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Finding Nirvana in Ojo CalienteSecluded Spa SerenityBy Robin O’GradyAfter way too many margaritas, mega-shopping expeditions and longer-than-imagined mountain-drives around Taos, it’s time for some serious relaxation. “Next stop…” I write my friends via postcard, “is the poor woman’s spa!” Later I discover the Ojo Caliente Mineral Springs isn’t really that cheap…but it certainly beats the pricey spas in Santa Fe, Arizona or California. Let’s put it this way, it’s affordable.
Finally, the road dead ends at Highway 285, where I head south. More great views scatter across the horizon, as cinnamon rock formations press up against the clouds. Without much hoopla, the Ojo Caliente sign appears. A narrow dirt entrance-way winds a bit, just long enough to question whether you took the right turn. (This is a common occurrence across the entire state, believe me. Many roads are just not well marked.) The Green Emerald Emerges
Ojo looks comfortable, earthy, unpretentious. Maybe it’s the sprawling courtyard at the center of the grounds, with rustic twig arbors shading scattered benches. Or the hotel’s long veranda lined with rocking chairs.
One thing is certain. This soil holds ancient secrets of a different life in a different time. You can almost feel the footprints of the Tewa Tribe as they gathered, bathed and honored theses revered mineral springs back in the 1300s. Today, more than 100,000 gallons of emerald green water still streams to the surface each day, just as it did eight centuries ago. Exploring the Miracle Waters
I postpone booking anything, opting to explore the grounds and review the spa literature before committing. Several little buildings are scattered around the complex. I’m not sure where to start, so I drift into the first one—the co-ed bathhouse.
“The private massage areas, lockers and changing rooms are in the main bathhouse,” she says, pointing toward the largest building.
The first natural Jacuzzi is carved into the side of the foothills. It’s labeled “Iron Spring.” Later I learn this bath remains in its original state, crafted by the Tewa tribe centuries ago. Those folks really were ahead of their time!
The thought of putting my cellulite-dotted-self on display is intimidating. I keep walking. Nearby is a two-tiered natural Jacuzzi with a trickling waterfall. The sign reads “Iron and Arsenic.” I ponder whether there’s any rhyme, reason, or order involved when taking the plunge into these strange pools. Iron and Arsenic first? Then mud? Then soda? And, what’s the deal with arsenic anyway…isn’t it poisonous? The main bathhouse is just around the corner, so I head over to get the low-down. A receptionist shows me around the locker-changing-shower area, then gives me a tour of the private massage, bath and treatment rooms. She shrugs nonchalantly when I ask about the protocol for soaking in the outdoor springs. “No order,” she says, “Just apply the mud treatment in the afternoon, so you have time to dry in the sun, otherwise you’ll get cold.”
Overwhelmed, I pull up a chaise lounge, absorb the still-strong October sun, and start to read-up on this place. Drinking from the Lithia well relieves depression, I discover. Arsenic aids arthritis, according to Indian legend. Guess I’ll survive, no one on the grounds has keeled over yet. A couple hours…and zzzzz’s later…I’m ready to book some spa treatments and go back to the hotel for lunch. Back at the HaciendaOkay. So it’s not the Taj Mahal. Rooms in the main hotel are furnished circa 1940s (the mattresses appear to be from that era as well) and hallway sounds easily echo inside. No TVs. No phones. Or mini-bars, obviously. They do have small bathrooms, but no showers. (“All bathing has been done in the bathhouses for more than one hundred years,” the brochure mandates.) Oh well, with single room rates and access to all the waters priced at $79 a night, who cares. For those who want a little more luxury, private cottages are available with some better amenities (sorry, still no showers). There’s also a camping area north of the complex.
Inside the lobby, a roaring adobe fireplace is surrounded by overstuffed chairs. This is where the early-birds gather each morning, eagerly awaiting the promised 7 a.m. coffee service. Like most places in New Mexico, the refreshments arrive when the wait-staff feels like it. Grit your teeth—or empty cup— and enjoy all the eclectic guests. Yoga, Woga or Wandering
What’s a spa without some retail temptations? The little gift shop has a solid selection of herbal concoctions, natural cosmetics, robes, and the usual souvenirs. If you’re lucky, you can catch one of the native artisans selling jewelry along the hotel veranda in the afternoons. Nice pieces at good prices.
Whatever you do, definitely take the one mile round-trip hike up the foothills to see the ancient site of Posi-ouinge, the “greenness pueblo.” Home to the Tewa Indians from the 1300s to 1500s, this ancient settlement once was a thriving village. The original pueblo structure contained more than 1000 rooms on the ground-floor and almost as many on the second and third levels.
Still have energy to burn? Gather around the courtyard campfire in the evenings. It’s a great place to sit and talk with other guests over the embers. By the second day, I’m feeling like a seasoned pro at mineral-spring hopping. Two newbies walk by as I laze in the iron-arsenic pool. “I wonder if we’re supposed to go in these in any order?” she asks her friend. “That was my question, exactly,” I respond, “but they told me it doesn’t matter.” She looks relieved, and I’m thankful for the confirmation that this is a common inquiry…not just another neurotic control-issue surfacing. The Indians believed the Ojo geothermal springs had mystical healing powers. After drinking Lithia water all day, soaking my muscles in countless steamy baths, and getting one great spa treatment after another, I’m convinced. This is nirvana, there’s no doubt about it. Helpful HintsOjo Caliente Stress-Busters
Whoa, all this pampering and major health benefits too. Not bad for a poor woman’s spa! For details contact: Photos: Courtesy of New Mexico Tourism Department, Ojo Caliente Mineral Springs Spa, and photographers Philip Greenspun and Mark Orr. Robin O’Grady is a roving freelance writer living in Michigan. Contact her at: alphabetsoup@earthlink.net New Mexico Tourism Department: www.newmexiconorth.com North Central New Mexico: www.newmexiconorth.com |
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TM
I decide to take the short-cut over from Taos. Warning! The
little gray lines on the New Mexico maps are more like old wagon-train passages
than roads. But hey, it’s a rental car so who cares about the pot holes,
washboard gravel, and careening mountain drop-offs. (If you’re interested, take
State Roads 570 to 587)
It really is a charming, if primitive, drive that wraps
alongside the Rio Grande for awhile, then twists up the mountain-side and levels
out for miles of mesa driving. 
I start to get a little antsy about the isolation. Glad the
ice chest is jammed with water and snacks. Who knows what could happen out here.
My mind flashes to Roswell and the whole UFO alien-incident back in the 1950s.
Okay, just breathe!
A cluster of mission-style buildings finally emerge, and
all apprehension fades. 
Perhaps it’s the golden foothills wrapping around the
complex like a fortress. Or the old British phone booth, its cherry-red frame
resting unexpectedly near the entrance.
This place is just what the doctor (or therapist!) ordered.
Slow-paced and easy. Check-in is a breeze. I get my ID pin and eagerly head over
to the spa compound. The entry area is well-organized, with a friendly
receptionist booking appointments on her not-so-ancient PC. 
The list of services is daunting, and I start to
stress-out. Do I want the red clay and oatmeal facial? Or the apricot and
vitamin C? What about one of these wraps—herbal, mud or milagro? Maybe just a
massage for openers, but which one? Hot stone, Thai or Watsu? Then there are all
these scratchy sounding treatments—salt glow, skin brush, body polish and desert
dew blah blah….
A large sauna/steam room is just off the entrance way. An
attendant tells me it’s always open and to just cruise in whenever. She explains
that the other co-ed treatment rooms are designated for couples who want to book
side-by-side massages, or go au-natural in two-person hot tubs complete with
kiva fireplaces.
On the way over, I get detoured by all the different
alcoves. There’s an old hand-pump encircled in stone at the center of the
courtyard. A crooked little sign reads “Lithia.” Hmmmm. Is that like lithium?
Then there’s an enclosed structure, marked “Soda Spring.” I
wander into the steamy little hut and a few people are hanging out in the
buoyant water. Looks tranquil.
Right next door is a sunny patio area where people are, uh,
covered in mud. They look like wild banshee creatures sprawled out around a
large murky pit—hair, faces and bodies caked in brown slime as they bake in the
sun. 
Back outside, I head toward a brilliant yellow canopy
arcing over an expansive swimming pool. There’s another hot tub next to it, but
no wall-sign to identify its contents. Is it “normal,” or is this another
secret-potion soak? 
The Artesian Restaurant is a godsend. It’s great to have an
onsite eatery that serves traditional cuisine and healthy specials for
breakfast, lunch and dinner. The wine and beer list is palatable. If a glass of
vino doesn’t help you sleep after a day of sunshine and spa treatments, nothing
will. 
Tired of being a spa lizard? There’s plenty more to do
around this place. The Yoga Center offers classes throughout the week to soothe
mind, body and spirit. Or try Woga, otherwise known as water yoga, held in the
soda house on weekends. 
Explore the “Round Barn” and learn about the history of the
country’s only remaining round adobe structure. Legend has it that the circular
shape was invented to keep evil spirits from hiding in the corners. There are
plenty of other myths surrounding this architectural treasure, which you’ll
discover on your walk-through.
You’ll spot ancient chards of pottery, original building
stones and other artifacts (all illegal to disturb). If you listen carefully,
you can almost hear chisels pounding, drums beating and corn husks rustling in
the breeze just as they would have centuries ago.