While others attended a memorial for the deceased, prolific Taos author John Nichols (the Milagro Bean Field War), I honored him by climbing Tres Orejas. Tres Orejas, or Three Peaks, is a dead volcano rising above the western Taos Plateau, a beacon in all directions with its three bumps or “ears” easily detected among other volcanic mountains in the distance. According to one of our hiking group members, John Nichols describes this climb in his book, “The Last Beautiful Days of Autumn”, when he takes his 80-year-old father up the most southern peak. Now that I have been there, I can’t wait to read this book. I’ve been on a kick of reading books about adventuresome places where I have been myself. I can mentally redo the trip without the physical effort.
When I woke my sciatica was acting up. Too much digging and moving wet dirt yesterday to plant my 3-sister garden (corn, beans and squash). I always hope a hike will relieve the nerve impingement. This hike didn’t disappoint. With the hiking group, we drove out on a rutted dirt road far into the mesa to reach the mountain. We passed mesa dwellers’ homes but saved the “tour” of broken dreams for afterwards. The dirt road led to the foot of the mountain.
The mountain rises 750 feet above the mesa, not what you call a high mountain. John Nichols climbed the most southern peak in 45 minutes. I started off knowing it wouldn’t be a long slog. No trails lead to the peaks, so we each chose our own path. Although I thought about following the John Nichols route, I soon veered straight up to the most western peak. Maneuvering over the red pumice, the mountain top soon was straight up from where I was.
The rocks called up the child in me and I scrambled from rock to rock, slowly, so as not to hurt myself. Occasionally, I wondered about descending safely, but I dismissed the thought and continued climbing. I folded my poles and used both hands to grasp the rocks above me. I was rock-climbing! My body felt agile, my mind was unafraid. I trusted I could do this climb. And I did. I made it to the top before anyone else from the group caught up with me. Standing on top of a mountain with a 360 view, I felt triumphant, alive, and suspended in time. I wasn’t an old lady, I was a child climbing stairs, a ladder, a tree for the first time and experiencing being suspended from the world below. I viewed the mountain ranges to the North, the East and the South. My energy soared like the crater once spewed out its energy 30 million years ago
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Still in this suspended state, I started my descent. Descents are notoriously more difficult and dangerous. Slow and focused, I found my footing, turning toward and away from the mountain as needed. Hanging on with my hands and finding a foothold below me was an exhilarating journey. It wasn’t a long descent and soon I reached a more level, walkable ground. The majority of the group opted out of going to the top, but a few followed my lead.
But I had already set my sight on the next peak. The middle one was the crater’s core, flattened by aeons of exposure to weather and wind. And windy it was! Found shelter in caldera rock pile, then navigated around. Should I climb to the top or not? One hiking partner had followed me and caught up with me. We climbed up together on the south approach until it seemed high enough without making the descent difficult.
The 3rd peak was still waiting. The first ascent is the most elating, the 2nd and 3rd not so much. I touched all three and can say I was up on each “oreja” of the mountain. A mountain with three ears can hear in all directions. Besides hearing the wind, the mountain must hear the bugling of elk as the elk droppings were all over this mountain.
From the 3rd peak we could walk down a long sloping ridge toward the cars. This gave me time to look back and let my climbing excitement dissipate as I walked among the trees. We found some cacti in bloom and a few pieces of obsidian, shaped or cut, maybe spear heads. Walking and discovering Native American remnants connected me to both the land and its people who lived here long ago
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On the way home we took the bumpy dirt road across the mesa and saw the mesa dreams. Land gained cheaply, dwellings created from trash, old tires, empty bottles and mesa dirt. Broken dreams are common due to water scarcity and difficult winter access. But that story is for another post.
Thank you John Nichols for writing about this treasured place. My heart is full with the satisfaction of playing and exploring like a child. I’m grateful I am still granted these adventures and am not confined to my armchair to look at the mountain in the distance. My sciatic pain from this morning is gone, my body feels nimble. Hiking healed me and keeps me young. My armchair is serving me to write this post for you, my reader.
Dami- Thanks for sharing this. I wished I had known about this last time I was in Taos. Could've made a stop. I'll definitely have to consider the visit next time I'm there. Hope you're well this week. Cheers, -Thalia
Beautiful going for a walk with you! Now I will read the book. Know of it, haven’t read.