The Lodge at Cloudcroft: What Most Travelers Get Wrong About New Mexico’s Haunted Landmark

The Lodge at Cloudcroft: What Most Travelers Get Wrong About New Mexico’s Haunted Landmark

You’re driving up Highway 82, the desert heat of Alamogordo shimmering in your rearview mirror, and then—bam. The temperature drops twenty degrees. The cacti vanish. Suddenly, you’re surrounded by towering pines and crisp mountain air that smells like woodsmoke and sap. At the top of this climb sits The Lodge at Cloudcroft, a massive, timber-framed relic that looks like it was plucked out of the Swiss Alps and dropped into the Sacramento Mountains at 9,000 feet above sea level.

People come here for the golf or the ghost stories. Mostly the ghosts. But if you think this is just another mountain resort, you’re missing the point. It’s a survivor.

The Lodge has burned to the ground. It has hosted Judy Garland and Gilbert Roland. It’s seen the transition from the rough-and-tumble logging days of the late 1800s to the era of high-altitude luxury. Honestly, it’s a miracle the place still stands. Most people treat it as a quick photo op on the way to White Sands, but the history here is dense, messy, and surprisingly weird.

The Lodge at Cloudcroft wasn't always this fancy

Back in 1899, the Alamogordo and Sacramento Mountain Railway finally reached the summit. The owners needed a way to get people to actually use the train, so they built a pavilion. It was basic. Think tents and wooden platforms. It wasn't until later that the actual "Lodge" became a thing.

The original structure was located about 300 feet from where the current building sits. It was a masterpiece of the era, but fire is the enemy of high-altitude wooden hotels. In 1909, the whole thing went up in flames. They rebuilt it in 1911 at the current site because it offered a better view of the Tularosa Basin.

That view? It’s still the best thing about the property.

When you stand on the copper-topped tower—the observatory—you can see the white dunes of the national park glowing in the distance. It feels like looking at another planet. The railroad is gone now (the "Cloud-Climbing Railroad" stopped running decades ago), but you can still hike the old trestles nearby. The Mexican Canyon Trestle is the big one. It’s a massive wooden skeleton in the forest that reminds you how much effort it took just to get a glass of scotch up this mountain in 1900.

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Rebecca: The ghost everyone talks about (and some get wrong)

If you spend five minutes in the lobby, someone will mention Rebecca. She’s the house ghost.

Legend says she was a chambermaid in the 1930s. Red hair, blue eyes—the whole "flapper" aesthetic. The story goes that she was caught by her lumberjack boyfriend in the arms of another man. He didn't take it well. She disappeared shortly after, and ever since, guests have reported weird stuff.

  • Phones ringing at 3:00 AM with no one on the line.
  • The smell of expensive perfume in the hallways.
  • Furniture moving on its own in the Governor’s Suite.
  • Candles lighting themselves.

Is it a marketing gimmick? Maybe. But ask the staff. Not the PR people, but the folks who have worked the night shift for ten years. They’ve got stories that’ll make your skin crawl. They aren't trying to sell you a room; they’re just trying to explain why they don't like going into the basement alone.

The hotel leans into it. They have a restaurant named Rebecca’s. It’s actually quite good, which is a rarity for "haunted" hotel dining. Most places like this serve overpriced steak and call it a day, but the peppercorn-crusted elk here is legit.

Why the golf course is a nightmare for your ego

Let’s talk about the golf. The Lodge at Cloudcroft manages one of the highest golf courses in North America. It was established in 1907.

At 9,000 feet, physics changes. Your ball flies further because the air is thinner. You feel like a pro for about ten minutes until you realize the greens are tilted at impossible angles and the fairways are basically vertical. It’s a nine-hole course that plays like eighteen because you play from different tees on the back nine.

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It is punishing.

If you’re a flatlander from Texas (which is where 80% of the guests seem to come from), the altitude will get you before the bunkers do. You’ll be huffing and puffing by the fourth hole. My advice? Drink twice as much water as you think you need. The air up here is bone-dry.

The architecture is a mashup of "Old World" and "Weird New Mexico"

The interior of The Lodge is a trip. It’s full of dark woods, heavy antiques, and a specific kind of creaky floorboard sound that you can't fake.

The "Cloudtower" is the focal point. Back in the day, it was used to spot forest fires. Now, it’s a spot for couples to get engaged or for solo travelers to hide out with a book. The furniture throughout the hotel isn't "hotel furniture." A lot of it is actual Victorian and Edwardian era pieces.

One of the coolest spots is the bar. It’s got a massive backbar made of hand-carved oak that allegedly came from a pub in Chicago or New York, depending on which local historian you ask. It feels heavy. It feels permanent. In a world of IKEA-furnished Airbnbs, being in a room that feels like it weighs 500 tons is comforting.

What people miss: The local vibe

Cloudcroft isn't Ruidoso.

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Ruidoso is the loud, flashy cousin with the horse racing and the big casinos. Cloudcroft is the quiet, slightly eccentric uncle who likes to sit on the porch and watch the clouds roll in.

When you stay at The Lodge, you have to walk down into the village. It’s tiny. Burro Avenue is the main drag. There’s a place called Mad Jack’s Mountaintop BBQ that usually has a line out the door by 10:30 AM. If you want the brisket, you have to commit. If you wait until noon, you’re eating side dishes.

There’s also the High Altitude boutique for gear and the Western Bar for a drink with the locals. It’s a "no-frills" kind of town. People wear flannels because they need to, not because it’s a fashion choice.

Logistics and the "Small Print"

Look, The Lodge at Cloudcroft is an old building.

If you need ultra-fast fiber-optic internet and a room that is perfectly soundproofed, stay at a Marriott in El Paso. Here, you will hear the person in the next room sneeze. You will wait a minute for the hot water to reach the shower. The elevator is old-school.

But that’s the trade-off. You’re paying for the atmosphere.

  • Best time to go: October for the fall colors (the aspens turn a ridiculous neon yellow) or February if you want to ski at the nearby Ski Cloudcroft.
  • The Drive: Coming from the east? It's a long, flat haul through Texas. Coming from the west? The climb from Alamogordo is steep. Check your brakes. Seriously.
  • The Rooms: The main lodge has the most character, but they also have the Pavilion across the street which is a bit more "standard hotel" if that’s your vibe.

Actionable Steps for Your Visit

  1. Book the Governor’s Suite if you’re actually looking for "activity." It’s widely considered the most active room for the unexplainable. Even if you don't see a ghost, the fireplace is worth it.
  2. Make dinner reservations at Rebecca’s the moment you book your room. It fills up with locals and people driving up from the valley, especially on weekends.
  3. Check the weather twice. It can be 85 degrees in Alamogordo and snowing at The Lodge. I’ve seen it happen in May. Bring a heavy jacket regardless of the season.
  4. Hike the Osha Trail. It’s right across the road from the lodge entrance. It’s a 2.5-mile loop that gives you a great overview of the flora and a killer view of the Inn at the Mountain of the Gods in the distance.
  5. Visit the Lodge Museum. It’s small, tucked away, and full of weird artifacts from the railroad days. It helps ground the experience so you aren't just looking at pretty wallpaper.

The Lodge isn't just a place to sleep. It’s a time capsule. It’s one of the few places left in the Southwest where the "Old West" doesn't feel like a theme park. It just feels like home, albeit a slightly haunted, very high-altitude one.