Both sides of the pass: Raton, New Mexico

Raton from Goat Hill, looking east

Raton sign and Goat Hill from downtown

Raton Pass rises at a much gentler grade in good weather - I suppose all passes do. The climb starts as soon as the road leaves downtown Trinidad, and deposits those headed to New Mexico into a town that feels much higher due to its place in the mountains.

Somedays I marvel that I can reach New Mexico in two hours and change. There are long stretches between towns once Pueblo passes, and but once the mesa atop Fishers Peak comes into view, New Mexico draws near.The transition from Colorado to New Mexico still feels complete, as desert vegetation adds green to the mountains and a series of volcanic cones rises to the east. 

After Raton Pass comes the town of the same name, nestled into the mountains that quickly drop into the high desert plain that runs for hundreds of miles east to the Texas Panhandle. Raton has about 6,000 people these days, and like many small towns, has seen better times. 

The amount of empty storefronts was a little stunning. Raton obviously did well as a nightly stop for travelers in the age of motor courts, as many still stood along S. 2nd Street. Plenty of old marquee signs still advertised the closed motels, and one even had a plastic horse in its court, where drivers could pull their cars into garages with gates (the gates were long gone). 

At the south end of town, one of the motor courts still draws a crowd. The Oasis Restaurant and Motel has operated since 1954, unsurprising given the quality of their breakfast and lunch options. I had to go with breakfast burrito in red chile. The ladies did double duty as hostesses and waitresses and never show signs of duress. They seemed genuinely happy that visitors tracked down the Oasis for Saturday brunch. 

After some photos of old motor court signs and a detour down a road that ended in rolling mountains and a sign for the reclamation of the Swastika Mine, we returned to the business district. Yes, you read correctly. 

With Raton, we have to talk about the swastikas. They predate the Nazi Party symbol and were adapted from a sign of southwestern Indian tribes. They still adorn the top of one of Raton’s tallest buildings, not home to a bank. The swastika gave its name to the local coal mine, now a reclamation project on the edge of town. The Raton Museum had signs promoting Swastika Coal. With very light touches, the symbol endures here, albeit as a note of a prosperous past, not ties to the Nazis.

The Raton Museum gives a thorough look at the history of the region, a bargain for $5. The importance of trains and trails in the region could not be overstate. Raton Pass was part of the mountain route for Santa Fe Trail travelers, and its crossing became easier once “Uncle Dick” Wootten improved the pass with a toll road. For the first Rough Riders reunion in 1899 - held at the Plaza Hotel in Las Vegas, NM - a special train ran from Raton to Las Vegas, returning in the early hours after the party ended. 

One told the sad story of a dog owned by the town’s first photographer; the dog followed local children to school, and received funeral market when he died, a market soon stolen and never recovered. For a beloved town dog, that seemed unusually cruel. 

When I asked about the dog, a man at the museum quipped that anything good in Raton always gets vandalized. I couldn’t really reply to that. Hearing people speak of their hometowns in such towns was not an invitation for further criticism. 

Many buildings in the historic district seemed repairable but the sad truth was that many that damage from old roofs and years of neglect. That seemed unfortunate, since the buildings look solid from the front. But I was only seeing one angle. While I try to find the bones of prosperity in any town, the foundation that can revive a town, the costs of refurbishing them could be too high.

Vintage signs, closed motels

Colt Motel facade

Colt Motel courtyard, with garages

 

The 1990s hit Raton with a three-pronged loss – its mines, its railyard, then its small business when a certain big-box retailer opened across the pass. With costs soaring in Colorado, I could see how some boutiques and maybe a craft brewery or distillery could thrive just across the border. The house stock was mixed, with some century-old houses looking fine and others in need of repair. Even on 2nd Street, there were closed gas stations with outdated pumps; 40 years after their prime resembled 1950s robots. A few storefronts had signs calling for the return of horse racing; the town’s racetrack also closed in the 1990s.

Raton boasts a few gems that other small towns can envy. By chance, a volunteer at the Shuler Theater spotted my friend and I taking pictures, then invited us to view its interior. A series of Works Progress Administration murals fill out the lobby with the history of the region. Owned by the city, the Shuler has not fallen prey to disrepair like other small-town theaters. 

Inside the Shuler, the acoustics were tremendous, and the theater size meant no bad seats. The stage still has its original curtain 106 years later. Holding about 400 people, Raton has an intimate venue for the occasional touring act – Los Lobos in March 2022, for one. 

Shuler Theater stage curtain from 1915

Shuler Theater mural panel #1

Shuler Theater mural panel #2

A few coffeehouses and restaurants boasted some Saturday activity. The cars traffic on 2nd steadily pulsed through the city. First Street runs alongside the railroad tracks, with another set of two- and three-story buildings. 

The biggest landmark on First is Raton’s Amtrak station and its Mission Revival architecture. Amtrak took over the original 1903 depot of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway. No passenger trains were due, so the station was quiet along with its tracks. On the other side of the tracks, the old railyard had been converted to a city park.

Raton's Amtrak station

Train passenger platform, Raton station

The western edge of town turns into Climax Canyon Park, which includes Old Raton Pass Road (now a private road without access to the pass) and a few other Raton peculiarities. A bumpy road with barely room for two cars winds into the park. I could not find the access for the iridium layer (the geologic layer that shows the comet that led to the dinosaurs’ extinction – it’s only visible in a few easy locations worldwide, one of them in Raton) but the 90-plus heat on a clear day would have turned any hike into a slog. 

Instead we drove to the top of Goat Hill, where the Raton sign stands. In the same font as the Hollywood sign, it rises a few hundred feet above town. The view east casts Raton and its former railyard against the field of extinct volcanoes that extends nearly to the Texas border, some 80 miles away. 

Off the highway in Raton, I could see how the scrappy town fought its way into the 21st century. The fight isn’t over, and Raton isn’t backing down. Nor should the charming, friendly town do so.