Heading down the Turquoise Trail National Scenic Byway through the desert hills into junk sculpture art heaven.

Our plan to go Native American pueblo village hopping got cut off at the knees. The first village, Tesuque Pueblo, was closed to visitors. I knew that the Native American reservations were hit especially hard with COVID. I also knew the pueblo villages were closed last summer. However, I had recently heard that many reservations, especially in the Southwest were efficiently and quickly getting vaccinated, even way back in January, so I had hoped that maybe, the pueblos had opened up. Not so. Anyway, a very friendly tribal cop stopped us at the gate, but gave us many alternative tourist ideas. I did notice that the Tesuque Casino was operating full-tilt with a packed parking lot.

We were pushing 11:30 am by the time we were sent packing from Tesuque Pueblo. In a snap decision, we turned the van south and made for the Turquoise Trail National Scenic Byway, which then ties into the Sandia Crest Scenic Byway. I had read about a couple of QTs (Quaint Towns) along the way.

Almost as soon as we turned onto Highway 14, the official name of the Turquoise Trail, the landscape morphed into gorgeous low desert hills dotted with the occasional art studio. These weren’t the usual art studios, with the promise of beautiful colorful paintings. These were all homes to “junk sculpture artists”. They took a pile of scrap metal and ingeniously fashioned it into some kind of sculpture. It might be a big bird, a mariachi guitar picker, a fantasy beast, a cowboy, or just a hunk of abstract junk.

But here is the crazy thing - all up and down the highway, for some 50 miles, every artist was proficient in this same genre. It’s like they all just coalesced in this one place.

The first QT, the once mineral-rich Cerrillos, was a very important community, originally due to silver, gold, and nickel mining. But mining turquoise was the big draw. At one time there was even talk of Cerrillos being named New Mexico’s capital.

All the mining played out and the town shrunk down to a tiny rustic village. But what a cool rustic village - straight out of the old West. Unfortunately, the locally renowned Blackbird Saloon was closed on Tuesdays. I really wanted to wet my whistle. That would have to wait.

I don’t know when the Cerrillos turquoise ran out, but all the jewelry shops along the Turquoise Trail listed their turquoise necklaces, bracelets, and earrings as genuine Cerrillos turquoise. The locals must have horded a lot of the genuine stuff.

One of the colorful characters still left in Cerrillos. She insisted that I needed her in my photo to make the scene authentic.

We had to look up what “Mediatrix of all graces” meant. In the Catholic religion, Mary is considered an important mediator of all things and issues between heaven and earth.

Leaving Cerrillos, hasta la vista, baby.

The next town, Madrid, is the junk artists’ capital of the Turquoise Trail. Formally a coal mining town, Madrid’s junk artists saved the community from dying like so many other boom-bust mining towns. It is absolutely insanely wonderful how they can imagine a use for the scrap-crap they scarf up. We spent a lot of time inspecting and admiring all the fabulous junk sculptures.

The Mineshaft Cantina served craft beers and good looking bar food. We hadn’t had our burger and fries yet this year. We made a mental note to stop in on our way back.

Not exactly junk art, this was, however a prop for this shop called Wild Hogs.

There was one seemingly typical art shop in town. However, from the basement, we could hear an artist banging and hammering on metal. This shop was a combination gift shop, antique shop, gallery, soda fountain, and workshop. We did buy a waffle ice cream cone.

An audacious necklace made from Cerrillos turquoise.

Golden, another cute, but very tiny village with a handful of junk werks looked inviting, but we were running late and pushed on. The mountains were calling.

The Turquoise Trail peters out near Albuquerque, but the Sandia Crest Scenic Byway takes over. This awesome road dead-ends at 10,600’, where snow still sits in the rock crevices. The sky was dramatic with a series of black storm cells of snow squalls roaring in like freight trains. At the mountain top, we were pelted with large pellets. We could see Albuquerque spread out about a mile down in the valley.

10,600’! So far I have not felt any symptoms of altitude until hiking at this spot. Breathing on the uphill legs of the trail was a bit labored for me, but the trail around the mountain top was too good to miss. I just took my time. Snow squalls and wind were tough to deal with. We dressed up like it was winter.

We did return to the Mineshaft Cantina. I tried a locally brewed Cream Ale - not bad. Wanda tried an Orange Cider - passable, but not worth writing home about. We ordered a decadent 1/2 pound Mad Chile Burger and fries to split. It laid heavy in our guts, but it was yummy. It will dampen down our beef cravings for a couple months.

For a $3 up charge, we could have gotten a beef patty from a local farm that pampers and even massages their cattle on a daily basis, before slaughtering them to be eaten. Now, I am all for treating animals humanly. We try to only buy eggs with the “certified humane” label (Aldli has them). But I am not so sure that massaging cows just before butchering them is exactly humane.

I did say a little prayer thanking the cow for sacrificing its life to give me sustenance. Then I dug in and devoured the poor thing with some amount of gusto. Hey, I’m not responsible for devising a world where you must eat living things to live yourself.

Tomorrow’s forecast calls for 30% rain, the highest we’ve seen yet, and quite cold, about 50º. Since the rest of the week looks wonderful, we are going to sacrifice tomorrow to the RV chore gods. First up will be laundry. Without a reliable water source on our last bit of boondocking, we have let the clothes washing get out of hand. Therefore, it is laundromat time.

Dave and Wanda

Mask Up To Save Lives.

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