Cliff dwellings at Bandelier National Monument.
by Karon -

The Quiet Magic of Bandelier National Monument

After winding through the Jemez Mountains, I arrived at my last stop for the day – Bandelier National Monument. I pulled over at the overlook and peered into the vast canyon. Even with a sturdy railing, my heart skipped a beat as I looked toward the canyon floor. I couldn’t help wondering what the drive down would be like. A few minutes later, I had my answer. There is a rather steep grade of about 8 percent with sharp switchbacks and steep drop-offs along the canyon walls. Honestly, though, it wasn’t bad at all.

Excited to see the cliff dwellings, I started my hike at the visitor center and then meandered along a flat shady path that ran parallel to a creek. Trees shaded the creek on one side of the trail while towering cliff walls rose on the other. Trees shaded the creek on one side of the trail while towering cliff walls rose on the other. Before long, the trail emerged into full sun, where it led to a kiva and the remains of several adobe structures. Looking down into the circular kiva, I thought of the people who had gathered there in the spiritual heart of the community, and I thought back to the first time I saw pueblo ruins and kivas decades ago at Mesa Verde in Colorado.

As I looked up, I got my first glimpse of the dwellings on the side of the cliff. I knew that there were going to be stairs, but this looked further up than I had anticipated. As I walked on, the path began to have an incline. I found a shaded bench beneath a few trees and stopped for my first break. The colors of the cliff walls were breathtaking ranging from light tan to warm yellows with streaks and layers of red and orange.

Most of the dwellings were in caves with ladders at the entrance, but there was also what looked like a rectangular house made with adobe and wooden beams. I thought about how difficult it would have been to carry those beams up without the modern convenience of the well-designed steps that had led me there.

I made my way up one of the ladders and stepped inside the small cave dwelling. The room was surprisingly cool, even in the afternoon sun. Being in a place where families once cooked, slept, and raised children made the history feel far more personal than simply reading about it on a sign.

It was hard to imagine families living high above the canyon, yet the alcoves felt surprisingly sheltered and connected to the landscape.

After I reached the highest level of the stairs, I turned and looked at the ruins below. They looked much larger and more intricate than when you are standing right beside them. From above, the valley stretched out below me, with the creek winding through the trees beneath towering cliff walls. Everything felt quiet, peaceful, and expansive. I felt proud of myself for making the climb (200 steps in all) and paused to take it all in. There were other trails, but I felt content with my adventure for the day. A year ago, my life felt much smaller. That afternoon, standing above the canyon, I realized how much confidence these solo adventures have quietly given me.

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.