A Trip to New Mexico

Back in November, before the rush of the holidays, my best friend from high school Ariel and I indulged in a little get away. We were in pursuit of the dwellings, scenery, inspiration, and culture that had powerfully influenced our shared heroine: Georgia O’Keeffe. I’m finally getting around to telling you all about it!

An early flight out of Boston delivered me to Ariel in Chicago, where she lives, and together we headed West. I was eager to get back to the desert more than two years after my most favorite trip I’ve ever taken, and was excited to spend some quality time with a friend I don’t get to see all that often.

We landed in Albuquerque and piled our stuff into the crappiest Dodge Journey I’ve seen come off a rental lot. We were headed North for Santa Fe, and it was chillier than the New Mexico of my mind had been. Still, warm colors and scrubby desert flora gave way to steep, craggy mountains, and I was quickly immersed in that “other planet” feeling specific to a New Englander in the Southwest.

Arriving in Santa Fe, sleepy from a long day of travel, our accommodations at La Posada de Santa Fe were a welcome sight with all its Southwestern charm, a fancy spa, and a roomy suite (thanks to Ariel’s platinum status - the girl gets around). Starving, we headed out to a casual early dinner at Casa Chimayo - a very authentic introduction to New Mexican spice, and enjoyed lots of creamy guacamole and sizzling fajitas.

We woke up to gently falling snow the next morning, pleasantly surprised having not even seen flurries in New England yet. Our first stop was the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in downtown Santa Fe to give us a proper overview of the artist and her work before we set out in her footsteps. It’s a small museum that allows you to consider the collection deeply. We went through the whole place three times over, and hit the gift shop twice, where I picked up this book in anticipation of our journey out to GOK’s residences.

Emerging from the museum, the snow situation had apparently escalated, and we trudged out into the fluffy inches that had quickly accumulated. We headed towards the Santa Fe Plaza and lunch at Cafe Pasqual’s. This was one of our favorite meals of the trip, and the atmosphere was a little fiesta in the heart of a vibrant city.

By the afternoon we were facing a regular Vermont blizzard, and it seemed we had no choice but to hit the spa. Climbing the snowy mountains looming over the city, our Dodge barely made it to Ten Thousand Waves, tucked away in mountain junipers. We felt the altitude climbing the stairs to the hot tubs, and soaked luxuriously under falling snowflakes.

We skated down the mountain and found dinner at Paloma, which offered a more modern and trendy take on Southwestern cuisine. I continued to cope with New Mexican chile, which seemed to baptize everything with a dose of heat intent on making me cry a little.

The next day was our most highly anticipated: Abiquiu and Ghost Ranch, where Georgia O’Keeffe lived and worked. I revved up the Doge, said a little prayer to the motor gods, and we pushed further North into the real desert, drinking in the scenery. No kidding you would come here to paint!

Our intimate tour of GOK’s Abiquiu home was the highlight of our trip. We explored her historic adobe house and gardens, poked around her studio and took in her personal desert views. The details were incredible; from carefully arranged collections of found rocks and bones, to the record player spinning her favorite classical records, to the herbs and spices and pots and pans carefully aligned in her pantry. We soaked it in and imagined Georgia going about her day.

After that, we headed to Ghost Ranch, the site of Georgia O’Keeffe’s other New Mexico home, which was hardly another hour up the road. We stopped quickly at Bode’s General Store for a fuel up and souvenir grab - it’s really not to be missed. Ghost Ranch is a little spooky per its namesake upon pulling up; very isolated and you instantly get the feeling a church owns it now (which it does). We wandered around the dude ranch and hiking trails waiting for our tour to begin.

The tour exceeded all expectations though, a burly cowboy guide named George and his trusty driver taking us out in a little bus to the sites Georgia O’Keeffe spent time painting. He held up little prints of her work in plastic sleeves, setting them just so against the natural formations they described. It was fascinating to see the landscape from her perspective this way, and to get so much background on O’Keeffe’s process and paintings.

The tour ran late and we hesitated on following the road further to Taos, but George and the bus driver encouraged us to keep going, and to be sure to stop for dinner at Orlando’s. We were glad we did, winding through gorges and mountains for the most breathtaking drive of the trip. And Orlando’s was a spot-on recommendation, warming us up with a colorful atmosphere and incredible burritos. We drove home under bright desert stars.

The next day we’d be heading back down to Albuquerque, but not without browsing the Canyon Road Galleries, sampling a little drinking chocolate at Kakawa Chocoalte House, and meeting up with my dear friend from college, Hannah, at Modern General Feed and Seed. She’d recently moved to Santa Fe (jealous), and it was so nice to catch up with her over blue corn pancakes and avocado toast in the very hip brunchery.

We arrived at our accommodations for our final night in New Mexico with big smiles on our faces. Los Poblanos is a historic inn and lavender farm, and is easily one of the nicest places I’ve ever spent a night. We marveled at a pair of peacocks perching among rows of fragrant lavender on our way to check-in.

Dinner that night and breakfast the next morning were the best eating of the trip, at the Inn’s farm-to-table restaurant, Campo. Lavender garnished cocktails, vegetable tostadas, lavender chicken, mole amarillo…every dish was more perfect than the last.

We ended our trip nearly burning the historic inn down with a brief fireplace malfunction, but all’s well that ends well, and we slept especially well in our lavender scented room.

After a morning bike ride around the farm, we said goodbye to New Mexico and headed home. Ariel and I both felt endlessly inspired having seen the desert through Georgia O’Keeffe’s eyes, and giddy at having spent such a relaxing few days sharing laughs and swapping stories. Fellow creative souls, this is a pilgrimage you must take, and one I will never forget.

Southwest Road Trip

Back in January, I learned I'd need to go out to Arizona for the full-time job and my wheels immediately started spinning. "Southwest road trip in March???" I texted Jake with a cactus emoji. He didn't hesitate, putting together three possible itineraries nearly overnight that would take us through the desert, down canyons, over mountains, and more.

Well, over the last week we put 1200 miles and a thick coat of orange dust on a rented Toyota doing just that. Starting in Scottsdale, we traveled North up Arizona to Sedona, Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon, and Monument Valley, then over into Utah to see Bryce Canyon and Zion National Park. 

Sedona

After Jake met me in Scottsdale, southwest sushi take-out in hand, we hit the saguaro-lined road headed North in search of red rocks. They showed up in the distance after about two hours, amidst cooler temperatures and passing rain showers. It’s a dramatic entrance into Sedona, buttes rising all around, their glowing red sediment beckoning you into Northern Arizona.  

We stayed at The Orchards Inn, which was my favorite stay of the trip – it may have been too nice, we were totally spoiled on the first night. A cozy corner fireplace, king bed with seven (!) fluffy pillows, and a back deck with just about the best view in town made us want to stay the rest of the week.

The hiking in Sedona is so very pleasant. Jake’s itinerary included PLENTY of hiking to no one’s surprise, and Sedona’s perfectly maintained, scenic trails were just the way to warm my wimpy winter legs up. We explored the Baldwin Loop the first day, an easy two mile trek around Cathedral Rock that leads to a perfect little swimming hole, and then the Mystic Trail, Hogwash Trail and Broken Arrow Trail on day two, which totaled to six miles over and around the red rocks. The views are incredible, so there were plenty of stops to take it all in and snap photos (I brought my twin lens reflex). Even at the end when we emerged at the Chapel of the Holy Cross, I felt like I could have gone further.

But we didn’t, and instead I got a double order of avocado toast and scrambled eggs at Pump House Station, to Jake’s amusement when they brought two separate place settings all for me. I cleaned it up.

Sedona is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, and the mystic vibes, vortex-seekers, UFO tours, and kitschy crystal shops only add to it. I could hardly believe it was only the beginning of our trip, and it was tough to leave such a desert haven.  

Flagstaff

We climbed the mountains along the Oak Creek Canyon, spiraling up towards Flagstaff. Towering evergreens begin to line the landscape, snow-capped Mount Humphrey looms into view, and you begin to wonder if you’re in the same state. Arizona is incredibly diverse, a range of elevations bringing on wildly different climates that make for a packing challenge (so many layers). We were shivering when we got out of the car at The Weatherford Hotel.

This historic hotel had that old New England creepiness that I feel at home in; no doubt that place was riddled with ghosts. Our room was charming. The bathroom was a Wes Anderson moment, offering an emerald claw foot tub complete with a hand-held shower head. Not our first choice after a long day of hiking, but it was awfully cute and did the job.  

The real destination in Flagstaff was Pizzicletta, an infamous local pizza joint. I’d been once before last summer, on another work trip, and had talked it up to Jake ever since. The tiny establishment serves up beautiful wood-fired pies, and we enjoyed arugula-laden slices at a long family-style table, dough flying around behind us. We talked late into the night and watched locals filter in and out.

Grand Canyon

After an early breakfast at Tourist Home Café, where we loaded up on eggs, root veggies, and more avocado toast anticipating the hike ahead (and the lack of decent restaurants to come), we hit the road toward the Grand Canyon. The South Rim is only about an hour and a half away.

We started at the East end, at the Desert Watch Tower. You’ve never seen something so big in your life as the first time you lay eyes on the Grand Canyon in all its glory. Tourist-ridden though it may be, that big hole in the earth is worth seeing again and again and again.

We made stops along the rim, and ventured down into the canyon at the South Kaibab Trail. It’s a very popular hiking spot, and for that reason, a bit intimidating; heading down the initial switchback you witness some people in way over their heads coming back up the steep trail, red in the face, huffing and puffing. The further down we wandered, the better the view got, but the more nervous I became about climbing back up as glassy eyed tourists trudged on by.

We ventured just a mile in to Ooh Aah Point, which certainly lives up to its name. To my delight a caravan of beautiful mules clopped by, surefooted along the steep trail. My fellow bipedal tourists were not so thrilled; farm girl though I am, I have to say the inevitable manure is POTENT and in high concentration, adding quite a bit of funk to the hike. One guy couldn’t handle it, gagging his way down the trail. We chuckled.

The hike back up was not as bad as it looked, and I felt good emerging to the endless view once again. Although, I personally can’t imagine hiking down to the Colorado river and back up. Maybe someday, but not today!

We hit the Visitor Center gift shop on the way out, investing in an irresistible Grand Canyon edition Pendleton blanket. This in turn made us members of the Grand Canyon Association, for which we also received a stuffed bighorn sheep we named Rammy.

Rammy on the dashboard, it was back in the car, another two hours to go until Monument Valley. We covered a lot of ground that day. 

Monument Valley

A key decision we made was to stop at the Whole Foods in Flagstaff, and stock up on snacks and peanut butter sandwich supplies. Food gets pretty scarce at this point in the journey, and there really isn't even much at Grand Canyon - it's all sort of bland looking and overpriced. Monument Valley, in all its awe and beauty, is not exactly a place to go eat. Bring your own supplies. 

It was a race against sunset; we sped down the endless, lonely highway to catch those glowing buttes as the sun creeped nearer the horizon line. We arrived at The View Hotel just in time, photographers making a nightly pilgrimage to capture the three iconic mittens entering twilight. We burned rubber, Jake practically exiting the moving vehicle in a tuck-and-roll, clutching his DSLR. So worth it though. This was possibly the most beautiful, picture perfect sunset I have ever seen. 

The hotel itself was great, living up to it's name 100%. Waking up to those three mittens peeking outside the sliding glass door was just surreal.

Riding in Monument Valley was the highlight of the trip for me. We took a rental-smashing drive down the treacherous Valley Drive Road to find Dineh Trail Rides, where we met up with our Navajo guide Jerome and the three mustangs that would carry us through the reservation. 

Seeing the valley through the ears of my mount, Geronimo, was one of the best experiences of my life. We trotted across the desert, Jerome pointing out the passing buttes named for their curious shapes, and the settlements of Navajo families, illustrating the history of his people's connection with the land they were placed on. "They sent us here to die," he explained. "But we are resilient. We survived, we're still here today, and we have embraced the land we live on and our way of life."

Patting our horses in gratitude for an unforgettable ride, and thanking Jerome who bid us "hágoónee", we loaded back into the dusty rental, destined for Bryce Canyon. We made a quick stop in Page for excellent Mexican food and a quick view of the Instagram-favorite Horseshoe Bend. We made it to Bryce Canyon just before nightfall, exhausted as we tucked into a sort of weird spaghetti dinner at a cowboy buffet.

Bryce Canyon National Park

The next morning we awoke early thrown back into winter; a light snow had fallen and the thinner air was a chilly 30 degrees. Jake scraped ice off the Toyota's windshield and we headed towards the canyon.

If you want to get an idea of what it's like to live on Mars, Bryce Canyon National Park is the place to go. And what a treat to have it frosted with a little snow! The orange hoodoos rising from the steep cliffs, dotted with Ponderosa pines offers a gorgeous pallet that I wanted to live inside. 

We hiked down from Sunrise point and over to the Queen's Garden Trail. There were so many fun nooks and crannies to explore. Lots of little doors are chiseled out of the rocks and natural windows frame picture perfect views. It was dreamlike and romantic - and sort of a difficult hike back up! Wrapped up in all the surreal beauty, you don't realize how far down you've gone.

But we made it up just in time. We watched a little blizzard sweep over the canyon, and fade the orange landscape into creamy white. We made it to the car just as the view was completely erased by falling snow.

Zion National Park

Our final destination was Zion National Park, not too far from Bryce. The drive into the park along Zion Canyon Scenic Drive is sublime, the road curving around towering sandstone cliffs, sending you through a mile long tunnel carved into the center of a mountain and spilling you down an impressive switchback, into the little town of Springdale. You expect a T-Rex to come around the corner at any moment. 

We had (Jake had) hoped to attempt The Narrows, a gorge hike down the Virgin River. I was feeling very nervous about this one, water levels high as snow melt trickles in this time of year and cold currents making for numb toes. And it's not an easy hike to boot. Jake had faith in me though, and I nervously tried on neoprene socks and a dry suit in preparation for the next day.

To Jake's disappointment and my relief, the river flash flooded overnight after a downpour, and the trail was closed to hikers. I promised Jake we'd come back in warmer temperatures and a gentler current. Instead, we decided to take on the Hidden Canyon Trail; if we couldn't see the park from the bottom, might as well climb to the top.

The most difficult hike of our trip, the initial switchback going up Hidden Canyon isn't much fun, but things get easier even as they look more scary. You become very exposed as the narrow path cuts into the side of the steep canyon, grab-chains offering a little comfort for your left hand. The views are sweeping though, and you forget to be scared. The hanging canyon that the path leads you to is serene and fun to explore, and we sat down to snack on a granola bar. 

We did two more little hikes after this, The Canyon Overlook Trail and Emerald Pools Trail which both offered easy access to incredible vistas (and waterfalls!). It was a full day and we saw the park from all sorts of interesting angles. At the end of the day, we just hopped on one of the shuttle buses to do a full loop around the park, sleepily taking it all in one last time.

We had an indulgent celebration dinner at Zion Pizza & Noodle Co., where we ordered both pizza AND noodles, and enjoyed it on the deck as sunset illuminated the mountains. It was the perfect ending, and we went to bed early in preparation for the journey home. 

I can't recommend doing this trip yourself enough - it was such a refreshing perspective on our country, offering all sorts of adventure. I'm most happy to be home, New England spring within reach, but I'll always be ready to grab my cowgirl hat and head back out West.