Last Sunday, persuaded by the start of the fall colors show on my drive the previous weekend, I had an ambitious plan.

I thought I would drive up to Abiquiu again, and from there, head on north towards Tierra Amarilla, where I would hop on US-64 east and climb into a sea of golden aspen and on through the San Juan Mountains to Taos. From Taos, the High Road through Trampas and Truchas would give me a glorious trek south as I made my way home.

Well, in fantasy I had imagined a wonderful two- or three-day photographic adventure, and once I was in the Abiquiu area early afternoon on Sunday, reality set in.

Because I spent several hours in rural Medanales, a hamlet against the Rio Chama south of Abiquiu, I knew I would need to make sacrifices from my itinerary as the day progressed.

Medanales

My detour into the riverside community began innocently enough, with a stop to take a photo of some horses under a large tree. The field I photographed was sitting next to another, which itself was next to another, each long and reaching back to the Rio Chama snaking by against them. The river, covered by a canopy of yellow and orange and reddening cottonwoods, beckoned to me- and my intended hustle towards Tierra Amarilla was put on hold.

Medanales, “sand hills” in Spanish, was purportedly named after a family, but it adequately describes this swath of verdant land winding among sandstone rises and bluffs.

My wander on those backroads never took me to a fine river vista, but it gave me some excellent views of farm and pasture lands sitting under rising mounds of ash and sandstone that dot the area. And, in my ever-present quest to photograph New Mexico churches, my wander happened me upon Medanales’ adobe Catholic church, which garnered some camera time.

I spent nearly two hours investigating the sights of this little community.

The Delta at the Bend

Once I left Medanales, I drove on through Abiquiu since I had been there the weekend prior, and I made a left immediately past the village onto Route 162, a road against the Rio Chama that offered a picnic area by the river, fishing access, and then residential access to a number of homes and farms sprinkled in the woods around it.

At a point when 162 went from paved road to dirt track, though, my truck went from 2WD to 4WD, and I found myself out on an exposed rise that suggested this road would cross the “delta” of land behind the “Rio Chama Bend”- the triangle of sand and trees and waterway where the river bent to trek around the hill to the south. This river bend is seen from the elevated pullout on US-84, offering a look down the charismatic farming valley which is especially enchanting in the fall.

Rocky Route 162 rumbled along out towards the river delta until, at a point, the road dropped down abruptly, and I had some reticence, four-wheeling in my old but capable truck, about going down the pitted decline, concerned that if I went down it and the road before me dead-ended somewhere, I would not get back up it.

A woman in an SUV car pulled up by my truck parked off of the road, and I waved at her and asked her if 162 would in fact go around the hill before us and get us to Abiquiu Dam.

“Sure! That’s where I am going. Follow me.” And she was briskly off, and then so was I.

The rough road did follow the river around the wall before us, and soon I was back on paved road, exiting out of the river recreation area behind Abiquiu Dam, climbing up the switchback route on the back of the dam itself, until I was on NM-96, and by the Abiquiu Dam Corp of Engineers Office, where I stopped and took in the broad view of Abiquiu Lake below me. The wind rushed by and tickled my face as I looked northwest at the long reach of water and at the rocky ridges of Ghost Ranch beyond the lake to the north. The day was changing over from afternoon to evening now, and I yet entertained my drive through the San Juan Mountains, so I got on my truck, drove back to 84, and continued north-ish.

Ghost Ranch

Ghost Ranch is Ghost Ranch, though, and nearing its entrance, I figured I should stop for a moment, if anything, at the old cabin and corral, and just drink in the colorful rock walls in the strong late afternoon light. The mesas spread endlessly before me, chocolate-speckled salmon- and wheat-colored sculptures, demanding quiet homage.

And a few photos.

But time was ticking.

I had a half hour yet to get near Tierra Amarilla and to the US-64 turnoff, and I needed to make sure I was on the hills while there was still daylight.

US-64

Soon, the immense wall of the Brazos Cliffs came into sight, and then I was turning east on US-64, starting my winding hike into the Tulas Mountain hills. It took a little altitude gain, but soon, vistas opened and revealed the changing colors of trees on the hillsides.

My hope to see some autumn colors here was satisfied.

I stopped at several of these viewpoints to ponder the gold-laced hills and valleys below me.

At the Brazos Peak Outlook on a summit point on 84, I got out and snapped a few photos of the peak as dusk started settling in.

My light show climaxed, and was mostly over.

As shadows fell on the hills and woods around me as I continued on east, I enjoyed the cool air outside and the quiet drive.

Darkness settled in, and following my descent from the mountain, the woods opened and I was at Tres Piedras.

And there, at a decisive intersection, I bid Taos adieu, and opted to head on home through Ojo Caliente, and Espanola, where I could get back on I-25 south for Albuquerque.

Visually, the day was extremely enjoyable.

With the fall color season still not yet at its peak in northern New Mexico, I guess I saved some color chasing yet for another day trip.