But I Don’t Want to Go to Denver

Day 3: How did I end up in Denver, you ask. I don’t know. Clearly I should not be left alone on America’s highways. A sign came up saying “23 miles to Denver,” and then there was nothing for it but to forge on and turn south at the Mile-High City, on the assumption that New Mexico had to be down there somewhere. I mean it’s a state. No one could miss a whole state.

“New Mexico Welcomes You!” Yes! The end is in sight, I thought. But it wasn’t. Because my first stop in New Mexico was Taos, and why would I drive all the way to Santa Fe only to turn north and drive back to Taos. Why, when there’s this mountain road that goes straight to Taos? Well, not straight to Taos. Because it’s a MOUNTAIN.

What a beautiful drive. What a long, long, beautiful drive. Mountains, forests, rushing streams. Rain, fog, two-lane road with approximately 99 hairpin turns. Yellow warning signs with pictures of bear and elk and moose (one was all shot up – the sign, not the moose) and even a couple of cows. I will never be off this mountain, I thought. I will never find Taos, New Mexico. Never see my three daughters and six precious grandchildren again.

But, of course, I did find Taos. And I found the Adobe & Pines Inn, which is more charming than you can imagine, and if my brain wasn’t all foggy and fried, I’d tell you about it.

I have not found enlightenment yet.