Santa Fe, NM – Holy Dirt

Chad and I went to Santa Fe, New Mexico, for a long weekend. My cousin, Nancy Dale, was there with her husband, Brady, and their new baby, Rio G. They live in Washington, D.C., but when they moved back from Santa Fe during the pandemic, they were unable to sell their house. So, naturally, they turned it into an Airbnb. Brady works for the state legislature, which means he must be in Santa Fe when it’s in session. Nancy Dale, currently on maternity leave, decided to join him on this trip with the baby. My Aunt Sally and her husband, Leland, were also visiting, making it a two-for-one family visit.

This was Chad’s first time in New Mexico and my second. The state boasts an impressive variety of climates—five out of the seven main types, thanks to its diverse geography. Drive out of town one direction and you’re in an evergreen forest; another, and you’re in a desert valley filled with painted rocks.

A few fun facts about Santa Fe:

•  Oldest Capital City in the U.S. – Founded in 1610, making it the oldest state capital in the country.
•  High Elevation – At 7,199 feet above sea level, it’s the highest capital city in the U.S.
•  Sparse Population – Santa Fe has fewer than 90,000 residents, while the entire state of New Mexico has just over 2 million—lots of land, not a lot of people.
•  Art Place – Santa Fe is the third-largest art market in the U.S., with over 250 galleries.
•  Chile Capital – New Mexicans take their chili seriously. When ordering food, expect to be asked, “red or green?” (Correct answer: “Christmas,” if you want both.)
•  A City of Gold? – Spanish explorer Francisco Vásquez de Coronado once searched for the legendary “Seven Cities of Gold” near Santa Fe.
•  Los Alamos is Nearby – Just a short drive away, Los Alamos is where the atomic bomb was developed during the Manhattan Project.

We stayed in a lovely little hotel, Inn of the Anasazi, just off the central plaza. Everything in the guidebooks was within a mile of the square, and Nancy Dale and Brady’s house was only a mile and a half away. I had planned two walking tours—one on Friday and another on Saturday. The Saturday tour was the real winner, focusing on the Manhattan Project and the spies who infiltrated it. 

Honestly, I’m going to drop the link to this tour that was through the New Mexico History Museum because it was great. If you go to Santa Fe, I highly recommend it. https://friendsofhistorynm.org/assassins-spies-and-the-manhattan-project-tour/ 

Dan, our docent, told us wild stories about spy craft—secret meetings, identity confirmations, and drop points used during the Manhattan Project and the Cold War. By the end, I was so intrigued that I started reading 109 East Palace by Jennet Conant, which Dan had recommended. What fascinated me most was his perspective on why people might have been motivated to commit espionage. He explained the prevailing attitudes toward communism at the time and how people viewed scientists.

After the tour, we squeezed in a visit to El Santuario de Chimayó, a church about 30 miles north of Santa Fe. I wanted to go for two reasons: the chiles sold at the trading post and the legendary Holy Dirt. The church, built in 1816, has a small room called the Little Well, filled with dirt believed to have healing powers. The walls are lined with crutches and braces left behind by those who claim to have been cured after rubbing the dirt on themselves and saying a prayer. I came prepared—brought my own Ziploc bag, grabbed the little shovel, and took a solid scoop, hoping it might cure my IT band. Then we stocked up on chile powders at the trading post, enough to last us a decade.

Three days later, it was time to go home. Chad had a mediation and a trial, which meant leaving fun behind for work. We flew into Santa Fe’s tiny airport, where you walk directly onto the tarmac—no jetways here. Upon arriving, we returned the rental car and headed inside. Security, however, had other plans. Apparently, carrying multiple Ziploc bags full of unidentified powders raises questions. The TSA pulled aside all our bags for extra screening. The chile powders? Understandable. But the candles I bought for Annie and Abbie? Also an issue. We laughed, repacked, and moved along.

As we waited for our flight, Chad got an unsettling look on his face.

“Our plane just got diverted back to Dallas,” he said.

“No way. It still says we’re boarding in an hour,” I replied confidently.

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening. There’s no plane to board—it’s already gone.”

Well, shit.

Chad sprang into action, leaving security to talk to the gate agent. There was only one other flight out of Santa Fe that day, but it was full and wouldn’t make our connection. The best alternative? A flight out of Albuquerque. Only problem? We no longer had a rental car, and the agency had none available. The agent suggested an Uber. Meanwhile, the departure screen updated—our original flight was now delayed.

This could work, but we needed a miracle or a time worm hole  –  Albuquerque’s airport was one hour away, and our flight took off in one hour and five minutes.

Enter Lance, our Uber driver.

Lance pulled up in a gold Chevy Malibu, wasted no time with pleasantries and just popped the trunk. We explained the situation, and he hit the gas. As we got closer, he pulled up Apple CarPlay so we could track our progress. That’s when we noticed we were cruising at 98 miles per hour. Somehow, Lance got us there in 48 minutes. So far so good.

Security, however, was not about to let us go easily. If you think TSA agents are suspicious of chile powder, wait until they find the Holy Dirt.

“What’s this?” the agent asked.

“Holy Dirt,” I replied.

“That’s nice, but it needs to be tested.”

“You know what? Just throw it away. In fact, here is the instruction card take it home and use it. But I don’t want to waste time.”

He nodded and moved on to Chad’s bag. We passed the chili powder test again, but the candles still required extra screening. Chad left me behind to run to the gate while I waited.

Then, the second security agent—trying to be helpful—said, “Let me keep testing the dirt and see if I can return it to you.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I’m in a hurry,” I said.

She insisted. Then, the dirt failed the test.

Cue full-body pat-down, full bag search, and additional shoe screening. At this point, we had less than five minutes until the doors closed. Chad called me, and I couldn’t answer because I was mid-pat-down. Finally, I picked up.

“Have you been arrested?” he asked.

“No, but the dirt failed, so now it’s a full investigation.”

“RUN.”

Finally, TSA let me go, but not before confiscating my Holy Dirt. I sprinted in my socks to the gate, shoes in one hand, bags in the other.

As I reached the door, the agent told me, “You need to put on your shoes and consolidate your bags.”

Lesson learned: Do not trust Holy Dirt.

Later, Chad told me he had said, “In the nicest way possible, I’m going to throw some weight around here with my Executive Platinum status. I need you to wait for my wife.”

I had never been the last person on a plane before, but miraculously, there was still room for my suitcase. So maybe, in the end, the dirt worked after all.