Day 23
Tues 17th July New Mexico Taos
Day starts with local Leona from the riverside tent coming over to sit with Lisa. I talk to Bob in the bigger brother Toyota, a V6 Winnebago from West Virginia parked among the trees. I’m interested in his clever system of straps and torsion bars which secure his motorbike to the bumper but move the strain to the chassis.
Bob is a mature single guy on the road with a giant stag’s head in the bed and a stuffed mountain lion behind the sofa. He plays a melancholy guitar - singing soft slow rhythm and blues. Leona’s man Steve arrives with freshly caught fish using flies made by Luke, a semi-homeless wanderer from Wisconsin. We start a fire and all share a sumptuous lunch of brown and rainbow trout, bagels and ice cream.
Lisa matter-of-factly washes our dirty clothes in the river. I go into town with Luke for supplies. Afternoon spent laughing and relaxing together, playing cards and carousing into the evening when we are joined by the only other campers in the area, Angie and her two kids, River and Bond. Angie once owned an art gallery and is taken by Lisa’s sculptures. She encourages Lisa to exhibit and resolves to photograph them. Bob and Steve alternate on the guitar between C&W, Blues and traditional New Mexican. I learn to play the gong by firelight while the boys throw the illuminating balls at eachother and Luke tells stories about fish, accordions, bears and frostbite. A very pleasant day which arrived from nowhere.
Had a good day, washing clothes in stream to the surprise of others. Steve and Luke caught fish and cooked them for us - we gave ice cream and bagels. Bob from West Virginia in other toyota, a sad and gentle new divorcee, played his guitar. Angie and her two boys were camped higher up but joined us for dinner - more fish. She likes my sculptures and told me to sell them for at least $150 but start higher. These people are all struggling to survive, L and S camping up here for free to save on gas for their hours commute from home to work. Bob very careful with his life and belongings but would share in a heartbeat to have a woman to sing with. For 30 years he went out womanising and drinking with his father-in-law every night and hunting every weekend. He carries a complete stuffed mountain lion and an antlered stag head - both of which he regretfully murdered himself. He sits and puzzles his past behaviour and attitudes in a cloud of remorse and wonders if this new life will ever fulfil him. Leona left her 4 kids and abusive husband to find Steve 6 years ago. Tries to forget it all while tattooing their names on her body in ever more whimsical ways. Her latest a ‘prison tattoo’ done with a home-made gun, the needle made from a guitar string so the inkwork is fantastically fine with a wonderful paintbrush effect. Her sister and family live in 2 jacked-up 5th wheels at the woodyard where he works and are tiredly grateful for a place to live. There is so much wealth here yet these lovely people dont have it - they just provide the services. Sounds familiar doesnt it - seems all that changes is the colour of the workers’ skin. A magical little campground with dive-bombing humming birds, tumbling river sounds and more gorgeous butterflies.