And yes it was a chilly night. I had to wear all my clothes
in my sleeping bag. But there you go—life at 8000 feet in the spring. Latitude
doesn’t matter much.
But never mind that. Today is the day I saw Mesa Verde, the
most elaborate and sophisticated village (or collection of villages) of the
ancient Puebloeans. I learned that their modern descendents don’t like the term
Anasazi since it is a Navajo term and they are not partial to Navajos. Mesa
Verde is perched at about 7000 feet or so atop a big mesa, or flat-topped hill.
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| Mesa Verde is at the top of this thing. It kind of begs the question doesn't it? |
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| There's a happy boy! |
The cliff dwellings are the certainly the most famous
housing development in the area, but it should be said that the surface
dwelling villages were well established for about 500 years (roughly 700-1200
AD) and they moved to the cliff condos for only 100 years (roughly 1200-1300
AD). In the end, the local resources of wood, game, fertile soil, and living
space were depleted with a 25 year drought being the final straw. The story is
the same with the Gila dwellings I saw in southern New Mexico.
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| Earlier dwelling (pre-cliff). The round pits are ceremonial 'kivas'. Remains of some residences are in the background. |
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| The stone boxes in the foreground surround flat rock slabs which were used for grinding corn. |
The surface dwellers constructed an amazing reservoir and
water collection system that served them well for centuries. After the easy
hunting and gathering was exhausted, and well before the first Walmart came to
the area, they became pretty good farmers. Perhaps as many as 5000 souls lived
here in its glory days with hundred of dwellings discovered in the vicinity.
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| Ancient reservoir |
Cliff dwelling architecture is something out of Disney World
or a fantasy movie set. Simply an amazing thing to behold. It doesn’t appear to me that there were any city planners involved in the construction, more likely it
was like constructing a Lego village fitting homes and storage areas and
ceremonial gathering places as they went and where there was room to build them. The
end result is both whimsical and ingenious. Some of the structures had as many
as four stories as log joists were placed on top of the wall of building
stones. We could see where doors were added, filled in or moved and rooms added
on at later times. It seems like spousal requests for home renovations have been
with us for a very long time.
The big round pits in the foreground are called Kivas, and
these were likely ceremonial in nature. Like the living spaces, they would have
had log beam roofs and ladders for access. A fireplace is built into the wall
with an interesting air damping system to control the burn and to provide
ventilation for what must have been an asphyxiating atmosphere. Evidently this
was before the WCB made regulations for acceptable living and working
conditions.
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| A kiva sans roof. Horizontal beams were perched on the stone supports around the edges. Fire pit in the centre, air draft in the wall behind it. The upright stone slab was to control the draft. |
One of these kivas was restored to show motorcycling
tourists what it might have been like inside. Luckily they held off on firing up the
smoke pit.
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| Inside a reconstructed kiva |
Mid afternoon is always when the day gets interesting for me
as I start to scramble to find some accommodation. Oftentimes that requires driving
some distance in a bit of a hurry before it gets too late and darkness
approaches. With a fresh tank of gas, a
cup of restorative java in hand and a map in front of me, it was time to plot a
course. The only government park and campground that I could find within
driving distance was about 50 miles west at Hovenweep National Monument.
Never heard of it.
After twenty-five miles of deserted and gradually
deteriorating farm road that I had to coax my GPS to acknowledge as a
legitimate byway, I was beginning to wonder where the heck I was going. But
here it is. Campers and RV’s appeared out of the ether, set up in a small but
nicely developed (albeit a bit Spartan) campground on the edge of a rock
canyon.
Signs directed me to a trail to “ruins”. OK. Let’s do that.
So I put The Bruiser down for a nap at our selected site and trundled off to
see what I could see.
Well, well! About a dozen ancient structures lined the edge
of the canyon, and the farther I walked, the more that came into view. With
no one around to smack me, I stepped over the rope next to a sign that read “Do Not Enter This
Area” and I entered the area. (I hope my kids or former students aren’t reading
this). Self-guided tours are often the best kind. There were towers, both round
and rectangular, homes built into cliff faces, and free standing multi-roomed
barracks. Apart from cleaning up the rubble from partial collapse, they were
left pretty much the way they were found. Very cool. As the sun was getting low
and golden, the setting was mystical in a National Geographic kind of way.
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| Lookin' out my backdoor! How many structures can you count? |
Selecting a few pictures to show you from the plethora of
photos I have amassed is a sizable challenge, yet it leaves so many remarkable
images unseen. So I will have to sit down with each of you at the end of this
big adventure and show you all of the several thousand that, regretfully, I
have been unable to post here. Together with expanded commentary of course. So be patient. More are coming.
This place is at high elevation and a considerable distance
from the nearest streetlight, so the stars should put on quite a display this
evening. Coyotes are tuning up as the birds have all signed off for the day.
Tonight I am sleeping with the spirits of the ancients who
dwelled just over yonder.
I rather hope they are sleeping too.
