This lifestyle has naturally shaped the way I move through my days.

June is also my birthday month, so the calendar says I’m another year older. When I was younger, I never imagined that at 67 I’d be living out of a suitcase, waking up in a different state every few weeks, and looking for the best walking trail instead of settling into a familiar routine. Life rarely follows the path we imagine, and I’m learning that isn’t always a bad thing. At some point I expect I’ll put down roots again, but for now, movement works for me.

Physical movement has become part of who I am. I can honestly say that I am someone who walks almost every day and exercises regularly. It’s not perfect – I still miss a day now and then, and I still have fitness goals – but I’m different than I was two months ago. I’m very different than I was a year ago. One of the biggest surprises has been that exercise no longer feels like something I have to make myself do. It has become part of my daily rhythm. My life has changed, and so have I. I’m still growing, and I’m still moving forward.

At the beginning of June, I had already been in Colorado for about two and a half weeks, and what better place to be active? There are so many hiking trails, beautiful parks, and pleasant temperatures. I already had a daily walking routine when I arrived in Colorado Springs, where I was greeted with sunny mornings in the 50s and afternoons in the 70s. That is pretty much my definition of an ideal climate, and there is just something about the Colorado air that makes me want to be outside.

Most mornings began with a walk. Then I would spend part of the day exploring nearby towns or parks, usually adding even more steps. Later I would head to the gym for a brief workout before enjoying the amazing recovery lounge, and I often finished the day with one more short walk. I had set a goal of 7,000 to 10,000 steps each day, and many days I exceeded it. Without really thinking about it, movement became woven into the rhythm of my days.

When I arrived in Albuquerque, I realized the habit had already taken hold. Before I had unpacked much of anything, I was out walking the neighborhood before the desert heat settled in. My second day here, I joined a fitness class at the YMCA. I wasn’t starting over—I was simply continuing the rhythm I had already created.

This month reminded me that movement shows up in different ways. I move from place to place, I move my body almost every day, and I keep moving forward into whatever comes next. It isn’t something I’ve had to force. It has become as natural as heading out for a morning walk.

This month reminded me that movement isn’t just about counting steps or closing the rings on my Apple Watch. It’s about continuing to grow, staying curious, and refusing to become stagnant. I’m choosing to keep moving—to new places, toward better health, and into whatever comes next. Along the way, I’m redefining what retirement looks like for me and reinventing myself one step at a time.

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