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Tynan’s truly excellent trip to Pagosa Springs, Colorado

Tynan and Laura of High on Hooking
Tynan and the mistress of High on Hooking.

 

Tynan the Welsh Springer Spaniel here. After using my likeness so many times to sell rugs, she finally let me write the damn blog. I’m choosing to tell you all about my, I mean, our trip to Pagosa Springs, Colorado, last week.

 

 

First thing to get off my chest: Freaking cheapskates should’ve sprung for the whole week at the condo. First time in two years I get out of New Mexico (sure, she’s jaunted off to Tucson two Januarys in a row to rug hook), and they give me just four nights away and out of the desert heat. Arses, both of them.

 

Monday:

Tynan at winery
The master and I leaving the Wines of the San Juan Winery in Blanco, New Mexico. There are two bottles in that purple bag he’s carrying. And nothing for me.

So, the ride from Albuquerque to Pagosa Springs is just under four hours IF you take the most direct route. Do we take the most direct route? NOOOOoooo. Hey, I’m as good a car traveler as any other dog, but it’s still not my most favorite activity. (Favorite activities involve food and belly rubs.) Did they ask me about driving the long way just so’s they could visit a winery? NOOOooo. The Wines of the San Juan place was in the middle of nowhere. Really. But they were good people and even let me in the tasting room. Someone could’ve tossed me a pretzel, but at least there was AC. Apparently, my humans liked the wines because they picked up a bottle of the Serendipity Merlot and another of the Rosé of Dolcetto. Do they know how many Frosty Paws they could’ve bought for the same price?

Since we’re almost always in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico and Colorado – most of the ride was two-lane highway – they are so lucky I don’t puke in cars. More importantly, there was nowhere to stop for lunch. Okay, the chances of them buying me lunch are pretty much a big goose egg, but a dog can dream. I could tell she was getting a little cranky. All those pretzels he ate in the winery were definitely NOT gluten-free. She got nothing. Just like me. Ha!

Tynan looking at Navajo Lake
Navajo Lake State Park on the New Mexico side.

The ride was kind of cool, especially as we moved from the high desert browns and tans and the juniper greens to the lush pines and aspens and all that grass on the cattle ranches. Man, being from Massachusetts, I’ve never seen so many cattle ranches. I’m not complaining. Who bitches about steak…on the hoof? She took tons of pictures – far more than any one person needs, if you ask me, which no one ever does – like she always does, even made him stop the car so she could get out and focus better. Perhaps I would’ve liked to have stretched my legs too. Nah, I just wanted to get there. Besides, I had the whole backseat to myself. At least they put my comfiest bed on it.

Tynan looking at Chimney Rock
Part of Chimney Rock National Monument just west of Pagosa Springs. We didn’t go here, just drove by it a couple of times. But I think a return trip is going to happen.

Finally, I can tell we’re getting close to the place. They start discussing groceries and whether it’s cool enough to leave me in the car while they run in to pick up dinner stuff. I HATE it when they leave me in the car. Or at least that’s what I let them believe. So’s I start my usual whining and crying when they turn into the parking lot. Hunger clearly doesn’t agree with them; they tell me to shut up. What I put up with. I lie down in my bed perfectly comfy.

Vacation condo Tynan stayed at
The view from the condo’s deck. Nice. Just look at all that green grass.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take them long, and even better, the condo’s less than a minute from the grocery store! They don’t even leash me when we get out of the car! The place was great! Surrounded by all this long, green grass. Real grass, not that fake shit we’ve got in our backyard back in Albuquerque. I pee (of course) then rub my face and whole body in the grass. So soft, so cool after those 105° days during the heatwave in the desert. Reminds me of the old place back in Massachusetts that we left behind. With the chipmunks which we don’t have in Albuquerque. I miss chipmunks, though the little punk geckos are pretty fun to hunt. But I digress.

The condo freaked me out a bit when we first got there. Strange sounds; damn, my own toenails sounded so loud on the fake wood floor. And I had to be careful all the time or I’d slip. I much prefer carpet. The deck was pretty cool. Real wood. I liked hanging out there, but I wish they’d have let me off to catch that stupid cat that sashayed by.

That night we went out to dinner at Kip’s. It was great. They bought me a plate of fish tacos. NOT! I sat in the car then got to hear about the tacos and fresh salsa all the way home. Typical.

Tuesday:
Tuesday morning was good; the mistress took me for a walk. On the leash. Not optimum like in the Bosque at home where I get to run free most of the time, but okay. Or it was till we took that wrong turn that kept us out for 90 minutes instead of the hour she planned on. Idiot. I’ll give her, she didn’t do that again. After breakfast – theirs, not mine, but at least I scored some banana, I love bananas – we…get in the car again! Didn’t we drive enough the day before??? They say we’re not going far. And we’re going on a little hike. Okay, I like to hike.

Another view Tynan took in.
The most beautiful part of the Pagosa Valley. looks like a freaking movie set. I’m telling you.

We drive east, back through town. I can’t lie, there’s good scenery: mountains; lots of horses; the San Juan River and even river rafters; more steak-on-hooves and ranches that look like they’re straight out of a John Wayne movie. We go up, up, up on our way to the Wolf Creek Ski Area.

Tynan a the Continental Divide
The master and I at the sign for the Continental Divide Trail up near Wolf Creek Pass. The idiots took pictures of this same sign back in 1995.

There was still snow up there! And this is how dumb my humans are. We come to a roadside stop for the Continental Divide, and they realize that they’ve been there before, back in 1995,

Tynan at Treasure Falls
Treasure Falls

when they traveled around Colorado. They’d driven the same road (albeit in the opposite direction, from the east) on their way to Durango. Duh! We turned around at the ski area because our goal really was the hike to see Treasure Falls. Of course, there were more stops to take pictures before we got there. But the Falls were pretty cool.

That night we ate at the condo. Because it was vacation, I got a couple of bites of their steak. She didn’t even hassle him about how much it would cost him if I got pancreatitis from eating human food. Hey, I walked and hiked that day.

Wednesday:
Can you believe this, after our walk and breakfast, we get in the car again! Apparently, we were headed for Durango. Why? It’s not like they hadn’t been there before. They wanted to see if it was different. Duh, it’s been 22 years! Have you not heard that you can’t ever go home again? At least it was only an hour in the car. We left the alpine greens and headed back to the desert browns. I have to admit that Albuquerque seems a lot greener than Durango. (Never mind that I’m mostly colorblind. A dog can tell these things.)

Tynan in Durango
The French crepe dude’s cart in Durango. And I’ve still never gotten to try a crepe.

So the idiots were kind of disappointed. We got caught in local traffic driving in. They seemed to think that the place was a crap-load bigger than in 1995. (Duh.) Eventually, we found a parking spot and headed into the Old Town/downtown area. Talk turned to lunch and how they had to find a place that had outdoor seating that allowed dogs. Pooh. I have great manners, and since I’ve become desert dog, I absolutely adore AC. Amazingly, they found a little stand with a French dude who made crepes – yes, crepes in the Southwest – and decided to stop there. Apparently, the crepes were quite yummy. Not that they gave me any, claimed there were green chiles in them. Right.

But there was a bright spot. Several, in fact. Most of the shops let dogs in! And several even had water and – get this – treats for us canines! At the expensive shoe store I managed to score two Milk Bones. Woo hoo! They liked me; found me quite attractive. And, since I’ve lost a couple of pounds and got the slimming haircut, I have to say that I am looking fine.

Thursday:
Yeah, this was supposed to be a day of rest. All we were planning on doing till we went out to dinner was to finally let Murphy’s ashes go. Murphy was my big brother. They’d adopted him out of Colorado six months before I arrived as a pup in 2008. He’d just turned 12 then and managed to live till he was 16 and a half! I think I can take some credit for that. I was five when he died. Five! They’ve been holding on to his ashes since then! But again, Murph was a Colorado dog, so taking home wasn’t a bad call.

Murphy, brother of Tynan
My old buddy Murphy, the Colorado dog who spent his golden days in Massachusetts.

Murph was a cool dude, drove the idiots crazy those last years. (I loved it when he pissed on the mistress’s hand-painted cupboard in the foyer. Ha! And he was bullet-proof, would just look at her like “What? What? I’m old. What are you gonna do to me?) Anyway, he got them good last week too. They knew they wanted to let him go in a river somewhere kind of private rather than in the middle of Pagosa Springs. Mistress finds a river on the map not too far from the condo, though it required traversing the forest uphill on  a dirt road. The master loves that shit in his Honda Accord. Not! Gets better. After his constant  “Are we almost there?” she tells him “It’s just around this curve.” And it was, but it was a DRY river bed. I laughed and I laughed.

 

Murphy's last place
Where we let Murph’s ashes go on the San Juan River in the San Juan National Forest. Pretty sweet, no?

Now they’re desperate. It’s our last day in Colorado; dude can’t go back to New Mexico with us. She tells him there’s a place on the completely other side of town…she thinks. Okay, they want to do right by Murph, so we head back east toward Treasure Falls. We find the parking area and the trail. But her map is sketchy. Not a lot of info. We head down the trail towards the river. And get maybe a third of a mile before the path just…ends. We turn around, head back to the car. They’re testy. “It has to be farther up the dirt road.” (Another dirt road; he loves that.) “No, the dirt road goes uphill, up into mountains.” “We can’t tell that; the river is to the right. It has to cross in front of us near here.”

As usual she breaks him and we head up the dirt road. Lo and behold! Maybe a half-mile up and down the road we find the river. We have a little ceremony (me from the car so that I don’t go swimming), and now Murph is running free in the San Juan National Forest. You go, guy. I miss you. And I’m still laughing because what should’ve been a half-hour commemoration took us two hours! Even in death, Murph wins.

FRIDAY:
After our daily walk, we packed up and were out of the condo by 10:00 a.m. Thank goodness, they opted to take the more direct route home. One more drive through the center of Pagosa Springs, a right turn onto Route 84, another two-lane, and we were on our way. We only made three stops. We’d never been to Chama where the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad is. We checked it out, used their bathrooms. The humans want to go back one day to take the train ride. I’m guessing that dogs are personas non grata, so perhaps I’ll be left at a doggy hotel for that trip.

Tynan at Tierra Wools
Rug yarn at Tierra Wools in Los Ojos, New Mexico.

Back in New Mexico she  made us drive two miles out of our way to visit, yes, a freaking fiber place, Tierra Wools. The master and I are in agreement here about these kinds of stops. At least they let me in to hang in the AC. She didn’t buy anything, but made sure she took pics of the rug wool colors for when she needs some. The master rolled his eyes like he always does.

Tynan at Echo Amphitheater
Echo Amphitheater is near Abiquiu, New Mexico, which is right near Georgia O’Keefe‘s Ghost Ranch.

We made one more stop at a cool place called Echo Amphitheater. While I was grateful to get out of the car to stretch my legs, it was NOT my favorite place. They might as well name it the “Fuck-Your-Dog-Over Amphitheater.” Yeah, the idiots thought it was great fun to call me and have it echo from the rock formation. I had no idea who was calling me and where the voices were coming from. Next time I’ll stay in the car, thank you very much.

And, just like that, we were home by around 3:30 in the afternoon. Our vacation over. I miss Colorado. It was cooler up there, and we’re back in another heatwave here. Ah, well. At least they’re talking more get-aways. In October it looks like we’re heading back to New England for the first time since we moved out here two years ago. And then in January, she’ll probably take us to Tuscon. No, we’re not going to the Old Pueblo Rug Hookers Hook-In with her, but the next day, we’re hoping to drive down to Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, for a week. Very cool!

Hopefully, she’ll let me write more of these posts rather than just pose with her rug of the week. You’ll have to find that on the High on Hooking Facebook page later this week. Until then, thanks for reading.

Signing off and hoping I get to write again,

Tynan

Tynan
Tynan the Welsh Springer Spaniel of High on Hooking

 

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Taking stock

The rug I was working on as I moved last summer. "Welcome to New Mexico."
The rug I was working on during last summer’s exodus: “Welcome to New Mexico.” Since then I’ve been taking stock of our first year here.

 

Taking stock – that’s what I did with some of the time I took off from the blog these past couple of weeks (which passed by REALLY QUICKLY). July 30 held particular significance and not just because it was the day before my kid’s 19th birthday. This year it marked exactly one year since we rolled into the state of New Mexico to stay.

Wow! We can’t believe it either. At times it’s been tumultuous, there’s no denying that. The holidays, they were tough without family and friends. The kid crashing her car – no injuries other than to pride! – means that just like in high school, Tom’s stuck driving her back and forth to work till she saves for a new vehicle.

Big picture, though, the move’s been most everything we wanted.

 

Where Tynan and I walk in the Bosque along the Rio Grande.
Where Tynan and I walk in the Bosque along the west side of the Rio Grande. This is city living Albuquerque style.

CLIMATE:
Certainly, the weather’s wonderful: lots of sun, lots less winter (compared to New England). One day last January, we hiked in the snow on the east side of the Sandia Mountains then drove the 45 minutes to home where it was 55 degrees. No need for a stinkin’ snowblower here!

 

RUG HOOKING (this is a hooking blog):

You'll find many of AWAG ladies demonstrating rug hooking at Albuquerque's Biopark the first Tuesday of most every month.
You’ll find several of us AWAG’s ladies demonstrating rug hooking at Albuquerque’s Biopark the first Tuesday of most every month.

Who would’ve guessed that there’s such an active guild of hookers out here in Albuquerque? I’ve made some great friends this past year, even one, Melinda, who moved from New Hampshire about the same time I moved from Massachusetts. Now the two of us try to get a hooking afternoon in each week. Better yet, she and her husband are New England Patriots fans just like us. Tom and I are no longer alone in a sea of blue and orange Bronco fans.

 

"Desert Gone Wild" went to a good home just last week.
“Desert Gone Wild,” a table runner or wall hanging, went to a good home just last week.

As High on Hooking, I’ve managed to start selling pieces and been involved in not one, but two shows. The Adobe Wool Arts (ATHA) guild volunteered me as our representative to Albuquerque’s Fiber Arts Council which is currently planning next May’s Fiber Arts Fiesta. Then back in January, three of us headed down to Tuscon in Arizona for a hook-in with the Old Pueblo Rug Hookers. It was 80 degrees there! In January! I even managed a little sunburn!

 

You can't get much closer to a balloon without being in the basket. This one landed behind the house last fall.
You can’t get much closer to a balloon without being in the basket. This one landed right behind the house last fall.

 

 

 

 

HOUSING:
While we didn’t down-size like we planned (hey, with no cellar or attic, we realized we needed an extra room for the treadmill and bike), we found a great house close to the Rio Grande. That means the dog and I can head out to walk the scenic trails of the Bosque (the forest) whenever we wish. In summer this is best done in the early morning hours.) So far we’ve come across a snake, hawks and hummingbirds, lots of bunnies and geckos, two coyotes, and, just last week, a porcupine.

 

Tynan running free in the Bosque. Like, Just like New England, autumn is the best time to be in New Mexico.
Tynan running free in the Bosque. Just like New England, autumn is the best season to be in New Mexico.

 

 

PERSONAL:
I turned 52 this summer. Moving here signaled the start of the next half of my life. (You think I’m optimistic, but one of my grandmothers died as an active 93-year-old, and the other is still very much alive.) One reason we moved here — besides the BIG sky, the art scene, and there being less people — was for the outdoor lifestyle. We like to hike. Unfortunately, a couple of months before we left the east coast, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I won’t lie, it’s been a pain in my ass, amongst other places, but especially for my knees. That’s limited our hiking some. But I’m on a new med; here’s hoping it works without too many side effects (the scary kinds they recite to us in all the TV ads). And that the damn hot flashes stop soon. (I am 52.)

20160522_121931
On the trail again at Tent Rocks.

Luckily, though, while my fingers have swollen some, they’ve suffered little pain. Maybe all the hooking keeps everything lubed up. Thank goodness. I know that most of you feel like I do: hooking is therapy. Without it, life would, to put it bluntly, suck.

Life here in Albuquerque definitely does NOT suck. There are all kinds of new experiences:

 

Tom posing in Tent Rock's curves.
Tom posing in Tent Rocks’ curves.
Navajo rugs up for auction.
Navajo rugs up for auction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I could go on, but I won’t right now. There’s too much to do. Rugs don’t hook themselves. Plus, we have company coming early September through mid-October. I can play Julie McCoy to the relatives.

 

How’s your summer been going?

 

Mass ascension at Balloon Fiesta 2015. Have you ever seen so many balloons in one place?
Mass Ascension at Balloon Fiesta 2015. Have you ever seen so many balloons in one place?

 

"Welcome to New Mexico", 29.5"x20", $225, Recycled t-shirts
High on Hooking says “Welcome to New Mexico.” Stay for a while and see why we love it here.
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Playing a little hooky, creatively

It’s Tuesday, a perfect day for playing a little hooky. I know it’s also blog-duty day, but maybe we can fudge that a little in the name of unbelievably nice winter weather and creativity. Especially when I think of what I wrote last week vis à vis creativity and my re-burgeoning need to write.

Hurray! I finally sat down and wrote.
Hurray! I finally sat down and wrote.

This morning, while the kid was at work and the husband was out at some doctor’s appointment, I took up pen and paper and set forth to write fake stuff – fiction, that is – once more. I gave myself a prompt I’d collected (I keep them on my Pinterest page, if you’re interested) and wrote till I heard the garage chimes ringing that Tom was home. It was a good start. Tonight the journal comes out after the dinner dishes are cleared.

 

The afternoon hitting 60 degrees here in west Albuquerque (sorry to all those who might be finding their own climate a little chilly), after lunch Tom and the dog and I headed down to the Bosque (the forest along the Rio Grande) to check out the local wildlife. Got so warm, I had to take off my sweatshirt.

The Rio Grande as it flows through Albuquerque. Those are the Sandia Mountains in the background.
The Rio Grande as it flows through Albuquerque. Those are the Sandia Mountains in the background. I’m thinking that I’ll have to do a landscape piece sometime soon. See, playing a little hooky is good for one’s creativity.

 

Tonight it’s back to pulling loops. My March 1 deadline to have this current piece done is quickly approaching, and there’s still some project infrastructure I haven’t figured out. Just trying to get the major hooking done first.

 

 

 

Praying that the old Clairol will come through for me...
Praying that the old Clairol will come through for me…

 

Tomorrow’s creative endeavor: Early this morning, before I sat down to write, I did my monthly-or-so coloring of the grays. I hate dying my hair. Hell, I haven’t even tackled dying the t-shirts I hook with. Tried a new shade. And changed to L’Oreal when I had been a Clairol kind of girl. Very bad idea. I’m a natural redhead. Or I used to be. Currently, I’m more Lucy meets a violet crayon; the box called the color it “Ruby Rush.” Yeah. Made a call back to Maurice in Rhode Island: “What do I do?!!!?” Then took a trip to Walgreens to pick up the old Clairol. Back to the dying board tomorrow.

How’s creativity going for you these days?

 

 

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