#128
We headed north, then west, out of Santa Fe late one morning. As we climbed in elevation, snow grew in the shadows. The road is narrow and hugs a canyon below. Stunning vistas to the east-northeast, towards Taos, and the high country. The air grew sharper, but not uncomfortable, with November skies, and early sunsets.
Los Alamos the town sends off vibrations that seem to be stuck in the rock it sits on. I’m surprised by the number of churches, but on reflection, maybe this is a “just in case” kind of situation? The surrounding landscape is some of the most beautiful I’ve seen, the very reason New Mexico draws you in.
The dog and I hear about a local place for Mexican food, Viola’s, and I go in and get some tacos and we sit in the back hatch of Mini in a parking lot while we eat. I watch people, they watch me. Who is who? Who is not?
After lunch, we drive out towards the laboratory and up the mountain path towards a trailhead that I had read about. The lab gates, US Government property, no entrance, are prominent. The building isn’t as large as I had assumed it might be. A few minutes later, as we continue the ascent, not a car or person to be found. I pull over and look out at a crowd of trees on my left. On the right, a canyon, behind us, the lab. The vibe feels off. My sense of self, a little lost. The dog is ready to go, but reluctant to get out. I shut the car off, roll down the windows and eat almonds from a bag. We listen and hear only wind. I can see the peak of Pajarito Mountain.
That’s good enough, I tell the dog. Let’s go back and we turn around and head down, not a living being to be seen. Later, passing through town again on our way back towards Santa Fe, back to familiar tracks and paths for our afternoon walk, I wonder, really, truly, what’s going on in this place?