The Sky Above and The Mud Below

The Sky Above

On Thursday, Dec. 29, my two gnarly dogs and I enjoyed a sunny and warm walk on the West Rim Trail of the Rio Grande Gorge, courtesy of the BLM’s efforts to preserve a bit of the wild for the enjoyment of us citizens from New Mexico and the surrounding states. We were accompanied on the trail also by a variety of non-English speakers from Asia and Europe. Japanese, French, and Spanglish were being spoken as well as English.

The sky above was mostly clear and blue, typically New Mexico. On the ground, the temperature had risen and the snow and ice were melting. I hopped from dry ground to rock and patches of still frozen snow in an effort to avoid your typical New Mexico mud.

The joys of the trail include the views of the Sangre de Cristos on the East and the swelling horizon, two peaks and three peaks, etc. on the West. The sharp rocky cliffs shape the 600-foot chasm, creating a natural lifeline for the water slipping south to the Gulf of Mexico. The endless fields of aromatic sagebrush and occasional rodent, bird, or Big Horn Sheep slip in and out of view. The whole experience cost me about as much as a gallon of gas. So much for living in paradise.

The domestic encounters on the trail are also rich, a study in human and animal behavior.
Folks walk, lost in contemplation or in conversation, many of whom take their dogs along, whether as primary or secondary focus. I’m never sure if I am cause or effect when it comes to walking the dogs. Maybe they are just walking me. One notices how the average Taoseno ignores the BLM sign admonishing visitors to keep their pets leashed. Generally, the tourists follow the rules.

My dogs must stop and smell each dog, regardless of size or breed. Talk about being led around by one’s nose. The dog walker who leashes the purebred pet is occasionally given to lashing out against the fear: “Call your dog!” Or, rudely, “You’re supposed to have a leash!” Once, somebody threatened to call the cops. But those interruptions are rare and you can avoid the risk by avoiding the area on weekends and holidays. Far be it from me to pass on the Taoseno virus of lawlessness.

However, most Taosenos and most tourists say, “Oh, what friendly dogs you have,” or “They are really enjoying themselves,” or “They are so beautiful.” Sometimes I meet up with folks who have several dogs walking, running, gamboling, unleashed and free. The dogs meet and greet, smell and dart but rarely bark. Like human beings, leashed animals rebel against their bonds but tend to depict the leash-holder’s insecurities rather than their own.

After returning to the state rest stop and picnic area, I drove out to the highway and joined a long line of cars waiting for the temporary signal light to change from red to green. The bridge is under cosmetic repairs and orange  rubber stanchions have been set up as a barricade to block one lane.  On the East side of the bridge cement barricades have been erected to block off the broad parking lots and access to memorials on the north and south side. A temporary fence surrounds equipment and construction supplies. But none of the New Mexico Department of Transportation (NMDOT) or construction company workers has been seen in days.

In other words NMDOT has made access to one of Taos’s central attractions as difficult and nonsensical as possible.

Still, tenacious visitors park along the narrows of U.S. Highway 64 on the north or south sides on the western approach or above in the state rest stop. They trudge down through the mud, slipping and sliding, or skirt the parked cars to walk on the bridge. Yesterday, five vendors, selling jewelry, trinkets, and art objects, welcomed visitors. They were cordoned off in a small space on the northwest side of the bridge.

The vendors are a mixed blend of Taosenos, not unlike the tourists, who visit the bridge. The majority of visitors to the bridge are native New Mexicans from as far away as Albuquerque. The bridge is a popular stop for local day trips in El Norte.

As I drove east from the bridge I looked up and saw a small private jet coming in for a landing at the Taos airport. One passes by the airport industrial area, Taos Electric, Storage Units, Propane Storage, the Landfill and Waste facility, and a magnificent new Quonset hut soon to be rave and brew center adjacent to the Waste Management facility. It’s about eight miles from the Bridge to the ersatz Blinking Light intersection.

The Mud Below

Later in the afternoon I received at my office a press release, see adjacent press release, detailing the Town’s agreement with Taos Pueblo, wherein the latter has dropped its opposition to the expansion or construction of the long-promised crosswind runway at Taos airport. Thanks to Taos Mayor Cordova, Taos Pueblo’s Gov. Nelson Cordova, WarChief Edwin Concha, and Tribal Council Secretary Gilbert Suazo, the local boosters can have their way with the skies, given certain limits.

Mayor Cordova has accomplished a feat, which former mayors and managers only dreamed of. Why former Mayor Peralta and Manager Gus Cordova even dropped their opposition to an uptown Tribal Casino at the Kachina Lodge in an attempt to gain support from the tribe for the airport but failed when the town council, neighborhoods, and RISE from Taos Pueblo resisted back in the early part of this century.

Small town boosters across America believe economic development hinges on expanded air traffic—despite the financial demise of community airports—a much-ballyhooed congressional issue last summer. According to reports, last week DMC’s shills switched from supporting the free lance vendors at the Bridge to supporting the WarChief Edwin Concha’s nonsense claims about visitors and vendors at the bridge: Harm to Bighorn Sheep, plastic bags, reclaiming tribal property, which the tribe had sold to the state for a highway right a way in 1963, etc.

Apparently the Mayor, owner of DMC Broadcasting, needed to defend the WarChief, aka “The Man Who Shot the Cow” more so than he did, the independent Taosenos who cater to the tourist trade in Taos. Like Caesar, Veni, Vidi, Vinci, the Mayor has “come,” “has seen,” and “has conquered.”  Now the wealthy patrons, who fly in for weekend cocktails or skiing, will be served while local vendors and visitors to the bridge can punt.

When, we might ask, will Taos County and the Tribe meet to reconcile objections and otherwise permit the Morrison Memorial Tower at the old Armory and Taos County Sheriff’s Office to become operative? Since we have learned to live with the eyesore, we might  learn to use it for something more than mere decoration like the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge: See but don’t touch.