Red River, NM. Go there.

Heart rate increases.

Breathing faster.

Light-headedness.

Persistent nausea.

The disturbing symptoms of a girl in love? Or the welcome indications of early altitude sickness?
Answer: Both.

This past weekend, my parents and I went in search of winter and we found it in New Mexico.  It's been extremely mild here in south-central Kansas, and the miniscule amounts of snow makes it quite difficult to engage in our family's favorite winter pastime: cross-country skiing.

Papa Bear hauling butt on the incline.

First, we had to spend nine hours in the car and drive through western Kansas, Oklahoma, and the boring bit of New Mexico.

95% of the journey looked like this.



Or this



Occasionally this.

Somewhere around Cimarron, New Mexico, something pretty exciting happened.

Precipitation!  We must be getting close...

Sure enough, the landscape (and the weather) began to finally change and we found ourselves on a mountain pass in a snow storm.

The new view out of the backseat window

There aren't a lot of pictures from this segment of the trip, and it is greatly embarrassing to explain why:

If I'm in the car for more than a few hours, and I'm not in the driver's seat, I...get motion sickness.

By the time we hit the seven-hour mark, and then began the twisty-turvey journey into the mountains, I was curled up in the backseat with my eyes squeezed shut and my headphones in trying to drown out the noise of the car and passing semi-trucks.  I would move only to snag a swallow of Sprite I made Mama Bear buy me at the last stop. 

But at last, Bobcat Pass ended and we coasted into our destination, Red River, New Mexico.  Worth it.

Red River, NM

I cannot say enough good things about the town! I loved being there and saw why my parents go back year after year to get their winter fix.  Maybe it was because everyone was so nice, and I'm pretty sure it was the genuine kind of nice.  Maybe it was because we apparently caught the town during one of the many off-seasons so it wasn't very crowded.  Maybe it was because it was the complete opposite of the commercialized and mendacious Aspen. [Note: Aspen is beautiful, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I could ever step foot in the actual town again.]  Maybe it was because my motion sickness was finally cured by the healthy-sized rueben sandwich from Brett's Bistro.  Corned beef = mircale drug.  Maybe it was because we had the best pizza ever at The Pizza Place.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because of the close proximity to this:

Enchanted Forest Cross Country Ski Area

Welcome to Enchanted Forest, a few miles outside Red River, with cross-county, snow-shoeing, dog trails, and all the fresh mountain air a body could ask for, all nestled in the Carson National Forest in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

Majestic beauty? Check

Great people? Check

Chocolate lab named Ruby to greet you at the door? Check.

More reasons you should makes plans to go at least once in your lifetime:

Awesome trails.
Day 1: Skied these trails plus Sherwood Forest, Sven Wiik, Little John, Long John, and Jackalope. 
Papa Bear and I saved the best for Day 2.  Mama Bear took on the snowshoe trails.

Wheeler Peak Overlook along the Little John trail

Trees!



More trees!



Have I mentioned the awesome trails?

Day 2: Powderpuff to Sven Wiik to Little John to Long John to the
Mother of All Blues: Northwest Passage

For the record, I am agonizingly slow.  Most of the time it's because I'm lost in my own little world and just farting around on the trail, but on the downhill sections it's quite purposeful.  Snow-plow style with my heels digging in and my poles dragging behind me, I refuse to lose control, because when I lose control I panic, and when I panic I go flying off a curve into a steep ravine where I'll be stuck for three hours until Search and Rescue pulls my frozen body out.  Or something like that. 

But I don't mind that I'm slow, and that's probably why I love xc skiing so much more than straight up downhill.  Downhill just isn't fun for me, and honestly when it's compared to cross-country, downhill's kind of a wuss sport. 

Because lifts are for wimps.  I ski uphill.

...then I go downhill.

Blind turns and all.

I'm just being conceited, downhill is great if you like hurtling down a treeless slope with fifty other people.  I'm just saying you should respect the kick-and-glide.

After Papa Bear and I finished up with the Northwest Passage, and after Mama Bear tackled the Yeti Trail on Sunday, we all took a drive down to nearby Taos to visit one particular shop on the plaza.

Garden & Soul is this nifty little store that sells greeting cards, local artist specialties, books, and a hodge-podge of other things.  I, of course, spent twenty minutes browsing and then bought some of The Chocolate Cartel/Xocoatl's Mayan Hot Chocolate and dark chocolate covered almonds, both spiced with red chiles "the way chocolate was meant to be."  The almonds are long gone, but I have yet to break into the hot chocolate.  I'm a big fan so far!

On Monday, we began the long drive back to Kansas a little tired and sore, but quite pleased with ourselves and already planning the next trip back.

And the world went whizzing by. 
Not really, it was a long and boring trip home, but I'd happily do it all over again.