The wind rippling across my sturdy cloth tent made a flapping sound as the bright afternoon light started to dim. With the gentle gusts, I felt the racing inside my head slow to a halt.
Lying diagonally across my bed, I peered through the tent’s triangle opening at the landscape outside. Cane cholla cacti dotted the desert shrubland, a palette of dusty blues, greens and grays, desperate for a little rain. The mountains stood authoritatively in the distance.
After a 14-hour drive, I had arrived at KitFox, a new glamping site in Lamy, N.M., just outside Santa Fe.
KitFox specializes in pop-up event production — private retreats, weddings, music festivals, dining experiences — but also offers nightly stays in the glamping tents at their flagship location on 160 acres in the Galisteo Basin Preserve.
Founders Jennifer Kolker and Brandon Gregoire are both New Mexico natives. They met in business school 15 years ago and, before starting their latest venture, lived in Houston for five years, where they worked in the fashion industry.
Kolker never realized how cool her home state was when she was growing up, she said. It is arguably one of the most beautiful places in the country.
They both missed New Mexico and moved back in 2016, bringing with them a passion project they had started in Houston: Dig & Serve, a pop-up dining experience.
Today, Kolker manages the KitFox lodgings while Gregoire continues Dig & Serve, which produces the on- and off-site culinary events. The vision for KitFox came long before its setting; Kolker said it took a while to find the perfect spot with the right permitting.
The Galisteo Basin Preserve is a project headed by the Commonweal Conservancy, a conservation-focused community development nonprofit based in Santa Fe. In 2003, the organization entered a contract to acquire the land and develop an environmentally conscious town, but the initiative hit hard times during the 2008 recession and was largely scrapped.
In 2018, the Eugene V. and Clare E. Thaw Charitable Trust saved Commonweal from foreclosure by purchasing its loan obligations. A new campaign is focused on expanding and upgrading public access trails, roads, facilities and overlaying the preserve with conservation easements.
Each plot was designed to have natural screening via the dips of the rolling hills — you can’t see the neighbors and the neighbors can’t see you, giving an impression of miles of untouched land around you.
Kolker and Gregoire have been building out KitFox here since 2019, while continuing their pop-ups, and they officially launched bookings in March. KitFix donates $1 of every stay to the Galisteo Basin Preserve.
I read through KitFox’s information guide the night before my departure, like the 11th-hour traveler that I am. My brow furrowed as I skimmed passed mentions of no WiFi or cell service, no showers, requirements of closed-toe shoes and — gasp — long pants.
A perpetually bare-legged person, I reluctantly tapped my hurricane stash to fish out the only long pants I own: a waterproof pair I bought in case I needed to wade through floodwaters some day. I also packed the entire collection of cheap flashlights, headlamps and other alternative light sources I acquired during a Hurricane Laura panic-buy.
I was half-wondering where the “gl” in “glamping” was, but I needn’t have worried.
The KitFox team has thought of the little details that will make your stay easier. Each tent has a large stainless-steel water dispenser, a chargeable lamp that illuminates the space quite well at night, a small mirror, ear plugs in a cloth pouch, large body wipes, a portable phone charger, a bottle opener and playing cards.
Tents have proper beds and are outfitted in a minimalist Southwestern décor: beige and tan tones, arrow-motif pillows, striped blankets and sheepskin rugs.
The communal area, called the Clubhouse, follows the same scheme, with brown leather couches, ottomans and floor cushions, and little potted succulents scattered across the room. A few solar panels power phone chargers and the tea and coffee station.
A kids corner is decked out with a mini tent, children’s books, block toys and a well-stocked game collection, including Clue, Scattergories, Yahtzee, Monopoly, Scrabble, Apples to Apples and Uno. A large stretch of gravel outside the Clubhouse has seating space for eating or lounging, a cornhole set and a firepit.
The most camping-esque part of KitFox are the two outhouses — just a hole in the ground, with a sign above it promising flushing toilets will come in 2022. Gregoire said they will also add indoor and outdoor showers next year. There is, however, a sink station with running water for washing hands and brushing teeth.
KitFox’s land includes two hiking trails, a 1.25-mile loop and a 1.8-mile loop. Shortly after I arrived, I set off for what I thought would be a quick jaunt.
The walk was lovely at first; I stopped to take photos of copper-colored rock formations and interesting tree roots. But I took a wrong turn somewhere and proceeded to make a series of questionable path choices.
I suddenly realized I was horrendously lost. Not just that: I was lost with 20 minutes to go before sunset, 10 percent battery on my phone and almost zero cell service.
I tried to retrace my steps. I remember this rock, I remember this tree. But my new choices led me farther and farther away from base camp. My panic rising by the minute, I desperately darted in different directions, jogging almost, testing paths like a rat trapped in a maze, hoping one would lead to my freedom.
I had long decided to one day retire in New Mexico and have this enchanting state be my final resting place. The gradually dimming light was hitting the landscape just right. I’d think it was so beautiful if it weren’t an omen for my early demise, I thought.
By some miracle, I eventually found a familiar intersection that made me solve the maze puzzle. I emerged after an hour and a half, panting and flustered. Gregoire handed me a beer.
The rest of my stay was much more pleasant and relaxing. I read an entire book, something I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t been able to do since before the pandemic.
I sat outside watching the relief of the mountains change as the sun shifted across their façades.
Every couple of hours, my phone received enough bars for a few texts and notifications to ping through, but not enough for me to engage with them, which was a true blessing. I stopped paying attention to it altogether.
As I ate a “salad” of canned tuna, sweet corn and marinated artichokes one morning, Kolker and Gregoire were prepping for a Dine in the Wild event, KitFox and Dig & Serve’s regular dinner series.
Chef Nathan Mayes of Paloma, a restaurant in Santa Fe, was cooking a mostly organic and locally sourced feast of charcoal potatoes, roasted carrots with goat yogurt and cumin, and barbecued lamb with nixtamalized polenta and cactus.
I had to drive back to Houston and was sad to miss it, but I got what I needed from the trip. For more than a year, the void of quarantine had been filled with so much noise, screaming at me through my screens.
Staying in the wild, with the sound of the wind and the howls of coyotes alone to distract me, allowed me to slow down and be at peace, even if just for a moment.
June 25, 2021
Emma Balter was the food editor for Chron.
She was previously a features reporter for the Houston Chronicle, writing food, drink, travel and entertainment stories. Before joining the Chronicle in March 2020, Balter was an associate editor at Wine Spectator magazine. She has also contributed to Condé Nast Traveler, Food & Wine, Eater, PureWow, Chowhound and VinePair, among others.
Balter grew up in Paris, France, where she got an early taste for good food and wine. She studied English Literature at Newcastle University in the U.K. and was the lifestyle editor of the student newspaper. She currently lives in southwest Houston.
505-898-6262
Service Areas
