Feeling a bit lightheaded from our rapidly unfolding future, I refilled our empty water bottle from an outdoor fountain and clutched our last bear.
						His arrow points from the snout in the general direction of the heart which seems like a good-enough sign. Alas, if it doesn't stop there for some reason, it'll exit out the other end for so much berry poop. Definitely time to head back home now and put the dream lizard back into its pouch.
As you exit the long last curve through the canyons north of Velarde, you'll find yourself on the vast plain guarded by the Sangre de Cristos mountains and Mount Taos only to find the dramatic gorge of the Rio Grande tear your northwesterly vision in twain.
	Taos nestles against those mountains and a little bit of amateur Photoshop trickery next creates a small panorama view.
If you really want to be close to the mountains, you'll continue north to the tiny hamlet of Arroyo Seco which, among its small populace, calls Julia Roberts its own.
We arrive in our modest digs just for sunset which I capture with a quick shot from our roof. Thus concludes this week's Saturday trip to the "big city". Alas, being a working writer, the day isn't over yet. While impressions are fresh and inspiration's gushing, the keyboard is calling and five hours later, this little report goes live to make sure you know where to buy your authentic Flamenco music. Cheers.