A Year in Santa Fe

One year. It's been nearly an entire year since I've returned to this blank field where words and letters can and will fill this empty space (when I want them to). I read an article this morning in which Gawker's Emily Gould explains her demise by blogging in The New York Times Magazine's Exposed, and whether it meant to or not, it made my brain and fingers stir again.

One year ago, when Ian and I trucked across country to find new shelter (physical and emotional) in Santa Fe, my aunt said to me, "I hope Santa Fe is good for your love." She is a spiritual one, mind you. I giggled it off, embarrassed by the sentiment (which she nearly always carries) but now I can only say it has been no less than "good for our love."

The sandy, rust-stained earth of Santa Fe has sprouted an entirely new era, mindset, definition in and of our lives. We no longer hole up inside a Brooklyn apartment on bleak, snowy days; We swoosh through the woods that tumble towards Santa Fe from behind the ski basin, thrilled at the powder that rushes at our faces and tingles our skin with cold. Summer is no longer for sweating in scummy subway stations; Instead we're charging through woodsy trails to waterfalls flowing strong after the snow's melt or jumping of brown, barren cliffs into lakes while our dogs bark from the water's edge.

We've turned a rental into a home, it's weed-strewn grounds now tilled into patches of tomatoes, basil, eggplants, and peppers. The steel wind mill across the streets whines in the wind and reminds us that we might not hear a siren or a cab's honk for weeks, maybe months. Instead, we hear mountain bikes whizzing by after a romp on the nearby trails or an occassional car kicking up dust and rocks (yes, we live on a dirt road!) on its way to the Audobon Center.

About three weeks ago, we returned from a two-week jaunt in Europe (something we'd been itching to do, but could never afford while in New York). I, in the French Alps, to write a story for Outside's GO, and Ian, to meet me in Italy after I finished. We ate risotto and zuppa, zipped around on a motorino, hiked through vineyards, and treasured the art.

But most importantly, while on Capri, we got engaged. It's hard for me to not smile about this--maybe because saying those words sounds so cliche and cheesy, but mostly because I am so excited. I find myself sifting through wedding venues, dresses, message boards, and blogs non-stop, dreaming up our humble celebration. I say humble because we've decided we want nothing more than a field on a lake or river, some grass, trees, and a huge barn for everyone to gather. If that doesn't convince you that Santa Fe has changed us, than I don't know what would.

My ring, a 60-year-old family heirloom, comes this week. And funny enough, it's originally from Brooklyn.

Image 1, 2, and 3 thanks to Ian Troxell.
Image 4 thanks to flickr-rickr according to this license.

Run On, Runyon

Escape the confines of your car and head up to Los Angeles' Runyon Canyon for a little mid-city hiking right smack dab in the middle of the Hollywood Hills. With three trails--easy, medium and hard--dotted with some of the best vista points in Los Angeles (yes, better than the lookout by Outpost Drive), you can work up a sweat and snag nearly 360-degree views that include the Hollywood Sign, the high-rises of Downtown L.A. and Century City, and, if it's a clear day, all the way out to the ocean. Because there is not much shade on the majority of the mountain, sun-protective gear is definitely recommended (as is a large, but manageable bottle of water). The best part? Dogs allowed (and off the leash)!



The recreational park is accessible from both the top and bottom of the mountain; a dirt parking lot (free!) hugs Mulholland Drive at the peak and street parking is available in the neighborhood down below (North Fuller Ave. and Franklin Ave., Hollywood). So it's your choice if you want to make your way down first or use the downhill as a much-earned relief after your hefty hike.

From the bottom, enter the gate and head up to where the trail forks. Go straight for trail with the medium level of hardness or steer left to access the hard and easy trails. The medium trail will make a u-turn past an old tennis court and then wind up onto a dirt path with well-worn, wood-beamed stairs. You'll have reached the top of the medium trail when you come to an old wood bench with a seat that's at least four feet off the ground. If you continue, the trail meets back up with the easy trail.

For the easiest route, just keep plodding up the old, paved fire road burrowed between two hillsides. A little more than 3/4 of the way up, you'll meet up with the medium trail--a wide dirt path lined with shrubs that juts out to your right. For a little view indulgence, without any uphill hiking to get to it, make a right on the medium trail and walk out to the plateau's end. From here you can see the white, block letters of the Hollywood Sign to your left. Look a little more central to find the bulbous domes of the newly remodeled Griffith Observatory atop a distant hill. Almost directly in front of you stands Downtown Los Angeles, and then the sprawling grid of Hollywood, West Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and pretty much every other city on the Westside (the "Westside" refers to anything oceanside of the hills that separate the San Fernando Valley, or "the valley," from what Angelenos call "the city").


If you're jonesing for an extra-good workout, because believe me, even the "easy" trail is nothing to feel lazy about, head up the dirt path that forks left up the hillside from the base of the easy trail for the ever-daunting, hard trail. Although it looks like it might be headed off in some random, wayward direction, it's not. Once over the small hump you'll see large homes nestled into the lush crevice of the hills. Keep an eye out for a turquoise pool that drops off into a waterfall, surrounded by teak-like wood and stout palm trees to your left and you'll get a peak into what Hollywood Hills living is all about.

Although there are several trails that drift off in the beginning of the hard trail, the one you want to be on should be obvious. Many of the smaller trails wander off only to return to the main trail anyway, so don't be worried about getting lost. Scramble up the the steep inclines, try not to slip on loose, dry dirt, and take breaks at each flat--if you don't, you'll miss the most spectacular views out there.

Once you've hit the highest peak of the hard trail, you'll come down, pass an abandoned mansion with a stuffed-animal dragon peeking out from behind broken panes of glass. Stay right after the house and follow the wide dirt road. You will see the paved fire road down to your right. You can take that up to the top parking lot or, for one last heart-inducing jaunt, take the high road to the left and head up the wooden stairs. At the top of those, stay right and it will lead you back to the top lot, or top of the easy trail.

A loop can be made out of any two of the three trails or descend the way you came, but plan on at least an hour for any of the three hikes. Unfortunately, there are no bathrooms in the entire park and not many hiding spots behind shrubs--the paths are almost always busy with hikers, not to mention all of Los Angeles is looking up at you from below. For more information check out: www.lamountains.com/parks.

Oh, and don't forget to pet as many slaphappy doggies as possible.