Wildfires in New Mexico
One of the fascinating things about full-time RVing is how it makes everything super relative.
We’ve visited areas recovering from hurricanes, nearly missed record low temperatures in Texas and experienced heatwaves in the Pacific Northwest. But, most frequently, we’ve seen wildfires in the distance in the states of California, Arizona, Utah, Oregon, and Idaho. This month, we’re adding New Mexico to that list as the state is currently experiencing its worse wildfire in its history with the Hermits Peak and Calf Canyon Fires.
We rolled into New Mexico on April 29th, days after the Cerro Pelado fire began and the Hermits Peak and Calf Canyon fire merged. As we arrived in Santa Fe, the sky was grey with ash, and everything smelled like smoke. We were there on assignment to capture footage for a project on Bandelier National Monument. Unfortunately, the monument was closed just a day later due to its proximity to the Cerro Pelado fire.
Eventually, we made our way north to visit family in Taos. Towering above the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, billowing smoke clouds greeted us as we parked our rig at Taos Valley RV Park. In the previous weeks, it was almost impossible to snag a site at the RV park. However, in the days leading up to our stay, I noticed dozens of sites were suddenly available. I verified my suspicions during check-in when I asked the attendant whether people had canceled their reservations due to the wildfires. He said he was struggling to convey on the phone that the fire was miles away, that the RV park was far from danger.
This got me thinking about RVing in areas near wildfires or RVing during wildfire season, which seems to be taking up more and more of the year's duration. There is a position of privilege, coming and going to come and go into areas experiencing wildfires. Yet, as I went about the cities of Santa Fe and Taos, life seems to continue like normal for most New Mexicans, while the worst is happening to a select number who were ordered to evacuate or had lost their homes. For a second, it seems like a situation of chance or luck. Yet, reading about the causes of this dreadful wildfire season in the southwest makes me see it differently.
“The past 22 years rank as the driest period since at least 800 AD. This “megadrought” in the Southwest is the most extreme in 1,200 years.”
The past 22 years rank as the driest period since at least 800 AD. Yep, AD. This “megadrought” in the Southwest is the most extreme in 1,200 years. According to a recent study from the journal Nature Climate Change, these rising temperatures lead to an ideal wildfire environment correlated to human-caused climate change. This intensive drought is rapidly drying out vegetation, becoming all the while more flammable. With lower snowpack amounts these pasts winters, the New Mexican mountains are a dry hotbed for wildfires. Authors of the study attribute 42% of the extended drought since the 21st century began to human-caused climate change.
Currently, most of us aren’t face-to-face with the realities of climate change. We’re not the evacuees living in hotels or those whose homes are burned, flooded, or blown apart. Sure, we may donate to organizations, volunteer, or pursue other humanitarian efforts, but the difference between those affected and those who aren’t is extreme.
As RVers, we experience this phenomenon to another extreme degree. We can visit the most beloved, scenic locations and then go. The photos on our phone show Big Basin Redwoods State Park before it almost completely burned in 2020, what Lake McDonald in Glacier National Park looked like before the 2018 wildfire, the hurricane debris piled up on streets within the Florida Keys, and more. On the one hand, I see how vital tourism is to these local economies. RVers and travelers are continuing to go to Glacier and Key West. I was happy to extend our stay here in Taos, hopefully making up for a portion of the money the RV park lost due to cancellations. Additionally, RVers seem to live more minimally regarding waste, power, and water. However, I’m not sure if that offsets the amount of gasoline needed to travel.
Ultimately, I strongly feel that one of the most significant benefits of RVing is its relativity to climate change’s continual impact. It’s not just something we see on the news or a desensitized topic. RVing in the age of climate change is a continual lesson on the realities we’re facing. Going home, sharing these first-hand experiences with friends and family, and hopefully altering our daily habits are some of, in my opinion, the greatest takeaways from RVing in today’s day and age.
