Wild Spirits

Taos is not how I remembered it. Granted, the last time I was here was the fall of 1991, a few months after I finished high school in Houston and moved to Austin. I had this cool roommate, Cate, who was into world music, being vegetarian, saving the environment, not shaving and wearing Birkenstock clogs with every outfit. Cate was tall, smart and confident. She was an open-minded, curious person who made friends easily and could start up conversations with all kinds of people, even the folks playing music for tips along the Drag. The Drag is a wide sidewalk comprised of 7 or so blocks along Guadalupe street, directly across the street from University of Texas. Back then there were a couple of  bookstores, the Dobie mall which included a 4 screen cinema playing mostly arthouse films, Quackenbush’s Cafe, an arcade, Tower Records, Conan’s Pizza, a fried rice and eggroll food cart and various other random businesses. There were also artisans and other street vendors who would set up shop for the day with a folding table or sit on the sidewalk with their goods spread out on a blanket. Sometimes there would be protesters handing out fly

ers and petitions to sign.

The Drag was a lively place, especially then. This was the early 90’s and grunge music, flannel shirts and dingy hair were the thing. Sometimes it was hard to tell the Nirvana and Pearl Jam fans from the homeless folks. Besides students, the Drag attracted all manner of street performers and musicians. Many were passing through, selling their studio tapes hoping to be discovered. (That actually did happen a few times.) It was also a spot where the local kids liked to skip school and hang out at, riding their skateboards and loafing around in the arcade. Anyone and everyone could be there which made the Drag an entertaining place to take a stroll.

That’s exactly what Cate was doing when she stopped to chat with two brothers who were playing traditional Andean music in front of the arcade. It was the unique sound of the zampoñas (pan flute) that caught my world music-loving friend’s attention. The brothers were singing in Quechua and wearing traditional style Andean clothing. Both brothers had a single thick, long braid hanging down their back underneath their traditional felt fedora hats. They looked to be in their early 20’s and had arrived in the country with their instruments and cassette tapes of their music to sell. They were passing through town on their way to Taos along with their young friend whose family lived there. The friend was a pretty blonde named Amber who seemed “attached” to one of the brothers. None of us spoke Quechua and the brothers didn’t speak English but we accepted their friendly invitation to go to Taos in a couple of days.

Cate's parents had gifted her a reliable newish Chevrolet Sprint hatchback when she left for college. At 19 she was a year older, well traveled and way more mature than my 18 year-old self who had never been anywhere and a bicycle was my primary means of transportation.. We somehow managed to scrape together gas money and off we went. These were the days of paper maps. Someone gave you their address, you wrote it down on a piece of paper and then had to figure it out on your own using various resources. No cell phones or internet were available either. A paper road atlas was your best bet. We were two young, fearless women ready for adventure and excited to follow the two Peruvian musician brothers and their friend Amber to New Mexico.  Even though we had only  just met our new friends on the Drag a couple of days ago and barely had any money, that wasn’t going to stop us!  We were going to figure it out as we went along and of course everything was going to be awesome and amazing.

San Franciso de Asis Catholic Mission Church in Ranchos de Taos completed in 1772. It is next to the best Mexican restaurant, Ranchos Plaza Grill. Every entree arrives with a fresh hot sopaipilla.

We found the impressive adobe house just outside of the Taos town center. It was two story, looked very old, and was more pink than the traditional clay color that most adobe houses are. The house was on a huge piece of land and had beautifully carved wood details and painted tiles inside and out. Amber’s mother and grandmother lived there and were proud to take us around and point out the unique features that showed the true age of their historic house. I would love to find that house today and see if it looks like how I remember it from 35 years ago. 

Cate and I had driven straight to Taos from Austin without stopping. We didn’t have money for a motel so we took turns driving and were exhausted by the time we arrived. After dinner we excused ourselves to turn in early.

There were two sleeping options. The first was an unfinished attic type of space that had a twin bed on each side of the room. I assumed that Cate and I would be sleeping up there. The second option was outside. Cate and I traipsed through the snow n the dark behind Amber and the brothers towards the back of the property where there was a huge tipi. We ducked down and pushed tour way hrough the small opening in the front of the tipi. There was already a good fire going in the center and it was warm inside. I noticed the top of the canvas tipi was opened to allow the smoke from the fire to exit. The ground below was covered with mats and bright colorful blankets. There were also sleeping bags and pillows. The tipi was at least 15 feet tall and 6 people could sleep comfortably inside. I was amazed and impressed for I had never been inside of a real tipi and certainly never expected it to be warm and cozy inside while it was freezing outside with snow covering the ground. I made the choice to sleep in the tipi.

I zipped myself up in a sleeping bag with all my clothes on and laid as close to the fire as was safe. At first it was warm and comfortable. But as the fire started to cool I began to shiver. One of the brothers saw me shivering and pushed his sleeping bag up behind mine and wrapped his arms around me to share body warmth. It didn’t help much and then it started to snow and the fire went almost completely out. I couldn't fall asleep and was miserably cold so I unzipped my sleeping bag, put on my shoes and ran through the snow towards the house.

Amber’s mom was still awake and heard the back door open. She kindly showed me up the narrow creeky stairs (more like a rickety ladder) to one of the beds in the unfinished attic room. There was a heater inside that I was thankful for. I took a quick look around before I switched off the overhead light. There were a couple of furniture items, a few boxes and some framed art leaning against the wall. It was regular attic stuff. 

I wasn’t expecting it to get completely pitch-black when I turned off the overhead light. I swiftly dove under the covers and got comfortable, ready to finally go to sleep. My head was heavy on the pillow when someone nearby said my name. I sat up in bed and answered, “Yes?” 

I thought maybe Cate was coming upstairs to escape the freezing cold, too. 

“Yes?” I asked again. 

I sat quietly alert for a few seconds but no one responded. I looked around the dark room and didn’t see any movement or shadows so I gently laid my head on the pillow feeling a tad spooked. There was no doubt I had heard a woman’s voice clearly say my name. It sounded like she was in the same room and friendly, like she knew me. I thought it was strange and tried to block it out of my mind and go to sleep.

As soon as I got comfortable the woman’s voice repeated my name again. She said it very clearly and was close, maybe even at the foot of the bed. This time I didn’t sit up but instead pulled the covers up to my chin. It was so dark.

Surely someone had to be playing a joke on me!  I thought about getting up and turning on the light but that meant I would have to walk across the pitch-black room to the switch on the wall next to those treacherous ladder stairs. Nope. I laid perfectly still, listened intently for any sound and eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning at breakfast Amber’s mom asked me how I had slept. Everyone was in the kitchen area or sitting at the kitchen table having coffee and eating. It was a polite question any host would ask their guests. I didn’t know how I would answer and was going back and forth in my head. I had just met these people and didn’t want to sound like a crazy person.  I also didn’t want to offend our hosts by telling them I had not slept well at all. Amber’s mom and grandma were studying my face. They were all smiles as they sat there expectantly waiting for my response. I could feel their eyes on me. They had waited for just the right moment to ask. Everyone was assembled together for breakfast and the conversation was halting as people chewed and sipped. I was aware that it was taking too long to answer and said the first polite thing that entered my mind.

“It was fine, thank you for asking."

I paused a few seconds and decided to go for it. “But something kind of weird did happen.” As soon as I uttered those last words I saw Amber’s mother and grandma exchange a quick knowing glance. It was subtle and I could see they were trying to disguise their emotion.

“I heard someone in the room with me and they called my name but I didn’t see them,” I continued.

Amber’s mom raised her eyebrows and asked, “Oh really? Did you recognize the voice?”

“No, I didn’t recognize the woman’s voice but it sounded like I was familiar to her. I can’t explain it,” I answered feeling super self-conscious.

Her mom was way too eager for my responses. She sat straight up almost at the edge of her seat. If she was trying to play it cool she was failing miserably. I could sense she was getting ready to tell me something compelling.

“Did she say anything else?” 

“She repeated my name but that was it. At first I thought it was Cate coming upstairs. Then I thought someone may have been playing a joke on me…” I knew I must have sounded like a paranoid and confused teenager. Maybe they thought there was something wrong with me, especially the way I had bolted from the tipi last night and raced through the snow like I was running a 50 yard dash.

“The funny thing is that I was still able to fall asleep. I must not have been that scared. I knew I wasn’t hearing things because it happened twice. Both times the voice sounded loud and clear and close to me and I was sure I heard it.” I paused and looked around the kitchen. Everyone appeared to be listening and playing it cool but no one was talking. Strangely enough no one was laughing at me either. “I know I probably sound silly. How did y’all sleep outside?”

Finally the moment Amber’s mom had been anxiously waiting for had arrived. It was time to spill some beans. She looked at her own mom, took a deep breath and then exhaled before she spoke. “Well,” and she looked around the room to make sure she had everyone’s attention, “I wasn’t going to mention it because it doesn’t always happen but we have a ghost. Her name is Ana, and sometimes she likes to talk to our overnight guests—but not always.” She was very matter-of-fact as she delivered her little speech at the table.

What the fuck. My face must have revealed what I was thinking. I didn’t believe in ghosts and who are these people with a giant tipi in their backyard? 

The Norte Rio Grand gorge bridge just north of Taos, New Mexico.

“Rather than alarm you for no reason we thought it would be best to explain things to you in the morning only if Ana did come around.” Amber’s mom was saying this to me as if she were reading a grocery list out loud. Like it was a common every day occurrence.

All eyes were on me waiting for a reaction, but I was conflicted. I grew up in the south respecting my elders and being gracious and polite and all that. I wasn’t about to be even the slightest bit disrespectful to these older women who had given me a place to stay and fed me dinner and breakfast. So I smiled sweetly and said,

“Oh really? Wow. That’s interesting.” It was lame but the best I could do.

We stayed at this small house in El Prado just outside of Taos for our Feb. 2026 trip.

Amber, her mom and her grandma started chatting to me and the others at the table. “Ana’s friendly…sweet old lady…used to live here…not scary at all….good ghost…passed away here…wife of the former mayor…”

I wasn’t sure what to think. This wasn’t anything we had ever talked about in Sunday school or big church. But I heard her. She was close to me as and it’s true that I didn’t feel frightened. I heard her twice

and clear as day. How could I explain this?

“Maggie, you should really feel honored because Ana doesn’t come around and meet everyone, only the people she likes,” Amber told me.

I thought about it the whole way back to Austin. As much as I didn’t want to believe it there was no denying that I had encountered a “ghost.” Her voice and presence had not scared me like we commonly see in movies. My instinct wasn’t to scream or run away and even though I was confused and couldn’t explain it I was still able to drift off to sleep.

We spent three nights at Amber’s mom and grandma’s historic house. We learned it was one of the oldest houses in Taos and one of the finest examples of how real adobe homes were constructed. One of the former mayors of Taos once lived there with his wife Ana and they had raised their children there.

The second and third nights I chose to sleep in the tipi. We had a great time sitting around the fire and playing music and singing in different languages. We smoked pot, flirted and figured out that we all spoke enough Spanish to understand each other and have conversations. When it was time to go to sleep I put on a double layer of clothes and chose a sleeping bag meant for colder temperatures which worked out fine. The days were spent exploring and learning about Native American culture. We visited the Taos Pueblo and ate bread and cookies prepared by the women who lived there to sell to tourists.

If someone asks me today if I believe in ghosts my answer is undeniably yes. If they look at me funny then I tell them about my own personal experience. If they still express doubt then I tell them I don’t give a damn what they think because I know.

I have kept up with Cate over the years thanks to social media. We are older versions of our 18 and 19 year-old selves; open-minded, curious, fearless and strong. I am leaving on my solo journey to the Oregon coast in a few weeks and I might find myself knocking on her front door. I’m fairly confident she won’t mind because a spontaneous visit from me will inevitably lead to some kind of adventure our free and kindred spirits will relish.

M.S.

2/23/26