I woke up at the Taos Inn, and knew that the cold that I had been holding at bay was going to hit me full on today. I headed off to the pool for another round of laps anyway. This time, the effort was less strenuous. Maybe I was adjusting to the altitude, or maybe I saw the benefit of a good night’s sleep.
When I checked in, the person working the desk had suggested the Bent Street Deli near the hotel for breakfast, and he was right. I had a hearty breakfast steps away from the inn on a bright, sunny 
morning. Because it had been such a great place to stay, I took some photos of the lovely hotel on a gorgeous day and later booked another night. The only downside to being there was the lack of internet 
service in my room, so after I checked out, I set up a quasi-office in a well near the fireplace in the lobby and blogged away about the trip. After an hour of this, I decided it was time to enjoy Taos, so I headed out to the plaza nearby. The temperatures were dropping, and my cold was getting worse by the hour. Travel plans wait for no virus, however, so I wandered into and around the shops, then into the plaza itself. It was Veterans Day, so I stopped first to visit the Taos monument. 
In the bright sunshine, it did not seem like the photos were all that clear, so I am pleasantly surprised they turned out well. Of course, Taos is known for its artists, and I wandered in and out of the shops along the plaza. I found a clock that might fit well in my living room, but hesitated to make a major purchase. Instead, I bought mittens made of recycled sweaters at a quirky boutique, one of many along the plaza and Bent Street. A native American painter from the nearby Taos Pueblo stopped me to consider his work. All of it, he insisted, used Native American symbols and I should ask him what they all meant. I was charmed by a 4×6″ painting of dragon flies, so I asked him to explain. That’s transformation, he said, something I am hoping for on a number of levels of my life. He saw my interest, offered me a discount, and reminded me that his work was more authentic than anything else on the street. Still, I was not ready to buy and planned to come back to Taos, so I moved on.
After my turn on the plaza and Bent Street, I headed back into the hotel for advice on getting to my final destination for the night, Ghost Ranch near Abiquiu. The woman at the desk, whose beautiful 
dimples turned out to be cheek piercings, debated with another member of staff, and finally directed me toward the Gorge Bridge and Rim Road, suggesting that I stop at Ojo Caliente along the way. So I headed out. The Gorge Bridge was under construction, but I was able to stop at the rest area beyond it and photograph the Rio Grande. 
The view was stunning, and the drive took me through Carson National Forest before reaching the gates of Ojo Caliente.
I was not certain what to expect from Ojo Caliente. It is a hot springs, which I have visited in other trips, but never as a participant. I came in and perused the offerings and prices. Finally, after some consideration, I decided on the Moor Mud wrap and was told that I would also have to purchase an entry pass. This seemed like a worthless expense, and I was further frustrated to learn that I would have a three hour wait until the wrap. I thought about doing some writing when it finally hit me that, by purchasing the entry, I had access to the various springs for those hours. The big clue was that nobody else in the lobby was working with an electronic gadget. So I headed into the spa and worked my way from pool to pool, taking in the various mineral baths, the steam room and the sauna before my wrap. My camera was locked away in the assigned locker, so I took no photos of the place to share here. After reminding me that I was here to relax, one of the attendants told me I could lap swim in their coldest and largest pool. Oddly, I had not suggested to her that I was a swimmer. I weighed it up and decided against it. Even I realized that three swims in 24 hours at this altitude was probably overkill, and I would be better served by soaking in the arsenic or soda pools, or watching the stars from the 103 degree pool facing a rock formation. I hoped that the waters and the steaming would help push this cold through me faster, and for a time, my sneezing stopped. I congratulated myself on bringing my swimsuit along to New Mexico. For me, it is required wear, but only 24 hours before, I was wondering if it had been a useless addition to my baggage. I spent more time that day in it than in regular clothes.
At five minutes to 7 pm, I reported for my mud wrap with Montserrat, and native of Spain. She handily brushed my skin, applied the mud, wrapped me up, massaged my scalp, and blackened my face with more mud. Ahhhh. After an hour or so, she escorted me to a private arsenic bath, where I soaked for another half hour before washing off the mud. I had another shower then stopped for a burger at the wine bar before heading to Ghost Ranch.
I did not know what to expect of my entry there. It was 10:30 pm when I arrived, and I was concerned that the place would be closed. As it turns out, it was. I arrived at the Welcome Center and, after some searching and a few calls to the late arrival line (which went to voicemail), I found the hanging folder for late arriving guests with my name tag and room assignment. I found my way in the dark to my dorm room, which was devoid of other people. Exhausted, I selected the bottom bunk bed and slept for a bit. The weather had turned quite chilly, and my cold seemed to have worsened, so I woke up in the night shivering. I put on more clothes and covered my bed with my bathrobe and slept again, hoping I would not run out of kleenex in the night.