We abandoned our original 10th wedding anniversary getaway plan, which involved going somewhere very densely populated, to somewhere with no fucker about - Abiquiu, New Mexico. We didn't want to get on a plane yet either, so we drove. It's not the first time we've driven to New Mexico, though we entered at a different point this time. The journey out of Texas took us through what seemed like eight different weather systems, culminating in grapefruit sized hailstones that shattered windscreens and scared the living fucking shit out of us and everybody else, judging by the amount of motorists who just swerved off the road and sheltered under big old oak trees.
I love leaving Texas and seeing the land morph into something else - all the floral, swaying cacti and muted pastels replacing the dust and oil derricks. For miles everything just sort of fades out, until you know you're well and truly somewhere else. We crossed the bridge over the Rio Grande at a deep, cavernous point where the ferocity of the waters below was sort of astonishing. People got out of their cars, ran to the bridge and looked over, yelled OH MY GOD, took selfies then ran back to their cars. As did we!
Our place was isolated, great and surrounded by mountains. From all the west facing windows you could see Pedernal, the mountain Georgia O' Keeffe painted a trillion times. (she had said that God said if she painted it enough, she could have it.) It was really notable that when all the clouds and winds passed over it, they always seemed to leave a special residue on the flat top, making it look like it was wearing a little wig, or crown, or that it had its own little ecosystem going on. I did fancy having a go at climbing it, as the views are supposedly spectacular and of course Georgia is scattered up there, but we read the reviews which said things like: "experienced climbers may find this challenging" and "rattlesnakes live in the handholds" so we left that for the likes of the Belle Lettre family
One new thing we did this time was visit the Blanca Plaza, a dazzling old range of cathedral-like white chalk (and another O'Keeffe painting spot, blah blah.) This was a quite bizarre excursion -the land is now owned by an Islamic retreat and the guidebook said you simply arrive, and then you can walk around as long as you stay on the paths. We spent a while trying to find the entrance which had a "closed due to Covid" sign on it, however, as we backed out, the gates swung open very slowly so we drove forth up a very hilly and winding road to another set of gates which again, let us through slowly, closing behind us. To be polite, I tried to check in on the office at this enormous mosque, which was absolutely deserted. I knocked on huge wooden doors shouting HELLO expecting an Imam to pop out with a mask on and give me a thumbs up, but nothing. It was like a scene from The Prisoner. Anyway, I said fuck it and we drove through the final set of gates to the car park and then walked to the structures, which were absolutely extraordinary. The quiet was immense. I recommend it to anyone.
We also took a proper tour round Ghost Ranch where O Keeffe's first house was ( I like Georgia O'Keeffe) and got as close up as possible without intruding on the land around it. For some reason, the estate has not opened this house up like the one at Abiquiu, which is a massive shame but will surely happen one day. The house at Abiquiu was also regrettably closed because of Covid -they usually have private tours organized by the museum. I stood outside and peeked over the fence, to all the wispy plum trees and incredible views from this hillside perch. All the irrigation ditches outside the high adobe walls were now running dry but you could imagine how they were when she lived there and they watered the flowers, fruits and vegetables.
We had a couple of pit stops to Santa Fe and Taos, and went into a few art galleries and gift shops so I could bring home even more cards and enough salsa to rot all my rugae. It was incredibly noticeable that everybody - everybody - in New Mexico socially distanced and wore masks. When I say everybody, I mean everybody. Signs everywhere urged community efforts and instead of flashing signs warning against speed on the road, they said " we don't want a third surge, do we? Mask up." It was so welcome, having left a State that has lost its fucking mind.
On our last evening there it snowed- proper, soft and swirling snow that settled on the mountains. When we set off early the next morning, all the mountains were covered in what looked like piped pink icing as the sun came up, then reverted back to white snow. I bought some books on Abiquiu and am embarrassed at how ignorant I am of the long, long history of the inhabitants of this area. Baron is, I think it's fair to say, fucking done with the States but he loves New Mexico too. Who knows where we will end up! I'm certainly done with the crazy arse politics of sections of the States, but as for the land itself -what an incredible place it really is.