I had always heard about a sure part of New Mexico called “ Georgia O’Keeffe country , ” but I never really knew what it meant or how the American modernist painter add up to own the landscape .
In the thirties , Georgia O’Keeffemoved from New York City to Abiquiu , New Mexico , a Spanish Colonial - era village that at one time was the third largest small town in the New Mexico Territory . O’Keeffe reconstruct an old adobe brick compound in Abiquiu where she live until 1984 , two twelvemonth before her destruction . Just outside her windowpane were the arresting landscapes of Northern New Mexico from which she drew boundless inspiration for her famous house painting .
According to O’Keeffe , “ When I stimulate to New Mexico that was mine . As shortly as I saw it that was my country . I ’d never seen anything like it before , but it fit to me exactly . It ’s something that ’s in the air , it ’s unlike . The sky is different , the twist is different . I should n’t say too much about it because other people may be interested and I do n’t need them concerned . ”(From Perry Miller Adato ’s infotainment film , Georgia O’Keeffe . )
Her word could n’t ring truer , because as we passed through the less - tracked wild of Chama Canyon in Santa Fe National Forest , we too matte an born connexion with the land that we wanted to keep to ourselves .
In the middle of ourSouthern Colorado route misstep , Will and I ingest a detour to New Mexico to embark on a 31 - mile , 3 - day , self - guided kayak camping tour down the Rio Chama .
A designatedWild and Scenic Riverand major tributary of the Rio Grande , the Rio Chama cuts through the Rio Chama Wilderness , a rude area comprehend 50,300 Acre in Northwestern New Mexico . uncivilized and Scenic Rivers represent the wild and untouched landscape of America accessible only by trail . Paddling down this beautiful ribbon of body of water meant we would get to see the rare forms of nature that few people ever see in their life-time .
The Bureau of Land Management limits access to the Rio Chama as a conservation effort , and “ private party ” permits are need to execute the river in the summer . We lucked out as we were capable to tally a permit less than a calendar week before our trip , and the river was scheduled to be dammed the undermentioned hebdomad . There was still enough water flow rate in the canon to make kayaking potential , and with it being so late in the season , we would intimately get the whole river to ourselves .
After crossing the border from Southern Colorado to Northern New Mexico , we reached the countryfied fishing resort of El Vado Ranch in Tierra Amarilla , the put - in for our kayak dangerous undertaking .
We packed three days ’ Charles Frederick Worth of intellectual nourishment and camping power train into our kayaks , along with supererogatory supplies to comply with the river ’s “ Leave No Trace ” policy . Packing for kayak bivouacking always take a “ duffel shambling ” as we resolve what to lade into Will ’s hard shield and my inflatable . On this trip , he carry our tent and quiescence bags , while I bear our food and clothes .
We love kayak encampment — it ’s like the lazy man ’s backpacking . you could bring all your gear with you into the wild , but do n’t involve to foot it with 50 pound on your back . Sometimes you do n’t even need to paddle . The serenity of floating along the water bring you that much closer to the earth , and you tend to detect the small point that often get fall back when you ’re jumble up a trail …
Shadows cast by ponderosa pines . Naturalmulchon the forest floor from years of peeling barque . Colony of deglutition ’ nests cling to the bottom of drop-off .
The first twenty-four hours on the river offer up easy Class I and II rapids flank by desert brush and stony gradient .
We passed an old 1800s homestead and a small maneuver chemical group of raftman , but beyond that was virgin isolation .
As we paddled deeper down the river , the landscape painting gave way to an evergreen - filled canon and steep , more dramatic bulwark .
We pull off onto a riverside for dejeuner , which lie in of our backpack staples of tortillas , turkey , tall mallow , hoummos , and garden - grown veggie convey from home plate .
This turn out to be one of the most beautiful tomato plant I ’ve ever grown — just look at that color ! And the frame was so obtuse and racy , I could ’ve eaten the whole thing like a peach . A sweet , smoky peach . ( In case you ’re wonder , this was a Cherokee Purple tomato , an heirloom sort that wander from a deep ruby color to a dark purple when mature . )
After lunch , we settled into pack for the evening . With riverfront accommodations and an open - air lounge , I was seriously loving life .
Sometimes I wonder why I put out bringing all that encampment gear with me , because I often palpate absolutely contented just sleep on the basis under a canopy of Tree .
A myopic scramble up a drop-off for a perspective and a cupper vino rewarded us with an overlook of the river .
Next to the steep walls of Chama Canyon , which climb 1,500 feet above the river , the Rio Chama was merely a shaving .
The next day we awoke to a intimately cloudless sky and set off on daylight two of our journeying .
We passed telling drop stripe of sandstone , shale , granite , and basalt that formed during the Triassic and Jurassic periods . In fact , along the river are fossilized footprint from an Allosaurus ( an ancestor of the Tyrannosaurus rex ) that used to roam the land 150 million years ago .
For the next 10 Admiralty mile , the canyon wall tower over us , loot in vivid specter of vermillion , pinkish , yellow-bellied , and white . I think I wore a permanent expression of awe that whole Clarence Shepard Day Jr. .
The canon grew taller and narrow as we neared our 2nd campsite , a tip given to us by a river guidebook who had told us it was her favorite land site on the whole reaching .
Finding this confidential spot required a “ hot landing , ” as it was call , which intend the pull - out was in the center of a diminished but fleet rapid . A short walk brought us to the campsite , tucked underneath a stand of trees .
A beautifully gnarled old tree diagram was the centerpiece of our site , as well as our clothesline .
We had heard about a trail that started near our campsite and led into a slot canon so secluded and spectacular , it was dubbed your “ own secret Utah ” by local guides and rivaled some of that land ’s classic sandstone features .
Along the trail , we found skeletal betting odds and end from an fauna , its os fragment discolorise by the sun .
We kept finding more and more off-white …
… Until we hit the kitty ! A vertebrae !
Of naturally , the zooarchaeologist in me had to get the picture in a little deeper .
I surmised the remains might have add up from a mess Leo the Lion . Or something very grown , very scary , and not a creature we ’d want to run into on our hike . The dead one , or the one that killed it .
It was heavy not to feel worried after our little find , specially since the Dominicus would be specify in an hour and full-grown , scary creatures likely prey on defenseless kayakers at night . But , we did n’t have to hike up much further before coming upon the slot canyon .
The unmingled sandstone wall seemed amplified at such stuffy range , and resist next to them reminded us how peanut we really are in this existence . Insignificant , yet we can do so much damage to the places that have been here eons before us .
It truly was our “ own private Utah ” … but even well , because it was New Mexico and no one knew about it .
And we even made it out of the slot canon without getting eaten by any creatures of the night .
As for our campsite … we ’ll bequeath it a topical anesthetic ’ secret for now .
Our final day on the river greeted us with more gay sky . We were exceptionally prosperous the last few days , because while summer monsoon were looming over Southern Colorado just a couple hours away , we had nothing but warmth and sunshine on our skin .
We kayaked a few mil of serene , flat H2O and the only sound come from the splashing of our paddles .
In this inordinately tranquil stretch of the river , we die theMonastery of Christ in the Desert , a Roman Catholic Benedictine monastery . Out there in the Rio Chama Wilderness , the monastery maintain one of the largest individual solar array in the country , which power its electrical energy and water pumping . I wish we ’d had prison term to visit the monastery after our river journey , because the architecture ( by Nipponese - American woodsman George Nakashima ) and the web ofsustainable systemsemployed at the monastery — not to note the earnest lifestyle of Benedictine monks — are endlessly fascinating .
As I sit in my kayak , enjoying the solitude of the instant in this designated quiet geographical zone , I could not ideate a more perfect place to be cloister . In a unlike life-time , I too might have considered becoming a Thelonious Sphere Monk if the Chama were my backyard .
The last several miles of our journey were outside of prescribed “ Wild and Scenic ” edge , and star sign of civilization set about to appear with little homes , some built in traditional adobe brick style , flank the riverbank . No longer wild , but still very scenic .
We swim idly on the river past more incredible landscapes . It was not until the last couple international mile that the river served us a lively serial of Class III rapid to end our misstep on an adrenaline - charged Federal Reserve note !
After 31 miles , 3 day , and only 1 capsize , we lastly reached the take - out at Big Eddy in Abiquiu , New Mexico . In all our kayak camping adventures , the Rio Chama place extremely as one of our ultimate favorite trips , both on urine and on land .
After packing up the car and change into fresh apparel that did n’t demand a washup suit , we were off .
As we drive through Georgia O’Keeffe country , admire the desert landscapes that she made famous , we too felt something different … in the aura , the sky , and the wind .
