The original Las Vegas, in New Mexico, sees a rebound from state's record wildfire now that the smoke has cleared

The Hermit's Peak fire (Photo by firefighter Terry McShane, via the Las Vegas Optic)

The largest wildfire ever in New Mexico destroyed more than 400 homes near the town of Las Vegas, population 13,000, this summer. On top of that, the town has to deal with flooding and a water crisis caused by ash from the Hermit's Peak fire limiting the capacity of its reservoir. It has obtained equipment to use an alternate source, but now locals are upset that the U.S. Forest Service has resumed controlled burns in the Santa Fe National Forest, like the one that got out of control and caused the fire, the Las Vegas Optic reports.

But there is a "silver lining," writes author Sallie Bingham, who lives in Santa Fe: Fire crews from several states boosted Las Vegas businesses, including the La Castaneda Hotel, "recently completely restored after years of ruin by an inspired investor/designer—Allan Affeldt—who understands that renovating a hotel central to the life of the town inspires and invigorates many small, previously struggling local businesses. There are no big box stores in Las Vegas (they hover on the outskirts), no Starbucks on the Plaza, which makes it—as a new friend in an antique store there told us—'The best town in New Mexico to move to, offering what Taos and Santa Fe offered years ago'."

Las Vegas, New Mexico (Google map; click on it to enlarge)

The "silver lining" phrase comes from Bingham's friend Jim Terr and his online (and occasionally printed) Hermits Peak Howler. He sees a "renewed sense of optimism in the town—even while the immediate countryside, devastated by the three hundred thousand-acre fire and then by flooding in the burn scars," Bingham writes. In the July edition of the paper, Terr noted the widespread news coverage of the fire and wrote, "Now is our chance to build on that awareness to increase tourism to our still-beautiful area."

Bingham writes, "Our new friends, the husband and wife who run the big antique store on Las Vegas’ main street, are not dismayed by what has happened; in fact they radiate hope. While showing me a rare 1940’s Zuni needlework necklace—not needlework but tiny turquoise chips inlaid in silver—they talked about the resilience that marks out their little town. Then, while persuading my somewhat reluctant friend to buy a Taxco silver man’s necklace—there is such a thing, turquoise symbols of Mayan origin inlaid in silver—they told us about the many businesses that have revived since the fire or appeared brand new such as the Buffalo Hall & Cowboy Café where we’d just eaten huge green chili and barbecue hamburgers in an enormous bar, pool hall, and soon to be dance hall, to resound one day with the heel tapping of country western dancers—some day not too far in the future, I hope. They didn’t mention the little roadside stand with the Hawaiian name—Ohana—where we’d eaten the best coffee ice cream I’ve ever had, which provided Jim with his afternoon caffeine."