Thursday, August 29, 2013

Cabin Fever - Angel Fire, New Mexico


     Some kind of country music being tuned out by loose gravel hitting the back fender of Ford as we come around the last curve before the end of the road. I immediately notice an abrasive tree trunk that will soon have J & S carved into it. This will require digging through my purse, but I know I have something sharp enough in there to do the job. Joey is taking me to his cabin in Angel Fire, New Mexico. I’ve never been here but he said he wanted to show me his favorite place. 557 miles later we arrive.  We pull up on the unpaved driveway but have to wait at least 30 seconds for the dust to settle. The only things you can hear now are crickets and the hot engine clicking, as it takes a break from its nine-hour drive.  We step out of the car and I immediately look up. I feel like I have been somewhere like this. Somewhere where I stood so close to the ground surrounded by towers that were nearly touching the sky. This was New Mexico’s own version of New York City. Looming tree trunks reached at least sixty feet high, as if they were pulling their fingers as far as they could to reach the clouds. The sky was a shade of blue, that would make bubblegum ice cream jealous. Here I was, this 5’7 creature absolutely dumbfounded by God’s work.

     The first steps of the porch smelled like pine and fresh air.  The stairs creaked as if they had been soaked with rain only to dry up in the sun day after day. Finally the key turned open the lock and boots lined the hallway as you walked through the door.  Spare pine needles covered the floor letting me know adventure was welcome. The inside of the cabin smelled like cowhide. I counted nine windows on one wall, each one looking out towards trees that could double as stilts if you wanted to touch the sky. I have never been to a place that was so quiet yet so alive at the same time.

     By the time I got to the second floor I was already out of breathe due to the high altitude. One word of advice, don’t run up the stairs. The multiple fireplaces told that tonight one of them would be whispering smoke into the atmosphere.  Back in the kitchen I dug through the shelves to come up with something to throw inside of a crockpot that was clearly from the 70’s. The conclusion was chili. A perfect fireside dinner to comfort us after we spent 6 hours playing outside. I sat down by the front door and laced up my black leather boots, tied a flannel around my waist, and jammed a granola bar into my pocket. Joey led me to some of the most photogenic views of my life.  No wonder this was his favorite place. 

     After our adventure it was time for a break. As I sat outside enjoying a glass of earthy Pinot Noir I was entertained by two flirting blue jays. Both extremely camera shy. Even when I tried to sneak up on them with my camera they would whiz past the lens. Absolutely no time to focus. They were busy collecting all the deer food we had laid earlier that day. It’s almost like a game of hide and seek with wildlife. The harder you look – the less you find. The smell of stewed tomatoes amplified my appetite and the glass of wine wasn’t helping with the hunger.

       As the sun was setting we collected firewood from an overly organized pile of logs. Fifteen minutes, an old rolled up newspaper, and a box of matches later we had a dancing fire. Something both of us would eventually stare into like pyromaniacs. It felt almost sacrilegious burning wood. It wasn’t less then 30 minutes earlier that I was looking up into the sky and admiring the trees.The golden embers lit up the room and the crackles filled up any gaps in our conversation. Through a cracked window, a gust of wind whipped around us and invited us outside. The sky was like a black velvet blanket embellished with glimmering stars. We were out in the middle of nowhere but embraced the loneliness. We knew that in less than 48 hours we would be back at work, sitting under stale artificial lights, dreaming of this enchanted playground. We made our way back inside and in perfect sync with the fire, our eyes closed for the night as the flames took their last breath. 







No comments:

Post a Comment