 |
| Me, Diana, Dave, Brenden, Toby, Corwin, Corinne and Colton doing what we do in the front yard. |
Disclaimer:
The city of Taos remained a mystery to me
for I set my sights on the people of Taos instead.
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
-T.S. Elliot
Main Characters of TACOS minus the 'C':
I got to know my future-travel buddy Corinne all the more, the gentle-natured badass.
She poked people lovingly on the nose when she felt rosy and sprawled on the kitchen counters during conversations, listening intently. She was a luscious-locked dame with doe eyes and a child-like glow.
Dave was the stoic rock-climbing perfectionist with an espresso-making obsession and a Baboon-red-butt from learning to snowboard. (He skis). He lost his keys a lot. He found new patience, living amongst ski-bums and perpetual piles of empty beer cans and parties. He joined the Taos house during spring break and didn't know what he was getting into- namely fantastic ruckus he'd otherwise miss.
Brendan was the glue of the group. He was a casanova, for sure, but also a charismatic recruiter who could coax shenanigans and adventure out of anything. He was the secret ingredient necessary for the good times within the Taos house doors. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a canvas of tattoos capturing the stories from his quests. A true Neal Cassady, if we're talking Kerouac.
Tobias was the goofy, artistic-eyed boy-at-heart from Boone, NC. He talked to his mother in perfect German and occasionally went streaking, conversing casually with onlookers. His stories were packed with imagery and his friendship with Brendan was crammed with crazy plots only the two of them could pull off (like building a rock-wall at the Taos house without telling the landlord). He was the gentle-natured gent in their quintessential duo that kept everything light-hearted.
Diana was the juice-blending health-guru with a brave sense of adventure and a mutual affinity for Fig Newtons. She was a nightingale voiced, angel-eyed sweetheart with a coy laugh and a hell of a story I wish I knew better. She smiled like the noon-day sun and helped equalize the total overdose of testosterone in the house. (Two girls versus four dudes).
Corwin was the perfectly sarcastic kitchen-twirker. He parked his "DON'T WASH" Dolphin camper in the yard and wore his matching felt-lined tights with his lady love, Diana. He sipped Jim Bean before skiing, he sipped Jim Bean after rock-climbing. He whittled wood and conveyed convincing German accents. Corwin was a character.
The boys at Corinne's place lived off Ramen noodles and adrenaline
we thrived on improv dance mobs and Dave-made espressos.
The house as a whole kept moving with the motivation of white slopes at their job in Taos.
The lot of that house got into many, many shenanigans.
I'll write what I remember,
or at least what I choose to remember for a public forum, for now.
Night 1: Ojo Caliente Hot Springs
I jumped into Corinne's soaked arms and sopped all my clothes with hot-tub hellos
I hadn't seen Corinne Thomas since summer, working in Nantahala.
-We originally met in Yellowstone the summer prior,
plugging our noses at cafeteria-provided foods and hiking at any chance we were given.
There I was,
floating around in introductions,
dipping into hot tubs and drinking beers with these perfect strangers afterwards in the parking lot.
Who the hell were these people?
Well, I'd find out soon enough.
El Salto Fall and Black Rock Hot Spring:
"NO TRESPASSING"the sign read.
Brendan didn't stop to blink, passing the marker without question.
We came across a trail that lead to the semi-frozen waterfall and sunbathed until our bodies were warm enough to endure the chilly water. Shoving our clothes to the shore, we shivered and shimmied to El Salto's base, catching its heavy stream.
Freezing!
Refreshing.
I could only stand under it for twenty seconds, tops.
We then found a boulder and dried off in the sun with our eyes closed, absorbing back-n-forth stories.
Brendan was from Charleston, his parents were complete opposites, both living on separate islands,
one hippie mother and a military-disciplined dad. He had a hell of a timeline and I listened and listened, intrigued.
Once our skin was dry and clothed, we explored the fall from a higher view.
Up the mountain we scrambled, climbing some loose rocks along the way, and found a killer view of Taos below us. The water raced down the cliff and we followed it from the bird's eye view.
It was the perfect way to embrace the nature surrounding the town.
From the top of the world, I felt like it'd be easy to make Taos feel like home.
Back down the mountain, we drove to Black Rock Hot Springs, Tecate brew and Pringles in hand.
We readied for pruney fingers and floating limbs.
We stayed in the warm pools until shadows overtook the canyon walls
then we went home, all of us no longer such strangers.
Soundtrack of the day: Stop Light Observations- "Dinosaur Bones"
Taos Ski Valley:
I woke up ready to ski.
And by ski, I meant fall all day.
Corinne convinced me Kinder Kafig Ski School wouldn't mind if I practiced bunny slopes in their rental skis, so I prepared- in my cotton socks, thin rain jacket, pitiful layers and tired toboggan.
Before leaving the house, Dave cranked out tons of coffee to motivate our carpool convoy to leave on time. They always clocked in late. They still clocked in late.
At the ski lodge,
I snuck past the employees-only sign and slipped into their locker room.
Corinne's roommates supplied me with extra ski apparatus, "You'll need it," they said glancing at my supposed gear.
Diane kindly lent me way-too-tall pants and gloves, Dave granted me huge, crusty ski socks and Corwin handed me a hefty jacket. We headed to the lifts. I must've weighed an extra nine pounds with clothes alone.
Throughout the day, folks taught me different perspectives of slopes:
-Dave said I should box the mountain, keeping an athletic stance.
-Clint told me to open my arms and heart to the mountain, keeping my back arched like a dance.
-Corwin suggested I split my body into two-
a top half looking down the fall line, and a bottom half traversing wherever my ski tips point.
I worked up an appetite, repeating the same mistakes twenty times before catching them.
We eventually convoyed out and made it to Smiths grocer on Paseo Del Pueblo Norte.
In the parking lot, we found a gold-and-red grocery cart car that called our inner 5-year-olds to climb into. Corwin, Toby and I jumped on the occasion. We took turns squishing in, ascending over and sitting on top of the car-thing while we all treasure-hunted through isles for ingredients.
Our night involved eggplant parmesan and a too-late quest to find some concert we spotted earlier on a poster. It was a pretty sweet set of hours, show or no show.
At the night's close, I counted the six or so groups of bruises I'd acquired from skiing. Souvenirs.
They were worth it, I concluded, and I settled just fine into my living-room hammock bed.
Sweet dreams were all I had.
Pre-Easter Fiesta:
Most people think of Easter eggs as kid-friendly little candy-filled joyous things hidden in a front yard.
That's not how we thought of them.
We, meaning Corinne and I, figured they might make good shot glasses.
Colorful. Disposable. Un-shattering. Cheap.
Perfect.
We found limes and put on costumes.
Superhero Corinne and Boyscout June, we were.
With five rounds of tequila Easter eggs in tow, we flailed around the loud living room, dancing with the other costumed folks til our sticky floors grew unappealing. Then a few of us decided to ascend to the flat adobe roof.
Toby convinced us that the stars were particularly enchanting, which they were, as always in Taos. We brought blankets and instruments, and there we sang the many songs that every rooftop ought to hear.
Eventually, chilly and ready to cozy up in my sleeping bag, I climbed once more into my hammock. It was above the still-rolling party but I lulled to sleep with the wave of conversations and drunkie-dance moves bellowing below me. Just before dreaming, I caught a glimpse of the many stepped-on Easter eggs littering the floor. Job well done.
Rock Climbing at Tres Piedras:
Mountains felt different after I played all over them.
From afar they looked inviting, majestic even.
Up close, with fingers and toes clinging, the inclines felt more like individual grips keeping me from falling straight down the butte. It was a game of gravity versus strength.
Brendan lead the first scramble, helping me swallow my fear of heights as we ascended.
We had no ropes or crash pads.
After we descended, Dave said the climb we chose was semi-sketchy for beginners.
Screw it, we already did it.
At the top, Corwin and I took triumphant swigs and devoured the windy summit view of our quest.
After that point we would have repels to climb with, the consequential stuff was through.
The peak felt like victory. I hadn't done anything like it before,
climb a real mountain, I mean.
Yeah, I'd been to rock gyms, but this was far more organic, engaging, consequential.
Dave, Toby, Corwin and Brendan made the idea of rock climbing addictive,
any mountain could be our playground.
It was love at first grip, and I wanted to learn more.
The city of Taos remained a mystery to me
for I set my sights on the people of Taos instead.
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
-T.S. Elliot
Main Characters of TACOS minus the 'C':
I got to know my future-travel buddy Corinne all the more, the gentle-natured badass.
She poked people lovingly on the nose when she felt rosy and sprawled on the kitchen counters during conversations, listening intently. She was a luscious-locked dame with doe eyes and a child-like glow.
 |
| Corinne as a super hero with her pillow case cape. |
 |
| Dave talking in the middle of getting his photo taken. |
 |
| Brendan cheesing after a rock climb. |
Tobias was the goofy, artistic-eyed boy-at-heart from Boone, NC. He talked to his mother in perfect German and occasionally went streaking, conversing casually with onlookers. His stories were packed with imagery and his friendship with Brendan was crammed with crazy plots only the two of them could pull off (like building a rock-wall at the Taos house without telling the landlord). He was the gentle-natured gent in their quintessential duo that kept everything light-hearted.
 |
| Toby perfecting his ham-sandwich tower. |
 |
| Diana looking at her love bug Corwin during Employee Ski day. |
 |
| Corwin finishing his ski run. |
we thrived on improv dance mobs and Dave-made espressos.
The house as a whole kept moving with the motivation of white slopes at their job in Taos.
The lot of that house got into many, many shenanigans.
I'll write what I remember,
or at least what I choose to remember for a public forum, for now.
Night 1: Ojo Caliente Hot Springs
I jumped into Corinne's soaked arms and sopped all my clothes with hot-tub hellos
I hadn't seen Corinne Thomas since summer, working in Nantahala.
-We originally met in Yellowstone the summer prior,
plugging our noses at cafeteria-provided foods and hiking at any chance we were given.
There I was,
floating around in introductions,
dipping into hot tubs and drinking beers with these perfect strangers afterwards in the parking lot.
Who the hell were these people?
Well, I'd find out soon enough.
El Salto Fall and Black Rock Hot Spring:
"NO TRESPASSING"the sign read.
Brendan didn't stop to blink, passing the marker without question.
We came across a trail that lead to the semi-frozen waterfall and sunbathed until our bodies were warm enough to endure the chilly water. Shoving our clothes to the shore, we shivered and shimmied to El Salto's base, catching its heavy stream.
Freezing!
Refreshing.
I could only stand under it for twenty seconds, tops.
We then found a boulder and dried off in the sun with our eyes closed, absorbing back-n-forth stories.
Brendan was from Charleston, his parents were complete opposites, both living on separate islands,
one hippie mother and a military-disciplined dad. He had a hell of a timeline and I listened and listened, intrigued.
Once our skin was dry and clothed, we explored the fall from a higher view.
Up the mountain we scrambled, climbing some loose rocks along the way, and found a killer view of Taos below us. The water raced down the cliff and we followed it from the bird's eye view.
It was the perfect way to embrace the nature surrounding the town.
From the top of the world, I felt like it'd be easy to make Taos feel like home.
Back down the mountain, we drove to Black Rock Hot Springs, Tecate brew and Pringles in hand.
We readied for pruney fingers and floating limbs.
We stayed in the warm pools until shadows overtook the canyon walls
then we went home, all of us no longer such strangers.
 |
| The Rio Grand flowing past the hot springs. |
Taos Ski Valley:
I woke up ready to ski.
And by ski, I meant fall all day.
Corinne convinced me Kinder Kafig Ski School wouldn't mind if I practiced bunny slopes in their rental skis, so I prepared- in my cotton socks, thin rain jacket, pitiful layers and tired toboggan.
Before leaving the house, Dave cranked out tons of coffee to motivate our carpool convoy to leave on time. They always clocked in late. They still clocked in late.
At the ski lodge,
I snuck past the employees-only sign and slipped into their locker room.
Corinne's roommates supplied me with extra ski apparatus, "You'll need it," they said glancing at my supposed gear.
Diane kindly lent me way-too-tall pants and gloves, Dave granted me huge, crusty ski socks and Corwin handed me a hefty jacket. We headed to the lifts. I must've weighed an extra nine pounds with clothes alone.
Throughout the day, folks taught me different perspectives of slopes:
-Dave said I should box the mountain, keeping an athletic stance.
-Clint told me to open my arms and heart to the mountain, keeping my back arched like a dance.
-Corwin suggested I split my body into two-
a top half looking down the fall line, and a bottom half traversing wherever my ski tips point.
I worked up an appetite, repeating the same mistakes twenty times before catching them.
We eventually convoyed out and made it to Smiths grocer on Paseo Del Pueblo Norte.
In the parking lot, we found a gold-and-red grocery cart car that called our inner 5-year-olds to climb into. Corwin, Toby and I jumped on the occasion. We took turns squishing in, ascending over and sitting on top of the car-thing while we all treasure-hunted through isles for ingredients.
Our night involved eggplant parmesan and a too-late quest to find some concert we spotted earlier on a poster. It was a pretty sweet set of hours, show or no show.
At the night's close, I counted the six or so groups of bruises I'd acquired from skiing. Souvenirs.
They were worth it, I concluded, and I settled just fine into my living-room hammock bed.
Sweet dreams were all I had.
Pre-Easter Fiesta:
Most people think of Easter eggs as kid-friendly little candy-filled joyous things hidden in a front yard.
That's not how we thought of them.
We, meaning Corinne and I, figured they might make good shot glasses.
Colorful. Disposable. Un-shattering. Cheap.
Perfect.
We found limes and put on costumes.
Superhero Corinne and Boyscout June, we were.
With five rounds of tequila Easter eggs in tow, we flailed around the loud living room, dancing with the other costumed folks til our sticky floors grew unappealing. Then a few of us decided to ascend to the flat adobe roof.
Toby convinced us that the stars were particularly enchanting, which they were, as always in Taos. We brought blankets and instruments, and there we sang the many songs that every rooftop ought to hear.
Eventually, chilly and ready to cozy up in my sleeping bag, I climbed once more into my hammock. It was above the still-rolling party but I lulled to sleep with the wave of conversations and drunkie-dance moves bellowing below me. Just before dreaming, I caught a glimpse of the many stepped-on Easter eggs littering the floor. Job well done.
Rock Climbing at Tres Piedras:
 |
| Toby traversing down the ledge of the mountain. |
From afar they looked inviting, majestic even.
Up close, with fingers and toes clinging, the inclines felt more like individual grips keeping me from falling straight down the butte. It was a game of gravity versus strength.
Brendan lead the first scramble, helping me swallow my fear of heights as we ascended.
We had no ropes or crash pads.
After we descended, Dave said the climb we chose was semi-sketchy for beginners.
Screw it, we already did it.
“The will must be better than the skill”
-Muhammad AliAfter that point we would have repels to climb with, the consequential stuff was through.
The peak felt like victory. I hadn't done anything like it before,
climb a real mountain, I mean.
Yeah, I'd been to rock gyms, but this was far more organic, engaging, consequential.
Dave, Toby, Corwin and Brendan made the idea of rock climbing addictive,
any mountain could be our playground.
It was love at first grip, and I wanted to learn more.
Pond Skimming Contest:
Why would springtime ski
bums limit their skills to merely snow?
Ponds seemed perfectly
reasonable to glide across
-so long as banana suits, coconut-bras and Speedos were
involved.
Taos, I learned, held an annual pond skimming event and the game was on.
This was tradition. This was what the end of the ski season was about, apparently.
I was too hungover to appreciate the excitement, to be honest.
That house was a constant party, a blow to my health, and it caught up to me.
We were all in desperate need of the hair of the dog.
With help from liquid encouragement, we mustered enough excitement to cheer on our comrades and waited patiently for our friends Colton and Julia to race.
Colton dressed like a ski dog with whisker face-paint and Julia wrapped herself in a Frosty hooded nightie and swim suit.
Unfortunately, they arrived too late to register and couldn't compete- no bueno.
But we watched the other folks anyways.
When the contestants finished, whether they made it across or not, they scurried to the contestant hot tub to warm back up and there we high-fived the many strangely dressed participants.
That was the gist of pond stuff.
That was the gist of Taos.
-minus quite a few details.
We'll save those for later.
Soundtrack of the day: Prayers - "Young Gods"
Leaving Taos with no Trace:
My good in this town was not a community volunteer organization-
it was cleaning up the house that Corinne had to move out of at the end of the ski season.
Everyone's jobs ended and employee ski day fun had passed,
and no one could leave that house until every ounce of evidence from their existence there vanished.
Now, we weren't talking just packing and sweeping-
we were talking rock wall deconstruction
sticky-champagne-sprayed-wall scrubbing
palette burning
and some
deep,
deep ,
neglected
cleaning.
Their lease was up the day after their ski season ended,
but when the landlord, Betty, came in expecting to see a clean house on the day before move-out
instead
she found the rock wall still up, beer bottles everywhere,
and four bodies sleeping on the climbing crash pads beneath it, curled up in sleeping bags after a long goodbye bonfire we went to instead of cleaning.
Every speck of cleaning came down to the last minute
and we stayed up until 4AM figuring out who's crap was whose
and what garbage went where.
By the next afternoon,
the job was done- Corinne's Taos ski season was over
and we were off to find other snowy slopes in Colorado.
The main part of that last sentence was the 'we'
meaning
no longer
would I be stuck
driving hours on end with merely my own monologue.
Everything would be different now, everything would be accompanied.
And we had a lot of land to cover
together.
I was too hungover to appreciate the excitement, to be honest.
That house was a constant party, a blow to my health, and it caught up to me.
We were all in desperate need of the hair of the dog.
With help from liquid encouragement, we mustered enough excitement to cheer on our comrades and waited patiently for our friends Colton and Julia to race.
Colton dressed like a ski dog with whisker face-paint and Julia wrapped herself in a Frosty hooded nightie and swim suit.
Unfortunately, they arrived too late to register and couldn't compete- no bueno.
But we watched the other folks anyways.
When the contestants finished, whether they made it across or not, they scurried to the contestant hot tub to warm back up and there we high-fived the many strangely dressed participants.
That was the gist of pond stuff.
 |
| Toby catching the doomed bottle pyramid- this is why we can't have nice things. |
-minus quite a few details.
We'll save those for later.
Soundtrack of the day: Prayers - "Young Gods"
Leaving Taos with no Trace:
My good in this town was not a community volunteer organization-
it was cleaning up the house that Corinne had to move out of at the end of the ski season.
Everyone's jobs ended and employee ski day fun had passed,
and no one could leave that house until every ounce of evidence from their existence there vanished.
Now, we weren't talking just packing and sweeping-
we were talking rock wall deconstruction
sticky-champagne-sprayed-wall scrubbing
palette burning
and some
deep,
deep ,
neglected
cleaning.
 |
| Empty beer bottles discovered hidden in unused cabinets: The most direct definition of "sweeping it under the rug" |
but when the landlord, Betty, came in expecting to see a clean house on the day before move-out
instead
she found the rock wall still up, beer bottles everywhere,
and four bodies sleeping on the climbing crash pads beneath it, curled up in sleeping bags after a long goodbye bonfire we went to instead of cleaning.
Every speck of cleaning came down to the last minute
and we stayed up until 4AM figuring out who's crap was whose
and what garbage went where.
By the next afternoon,
the job was done- Corinne's Taos ski season was over
and we were off to find other snowy slopes in Colorado.
The main part of that last sentence was the 'we'
meaning
no longer
would I be stuck
driving hours on end with merely my own monologue.
Everything would be different now, everything would be accompanied.
And we had a lot of land to cover
together.
