Date: Sun, 2 Feb 1997 23:16:54 -0500
From: Charlie Ford <cford@mindspring.com>
Subject: Taos Life Pt. I

As I mentioned in my earlier post I arrived in Taos on Wednesday of this
past week.  On that evening I camped in the village of Pilar (PRONOUNCED
Peel-are) in search of a guy that was possibly going to offer me a
temporary job as Volunteer Coordinator for the Rio Grande River Clean-up
effort.  I must say when I heard of this situation I felt like "yeah, I
could do that for a while"!"

I mean the fact is that I would be working a couple months in Taos New
Mexico and that my friend wouldn't be a bad gig at all.  Taos is a great
little city nestled in the San Louis Valley and surrounded by the Sangre De
Cristo Mountains.  As I had heard prior to trekking here, the city is one
for artist.  It is their grazing land for creativity.

There are craft shops all around, and many esoteric, trendy people all who
appear to wear ski suits.  Many are very nice but you also have a sampling
of people that if you were to buy them for what they were worth, and sell
them for what they thought they were worth, you would never have to work
again.  but then I guess all communities have suffer right along with the
high and mighty.

I found out very quickly that the locals are the ones that dress rough and
wear heavy beards and such.  The hippies of the 60's have evoluted into
being the leaders, politicians and land owners of this area, and have
almost become everything they stood against while on their trek to save the
world with peace, love, and pot.  I have found these people to be very
understanding and very reclusive.

After arriving in Taos I went to a pay phone to try and find the gentlman I
was supposed to meet with.  As per his instructions I was to "give him a
call" when I reached Taos.  I called and this very nice young lady answered
and quickly explained to me that he was not in the office but would be in
on Thursday.  I asked if there was a good place to camp somewhere around
the area of Pilar, N.M. where the office was located.  She explained that
there was one down the road that was run by the Bureau of Land Management,
BLM for short, and the sites were realtively inexpensive.  So onward to
Pilar.

Pilar is a little village tucked away in the Rio Grande Gorge, just south
of Taos on Hwy 68.  It is a marvelously peaceful township with adobe houses
mixed in with modern homes.  All seem to have that spanish influence no
matter which category they fit into.  In Pilar there is a turnoff onto
State Hwy. 570.  This road weaves its way down the Rio Grande gorge,
eventually after 7 miles or so it crosses the river on a modern bridge and
uwardly traverses a steep jagged ridge to the plateau.  More on this later.

When I arrived at the intersection of Hwy 68 and 570.  I turned right onto
570 where the camp was supposed to be located approximately 3 miles down
the road.  I found that it was a primitive campground with the same name as
the town.  I had heard on the radio that in some areas of the mountains it
was supposed to get down to 0 degrees that night, so I said "if I can't
find someplace to plug in I will come back here and settle in for the
night", but I had to try if possible to find a place to plug-in.  I drove
back to Pilar.

I pulled into a small store, went to the door and there in my face was a
sign that said "CLOSED".  It was Wednesday afternoon, I had just driven
across mountains to get here, struggled through strong wind, snow, and
death defying driving to arrive at this destination and they were closed!
In my eastern frame of mind I said "don't these people  ever work?".

There was a man across the street that looked like he was a local, and a
person that had much info to share.  I hollered "hey, is this store ever
open?", he hollered back in a spanish accent "sie, but only in the summer".
I walked toward him hoping that he wanted to be as conversive as me.

The man's name was Arron.  He was about 50 years of age with a rounded face
sculpted by the native american influence and the conquistidors we all have
read about in books.  On his neck he wore a necklace or bolo tie sort of
thing with a large bead piece in the middle. He wore an army field jacket
that with his very short hieght made his legs look like they were only a
couple feet long.  Actually when I neared him I saw that he was a short
stocky man that carried himself as if he was 10 foot tall and bulletproof.

I asked him if there might be a place to plug in for the night.  He asked
me what kind of plug did I need so I explained to him the operation of the
electricity of my van.  he said what would I pay for such a thing.  I told
him I had paid as little as $6.00 in my camping around the eastern parts.
he said how did $10.00 sound.  I said I'll give you $7.00, he said ok and
proceeded to tell me where to pull up.  The site i had already scoped out
was on a nice level piece of ground running along the front of the little
building.  the site he showed me was a hill.  In an effort to sleep and
wake-up not walking sideways, I offered him my alternate spot.  He said
that would be fine so I pulled in.

Come to find out, Arron was one of the larger land owners in the village of
Pilar.  He owned a very nice home that fronted hwy. 68, and drove around in
a nice 4X4 Ford Truck.  A fairly nice guy with a streak of entreprenuerism
coursing in his viens.

I asked him iif he new Steve Harris, he said matter of factly "no, I don't
think I know him".  I told him he ran a rafting outfit called Far-Flung
Adventures that the way it sounded was pretty big.  Once again he said "no,
I don't think I know him.  Somehow something told me that he did know him,
but was trying to feel me out for information and the business of my visit.
I found out later this is pretty much the way nieghbors are in Pilar, New
Mexico.  Talk about Neighborhood watch.

I camped there that night in peaceful bliss and warm comfort.  Only the
sound of an occasional car on the highway disturbed my sleep.


"79" Transporter, dressed for the road
The Mothership

 The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and
Search for the Beginning of Wind".

www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html

"Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"