New Mexico shares nearly 400 miles of border with Arizona, and even though it’s right next door, I don’t think about it much. Most of my experience with the Land of Enchantment involves speeding along two-lane reservation highways between Gallup and Farmington toward the San Juan, or being asked “red or green?” in diners off Interstate 10 on leg-stretching lunch breaks heading toward Texas.
I’ve bought chiles in Hatch, survived Albuquerque rush hour, had old-fashioneds in Madrid and once toured a gallery in Santa Fe where the artist used macro photography to showcase dead bugs arranged in strange vignettes of everyday activities. Think house flies glued to tiny bicycles.
New Mexico has long been a backdrop for Western film and television with its high-desert mesas, old rail towns, adobe, big skies and sprawling ranch lands. Visitors come for the art markets, hot springs, hot-air balloon festivals, skiing and countless other attractions.
At the same time, plenty of outsiders still seem to carry a dismissive view of the state. Someone once told me, “It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
It sometimes feels like New Mexico is admired, but not respected.
That was the frame I carried into Taos for the TREAD Agency media event. I thought I was going on a fishing trip. A few days later, standing atop the Rio Grande Gorge with wet boots, sore legs and a better understanding of the area, I realized the story was bigger than that.
Rio Grande Gorge Fly Fishing at a Glance:
| Water | Rio Grande |
| Location | Near Taos, New Mexico |
| Access on This Trip | Miners Trail |
| Hike | About 1 mile with roughly 700 feet of descent |
| Primary Catch | Rainbow trout, brown trout and cutbows |
| Successful Rigs | Dries, dry-droppers, indicator rigs and streamers |
| Terrain | Steep canyon, basalt boulders and rugged riverbanks |
| Wading Conditions | Clear water with multiple crossings possible during this trip |
| Licenses and Permits | New Mexico Wildlife |
A Fishing Trip with a Bigger Purpose
TREAD Agency is a promotional and marketing company focused on outdoor and adventure lifestyles. TREAD paired with the New Mexico Outdoor Recreation Division to host the Traction Series media event I attended.
Spend a few nights in majestic Taos at the upscale Gem Hacienda with a couple dozen outdoorsy media types? Catered food? Free beer? Fly fishing the Rio Grande? Swag bags?
It sounded good to me.
It also meant escaping Arizona’s 100-degree June heat for a little road trip to parts unknown, with a mandatory stop at the Pepper Pot restaurant in Hatch for some huevos rancheros. Both red and green sauce, please.
The first day of the event featured speakers from sponsors, New Mexico state government and Pueblo communities. The event carried the subtitle “Access That Lasts,” so much of the discussion centered on balancing water access, stewardship and conservation.
A day of fly fishing the Rio Grande followed, anchoring those conversations and providing a firsthand look at how the land, people, water and outdoor tourism economy coexist.
By lunch on that first day, my thinking about this piece was already shifting.
Is it still about fishing? Maybe. But after hearing some of the history of the area, I felt an obligation to include the other elements that make Taos unique.
The Rio Grande: Heart, Soul and Liquid Backbone
The Rio Grande is the defining river of northern New Mexico, flowing south from the San Juan Mountains of Colorado through the Taos region and past Albuquerque before forming much of the Texas-Mexico border and eventually reaching the Gulf of Mexico.
Near Taos it cuts through the volcanic plateau, forming the Rio Grande Gorge—a deep, dramatic canyon lined mostly with dark basalt lava rock.
The river gave the region identity by creating fertile corridors through dry country, supporting cottonwood bosque habitat and marking a natural route through mountains and plateaus. Around Taos, settlement history is inseparable from water, and the Rio Grande is the backbone of that story.
In such an arid high-desert environment, dependable water shaped not only the landscape but also where people could live, farm, trade and travel.
Pueblo communities, including Taos Pueblo and nearby Picuris Pueblo, developed in a landscape where rivers, tributaries, springs and seasonal runoff made agriculture possible. Corn, beans, squash and later orchards and irrigated fields depended on careful water use.
After Spanish colonization, settlers expanded acequia irrigation systems, tying villages, fields and communal labor directly to the river and its watershed.
The Spanish brought livestock, metal tools, wheat, fruit trees, Catholicism, written law and new irrigation institutions. They also brought coercion, disease, land pressure and forced labor to Indigenous communities that had already existed there for centuries.
Needless to say, there were complications, uprisings and revolts—all the messy truths that history is built upon. I could have filled the totality of these pages with the story of the Taos area between 1540 and 1690 and still failed to paint a respectfully detailed portrait.
Taos Pueblo and a Thousand Years Along the Water
Taos Pueblo is one of the oldest continuously inhabited communities in North America. The Pueblo says its people have cultivated the Taos Valley since around 900 A.D., and its famous multi-story adobe structures are estimated to have been built between roughly 1000 and 1450.
Taos Pueblo became a National Historic Landmark in 1960 and was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1992. The village sits at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, with the Rio Pueblo de Taos, or Red Willow Creek, running through it.
We are hunting and fishing areas that have been hunted and fished for thousands of years.
As a sovereign tribal nation, Taos Pueblo exercises governmental authority over its lands and their use, and tribal consultation is an important component of conservation. Leaders work with federal and state agencies on issues involving land use, water restoration and the protection of cultural and natural resources.
Among the speakers at the event was Garrett VeneKlasen, Northern Conservation Director at New Mexico Wild. He told us how his organization works with Indigenous leaders to protect New Mexico’s wilderness and wildlife.
He also told me a story about a hunt in the gorge, where he killed an elk and found an arrowhead next to where it fell. He then looked up to see elk petroglyphs on the canyon walls above.
“We are hunting and fishing areas that have been hunted and fished for thousands of years,” he said.
VeneKlasen also credited Taos Pueblo with playing a central role in reintroduction efforts for bighorn sheep and river otters in the Rio Grande Gorge. The otters are part of a broader restoration story, returning a native predator to a river system altered by invasive species and decades of human pressure.
Fly Fishing the Rio Grande Gorge
On the second day, my group of writers began our mile-long, 700-foot descent at Miners Trail, located on the west side of the Rio Grande about four miles north of the John Dunn Bridge.
Across the gorge, we were afforded clear views east to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and San Cristobal. Piñon pine and juniper lined the trail, with the occasional majestic ponderosa pine along the banks below.
We threaded our way down the shrubby bank, climbing over fallen trees, navigating boulders and avoiding poison oak—the reason I had changed out of my lightweight summer shorts and opted for pants.
It was a warm, beautiful morning in the gorge. Anglers and guides spread out up and down the river, and it wasn’t long before the familiar hooting and hollering of tight lines echoed through the canyon.
Most of the fish brought to hand were rainbow trout or hybrids between rainbows and native Rio Grande cutthroat, commonly called cutbows, with the occasional beautifully colored-up brown trout.
Fish were caught on dries, dry-dropper rigs and indicator rigs. I was even able to talk the guide into setting me up with a streamer line and sink tip, which quickly brought a nice brown into the net from a swirling pool between two large boulders.
The water was clear and cool, and the flow was manageable. We crossed from bank to bank several times throughout the day as we moved north.
Everybody caught fish well into the afternoon. Even when dark clouds appeared quickly overhead, bringing menacing winds through the gorge, the caddis bite stayed strong in the fast ripples if you could keep your line managed and the drift clean.
One of the media participants, Abby, actually managed to net a double—catching a rainbow on the dry fly and a brown trout on the dropper.
That is a rare thing indeed, and it showed just how willing the local fish population was to participate in our event.
Eventually, with an eye on the ever-changing weather, we decided to call it early rather than risk getting caught in a storm on the walk out.
All the boulder-hopping, awkward stances and fighting river currents on the slick basalt rock of the riverbed had my legs on fire during the steep climb, especially in wet wading boots.
ANOTHER GREAT GETAWAY:Dream Louisiana Bayou Fishing: Why Cajun Vista Lodge Belongs On Your Bucket List
Parting Casts From Taos, New Mexico
In the parking lot, stripping off damp gear, I cracked a beer and reflected on the trip.
It is a silly thing, fly fishing.
Driving hundreds of miles, spending thousands of dollars on gear, licensing, guides and fees, then walking great distances over rough and beautiful terrain to try to trick a fish into eating whatever bug or swimming critter you think might tempt it—just to hook that fish, bring it to the net and let it go.
I am the embodiment of the outdoor tourist.
I wouldn’t have thought of Taos as a fishing destination. If the city ever came up in past conversations about recreation, it would have been skiing, which I have to assume is one of the reasons this event was taking place.
“Hey, we have rivers here, too!”
Taos Fly Shop, which outfitted our group with gear and guides for the day, has roots in the community dating to 1980 and serves anglers fishing the Rio Grande as well as the smaller rivers and streams throughout the area.
So obviously there is—and has long been—a demand.
It is a beautiful and magical place, and it has been for a very long time.
I am grateful for the ability to experience it, and it is important that the opportunity remains open to future generations.
But that means more than access.
It means conservation and stewardship. It means organizations such as American Rivers and New Mexico Wild working alongside Indigenous communities and local, state and federal governments to protect these waters.
We are participating in history, not just learning about it.
People have lived along these waters for more than a thousand years. Hopefully, a millennium from now, somebody will still be able to stand here and catch a native Rio Grande cutthroat.
Well, maybe we just try for a century or two.
I imagine a lot will happen before 3026, but we can hope.
