Sacred connections: Chaco Cultural National Historical Park, New Mexico

There has been much talk over recent years on paving the dirt road that leads up to Chaco Cultural National Historic Park. I, for one, am glad that the talk has just remained talk because its relative inaccessibility is precisely what makes a visit to Chaco Canyon so memorable. Unlike many of America's other national parks and monuments, Chaco Canyon does not suffer from the usual throngs of tourists that inevitably turn the most sacred landmarks into giddy amusement parks. Needless to say, driving into Chaco Canyon requires patience, and a love for the rugged wilderness of remote New Mexico.

And so it was on that weekday morning when Joe and I drove into the remoteness ahead of us, leaving massive dust clouds in our trail. Be warned, the stretch of dirt road leading into the canyon contains no gas stations, no food, no water or accommodation and the park itself has very limited camping facilities, and so a good plan when visiting the park might be to spend the night in Farmington and drive up to the park on a full tank with food and water early in the morning as we did. All around lies stark desert country, occasionally dotted with goats and American Indian children from the nearby reservation squatting by the side of the road, happily waving to us as we pass by.

Two hours into our bumpy ride along the dirt road, we catch our first glimpse of Chaco. Out of the horizon ahead of us juts a tall red butte – this is the Fajada Butte, perhaps the most famous site within the Chaco Canyon. Famous because of the three slabs of stones that sit atop the southern end of the butte. For the longest time, the presence of these stones was believed to be entirely incidental – they were believed to be simply the work of nature. It was only about thirty years ago that the lost secret of these stones finally came to light. An anthropologist working in the canyon on the exact day of the summer solstice observed a single shaft of light penetrating through the slabs of stone and perfectly bisecting a spiral petroglyph atop the butte. This same “sun dagger” was later observed bisecting several other petroglyphs at the start of the winter, spring and fall equinoxes. The discovery of this “sun dagger” site and many other sites within the canyon that showed perfect alignment to the movements of the sun, moon and other planets revealed that the Chacoan people who had once lived here were keen observers of the skies. The Fajada Butte and the sun dagger site atop the butte are off limits to the public, but the aura of mystery surrounding the butte continues to fascinate visitors to the canyon. Did they rely on planetary movements for farming? Were these planetary movements of religious significance to them? A lot of mysteries still shroud Chaco, and a lot of secrets still remain buried, but one thing is clear – this place has always held sacred connections to the Native American people that have lived around the region.

It is believed that Chaco Canyon was once a place of pilgrimage, and in many ways our journey here today is a sort of pilgrimage too - an attempt to leave our busy lives behind us and to connect with what truly matters to us. The past months for me have been a blur of incredible stress at work, and this journey into a rugged rural landscape removed from the unnecessary complexities of my life is just what my soul needed to regain its perspective of life.

We started the journey into the Canyon from the Visitor Center. We picked up a map to the canyon and started off by walking through the Una Vida site located behind the Visitor Center. The 30 minute trail around the site gave us a glimpse into what an unexcavated great house looked like to the early explorers when Chaco Canyon was rediscovered in 1849.

From the Visitor Center, we decided to take a drive along the Canyon Loop, a 9 mile drive around the canyon that provides stunning views of the surrounding rugged landscape and allows for the opportunity to see excavated ruins of the “great houses” up close. The first in line is the Pueblo Bonito.

Taking a simple glimpse into the vastness of the ruins that lies ahead of us, it is easy to see why the Pueblo Bonito is considered one of the largest prehistoric Southwest Native American dwelling ever excavated. Ahead of us lies an intricate maze of large rooms and subterranean ceremonial chambers called “kivas”. The entire site covers almost two acres of land, and contains within it more than six hundred rooms. For the Hopi and the Pueblo peoples of New Mexico, this site is an important part of their history – it is a special place where clans stopped and lived during their sacred migrations. For the Navajo Indians, this place was once the home of the Great Gambler, a half-man, half-goat spirit that came from the south and enslaved the Pueblo people forcing them to create many of the great buildings seen around the canyon. It is no wonder then, given the rich legends and cultural history that surround both the Pueblo Bonito and the Chaco Canyon itself that Chaco has been named among one of the world’s heritage sites.

Walking through its endless doorways, Peublo Bonito feels less and less like a great house and more and more like a grand village. Its multistoried construction and intricate architecture amazes me. Chacoan architecture features a unique core-and-veneer construction, with rough stones and debris forming the core to the brown sandstone outer veneer. The trail ahead of us snakes and spirals through small rooms and big kivas. Peering through its characteristic T-shaped doorways and windows, I try to get a glimpse into the lives that once existed within these empty walls. I wonder what ceremonies were once conducted in these great big rooms. Rare treasures such as turquoise and macaw feathers were discovered within the ruins. Were these part of a sacred ritual? Or were they just trade items that exchanged hands of a diverse group of people? What attracted them to this region? What drew them here? All sorts of questions swarm through my head as I wander through the ruins.

The rooms that once bustled with the activity of perhaps women grinding corn or children playing games today lie abandoned and deserted. The wind that once carried the laughter and voices from long ago today carries the sounds of the handful of visitors that have made the pilgrimage here today. I close my eyes and try to picture the life that once existed here. I try to get a glimpse of the history that lies contained in here. For me, these ruins were clearly the highlight of my visit to Chaco and no journey into Chaco can ever be complete without exploring the grandness of the Pueblo Bonito.

The drive through Canyon Loop features many other ruins – the Chetro Ketl, the Pueblo Alto (which offers stunning views of the entire Pueblo Bonito), the Pueblo del Arroyo, Casa Rinconada among many others. Exploring through each of these ruins, I am more and more amazed by the tenacity and the resilience of the people that once lived here and attempted to create a life amidst this arid environment.

Other than the ruins themselves, Chaco Canyon offers some incredible opportunities for backcountry hiking through its rugged desert country. If you want to truly experience the wilderness of the canyon, do not limit yourself to the major attractions featured on the visitors map. Purchase a permit from the Visitor Center and hike through its backcountry trails. Be sure however to wear a cap and carry lots of water with you – even in July, when we visited, temperatures soared through above a hundred fahrenheight.

For the Chacoan people who journeyed and lived here, this place was a place of reflection, a place of spiritual connections, a place where they gained new meanings to their life through their exploration of the movement of the skies and the seasons. For me, my spirituality has always been defined by my need to travel, explore and connect with new places and new people. It is what my soul looks to when it needs direction. It is what brings my life fulfillment. And nowhere has this feeling felt more pronounced than right here, exploring through the ruins within Chaco Canyon. Perhaps there truly is something sacred about this very land that I stand on. Perhaps it really does hold some sacred connections.

~vagabond~ © 2008
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To get travel directions to the park, and learn more about planning a trip to Chaco Cultural National Historical Park, click here.

To lend your support to Chaco Canyon and stop the pavement of the road to Chaco, click here

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.