Uploaded March 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 hours ago
Some roads just get into your blood. After more than fifty years of making the drive from Santa Fe up through the Rio Grande Gorge to Taos, you'd think the magic might wear off a little — that the eyes would stop scanning the canyon walls, that the heart wouldn't still do that small involuntary leap when the road breaks over the rim and the Taos valley unfolds below you like something out of a painting. But it doesn't. It never does. And on a brilliant late-February morning, with a reason to head north and a camera ready, that old highway pulled me in all over again.
The errand was simple enough. My son Shannon lives up in Taos, and I had a few things to drop off. After breakfast I loaded everything into the Outback, pointed the nose north out of Santa Fe, and let the road do the rest.
nmosg.com
Some roads just get into your blood. After more than fifty years of making the drive from Santa Fe up through the Rio Grande Gorge to Taos, you'd think the magic might wear off a little — that the eyes would stop scanning the canyon walls, that the heart wouldn't still do that small involuntary leap when the road breaks over the rim and the Taos valley unfolds below you like something out of a painting. But it doesn't. It never does. And on a brilliant late-February morning, with a reason to head north and a camera ready, that old highway pulled me in all over again.
The errand was simple enough. My son Shannon lives up in Taos, and I had a few things to drop off. After breakfast I loaded everything into the Outback, pointed the nose north out of Santa Fe, and let the road do the rest.
nmosg.com
