3/4/08
Andrew, Katie and I hiked to ruins today. Rock-hopping through the Crypto (click here for more info about cryptobiotic soil crust), we made our way to the foot of a grainery and cliff dwelling built by people of either the Anasazi or Fremont cultures (archaeologists aren’t clear which). Steps, foot pockets, carved by these ancient peoples accessed a challenging and precarious move onto a sandstone shelf which extended back into an overhang. This shelter served as the living room for a Native American family probably around 1000 to 1200 AD.
These must have been an agile people, pulling over this lip daily, to escape a storm or get water five minutes down their side canyon to Calf Creek. While there was water running in the bottom of their side canyon, a sulphur spring was the source, guaranteeing that a five minute hike lay between these people and fresh water. Perhaps they had ceramic containers for carrying water to and from the river every day. Any pottery shards telling that story were long ago taken from here by white people. Graffiti dating as far back as 1940- just after the completion of the road at the canyon’s rim- betrays the many hands that have defiled this sacred place.
In the living space, a wind-block for a fire made from flat blocks of sandstone bonded together with red clay mortar. In the corner another wall enclosed against the side of the sandstone grotto a space presumably for food storage. Only the bleached jaws of rodents remain. To the west, on the opposite side of the grotto, a shockingly narrow and unstable ledge provided access to a beautifully preserved grainery. Enclosed entirely against an overhang at the same level as the living space, a small square opening provided access to long-term grain storage.
Husks on the floor of the living space indicate that corn was a staple for these people. They must have cultivated it in the fertile floodplain of Calf Creek. If this family was like other Fremonts or Anasazi, it is likely that they also grew beans and squash and kept dogs and turkeys.
Perched in this Navajo Sandstone living room, I watched the slow sweep of the rim’s shadow move across the walls, heard the clear echoes of our voices bounce back from the surrounding amphitheater, and tried to imagine a similar scene in this very place a millennium ago. Perhaps a single family resided here, perhaps more. Surely it was a space passed on through generations. Its location was strategic, allowing for easy defense and secure food storage. Both Fremont and Anasazi are known to have lived in this canyon. Were there struggles for control of this shelter and its grainery?
It would have been a short walk to the majestic 126-foot Calf Creek Falls upstream. How often did this family make the trip? Was it a sacred place for them?
Many of these questions will forever remain unanswered. The existence of these people is as mysterious as their disappearance.
What is obvious, however, is that in the years that have passed since the last of these people rested their heads in this shelter, visitors have had a resounding impact. What compels people to carve their names in the rock here? Is the beauty and mystery not enough? Perhaps that’s just it, the mystery is too much for such people. Maybe by leaving their mark here they make the strange familiar, bring some comfort to their sense of alienation.
After several minutes of surveying we were compelled to descend from this place. Something about our visit felt invasive. We made sure to touch nothing and leave no trace. But the sheer volume of visitors to such a place as this has its impact. Just as surely as the dry desert heat preserves these bits of personal history, the curiosity of today’s masses speeds its deterioriation. As I tiptoe out of this majestic canyon, I leave my few footprints, the earth straining under the weight of those who have come before me.
I’m reading your post today in veiw of Shiprock, a Navajo sacred mountain. It is the point that the ancient people came into this (the fourth world). Walking in the desert I often wonder the same things that you talk about, what ancient eyes have seen this and what did they think. Climbing to the top of Shiprock I’ve thought I was demeaning Navajo mythology, I’v also felt I’m now part of the history. Like newspapper rock in Utah, http://www.utah.com/schmerker/2000/newsrock.htm, the “ancient” anglos are a part of the picture.
The wide spread, rapid oblideration of ancient cultures is awful, but I feel separating ourselves completely from interacting with these cultures is too.
I love spring in the desert, life bursts from every corner. I think that motivating yourself to get somewhere like the Lower Paria and observe the rocks and sun and actively think about how someone else saw these things is about as much respect as one can give those ancient eyes. That and then passing on the experience to others. No matter how we try, those rocks have a life span and will dissapear with or without us.
Seth,
Thank you for your thoughtful comment. you’ve climbed shiprock? I didn’t know you climbed. We were just climbing near newspaper rock at Indian Creek. Amazing.
I suppose you’re right that the most respectful thing we can do is be thoughtful about the experience of these ancient peoples. I often like to consider history from teleological perspective… why have the native peoples of this land been so demeaned and their ways obliterated? What is the purpose of this on a bigger scale? Or should I just accept that history has no purpose and this is just what happened and it means nothing.
I actually believe that if there is salvation for our culture, it lies in rediscovering the incredible wisdom of these peoples as it pertained and pertains to the land. can there be any way for us to truly save this planet if we do not first consider it sacred?
Thanks for taking the time to read. we should get together and chat more about these things.
Wonderful post– really makes me want to get back to the desert. It reminded me of a trip on the Escalante River a few years back (our videographer protegee Cody Lewis posted a little trailer to the movie she made from the trip http://youtube.com/watch?v=9wMeTbZFUGU).
One night where we were camped, we found a 200 ft. column of windgate sandstone with a big crack in the side. Alongside the crack was a petroglyph, 4 small circles carved into the stone. We turned our bodies sideways and explored our way into the crack until it opened into an area with a fin of rock that protruded from above. Carved into the stone were moki steps. We carefully climbed them and found another upwardly sloping crack. We felt our way along the dark crack until it opened into the sun. We were at the top of this huge column! Why was this site important?– Rites of passage? A lookout? A place to hide? Its hard to say. It wasn’t like a grainery, there was no storage. It felt sacred and we quickly turned around and carefully retreated out of the column – trying not to disturb anything.
We felt enlivened by this experience. How many white people had “discovered” this before? 6 or 600? We were miles and miles away from any sort of “civilization” but found others that had come a long time before us, chiseling out steps one by one.
Nice, John. Love the trailer. Yes, there is something very mysterious and magical about the desert. Especially the legacy of the native peoples that came before us. that sounds like an incredible place you found. I’ve read a bit about pictographs and petroglyphs and it seems that people know very little about the meaning of these symbols. leaves plenty of room for imagination i suppose. see you soon back in bv.