Full throttle high country adventure leads to fine fishing cool weather and wild discoveries.
Story and Photography by Matt Williams

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve visited this place. My family vacationed here just about every summer when I was a kid and everyone always had a blast. My parents loved the scenery and loved the weather even more. So much that they scrimped and saved until they had enough money to buy a little piece of heaven they could call their own.
In time, my dad carved out a flat spot on the side of a steep mountain and built a cabin here. It’s not the swankiest pad around, but I would bet more good times have been shared in that house over last 40 years – by more people – than most other places in the Valley of the Pines.
The locals have always called Red River a mountain playground, and I have to agree it is a fun place to visit. If you like the outdoors, fresh air and big, beautiful country, it’s like romper room. Some of my life’s fondest memories have been hatched in the Sange de Christo’s at 8,500 ft. or above.
As teenagers, my buddies and I skied and snowmobiled during the winter months. During summer, we played pinball and chased chicks at the Playhouse, blazed mountain trails on our dirt bikes and caught trout and fried them up on the banks of high country natural lakes so remote that the state at one time stocked them by helicopter.
I’ve ridden horseback to the summit of New Mexico’s tallest mountain and bugled in bull elk as close as 15 yards in the Carson National Forest that flanks our mountain getaway. On one occasion, this country brought a friend and I face-to-face with a charging black bear that my cur-dog, “Slug-Go”, lead back to us while we were scouting for elk sign.
In looking back, every road trip to Red River has a way of unfolding into a unique adventure unto its own. Not surprisingly, the May 2015 journey I took there with Steve Allbritten of Murphy and Charlie and Cody Foster of Sherman turned out to be a keeper as well.
Small Town Big on Adventure
For those who haven’t visited Red River before, it is a small town founded way back in the 1870s.
It began as a mining village, where prospectors hoping to strike it rich carved out dozens of gold, silver and copper mines across the rugged mountain landscape. Some panned for gold in the many spring fed creeks that the seep from the tall hills and flow downward before dumping into the clear running river after which the town was named.

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