The Toaster House
Pie Town, New Mexico has a church, a post office, two pie shops, and just about nothing else. There’s a large yellow truck parked on the edge of town that advertises septic services and is cheekily labeled “The Stool Bus”. And just down the road, there’s a very special house.
Our first stop in town was The Gatherin’ Place II, a mighty fine restaurant and pie shop.
The fence and front gate of this house are adorned with a prodigious quantity of toasters (Yes, you read that correctly: toasters. Like, the kind with which you make toast.). Walking through the gate and onto the porch, an entire wall of the house is covered in old hiking shoes, and the chairs are made from the seats of old minivans, which have been pulled out and bolted onto the porch floor. There’s a bike stand in the yard equipped with tools and a pump, but the rest of the yard is cluttered with random art, painted rocks, wood benches, a fire pit, and a rickety old swing set.
Inside, the Toaster House almost looks like a normal family home, because that is how it started its life. There’s a kitchen with a round table, a bathroom, a living room, and a narrow set of stairs to the second floor. Yet, the stairs are coated with stickers. There’s a sign warning you not to use the ancient stove, and a note on the bathroom door suggesting you might consider using the outhouse instead. Upstairs, there are just beds. Beds everywhere! Mattresses on the floor and in every nook and cranny. Another bedroom downstairs has three more beds. The pantry is overflowing with canned soup, peanut butter, and dried pasta. It feels both very lived-in and also simultaneously somewhat abandoned.
A legendary trail angel known as Nita once raised a family in the Toaster House and hosted CDT hikers and GDMBR cyclists. When Nita passed away in 2023, her kids kept the house open to the community, allowing hikers and bikers to continue staying there for free or with a small donation. There’s no sign on the gate, no need to sign in or let someone know you’re coming, no way to know who else might be there at any given time. You simply have to know it’s there and, of course, the hikers know.
In any other part of our lives, the Toaster House would feel ridiculously strange (and possibly rather sketchy). But on trail, it’s another one of those places that make up the foundation of the hiking community. When we arrived at the Toaster House, there were five other hikers milling about. Butter was crafting a friendship bracelet at the kitchen table. Bear Chief was sitting on the slightly rickety-looking balcony and talking on the phone. Samurai was lounging on a mattress upstairs, and Stripes was yard-saled across a neighboring mattress, beginning to pack up his things to head back out on the trail. Wolf was fully packed and saying goodbye as we arrived. The self-appointed caretaker, Carrie, was tidying up the kitchen. Two more hikers showed up while we were there: Burger King and Flavor Town.
We only stayed at the Toaster House for one evening and headed out very early the next morning. But while we were there, we talked with other hikers about past and future adventures, about the best and worst towns on the CDT, about our trashiest hiker moments, and about job searching after trail. We washed our socks, repaired our gear, and drank hot tea. When we woke up at 5:15am, Carrie was already up and about. It was still pitch-black outside, so Molly commented that she was an early riser. “I have church today,” she explained, “so, I have to get ready!” We put on headlamps and walked south down the road out of town. Just another Sunday on the CDT.
