One thing that was good about Casa Cucaracha: It was within easy walking distance of Kit Carson Park, where the wool festival is located. Saturday was a beautiful day . . . maybe 75 degrees with a slight breeze.
This festival looks a lot different than other “wool fests” I’ve been to. First of all, exhibitors are set up in a big open square formation (instead of rows). Second, there is no “main tent.” Instead, each exhibitor has his own mini-tent. I like it. You walk, you duck into a tent when something looks interesting, and if an interesting tent is too crowded the first time around the square, you catch it the second time around. Kit Carson Park is lovely – with big deciduous trees (sorry, I’m not good with naming tree species) providing shade.
The other thing that is very different: Dogs are allowed. Now, I like dogs, but I wasn’t sure how having a bunch of dogs at a fiber festival would work. After 2 days of co-existing with the canines, I have to say it was one of the best doggie groups I have ever witnessed. The dogs were happy, friendly, and their owners were keeping them in line and cleaning up after them. I didn’t witness one episode of bad doggie behavior . . . and I saw Goldens, Corgis (several), a Great Pyrenees, German Shepherds, itty-bitty mystery dogs in purses . . . you name it. It was like they were all on Doggie Probation and knew they had to behave themselves.
I came to the festival looking for: 1.) A fleece. Or two. 2.) Wool combs. 3.) A diz, which is used with wool combs, and 4.) Interesting hand dyed roving. By the time I had almost made my first full loop of the exhibit tents, I was starting to panic. No fleece! (Except for Navajo Churro, which I didn’t want.) No wool combs! No dizzes! Lots of yarn, but not much roving.
Then I saw it: The Natural Colored Fleece Booth. I beetled right over there as fast as my bermuda-shorts clad legs would take me.
Bond and CVM and Teasdale; Corriedale and Alpaca and Merino: Oh my! It was so nice to put my hands in so many different types of fleece. To see (and feel!) the difference those little sheep coats make. I’ll level with you – I forgot to put my camera in my backpack, so I don’t have pictures. You’ll have to imaging rows and rows of bushel baskets, some on the ground, some on shelves higher than my head, but each containing a gem of a fleece – the cream of the crop. Some were bedecked with ribbons won at local fairs.
There were plenty of white, and it was delightful to see all the variations on grey: silver-grey, rose-grey . . . pale dove, almost mauve, salt-and-pepper. “Moorit” is a word I had to look up recently – it means reddish brown – and there were several lovely moorit fleeces as well. I was in heaven as I went from basket to basket, finally putting a sense memory to terms I’d only read about: Broad crimp, fine crimp, lofty, dense, blunt tips, tapering tips.
The ladies staffing the booth were so kind and helpful. At first I was hesitant to open the plastic bags the fleeces were stored in. Right away a kind lady encouraged me to do so, and to pull off a hunk if I wanted to examine the staple length more closely! These ladies knew that their products would sell themselves . . .
Prices varied greatly. I saw some small but lovely Corriedale fleeces for $25-$30. Almost every fleece I examined was coated, and prices reflected that. $15 per pound seemed the average.
After an extended examination and re-examination of all things woolly, I picked out a white CVM (California Variegated Mutant) from Windy Hill Farm in Casper, WY and a medium gray Bond from Gleason’s Fine Woollies in Lyons, CO. Here are some photos I took at home:
This festival looks a lot different than other “wool fests” I’ve been to. First of all, exhibitors are set up in a big open square formation (instead of rows). Second, there is no “main tent.” Instead, each exhibitor has his own mini-tent. I like it. You walk, you duck into a tent when something looks interesting, and if an interesting tent is too crowded the first time around the square, you catch it the second time around. Kit Carson Park is lovely – with big deciduous trees (sorry, I’m not good with naming tree species) providing shade.
The other thing that is very different: Dogs are allowed. Now, I like dogs, but I wasn’t sure how having a bunch of dogs at a fiber festival would work. After 2 days of co-existing with the canines, I have to say it was one of the best doggie groups I have ever witnessed. The dogs were happy, friendly, and their owners were keeping them in line and cleaning up after them. I didn’t witness one episode of bad doggie behavior . . . and I saw Goldens, Corgis (several), a Great Pyrenees, German Shepherds, itty-bitty mystery dogs in purses . . . you name it. It was like they were all on Doggie Probation and knew they had to behave themselves.
I came to the festival looking for: 1.) A fleece. Or two. 2.) Wool combs. 3.) A diz, which is used with wool combs, and 4.) Interesting hand dyed roving. By the time I had almost made my first full loop of the exhibit tents, I was starting to panic. No fleece! (Except for Navajo Churro, which I didn’t want.) No wool combs! No dizzes! Lots of yarn, but not much roving.
Then I saw it: The Natural Colored Fleece Booth. I beetled right over there as fast as my bermuda-shorts clad legs would take me.
Bond and CVM and Teasdale; Corriedale and Alpaca and Merino: Oh my! It was so nice to put my hands in so many different types of fleece. To see (and feel!) the difference those little sheep coats make. I’ll level with you – I forgot to put my camera in my backpack, so I don’t have pictures. You’ll have to imaging rows and rows of bushel baskets, some on the ground, some on shelves higher than my head, but each containing a gem of a fleece – the cream of the crop. Some were bedecked with ribbons won at local fairs.
There were plenty of white, and it was delightful to see all the variations on grey: silver-grey, rose-grey . . . pale dove, almost mauve, salt-and-pepper. “Moorit” is a word I had to look up recently – it means reddish brown – and there were several lovely moorit fleeces as well. I was in heaven as I went from basket to basket, finally putting a sense memory to terms I’d only read about: Broad crimp, fine crimp, lofty, dense, blunt tips, tapering tips.
The ladies staffing the booth were so kind and helpful. At first I was hesitant to open the plastic bags the fleeces were stored in. Right away a kind lady encouraged me to do so, and to pull off a hunk if I wanted to examine the staple length more closely! These ladies knew that their products would sell themselves . . .
Prices varied greatly. I saw some small but lovely Corriedale fleeces for $25-$30. Almost every fleece I examined was coated, and prices reflected that. $15 per pound seemed the average.
After an extended examination and re-examination of all things woolly, I picked out a white CVM (California Variegated Mutant) from Windy Hill Farm in Casper, WY and a medium gray Bond from Gleason’s Fine Woollies in Lyons, CO. Here are some photos I took at home:
Raw Bond Fleece (unwashed)
Washed Bond Fleece. Hard to capture the subtle shifts in color . . .
Washed CVM fleece. It washed up so white and lofty!I washed the wool up in my tub at home. Oh my gosh. I don’t think I will ever deal with a non-coated fleece again! The lanolin floated away, and the resulting wool is just delicious. I decided to send it all to Spinderella’s fiber mill in Utah, as I’ve heard good things about them and their prices seem very reasonable. I’m blending the CVM fleece 50/50 with a lovely Corriedale fleece I already had. I should end up with 4 lbs of white roving and maybe 2.5 lbs of the grey Bond.
I never did find the wool combs in Taos, although I did hear other festival-goers asking for them! The response I heard was “Well, you can always find those on the Internet . . .” I did find some gorgeous mohair roving, which I’ve spun and plied. I’m washing it today, and will have photos later this week.
After a full day at the festival, I dropped my wool off at my room and walked into town. I love the local bookstore, “Moby Dickens,” as well as the funky antique door place, the paper store, and La Lana Wools. I had a nice wander around, and then enjoyed a lovely half carafe of wine and the chicken mango enchiladas at the Apple Tree Restaurant.
I stretched dinner a little, knowing that I had to go home to . . . El Cucaracha. But I didn’t want to walk home in the dark, so I polished off my cake and coffee and headed back to my own wee hotel purgatory.
Dimness suited Casa Cucaracha. Twilight was its friend. Nothing looked quite as bad as it had at noon. There were a group of fiber fanatics (we can spot each other, can’t we?) having an impromptu picnic in the courtyard. I’d opened my window earlier, and the place had aired out a little. I turned back my bedding, and upon seeing pristine cotton sheets I breathed a sigh of relief. (The worst hotel room I’ve ever stayed in had someone else’s hair on my sheets. For a while after that, I travelled with my own sheets.)
I changed into pajamas and settled in to hover over my Wool Festival bounty. I couldn’t help myself – I washed up little handfuls of both fleeces. (Casa Cucaracha did have VERY hot water – great for washing fleece.) I put a towel down in the front hall and left the 2 woolly puffballs to dry.
I’d brought my wheel, but the room was just too dim for spinning. Or for working on Darth Vader. I gave up and settled down to a night of bad TV. I turned in early, amazed at how quiet it was . . . I couldn’t hear another soul . . .
I was awakened at roughly 2 AM by the amorous sounds that always wake you at 2 AM at a bad hotel. Oh, good grief. Keep it down, lady. Nobody wants to hear your high opera in here. I turned to my bedside table, where I had stashed my earplugs earlier in the evening. Once those were safely in place, I passed an uneventful night and slept quite well, actually.
Before leaving I stopped at Michael’s Kitchen. Whenever I visit Taos I have to eat at Michael’s at least once. If you ever go, have the blintzes. They are to die for. After breakfast I circled the exhibit grounds one more time, then headed home.
I made one pit stop on my way out of town, and I’m glad I did. I went a few miles out of my way to visit Taos Sunflower, a fiber store in Arroyo Seco, NM. There I found some great yarns – including a nice selection of Malabrigo lace weight, one of my all time favorites. Their prices were good and their staff was friendly. I’m adding Taos Sunflower to my list of “must visit” places when I’m in Taos.
It was a beautiful day for a drive, and I enjoyed the fresh, sheepy smell of my fleeces all the way home.
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