Toner Mitchell

Most winter recreationists know that northern New Mexico offers a breadth of opportunity for the snowboarder as well as skiers of all preferences. They know that it’s normal in our state for upwards of 300 inches of mountain snow to fall in a given winter, that this snow has a rare fluffy quality found nowhere else on earth, and that the chances of experiencing it beneath a dark blue sky are extremely high. They might not know, however, that two New Mexico mountains (Santa Fe and Taos) are among the oldest major ski areas in the west, or that all New Mexico mountains are offering some amazing promotions to get you out onto the snow.

If your first visit to the Bosque del Apache Wildlife Refuge is in winter, you may wonder at first what the fuss is all about. Say it’s December, and you arrive around midday. The winter sun slants in from the south and strikes the now bare cottonwood trees, whose gray and white trunks contrast only slightly with the landscape’s dull brown hue. Sealed in your warm car, you note a duck or two in the air and, shortly after officially entering the refuge, come to a marsh the size of a football field. The pond is covered with snow geese, “covered” meaning you can hardly see the water they’re floating on. Still, I can somehow imagine you sitting in your car nonplussed, regarding the scene as just another stroll through a city park, the geese as only so many catchers of tossed bread.

I don’t remember exactly when Truchas Peak first got its hooks in me, just that it was early in my life. On frequent trips to Taos, I remember begging my father from the backseat to take the highroad home to Santa Fe, especially in winter, so I could stare at the peak bathing in the pink last rays of daylight. I also remember learning that trucha meant trout in Spanish, and, being a trout geek, I thought it the coolest thing that my mountain and my fish not only shared their beauty and mystery but their name as well. Having become a better Spanish speaker, I now know that trucha is also a slang term for knife. There are three Truchas Peaks, north, middle, and south (at 13,102 feet, the loftiest of the three). South Truchas is also undoubtedly what whoever was referring to when naming the peaks. Like a trout, its appearance is unique and demands to be ogled. Like a knife, it has a point and jagged edge that appear to grow sharper whenever black thunderheads pile above it.

I would be remiss in writing a hunting article if I did not seek knowledge of the highest quality, the kind that Peter Romero possesses in spades. In other words, take the following general guidelines about five of our most sought after animals as truth, if not gospel.

Born and raised in New Mexico, I’ve rafted the Rio Grande, climbed most of the big peaks, and have fished almost every inch of running water that is open to the public. At an early age, I was taught that our state is the fifth largest in the nation and that our state bird is the roadrunner. I pride myself on my knowledge of my homeland, which is why I was floored to learn that there are more than 1,200 lakes speckled across its high desert expanse. New Mexico may not be Minnesota, but think of all the canoes and kayaks one could float on all that agua, the hours upon hours you could pass jet skiing, windsurfing, or sailing, or how many spectacular wrecks you could execute on your water skis. On top of all that, imagine all the fabulous fishing and the miles of gorgeous shorelines on which to lay a campsite.