October has arrived in Taos, and everybody seems to have an opinion about the coming winter. After two disappointing ski seasons, the town is looking toward the Sangre de Cristo Mountains with the cautious optimism of a gambler who has already lost his shirt twice. September delivered a remarkable amount of rain, including a record 4.88 inches at one weather station north of town. Meanwhile, El Niño has already developed in the Pacific and is strengthening, giving meteorologists plenty to discuss while promising absolutely nothing specific about how much snow will fall on Taos. Whether the snow arrives in heroic quantities or leaves the ski valley begging for mercy remains to be seen. In the meantime, the aspens are turning gold, the mornings are cold enough to justify another cup of coffee, and there's an entire town worth exploring before anybody needs to worry about chairlifts.

Taos has spent decades being described as magical, mystical and spiritual, which must be exhausting for the people who actually live here. It's difficult to maintain an atmosphere of transcendental enlightenment when the truck needs fixing and somebody has parked like an idiot outside the post office. Beneath the romantic nonsense, however, is a genuinely fascinating place, shaped by Pueblo and Hispano communities, artists, ranchers, immigrants, eccentric newcomers and generations of people who have stubbornly made a life at nearly 7,000 feet. Start around Taos Plaza, wander down Bent Street and visit the Harwood Museum of Art. The town's artistic reputation is well deserved, although the history is considerably more interesting than the familiar tale of outsiders arriving to discover beauty that local people already knew was there.

Good food, and an argument over chile

By Friday evening, it's time to eat. Three very different kitchens offer three ways into Taos, so choose the one that suits your appetite rather than attempting all three dinners in a single night. Northern New Mexico takes its chile seriously. At Orlando's New Mexican Café, the Smothered Shrimp Burrito arrives covered in chile and cheese, with shrimp on top and posole and pinto beans alongside. Order it Christmas-style, with both red and green chile, which is what you do when indecision becomes a culinary advantage. Orlando's opened in 1996, with family recipes at the heart of the operation. The food has remained satisfyingly consistent, but the atmosphere is half the attraction: a riot of art, colour and the unapologetic eccentricity that makes Taos unlike anywhere else in America. Even the walls seem to have opinions, and none of them are particularly interested in minimalism.

Lambert’s is Taos with its shirt tucked in. Contemporary American cooking, Southwestern influences, polished plates and the reassuring sense that somebody in the kitchen knows exactly what they're doing. Order the Prawn ‘Ratatouille’, a marriage of zucchini, smoked tomato, olives, eggplant, basil and pine nuts. A little southern France has wandered into northern New Mexico, dressed for dinner and apparently unconcerned about the altitude. I've seen worse places to get lost.

The Love Apple, meanwhile, operates out of a former Catholic chapel, which is fitting, considering how sanctimonious the whole farm-to-table movement can get. You know the routine: reverence for the humble carrot, solemn declarations about sustainability, and enough moral superiority to make a bishop uncomfortable. But then there's trout wrapped in corn husks, dressed in lime butter and chipotle crema, and suddenly I'm paying attention. Forget the sermon. That sounds like a better reason to enter a former chapel than another sermon on the moral superiority of vegetables.

Thin air and one more round

Saturday belongs to the mountains, provided the mountains agree. Check current trail and weather conditions before leaving town; October at elevation can be a different season altogether. Begin with espresso at World Cup Café near the Plaza, or coffee and something baked at Tomorrow and Tomorrow, then head toward Taos Ski Valley. Wheeler Peak rises to 13,161 feet, making it the highest point in New Mexico and an excellent place to discover that your fitness tracker has been flattering you. The ascent is spectacular but demanding, particularly in October, when snow, ice and wind can turn a pleasant outing into a lesson in poor judgment. For those who prefer their weekends without an alpine survival component, Williams Lake offers a shorter hike through beautiful high-elevation forest to a lake beneath the peaks. It still requires preparation, but you can enjoy extraordinary mountain scenery without climbing to the roof of the state.

Coming down from the ski valley, stop in Arroyo Seco. It's a small village with galleries, independent shops and a history considerably richer than its size suggests. More importantly, there's Abe's Cantina, one of those establishments that ought to be protected from anyone who arrives offering to improve its branding. Its roots stretch back to 1945, and after a fire destroyed the bar in 1978, members of the community helped rebuild it. The Garcia family's food and the generations of customers who have passed through its doors have given the place something that cannot be purchased from an interior designer. Order something to eat, have a cold beer if you've arranged a ride, and enjoy the possibility of a conversation with somebody who knows the area better than you do. There is no guarantee the regulars will find you interesting, of course, but that's part of the appeal.

If another beer sounds less like a good idea and more like the beginning of a police report, Bighorn Cannabis offers an alternative. The veteran-owned dispensary occupies a restored blacksmith shop on Paseo del Pueblo Norte, where men once hammered red-hot iron into horseshoes and now sell locally grown cannabis to people who have considerably fewer places to be. There's a licensed outdoor consumption patio, which strikes me as an entirely sensible use of the New Mexico sunshine. I rather admire the transformation. A building once dedicated to keeping horses on the straight and narrow now caters to people with absolutely no interest in either. Only in Taos could this pass for perfectly ordinary progress. Naturally, the state insists on a few formalities. You must be 21 or older, consume only where legally permitted, and keep your enlightened ass out of the driver's seat. The highway patrol has little patience for your sudden discovery that time is an illusion. They have a clock, a ticket book, and all afternoon.

Sunday, a thousand years in the making

Sunday requires a substantial breakfast. Michael's Kitchen has been feeding people since 1974, and its huevos rancheros make a compelling argument for starting the morning with chile rather than a miserable bowl of granola. Ranchos Plaza Grill is another good choice, particularly if you want to visit the extraordinary San Francisco de Asís Church nearby. Its great adobe buttresses have fascinated artists for generations, but the building remains part of a living community, not merely a beautiful backdrop for photographs.

From there, make time for Taos Pueblo. Its multi-storey adobe structures have stood for more than a thousand years, and the community remains one of the most important cultural foundations of northern New Mexico. The Pueblo is sovereign, inhabited and very much alive. Visitors are welcomed under rules established by the community, including restrictions on access and photography. Check the Pueblo's official visitor information before setting out, because access and schedules can change. Take a guided tour when available, listen carefully and understand that the history of Taos began long before painters, ski resorts or tourism campaigns entered the picture. What survives here is not a reconstruction of the past but the continuing life of a people whose presence predates the country surrounding them.

If time allows, finish at Ojo Caliente Mineral Springs, about an hour southwest of Taos, where warm mineral water and sandstone cliffs offer a civilised alternative to further physical exertion. If you're heading home early, save the springs for another visit and take a detour to the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge instead. Either way, there's no great urgency to see everything. Taos has a habit of offering more than a weekend can accommodate, which is inconvenient for travel writers but excellent for local businesses.

By Sunday evening, the mountains will be growing cold again, the last aspens will be surrendering their leaves, and somewhere somebody will still be discussing El Niño. Perhaps the snow will arrive in spectacular fashion. Perhaps the ski valley will spend another winter negotiating with the weather. Nobody knows, and the forecasts won't improve because we worry about them. For now, there's good food, old bars, interesting people and a landscape that looks especially fine in October. Three days will barely scratch the surface, but it's enough to develop an appetite for more. And if you leave without having tried both red and green chile, that's entirely your own damn fault.