Here we are now

Okay, this was worth the scary adventure that got me to this point. This is Cliff Palace, most famous of Mesa Verde’s ruins. It’s reached by what I suspect is a deliberately difficult approach path consisting of metal stairs going down, then funky handcut steps in the stone set in narrow rock channel, then by climbing a ten-foot ladder. These physical obstacles overcome, the reward is being able to stand where people lived 800 years ago and wonder where they went and why they left. The archeologists are working out the whys and wheres now; it appears they migrated south and became the ancestors of the Pueblo peoples. But they left beautiful buildings in stone that glows a soft salmon pink, even in shadow. How could they bear to leave such a beautiful place?



David and I had a very, very long drive for the day coming from Boulder to Mesa Verde, and then had some serious waiting time while stuck behind road work. However, the CDs held out even though :NPR radio service didn’t, and we made it to Mesa Verde just before sunset. We decided to “eat in” the first night and regretted it the other two nights, because the Farview Lodge “Metate Roam” had excellent food and incredible views, and there was also a lounge upstairs, hosted by Barry and Sandy. We got ourselves booked the next morning on the Balcony House tour for that afternoon, and the Cliff Palace tour for the next morning. In the meantime, we did the classic driving loop and stopped off to look at ruins visible from the viewpoints, then signed in at the trailhead for Petroglyph Point trail (the rock art is actually pictographs, which are etched rather than painted into the rock).

The trail descended into the canyon part way and made its way along the bottom of a wide band of reddish sandstone. There were many wildflowers, so many that I couldn’t believe how lush they were. I think these might be wild clematis, which the trail guide mentioned were common in the area. Farther along there was plenty of mock orange in bloom, with a heavenly scent, and fireweed bright as a torch right by the trail. It was a fairly rugged trail and not for the tenderfooted, but we had heavy boots and plenty of water, and some new polypro hiking shirts we found in Boulder with long sleeves that were just the right weight for desert hiking. I was really glad I had mine, because I’d gotten a little sweaty and uncomfortable on our previous hike up in Wild Basin/RMNP.

The actual pictographs are on a small panel just above the trail and show evidence that some others lower down may have weathered off. I hope to God they weren’t simply hacked off by some pothunter in years past. The park’s archeologists arranged for some Hopis to come in a while back to give their interpretations of the images; it seemed to them to tell the story of the migrations of a nomadic people (the spiral) and various clans dropping off along the way (the Mountain Sheep Clan, etc.) before the Mesa Verde people reached their temporary destination high on the mesa, and later lower down in the cliffs. The sun was on the far side of the ridge most of the time and I managed to keep up more or less, despite being totally out of shape.

The way back involved climbing up some stone steps, which gave me serious pause until David had me switch to the inside foot for the first step up. I reached up and found a grooved handhold just where I needed it… I think the steps were carved by the CCC, but they were done in such a way that they resembled the steps carved by the Mesa Verdans, so it gave me a weird chill when I found the handhold and wondered just how many people had gone before me – a few thousand modern visitors, or people from centuries before?

Balcony House was billed as the “adventure” tour, and adventure it was. After descending the requisite metal stairs, you have to climb a 30′ ladder, which doesn’t seem like that much until you’re standing at the base of it looking at all the touristic butts waggling aloft. Our ranger was Stirling Burnett, a very cool outdoorsdude. He had a ponytail and a surfer dude accent, and seemed to be very well versed in all the literature that’s been published over the years about Mesa Verde and its inhabitants. Our group consisted of a small group of adults and a very large group of rather hyper or behaviorally challenged kids, and Stirling had his hands full at first settling them down. Settle them down he did, very effectively – and with a rather firm word or two to their own group leader, who was chatting away on his own and not listening to the introductory interpretive talk. We got briefed on how to climb the ladder, which I promptly forgot about half way up, but I did make it without freezing completely… I was pretty shaky and very nearly balked, but remembered the rangers words of wisdom: it’s over in a minute if you don’t stop.

Once at the top, there was a bit more climbing and then we could see the ruins, which are bisected by a wall that separated the main compound from a much smaller one, that consisted of one living space room, several other smaller rooms, and a little serving hatch to the other side. There was a narrow niche at the back that was the only access to the main part of the ruin. We had to climb a very short ladder and go up some shallow steps cut in the rock to reach this narrow way. After squeezing through the niche and looking at the other side, it was time for our next adventure; getting through the very low and narrow access tunnel to exit the site. The guy ahead of me was quite big and broad and had to wiggle through on his side, so after a moment’s reflection (and not a little concern when my hips stuck like a cork in the opening) I also rotated half right and wiggled into the middle of the tunnel, which was bigger and higher. I’d had to chuck my fannypack ahead of me, and the guy ahead helpfully hauled it through the second opening, which was again narrow and a tight fit. There was no graceful way of doing it; you just had to inchworm on your side and oomph along onto your face, at which point you realized that you couldn’t get your foot underneath you and you either had to be hauled out bodily or fall out. Fortunately, I had help and finally decanted myself from the tunnel. After this piont, it was more ladders (but short ones) and I soon had the proper technique down, though I had to stop for breathers at the top of each one.

Stirling, the ranger, had briefed us on all the challenges but still the reality of each one was daunting, so it was with a real sense of accomplishment that I made it to the top of the final ladder (and stopped for more essential heavy breathing). His talks were really interesting – he hinted at several intriguing interpretations of why the ruins were so difficult to access, or were accessed by long ladders that resembled those leading to the Buddhist monasteries of Nepal and Tibet (“Ooops!” he,d say, “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”) I thought his remarks were very insightful and will look forward to reading more about the latest theories and discoveries in some books that have recently been (or about to be) published that Stirling mentioned.

That night we had our first evening at the Far View lounge and had fun conversations with Marcia Price, who had been an Episcopal youth minister and also a teacher. The lounge was run by Barry, an ex-Marine who turned out to be a Linux and digital photo geek, so David was having an excellent time. I knew he was in his element when Barry asked what “distro” he was running. Marcia ordered a margarita just as we were laughing about some Linux games David and I have played, such as Penguin Racer, and I was describing how the distance marker flag in Pingu Baseball goes up the penguin’s butt. Marcia said she was a minister and would I care to repeat where the flag went? I replied “It went right up his bottom” in a mock-English accent, and she told me later she knew right then I was a fellow Episcopalian. We had a fun conversation while David geeked out with Barry. Sandra, the waitress, smiled and shook her head when the geekery got out of hand and reminded Barry he had to sell liquor in addition to yakking about digital cameras. She was funny, we spent more time chatting the next night. It was fun hanging out – we usually can’t do that in bars or lounges because of smoke – and then we went down and had a delicious dinner. I had a salmon dish with chokecherry BBQ glaze, and David had elk tenderloin. I ate so much I didn’t sleep well at all, but damn it was good eating.

The next day we had a morning tour of Cliff Palace; after the high ladder and the low tunnel, I knew I had little to fear except being out of breath, because there would be stairs down and 5 ten-foot ladders going back up, plus some hand-cut stairs. Hah! The hand-cut stairs were nearly my undoing, but I digress. When we got to the assembly point (running late, but just in time) we found that Stirling would again be our ranger, and several of the adults from the previous days’ tour were there too, including the guy who helped me through the tunnel. I was glad to get a chance to thank him properly for his help. It was nice to chat with people and feel like we already had group cohesion going in. It was a small group so Stirling started off by saying he’d be going on at greater length in his interpretive talks, which was fine by us. He explained the drill for the tour; the ladders, the steps, no sitting, no leaning on ruins, no touching.

He talked about the stabilization and site conservation project that was being done by the University of Pennsylvania, and the money that was awarded for this work by Hilary Clinton on behalf of Save America’s Treasures, and how she walked the check right by the park superintendant and handed it to the rumpled archeaologist at the award ceremony. As we went in, he explained that an early, ill-considered attempt at “rebuilding” was fortunately stopped by a park superintendant who decided a more conservative approach was needed. There were a lot of myths about Cliff Palace that only recently have been exploded by the U-Penn site survey, which I think he said was soon to be published. As you can see in this photo, there are cracks right through the base stone and on up into this tower, so they’ve certainly got their work cut out. They’re using a modified mortar similar to that used by the original inhabitants, except that in addition to mud and juniper ash, they also add a colored polymer that they’re currently testing for color match and colorfastness in the dry desert air, with its extremes of winter and summer temperatures.

We both took a lot of photos and many more of them will be posted in a gallery that will be available fairly soon. We had originally planned to go out late in the afternoon and take some “magic time” sunset light shots of some of the ruins that face westward, but an afternoon nap became an imperative and so we did that instead. After all, we’re on vacation. We had one more good meal at the Metate Room, and another pleasant evening chatting with Barry and Sandy in the lounge, and then it was time to pack up for the drive to Moab.

So now after some helpless flailing (we didn’t make advance reservations this time) we’re at the Gonzo Inn, which seems to have a very fast wireless connection in the room; David remarked “Hmm! Wide pipe,” in a way that indicates respectful approval. It seems very comfortable and funky in a nice and well-thought out way. There seems to be a lot to do here in Moab and we’re not sure where to start.

So that brings us up to now. In 2 or 3 nights, we move on to Shit Lake Salty for more visiting with relatives and seeing how the mom-unit is doing, and also seeing if she’s killed the plants I put in for her yet.