😱 The Great Mystery Meat Adventure of Cloudcroft! 📸

Jeannette Ortega
Jan 2
4 min read

Our latest "professional" photo shoot in Las Cruces was followed by a spontaneous, highly suspicious adventure! Timmie and I, along with our willing victim, Ali, decided to chase the elusive fall colors and some photogenic wildlife in Cloudcroft. We got both, and a trauma we will never forget.

Day 1: The Bunk, the Barf, and the Blurry Moon

We kicked off our 'budget-chic' getaway by checking into a hostel! Yes, a hostel. Jen has photographed the sign for years, so it was time to live the art. It was quiet, spotless, and provided the single funniest moment of the trip: NEVER trust a top bunk. Hahaha! The descent was less "graceful landing" and more "human slinky."

But the real horror show began at dinner. This is the part that earned this story its title: Mystery Meat!!

We both ordered the meatloaf at a local joint. It arrived. It was grey. It looked less "baked comfort food" and more "steamed industrial sponge." We debated its true origins—was it beef? Pork? Maybe compressed hiking sock lint? Starving and out of options, we performed the only known cure for terrifying texture: we entombed the entire plate under a thick, red shield of ketchup. It was a culinary act of war, and we survived. (My deepest regret is not capturing photographic evidence of the grey horror.)

After that protein-based nightmare, we went off to conquer the moon. We immediately ran into a series of technical glitches and, a lost pair of eyeglasses. But hey, as we always say, every mishap is just a lesson in what to pack next time.

Day 2: The Day

We Outsmarted the Bunk, the Bulls, and the Bathroom Line. A Photographers Journey

We awoke from our hostel slumber with a singular, desperate, and non-negotiable goal: REDEEM BREAKFAST. We needed food that was definitively not grey. We found our salvation at Big Daddy's Diner, and in a glorious act of trauma-fueled gluttony, we ate a wonderful breakfast and then immediately had pie before any physical activity. We were pre-fueled for adventure... or at least, well-padded for impact

Our first stop was upper Kerr Canyon. Too many people! We snapped a quick photo—Timmie and Jen, smiling bravely—and took a moment to remember Jen's Dad before retreating from the crowd.

Next stop: Bluff Springs, for a "real hike." The starting steps were less "stairway to heaven" and more "stairway to the cardiac unit." I tried to capture the moment on video, but if you play it back, it sounds exactly like a rusty vacuum cleaner being forced to inhale a brick. My inner monologue was a single word: GOPRO (and also OXYGEN TANK).

Then came the alleged "wildlife encounter." We heard heavy footsteps in the woods! We froze. We bravely considered turning back for a full ten seconds. Then, like the fearless explorers we are, we continued... for about twenty feet. When we heard a strange knocking sound, the debate was over. Preservation of life (and the avoidance of a Bigfoot headline) took priority. We executed a professional U-turn and bolted down to a peaceful meadow stream to recover from our imagined Sasquatch encounter. We didn't find fall colors there, but we found inner peace and successfully lowered our heart rates below "jackhammer."

The drive out was immediately interrupted by a glorious sight: a magnificent HAWK! We performed the "wildlife paparazzi eject sequence"—slamming on the brakes, leaping out of the Jeep, and grabbing our cameras. The bird was majestic and even posed until it got bored and flew off. We continued driving, only to encounter a new roadblock: a Cow Barricade. Cloudcroft: where the traffic jams are literally beefy.

Then, a voice of divine inspiration (Wilson, my Mom's subconcious) said, "Take that road." We did, and BAM! Fall colors! We found the vibrant, non-grey foliage we'd been seeking, and took another little hike for good measure.

It was during this hike that the true zenith of the trip occurred. Mother Nature called, and Ali answered. She wisely "popped a squat," completely unaware that she was about to provide an unexpected scenic overlook for a passing adventure motorcycle rider. I can only imagine that biker's trip report: "Saw some great aspens... and also a perfectly framed full moon."

By the time we got back to town, we were ready to chew the dashboard again. We sought counsel from a local to avoid a repeat of the Grey Horror. The recommendation: Dave's Cafe. The food and the Marble Double White Ale were, in a word, HEAVENLY. Real, delicious, identifiable food!

On the drive down, we packed up our cameras. "That's it," we declared with dramatic finality. "NO MORE PICTURES. Not even if we see a unicorn riding a majestic bear." We held this solemn, iron-clad vow for exactly two minutes before a majestic herd of Elk appeared. We immediately became shameless, hypocritical liars and slammed on the brakes. While we waited around, hoping to snag a snapshot of a big bull looking particularly regal, the universe decided to give us a real show. Just down the road, two massive bulls were locked in a fierce, spectacular sparring match! (Yes, sparring—I had to look it up to sound smart, don't judge.) Ali, fresh off her previous performance as the "Moon of Cloudcroft," spotted a suspiciously swampy-looking dirt road and, channeling her inner rally driver, barked, "Take that road!" I aggressively obeyed, nearly embedding the Jeep permanently into the mountainside, all for the privilege of taking a series of highly useless, pitch-black, blurry photos of the epic Elk battle. Totally worth almost getting towed!

PS. I also finally snagged a decent picture of an Oryx! It was a great adventure—full of laughs, wildlife, and only one questionable meal!