ROAD TRIPPIN' ON ROUTE 66 (Part 2 of 2)
Los Angeles to Santa Fe, on Historic Route 66, with my pup, Mister Rogers.
After a quick, fun day in Albuquerque we headed an hour north, up I-25, to end our Western Route 66 journey at Santa Fe, NM.
Santa Fe had been at the top of my “must visit” list for quite some time. Each time I visited Albuquerque, the locals would ask me, “are you heading to Santa Fe?” Whenever I brought up New Mexico, no matter the context, it seemed like everyone would say “go to Santa Fe.” So, I went.
Every trip I go on I try and stay outside of the main, busy part of town if I can manage it. I understand the convenience of staying “in the heart of it all”, so you can easily access all of the main attractions that you made the trip for, but I prefer to live like a local in one of the nearby neighborhoods. After doing some research, I found one of my favorite AirBnB’s, of all time, on the Western side of Santa Fe, about 10 minutes from the Old Town area. Our AirBnB was a remodeled adobe house sitting on backside of a 10-acre tree farm; basically, it was the New Mexican version of a farm house. Everything about it was unique, and the privacy was unrivaled. Rog had a lot of off-leash time, so he was ecstatic to chase squirrels and birds at every opportunity.
Santa Fe was founded in 1610 as the capital of Nuevo México, replacing previous capitals at San Juan de los Caballeros and San Gabriel de Yunque; this makes it the oldest state capital in the United States. Sitting at an elevation of 7,200 feet, Santa Fe is at the highest altitude of any U.S. state capital.
It is widely considered one of the country's great art cities, due to its many art galleries and installations, and it is recognized by UNESCO's Creative Cities Network. Its cultural highlights include Santa Fe Plaza, the Palace of the Governors, the Fiesta de Santa Fe, numerous restaurants featuring distinctive New Mexican cuisine, and performances of New Mexico music. Among its many art galleries and installations are the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum, and newer art collectives such as Meow Wolf — the latter of which we will talk about later…
The Santa Fe Plaza, or Old Town Santa Fe, is a National Historic Landmark in downtown Santa Fe, NM in the style of traditional Spanish-American colonial cities. The plaza, or city square, is a gathering place for locals and also a major tourist attraction.
Walking around Santa Fe Plaza is an absolute blast. Every which way you look seems like a new adventure into the creativity of a local artist, or a beautiful reminder of a time gone by.
Although “New Mexican” is the current culture that thrives throughout the city, there is a long, colored history that is ever present when walking the streets of Santa Fe: it started with the Tanoan and Navajo indigenous tribes, followed by a Spanish colonization, which then became the capital of the Mexican territory of Santa Fe de Nuevo México, after Mexico achieved its independence from Spain, and then by 1848, after the U.S. declared war against Mexico, the U.S. officially gained New Mexico through the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo — the official end of the Mexican-American War.
As I was mindlessly wandering the Santa Fe Plaza, taking in the dry, high desert climate, I almost ran into one of these large, red things hanging from trees scattered all over the Plaza.
Red Chile Ristras are the strung pods of dried red chiles that you see displayed near arches, doors and windows all over New Mexico. Serving as a symbol of welcome, ristras are an iconic decoration in New Mexico, especially during the harvest months and holidays. Ristras also have their practical uses as the star ingredient of delicious red chile sauce and other New Mexican dishes. Ristras are said to bring good health and good luck.
After wandering the Plaza, I headed over to Secreto Lounge, inside Hotel St. Francis, to have some pre-dinner cocktails. For the record, this place was awesome. I started with a Smoked Sage Margarita followed by a classic Manhattan, up. As good as the drinks were, the people watching in this place was even better; this seemed like a cross between a go-to local hangout and a great first-date spot. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay long, because an hour into my experience I very quickly realized drinking alcohol at 7,200 feet is vastly different from drinking at sea level — when it hits, it hits.
So, being a fan of Oaxaca and its absolutely stellar cuisine, I was told I must make a dinner reservation at Sazón, a Oaxacan-influenced Restaurant and Mezcaleria. Upon entering, the place was packed. The hostess thought it was strange I was alone, so I said “well, dogs aren’t allowed.” Confused, definitely not amused, the hostess said it would be a minute, apologized, and had a waiter bring me out a glass of champagne. Santa Fe was trying to get me blitzed faster than a knife fight in a phone booth. Mission accomplished. Although I was heavily intoxicated, I can attest to the dinner being absolutely outstanding. About 30 minutes in, a man dressed in a very flamboyant, Mexican outfit, with a cowboy hat, tapped me on my shoulder and asked why I was alone. Slightly peeved, and also heavily intoxicated, I said, “my man, the city is beautiful, the food is amazing, and if you look around you can see that I am not alone…I am here with a full house!” The man laughed and then introduced himself as the chef and owner of the establishment. He sat down for a moment, I told him about my travels, my love for mezcal and mole—specifically, I told him about my time in Oaxaca—and he motioned to a waiter who then proceeded to bring over three different mezcals for me to try. After a lovely chat and a quick hit of Mezcal, we shook hands, and he was off to the next table to make his rounds. This guy had a VIBE, and I liked it.
I had very little to drink in Santa Fe, after this eventful evening, because drinking at 7,200 feet will stay soaked in your bones.
Oh, before I forget, our friend from Sazón? He became “Best Chef of the Southwest James Beard Award Winner” the following year. Good guy. STRONG VIBE.1
The following day, I took a drive to the Santa Fe National Forest, in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, just East of the city, so I could sweat out some of the alcohol from the night before. The Dale Ball Trails is a 22-mile network of hiking and biking trails that zig-zags throughout the forest. The views were incredible, but be warned: you can very quickly get off the main path, as I did, and you’ll soon look around to see very, very densely populated trees with little to no clearance. I have absolutely no idea what kind of wild life exists in the Santa Fe National Forest, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to stick around to find out.
After my hike, I drove down to the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to stroll along the famous Canyon Road. This street is a magical half-mile, in the Historic District of Santa Fe, that has the highest density of art galleries in the U.S. (100+). Once a street of all private homes, the charming adobe buildings now host pieces ranging from contemporary to traditional, Western to Native American to abstract, created by artists from all over the world. This was a worthwhile stop, and I specifically think it was a great one-two punch with my hike.
My time in Santa Fe was not going to end without a visit to the original Meow Wolf. The original permanent Meow Wolf exhibition, House of Eternal Return is a monumental achievement in DIY world creation and collaboration, featuring over 70 rooms made by local and community artists. Meow Wolf started in 2008 as a small collective of Santa Fe artists sharing an interest in publicly displaying their works and developing their skills together. This collaborative approach blossomed into Meow Wolf's distinctive style of immersive, maximalist environments that encourage audience-driven experiences. A local Santa Fe citizen, who happens to also be the Game of Thrones author, George R. R. Martin, pledged $2.7 million to renovate and lease a vacant bowling alley to create a permanent facility for Meow Wolf. A trip to Santa Fe is not complete without a visit to the original Meow Wolf.
As you can see, Rog was sad to leave Santa Fe, but it was time to head back home on Old Route 66.
It was an easier drive home, partly because we crossed so many stops off the books, but we only have Flagstaff and Kingman left. It’s about a 5.5 hour drive from Santa Fe to Flagstaff, and I think we made it there in 6 hours (pee break).
Flagstaff seems like it lost some of its identity; however, t’s a perfect stopping point for people heading to the Grand Canyon (80 miles North), Sedona (30 miles South), and even Phoenix (145 miles South). Although there is much more to do in Flagstaff than some of the older, smaller towns along Route 66, I wouldn’t say it’s a popular place to hang out, aside from being a convenient spot for Grand Canyon National Park and Sedona.
We stayed the night in Kingman, AZ as it was close to the border and only about another 6 hour drive to get back home. Kingman is the epitome of what most Route 66 stops are now — kitschy signs and lights displaying “Route 66 stop, turn in here!”, with not much to offer except areas and services for a large amount of big-rig’s to refuel and rest for the night. We stayed at a Red Roof Inn — I know, glamorous — however, RRI’s are as good as it gets for people that are taking road trips across the country with animals. They are extremely dog friendly, and they are a giant step-up from Motel 6’s and Best Western’s; a little bit goes a long way.
Our five day trip, from L.A. to Santa Fe, was a great look into a time almost forgotten. The young boy in me still finds road trips on Route 66 to be a magical escape to an undiscovered part of the country.
Although interstates and airplanes have left Old Route 66 in the dust, literally, it is still a fixture in American Pop Culture through song, television, and prose.
“66 is the path of a people in flight, refugees from dust and shrinking land, from the thunder of tractors and shrinking ownership, from the desert's slow northward invasion, from the twisting winds that howl up out of Texas, from the floods that bring no richness to the land and steal what little richness is there. From all of these the people are in flight, and they come into 66 from the tributary side roads, from the wagon tracks and the rutted country roads. 66 is the mother road, the road of flight.” - The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck
Whether it’s on a plane, train, or automobile, Rog is always up for a great adventure.
Where shall we go next?
Chef Fernando Olea of Sazón is a man who knows his way around the kitchen.
The picture of Rog in from of the house is perfection! <3