Taos Ski Valley

This morning we woke up next to flowing water, parked alongside a road in the national forest between Taos and the Ski Valley.  Excited to start hunting, and unable to sleep due to the constant roar of trucks passing by (there’s construction up at the ski area), we had a quick breakfast of granola with gooseberries and tea, then headed to the hills.  It’s been years since I skied Taos Ski Valley, but remember it quite vividly.  When we first started dating, Rich took me on a romantic ski vacation to Taos.  Having hit a tree the year before, concussion and 16 stitches, I was by no means an expert.  Of course, he wanted to hike, which entails going beyond where the lifts take you and into the backcountry.  From the peak, I watched him fly down the steep slope with ease.  I was in awe at his grace and form.  I whimpered, wondering how I would ever make it down.  I sat down, and reminded myself that I wouldn’t die.  Needless to say, it wasn’t a graceful decent, but I’m still here.  Oh, the first of a wonderful life with Rich, filled with extreme adventures… 

On the slopes, we ran into a gaggle of women who were out hiking, poking around for mushrooms.  They carried plastic bags (a no no for mushrooms) filled with inedibles.  We helped them ID their harvest, and told them about our forage voyage.  One of the women, Sally, reminded me of my friend Mary who lives in Boulder.  Her hair is silver and white, her eyes bright, and her smile would light up even the darkest of spaces.  My heart immediately opened up to hers, and I know this sounds a little woo-woo, but I’m a little woo-woo… I could feel energy flowing between us, something ancient bonded me to her.  Sharing stories, laughter, and ideas with these woman was such a joy.  And to top it off, Sally told us that her son is a hunter and her freezer is full of elk meat, which she generously offered to share with us.  Andre’s been lusting for some meat, especially after seeing elk steak on a menu at one of the restaurants that wanted our mushrooms (a wonderful place called Love Apple that serves locally grown and foraged foods, but too low of a price).  We’ll hop on our bikes in a few minutes to go pick up our steaks.  Yay!  Phyllis generously offered to let us forage in her garden, too!  To top it off, after a 10-mile hike, we filled our bags with mushrooms to trade, porcini, hawks wings, coral, and others. What lovely women, what amazing fortune.