Overcoming fears one ladder at a time: Bandelier National Monument, New Mexico

And so there I was, perched at the top of a 150 foot wooden ladder overlooking the edge of the canyon, wondering how I'd managed to get myself all the way to the top and how in the world I was going to get down. Oh, and did I mention I have an insensible fear of heights? Which is why this whole experience was so wonderfully liberating. But really, I must start from the beginning.

Bandelier National Monument lies 10 miles south of Los Alamos via NM 502 south (see driving directions below). I have always had a soft spot for travel destinations that echo a strong sense of anthropological history. And so the minute I heard about the Anasazi cliff dwellings and the pueblo-style houses from thousands of years ago that lie excavated within Bandelier National Monument, I was sold.

The best time to really take in the beauty of any place is early in the morning, when the place lies quiet and deserted, without its usual throngs of visitors. And so it was, when Joe and I arrived there at seven on a weekday morning. With only a few other visitors around, the canyon stood before us, waiting to be discovered. At this early hour of the morning, the visitor center was still closed. But several copies of self-guided tour maps to the monument were available for borrow outside the center. We picked up a beaten up copy and started our journey into the monument by walking along the 1.2 mile Main Loop Trail. This relatively easy hike starts from behind the visitor center, winding along the floor of the Frijoles Canyon, gradually leading up to the dwellings buried into its pink canyon walls.

The volcanic ash of the canyon gives a swiss cheese appearance to the canyon walls, and creates a beautiful backdrop to the trail. Barely ten minutes into the trail, we walk into the remnants of the ancient village of Tyuonyi (pronounced chew-ohn-yee). Before us lies a maze of circular structures with a single opening, and as I peer into the ruins of the village, I try to get a glimpse of the life that once existed here hundreds of years ago. The kivas (pronounced kee-vahs) in particular fascinate me. Some anthropologists believe that these large underground circular structures may have held sacred meaning in the ancestral Pueblo culture.

The trail soon leads up against the walls of the canyon itself. I look up to see petroglyphs etched into the walls. Looking at these pictures drawn into the walls, I can’t help but wonder what stories they tell. We soon come across the legendary cliff dwellings carved into the walls. Short, sturdy wooden ladders lead up to small openings into the canyon walls. Joe and I climb in and out of the openings curious and amazed at the ability of the ancestral people that lived here to carve out a home out of a simple hole in the wall. Some of these holes acted as cliff kivas to the Anasazi people that lived here. There are signs plastered everywhere reminding visitors not to etch grafitti into the canyon walls. The thought that some ignorant tourist could potentially destroys years worth of history with a careless scrawl of grafitti on the walls of a kiva downright horrifies me. Regardless of what your own personal beliefs may be, I believe it is important when treading on land that holds sacred meaning to another to treat that land with its due respect. To honor it in the way it was honored by the people that first discovered it. To leave it just as you found it. The thought of an ancient kiva plastered with grafitti absolutely breaks my heart.

The end of the Main Loop trail forks into two. One half loops back to the visitors center. The other marks the start to yet another trail leading to what is called the ceremonial cave aka the alcove house. As we stood at the fork between the two trails, contemplating which way to go, a friendly park ranger strolled up to us. "Take the one toward the alcove house, you won’t regret it", he laughed. Our curiosities aroused, we headed up the Nature trail, toward the alcove house. And in the end, he was absolutely right, we did not regret it.

The 1.5 mile hike leading up to the alcove house was a pleasant one. Yet another advantage of hiking so early in the day is the wildlife that you get a chance to see that you just wouldn’t see if you walked along the same path in the heat of the afternoon. Other than the cute Abert's squirrels that kept darting along our path, the highlight of our hike along the nature trail was the mule deer that we startled upon. A whole family grazed along the path ahead of us. I was surprised by just how undisturbed they were by our presence. Instead of bolting into the woods, they simply looked up at us, posing for our cameras and then calmly continued to graze on. We walked softly past them, heading up to the alcove house. A small stream runs adjacent to the trail and on a hot summer day would be the perfect spot for a picnic along the trail.

The trail finally ended in a small clearing, once again at the foot of the Frijoles Canyon. But this time, instead of gazing admiringly up at the tall canyon, I stood fixed to the ground, staring ahead of me in disbelief. A series of 150 foot ladders stood before me leaning steeply, climbing along the walls of the canyon. "Ladders?! There are ladders involved?!!" I finally blurted out. You see, for a while now, I have had an insensible fear of heights. Insensible, because it follows no rationale. I am not afraid of rollercoasters and I do swim in the deep end of the swimming pool. I have taken the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower, looked down at the ground below and was just fine. But I can’t bungee jump. And I can’t peer over the edge of a cliff. And looking at the 150 foot climb ahead of me, my fears decide I definitely can’t climb that ladder. And it doesn’t help that there is a sign right at the foot of the ladder reassuring me that "people who are afraid of heights or in poor health should not attempt to climb the ladders". There. That says it all. It's settled then. I don’t need to climb this.

It's a little foggy to me just how I ended up climbing the ladder, when it had already been decided that I wouldn’t. I guess it happened somewhere in between the "Well, so I guess you'll just wait for me here while I go check out what's on top there", "No way am I staying here while you get to go check it out" heated conversation that Joe and I had. Next thing I knew I was one foot placed on the first rung of the ladder, the other firmly on the ground, both hands hugging on to the ladder for dear life, deciding I wanted to see what lay at the top too.

I climbed gingerly, testing the stability of the wooden ladder with every step. Doing what I had been strictly forbidden to do - looking down at the floor of the canyon from atop the ladder, and secretly panicking, screaming silently in my head. And just when I thought I was done climbing one ladder, there stood another ladder connecting the climb to the top of the canyon. The climb to the top is quite steep and the passages are narrow enough that only a single person can use it at a time. I expected to scream out loud in horror when I saw just how straight up and steep the last ladder to the top was, but with every rung up the ladder, I had started to feel more and more confident and instead of sheer fear, it was a feeling of sheer exhilaration that I felt when I reached the very top of the canyon. I felt overcome with the feeling of being liberated from fears that insensibly hold me back. Standing atop the 160 foot canyon, looking at the gorgeous view that lay ahead, I felt free.

The alcove house or the ceremonial cave is actually an underground kiva that lies on top of the canyon. A small ladder leads into the dark cave. When I step into the kiva, I am so glad for the absence of crowds, for the fact that few people venture up here, for that early morning hour, for the fact that the narrow passages allow only one person to climb at a time. Because all of that translates into utmost serenity. Peace, absolute peace is what I feel as I sit all alone inside the kiva, buried on top of the canyon. I touch the cold dark walls of the kiva in awe, feeling the quiet energy of this place that held so much significance to the people that lived here. The hopes and dreams and longings of the people that once lived here still reside in its walls. I close my eyes and whisper out a prayer. I don’t know if this place recognizes me or if my prayers make any sense to them, but for that brief moment alone, I allow my prayers to mingle in the air with prayers whispered in this room hundreds of years ago.

Much too soon, it’s time to head back down the ladder. That friendly fear clutches at my heart again. I debate over the best way to climb down. Do I go face forward overlooking the canyon scooting down? Or should I go face to the wall not knowing where the rung lies? Ten rungs of going down one way and ten rungs of going down the other way, and in the end it didn’t even matter which way I did it. I just wasn’t afraid anymore. Finally back down at the foot of the canyon, I looked up at the maze of ladders that I had just climbed. I shrugged my shoulders and in the end, it was no big deal. I had told my fears basically to go take a hike. Literally. And I was free from them. Liberated.

~vagabond~ © 2008

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For more information on planning a trip to Bandelier National Monument, click here.