“But there are no trees,” a friend from the Pacific Northwest once said to me, as if in gentle reproach of my return to New Mexico. She was wrong, although a Sitka spruce transported to a juniper-piñon forest might scoff at the stature of the trunks spread across the mesa. There are, of course, trees. There are, it is true, vast stretches of big sage, creosote, yucca, prickly pear, and other scrub. There is also something else: sky. Yes, Seattle and Portland have skies too, but they do not have our sky.

To dine beneath the New Mexico sky is an incomparable pleasure—so long as it’s not windy season, or freezing, and so long as you’re seated in the shade. With the proper gear and a little elbow grease, you can assemble your own meal in the wild. Some other time, I’ll share a treatise on picnics and backcountry dinners. For now, I’m offering an equally crucial form of pairing for those exploring northern New Mexico: choice hikes, hot views, and culinary surprises along the highways that take you there.

Abiquiú: Café Sierra Negra + Plaza Blanca

Healthy is not a word I usually use to hook people, to lure them off the established path and into a café whose handmade sign glitters on the side of a small highway. But why not? Having clocked hundreds of hours on the road, I know that downing entire bags of chips, then stopping for a burger with fries, then chasing it all with sixteen ounces of soda—a road trip formula so classic it’s practically synonymous with the American brand—doesn’t always feel so good in real time, and can wreak havoc on the gut flora besides.

Café Sierra Negra offers a rare road trip treat: a legitimately from-scratch menu with an emphasis on whole ingredients and fresh foods. Even their wine list leans natural and sustainable (I recommend waiting until after your hike for wine, though). The counter is lined with cakes, cookies, and other house-baked goods, and it wouldn’t be a crime to start your day with a slice of their fine carrot cake. If you have extremely particular ideas about what constitutes a chile relleno, you might balk at the ones served here: unpeeled, unbattered poblanos, roasted and stuffed with quinoa, corn, and beans, then sauced with rich, fiery red chile. I found them refreshing, the meaty flesh of the chiles screaming their poblano-ness, their distinctly vegetal flavor not muted by fryer grease nor overwhelmed by cheese (although, for the record, they are served with cheese unless otherwise requested). On the milder side, the café does simple, well-made savory crepes for both breakfast and lunch. And should you be reticent to break from New Mexico road trip tradition, they’ve got a cheeseburger for that.

If you sit inside, look for a table in the back room, where a picture window shows off the mountain for which the café is named. Out front, the patio is bright and dog friendly, set at a respectable distance from the highway and secluded by a row of trees, with shade sails stretched overhead. The space exudes kindness, thanks in no small part to the staff (dog biscuits were served promptly) and the artwork from local artists on display.

On my latest visit, among a series of black-and-white illustrations in the hallway was one of Plaza Blanca. Touted as a favorite of Georgia O’Keeffe’s, Plaza Blanca ranks among the easiest of resplendent hikes in Abiquiú, especially if you visit early in the morning or near dusk, when temperatures are gentler and the light is at its most magical. (Be sure to register online for gate access while you’re still in range.) For the more ambitious hiker, access to the Continental Divide Trail is found about forty minutes down the dirt road leading to the Monastery of Christ in the Desert. Note that neither trailhead offers any amenities—and, whatever distance you plan to walk in this dry terrain, remember that water is life and carry plenty with you.

📍 20968 US 84, Abiquiú, 505-685-0086

Cuba: Chaco Grill + San Pedro Parks Wilderness

If it’s your first time, you might raise an eyebrow at the Chaco Grill sign tacked to the side of a gas station convenience store in the small town of Cuba. Is this another one of those shitty Mexican fast-food spots with trays full of congealed meat and sad excuses for pico de gallo that Google reviewers incomprehensibly insist is good? you might ask yourself as you pull up at the pump. The atmosphere inside might not immediately persuade you otherwise; although there are no telltale trays of warmed-over food, the grill is tucked behind a partial wall dividing it from what looks, well, like a gas station convenience store. But there will be locals standing around waiting for their food, or stepping up to put in orders. That’s your first real clue. The second is the seriousness with which the cashier shouts the orders to the cook. As often as not, that cashier is the owner, who (now with the help of his son) has run Chaco Grill at this location for twenty-four years.

I confess that I haven’t yet tried the fry bread or Isabel’s Famous Tamales. Despite having pulled up enough times to sample half the items on the menu, I have ordered only burritos. I am partial to the carne adovada with potato, but the carne asada is also good, and of course they do breakfast burritos, with meat or without. The tortillas come from Mission Foods in Albuquerque; they buy green chile from Hatch, roasting and peeling and freezing it for winter. That carne adovada, and most everything else, is made in-house. When they have it, I pair mine with a Zia ginger ale; they also sell Zuberfizz sodas (made in Durango) and stock shelves with local products like Taos Bakes bars and Vigil’s jerky, along with essentials such as batteries, motor oil, and water. 

Cuba makes for a nice return route from Abiquiú to Albuquerque, and is a pit stop on many a road trip destination—not least of those being Chaco Canyon. It is also home to a place unlike any in New Mexico. San Pedro Parks Wilderness is one of those secrets people hesitate to pass on, then feel guilty for sharing, such that even as I type this I’m thinking maybe I’ll come back and delete it and put forth some other, more frequently advertised destination for your consumption. While locals no doubt know about San Gregorio Reservoir, for visitors cruising through Cuba, nothing indicates that this lush parkland is there. It’s not for peak baggers nor for hikers hungry for gems; there are no waterfalls, no alpine lakes, no jaw-dropping views. What there is: green meadows, healthy creeks, forest, and an easygoing trail around the reservoir. Gentle as the ground seems, this is a wilderness area, so be prepared if you hike up the (not always clearly marked) trails north of the reservoir.

📍 6454 Main St, Cuba, 575-289-0338

Questa: Rosie’s Smokehouse + Wild Rivers Recreation Area

Rosie’s Smokehouse was still pretty new on my first visit, but it already felt like a fixture. While I waited for my order, I watched a couple of guys exchanging family gossip (and favorite orders) as they crossed paths at the front door; saw a visiting Forest Service biologist get introduced by one local to another; and picked up a copy of the Questa paper, in which owner Rosie Turpin was noted for having offered a supportive space, free coffee and cinnamon rolls included, for high school students grappling with the untimely loss of one of their peers. Barbecue is front and center here, as it should be, but community clearly is too. Turpin’s sister was aglow at the register as she handed me a jar of Rosie’s pickles. I ordered meat by the pound, with sides of baked beans and mac and cheese, but sandwiches are on offer too.

The dining room at Rosie’s feels like a place you might take refuge on a hot summer day or an icy-cold one, a space where people are at ease, whether dining in company or alone. But I was anxious to get to Wild Rivers and bask in the wide-open feel of mesa country. Thirty minutes from the smokehouse, my partner and I savored the superb ribs and brisket, sausage and sides (all still warm) at a concrete picnic table while a small herd of Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep milled around the parking area. Then we strolled down to the overlook dubbed La Junta. Contrary to its name, Red River is a milky-green froth as it runs through Lama Canyon to join the Rio Grande. The La Junta trail down to the confluence remains closed for the foreseeable future, but the sight of both rivers cutting through the canyons is its own reward. And several trail options (the Big Arsenic being one) wend westward down canyon to the banks of an unencumbered Rio Grande. Even in summer, you can find cool at the bottom, but start early to avoid an intense confrontation with the sun on your way back up. And, as ever, pack agua.

📍 2422 NM 522, Questa, 575-586-1066