The Secret Sandstone Caves of New Mexico

In fall 2011, my partner Kevin was working on a film called Blaze You Out.  One of the scenes took place in a carved sandstone cave located near Espanola, New Mexico, that is known as The Tree Cave.  Kevin took a bunch of photos of this amazing cave – one of which we blew up on canvas and have hanging in our dining room – and he also got the opportunity to talk briefly with Robert “Ra” Paulette, the artist who’d singlehandedly sculpted the cave out of soft, naturally occurring sandstone.  Ra shared how this was one of several caves he’d created in Northern New Mexico as a labor of love and a gift to his fellow New Mexicans.  He sees them as wilderness sanctuaries that can help modern humans connect with their innate emotions.

It’s a little hard to understand how a cave could do that unless you see one of Ra’s creations for yourself, which is exactly what I did last weekend.  After much build-up, we finally took a day trip to see The Tree Cave along with two friends.  One was a friend who’d inquired about the photo in our dining room and expressed a keen desire to visit the cave.  Another was a friend who grew up in Taos and was the only person thus far who had recognized the photo in our home and was familiar with The Tree Cave.  So the four of us headed out on our mission to experience or revisit this awe-inspiring work of art that’s unmarked, hidden and known only to those who, well, know. 

Hiking up to the cave from the road, you are surrounded on all sides by regal sandstone formations, all jagged and crumbling.  It becomes quite clear how Ra picked this spot, as the creamy-colored sandstone is incredibly soft and malleable.  (That’s what allowed him to dig out the cave, which he does all by himself until he gets tired.  Then, as he told Kevin, he gets some folks to help him cart away the excess sand.)  The first sign of something unusual is a cluster of skylights in the hillside far above, which illuminate the cave with light and shadows.  Then you see the long, narrow entrance, and after passing through, find yourself in a massive chamber with a huge “tree trunk” column in the center.  The ceiling is so high (20+ feet?) that you have the feeling – and acoustics – of a cathedral. 

But it’s really what’s on those ceilings and walls that I find hardest to describe (and thus I refer you to the photos).   Creeping tree branches are carved in fluid patterns and interlaced with hearts and flowers, the two secondary motifs of the cave.  There are also a number of carved benches and seating alcoves, allowing you to sit down or step into a more intimate space for reflection.  Wall niches occur throughout and have been decorated with candles and offerings from visitors, including rocks, flower petals, movie tickets and rosaries.  One has also been claimed by a resident bird for her nest. 

Sitting in one of the recessed benches, I noticed that my voice was magnified within the niche, despite talking in a whisper.  This is one of the many atmospheric elements of the cave, like its cool air and the way the skylights highlight various carvings as the sun moves.  Looking around, I felt the tree branches started to look more and more like the ribbing on the interior of a human’s intestines.  Perhaps this was because I felt enveloped in this magical experience.  Looking at the myriad hearts carved into the gritty walls, it felt like I was inside “the lower intestine of love.”  Unlike other art that you look at and witness, this is art you can walk around in, touch, live and breathe. Upon stepping back outside of it, you can't help but be transformed.  You walk out into the hot, bright day marveling at mankind’s potential to be truly loving and giving.

Now, I’m sure that makes me sound like a real new age New Mexican, but it’s proof that Ra’s goal of creating surprising emotions and thoughts with his caves is not that far-fetched.  The Tree Cave is a very, very special place, and I am humbled that I was able to experience it.  I’ve since learned more about Ra Paulette in an oral history I found online.  Surprisingly, however, this was one of only 10 results in my Google search for information about him.  (The only major media coverage I found was an LATimes article from the 90s.)  He is a professed hermit, and it seems he likes it that way. 

Initially, before I visited, I wondered why Ra didn’t lead tours or charge admission to the caves he’d spent years creating (for example, two to three years per cave), but now I understand how antithetical that idea is to his artistic philosophy.  He no more owns the caves than the private or public land they were built on.  They belong to New Mexico, and I only hope that future owners of the land will continue to honor that.  

Following the Old Santa Fe Trail to Colorado

From Santa Fe, it’s an easy six-hour drive to Denver on I-25N. Back in the 1800s, however, this route – which parallels the historic Santa Fe Trail most of the way – was pretty grueling, thanks in part to the treacherous mountain crossing at the Colorado border. Today the most dangerous aspects may be avoiding hitting an elk or veering into another lane while admiring in the vast scenery.

Following this storied trail – which turned Santa Fe from an isolated outpost into a commercial center – gives you a lot of time to contemplate, given the countless acres of wide open grazing land you’ll pass, as well as several glimpses into history. A stop in Las Vegas (yes, that would be Las Vegas, New Mexico….not Las Vegas, Nevada), an hour north of Santa Fe, is one of the largest eyefuls. With its leafy colonial plaza and creaky storefronts, the entire downtown is like a living Western movie set. (Over 900 structures are on the National Register of Historic Places.) No wonder numerous films, including No Country for Old Men, have been shot here.

Founded in 1835 with a land grant from the Spanish government, Las Vegas was the last Spanish settlement established in the US – and soon became the prosperous epicenter of the Southwest, thanks to its location along the Santa Fe Trail, and later, the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway. It had four opera houses and electric railcars. But it also had an infamous underbelly. Doc Holliday practiced dentistry and owned a saloon here – until he had to leave town after shooting a local. Wyatt Earp, Billy the Kid, Jesse James and every other outlaw passed through too, giving Las Vegas a reputation of harboring murderers, con men and bandits.

Storefronts like Tome on the Range and “OK Café” on Old Town's Bridge Street remind you of this colorful history. And of course, there’s the Plaza Hotel (built 1882), which is the epitome of the grand frontier hotels and the place where Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders held their first reunion in 1899. Still operating today, it is home to the Landmark Grill as well as Byron T’s Saloon. Many of the nearby buildings still need restoration, though, and hopefully someday someone will pump a few million into bringing them back to life.

Two hours north, Trinidad, Colorado, offers another turn-of-the-century flashback. Now known as the sex-change capital of the US (the phrase “taking a trip to Trinidad” has become code for such a procedure), this mining town was the place that weary wagon-bound travelers would pull into for supplies after making it through the Raton Pass at the Colorado border. It’s another Santa Fe Trail boomtown gone bust – and yet with hints of a comeback.

A prime example is Danielson Dry Goods, a sophisticated café-meets-gift store housed in the restored Five ‘N Dime store on Main Street. The owners wanted to help transform the depressed downtown area – and clearly, they’re leading the way. On the left side of the building, you can order the signature Corazon Chicken Salad and a sparkling soda and sit in a booth lit by a chandelier. On the right side, you can browse picture frames and greeting cards decorated with quotes (manufactured by the owners’ design company, now the largest employer in southern Colorado) as well as soaps, perfumes and more.

After stopping for breakfast or lunch here, you too may get inspired by seeing how the past can be preserved for the future. These two Old Santa Fe Trail towns are not yet widely recognized tourist destinations, but they have all the history required – and just need a little more revitalization. I know it’s possible after seeing my own hometown’s shuttered downtown turned around in two decades.

Kidding Around in the East Mountains

Last month I got to experience “kidding season” for the first time here in New Mexico. This was not a month-long April Fool’s Joke, as it turns out, but the time of year when baby goats or “kids” are born and bottle-fed on goat dairy farms.

For reasons I have yet to uncover, the East Mountains area of Albuquerque is rife with goat dairy farms. This has turned out to be a serious perk of living here given that my partner Kevin is lactose intolerant and may well be the top consumer of all goat dairy products, including goat cheese, goat milk, goat yogurt and goat butter. We used to only be able to get these products at Whole Foods. Now we can now get them right down the road. Who said country living wasn’t convenient?

Our first tip-off was finding a surprising number of local goat cheese brands at Whole Foods and the wonderful Montanita Food Co-Op. After trying Old Windmill Dairy’s amazing Holy Chipotle Chevre, I went to their website (beyond my taste buds, they’d captured my interest with their cute tagline: “The Little Dairy on the Prairie”) and discovered they offered cheese making classes. I had barely uttered the words before Kevin agreed that we should sign up.

The following Sunday we drove down many, many dirt roads until we found our way to the Old Windmill Dairy a bit late. Fortunately, we were still in time to sample all of their chevre flavors – my second favorite soon became The Great Caper – and learn how to make goat mozzarella cheese. Bottom line: it’s not easy! They were still working out their exact recipe in fact before going into production.

Beyond yummy snacks, I also got a real appreciation for all the science involved – not to mention the pitfalls. Exact temperatures. Sterilized equipment. Very clean goat utters. There are a lot of things necessary to make safe, bacteria-free cheeses that taste great – and not “goaty.” One of them is making sure the male goats stay very far away from the females. Why, you ask? Because as Ed, one of the owners, explained, they stink (it’s their natural musk for mating) and like to pee on females.

After the class, we got to go see the baby goats, some only a few days old. My favorite moment was watching this bleating herd of kids chase the farm hand – their long ears flapping comically. (See the picture below.) But this was soon eclipsed by getting to bottle feed a baby goat ourselves two weeks later. Ed informed us that we actually lived on the same road in Edgewood as another goat dairy farm – South Mountain Dairy. We couldn’t believe our luck! And, as it turned out, they hold bottle-feeding open houses every Sunday in April.

So of course, we had to go to that too. Fortunately, the timing was perfect as we had friends visiting that weekend with their toddler, who loved playing with all the goats. We bottle-fed a fidgety kid, we walked around the high-tech goat housing (the owners of South Mountain Dairy both retired from Sandia Laboratories) and we eagerly bought all the products they had on hand, including drinkable raspberry yogurt, apricot chevre and lemon chipotle marinated feta. All fantastic. All different than Old Windmill Dairy’s product line (which you can buy in CSA fashion). Score.

So between these two dairies and an organic CSA farm called Frost Hill Organics that’s started up five minutes away, we should be able to buy a lot of what we eat from people we actually know. And, after watching Food Inc. (the Oscar-nominated documentary about the industrial food system), I’m pretty happy about that.

Desperately Seeking Santa Fe, New Mexico

I’ve been eager to return to Santa Fe since I started this blog in June 2008. My quest at the time was to find my geographic soul mate, and Santa Fe loomed as potentially “the one.” I’d last visited on a post-college road trip, and of all the places we stopped, it stood out as the city with the most unusual, peaceful lifestyle. And truly, there is nowhere like Santa Fe, which is why it’s ranked the second best place to live in America by Sperling’s Best Places as well the number four destination in the US by Conde Nast Traveler readers.


Since the start of the blog, however, a lot of things have happened. I’ve gone on dates with long-standing crushes (e.g. Charleston, South Carolina), old flames (e.g. New York, New York), and new, unexpectedly beguiling suitors (e.g. Los Alamos, California; Apalachicola, Florida.) I’ve thought a lot about the right size city, as well as other criteria like home prices, culture and airport proximity. And perhaps most importantly, I’ve questioned whether I should be looking to hunker down in one place for the rest of my years. After all, is that really a fit with my intractable wanderlust?

The result is that I’ve dispatched the notion of a “long-term match” in favor of “my next great affair.” My new vision is that I still have several more places to live in me, and I should be looking for a place to spend the next five or so years with. This has been a fundamental shift in thinking, as I don’t have to reconcile things like: could I live in an arid desert forever? Or, will I ever return to the East Coast? Or, what about my dream of living abroad at some point? Now, I’m looking for the stepping stone that will help me relieve my ticking “real estate clock" and grow as a person.

So how did Santa Fe sync up when I finally visited in March? Beautifully, in all ways but one: price. Despite New Mexico’s generally low cost of living (it’s the 27th cheapest state in the US), Santa Fe is not a bargain. It’s the most expensive county in New Mexico, and thanks to its far-reaching reputation and million-plus tourists per year, it attracts wealthy retirees, transplants and second home owners who help keep the housing prices elevated. Case in point: while the average home price in Santa Fe County is down from 2008, it’s still averaging $440,000 thus far in 2009. As a true luxury destination, it’s also not unusual to see $1,000/night hotel rates and $35 dinner entrees catering to the elite visitors seeking refuge here.

Beyond this $$$ revelation, Albuquerque emerged as an affordable, livable city (area population 845,913) not to be overlooked, and I saw that the areas along the Turquoise Trail in between the two offered nature, space and privacy, the latter being something that had recently jumped in importance after one too many days working from home to the sounds of construction, car alarms and hyperactive yip dogs. If it was within reach to have more room, more acreage and more serenity for as low as $115/square foot, and be within easy driving distance of both Santa Fe and Albuquerque (including the airport), wouldn’t that be the best of all worlds? The answer: YES.

So you could say my crush on Santa Fe has not be extinguished - it’s only broadened to include the surrounding area, which encompasses desert, forest and mountains. The great joy of a state with only 1.9 million people (making it the sixth most sparsely populated state in the US) is that getting from place to place does not involve any of the pain, frustration and incivility that driving 30 minutes or an hour within LA can invoke. It’s frankly therapeutic for this Angeleno to be able to drive 75 miles per hour without stopping. The difference is that you actually do cover 75 miles in each hour you drive, versus spending 20 minutes stuck in traffic only to move half a mile.

Thus, the conclusion of my trip was that I don’t have to live IN Santa Fe to enjoy it. I just need to be nearby. That way, I can still grab an organic/fair trade coffee at the uber-funky Aztec Café (pictured above), an amazing Ayurvedic stir fry at yoga-centric Annapurna (when you sneeze, they say “Blessings”) or some down-home BBQ and brew at the Cowgirl Bar & Grill. Or I can head to the historic Pink Adobe restaurant’s Dragon Room lounge whenever I'm craving the Rosalita, the best margarita I’ve had in years, which is made with cranberry and gran gala, a triple orange Italian liqueur.

Maybe I’ll even rent a hot tub at the Zen mountain retreat Ten Thousand Waves. Because the relaxing drive just might wear me out.

A Big, Dysfunctional Family in Madrid, New Mexico

Highway 14 (aka Turquoise Trail) is the scenic highway connecting Albuquerque and Santa Fe. You could say this is the route for non-commuters, lollygaggers, dreamers and, on the weekends in high season, tourists. Anyone who’s in a hurry takes Interstate 25 (75 mph), but blissfully, we were not.

Starting in Albuquerque to the south, you begin at the base of the Sandia Mountains, which tower over Albuquerque. (See some amazing photos here.) There is literally no spot that doesn’t have a view of them. You then unsuspectingly climb much higher in route to Santa Fe (7,000-feet high,), which is a fact is of no small significance. Though these cities are less than an hour apart, there is a ten-degree temperature difference due to the altitude. If it’s 70 degrees in Albuquerque, expect it to be 60 in Santa Fe.

The snowy shot above is me at Sandia Peak (at 10, 768 feet, the highest point in the range). You reach this point by car from the east (as we did), or by the world's longest aerial tramway from the west. At the top, altitude stupidity set in for us, producing some very silly photo-taking, as well as an impulse buy of a green turquoise ring at the gift shop. (For the record, I still love it.)

And yes, I said altitude stupidity, not altitude sickness. Although I did experience a few moments of dizziness and dehydration the first few days, what I experienced more intensely was feeling dumb as a rock. For example, I “lost” my cell phone, only to find it in my hand. Twice. Rather embarrassing stuff like that. So when people talk about the effects of altitude here (such as actor Seth Rogen, who said that his difficulty breathing while filming in New Mexico is the reason he had to lose weight), they really need to include a warning about this one!

As you get further from Albuquerque on Highway 14, the terrain changes from evergreen mountains fed by snow to high desert. Then suddenly you find yourself in Madrid, a town so kooky that it makes Santa Fe seem almost staid. The first clue? It’s pronounced “MAD-rid, not “Ma-drid.” The second? It’s almost entirely populated by artists, some 300+ of them. (A fact often quoted is that it has more artists per capita than anywhere else in the US.) “We’re a big, dysfunctional family,” one of them told us cheerfully.

A former mining town deep in a gulch, Madrid is like a Wild West outpost, freethinker’s refuge, art gallery and little bohemia all rolled into one. Every old house facing the road has been converted into a gallery or store selling art, sculpture, snacks and more. In many cases, the wares are out front, and the artist lives in back. Everyone know everyone, and with no more building permits available (due to a lack of water), the town has been saved from modern development.

Despite the tiny population, you can get a drink at the Mine Shaft Tavern, a coffee at Java Junction (also a hat shop and B&B) and a gourmet meal at The Hollar. You can buy all manner of art. You can even buy rent movies at the general store (pictured below). But more importantly, you can interact with lots of spirited artists. Some are incredibly friendly, others are wary of newcomers (one artist told us it took him five years to “get into the club”) and many are full of love/hate for the tourists who fuel the town. But it’s safe to say that not a single one of them seems to want to leave.

The same could not be said for the "ghost town" of Cerillos, just three miles north. From the looks of it, everyone has left. But it turns out that’s not really true, and those who do live here enjoy the façade of a deserted place. That way, no one bothers them. It’s spooky driving through a seemingly abandoned town that you know has people in it. (Mary's Bar, pictured below, is still operating, believe it or not, with 91-year-old Mary Mora behind the counter). There are walled compounds that contain hints of life, but not for your prying eyes to see. Compared to colorful, commercial Madrid, Cerrillos is the place to truly hide – not just from people, but from the present day.

Back on Highway 14, it isn’t long before we reach Santa Fe and are assaulted by the unimaginative, copycat nature of the modern world. (That is to say, the southernmost parts of Santa Fe developed in recent decades.). Strip malls. Starbucks. Or our Holiday Inn Express, built self-consciously to look “rustic” and “Southwestern.” Yes, it was perfectly comfortable and not unattractive, but who are they fooling?

Fortunately, downtown Santa Fe remains one of the most distinctive places in the world, with its twinkling artistry and singular architecture. It’s a bright spot in the sea of sameness, with Madrid as its most defiant satellite. But is it still my top geographical crush?

Stay tuned for the answer to that as well as a full report on Austin, Texas. (Sorry that I'm so behind!)

Baked-in Artistry in Albuquerque, New Mexico

Within hours of landing in Albuquerque, it became clear that almost everyone in New Mexico is an artist. Or has artistic hobbies. Or champions art vigorously. Even the frozen yogurt place is a gallery.


As one gallery owner put it, “This is the most supportive artistic community you’ll find.” He wasn’t exaggerating. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Santa Fe (45 minutes away) is the third largest art market in the US. Or that artists can actually make it thanks to the affordable cost of living. ($30,000 is “an abundant salary,” we were told.) But there’s more to it, and I’ve been ruminating on just that.

One visible clue is the state’s film incentive program, which offers rebates, loans and tax breaks. Not surprisingly, it’s made the state a hotbed for film and TV production. “We love filmmaking in New Mexico,” handmade signs read on the roadside. Apparently 28 films were shot in Albuquerque alone in 2008. While some politicians have been critical, the population remains enthralled.


But perhaps the best example of this artistic proclivity is the Golden Crown Panaderia, which we visited the very first day. Located in the Old Town section of Albuquerque, this tiny neighborhood bakery is a single-father-and-son operation that is guaranteed to make an impression – emotionally, olfactorily and gastronomically.


The first thing you notice is the wonderful smell (from the fruit empanadas), which prompts you to inhale deeply and soften a bit. Not that New Mexicans need that. But this overworked urbanite did. Then we were handed a free biscochito, a crispy butter cookie flavored with anise and cardamon. It's the endearing "welcome bite."

The father, Pratt, is a former CPA turned passionate baker. His signature green chile bread, which he’s holding below, has been featured in the New York Times, Gourmet Magazine and the Food Channel. It’s spicy. It’s rich (thanks to the parmesan). And it’s amazing. A loaf is currently sliced and frozen in my freezer, per Pratt’s detailed instructions. Salivating? Order it online here.


Having a famous specialty bread is just the beginning, though. The exuberant, indefatigable, 70-year-young Pratt also makes bread art. What’s that, you ask? Well, it’s making a horse and carriage out of bread for his son’s birthday. (See old photo below.) Or a bread turkey for vegetarians at Thanksgiving. Or bread busts of people’s heads. It was fairly astonishing to see all that one could do with bread.


Pratt mixes various dough to produce color variations (yes, all skin types are possible) and carefully orchestrates how the bread rises in his massive oven. He’s currently working on a bust of Jay Leno, he shares. Listening to this delightful raconteur, I felt my face hurting from smiling so much. I also noticed strangers striking up conversation and the convivial atmosphere infecting everyone. This was truly the “golden crown” that started the trip so auspiciously.


How did I feel around all this warmth and creativity? The word would have to be inspired. We talked to a guy from Ohio who decided to make custom water fountains – because he thought he could. We spent time in a shop specializing in Ukrainian Easter eggs. Nothing is too out there in New Mexico, and perhaps most importantly, there is the feeling that you can try anything because no one will judge you.


Soon my boyfriend was pondering the large-scale mobiles he’d build in the studio/barn, and I was listening to a female poet on New Mexico public radio, thinking, “I bet I could write a lot of poetry in a place like this.” In the dramatic high desert setting, with colossal mountains and endless views, it seemed easier to reflect on life. I guess that happens any time you can see for hundreds of miles and realize your own itsy bitsy role.


Thus, my first and strongest takeaway from New Mexico is that the possibilities seem as wide open as the environment and as optimistic as the people, who (teaser alert) would go on to eclipse Austinites in the battle for “Most Friendly.” Yes. Believe it. Who won “Most Weird”? That one’s going to a tiebreaker round, folks. Stay tuned!