Ranger Kathryn's Arches

April 10, 2010

Camping in the c-c-cold

Buffalo burgers on the cookstove

The online weather forecast was distressing for three people who dislike being cold: 21 degrees overnight low. Our two tents are designed for lightweight camping, and are half mesh. The rain fly and our gear would be our only protection. Oh, that and the supply of chemical hand and toe warmers that Casey had purchased.

Ilsa finds a place to stay warm -- in the car!

After the supper of buffalo burgers (mixed with dried onion soup mix — m-m-mm) we built a fire and roasted a few ‘mallows. By now all of us had put on every layer we had brought; it’s easier to STAY warm than to GET warm. Now, we’re not wimps; we just don’t like to be frozen. We piled sleeping bags and blankets on, under, and around ourselves and reminded each other that the high the following day would reach 60, so we would thaw out quickly. Our ski hats were the only thing you could see peeking from the bags. Before sleep overtook us, we stage-whispered another ‘Happy Birthday!’ to Casey in the other tent.

To our great delight, the freezing temps did not kill us. No damage was done to any body parts, although Casey’s pillow was frozen. I managed to resurrect the previous night’s fire and we kept our hands and toes warm enough until the morning’s hike would commence, and our blood would flow freely once again.

Our nice campsite at Chaco Culture NHP; note two hats and a scarf.

It’s a darn good thing we didn’t know that it got down to 13 degrees before sunrise, but we knew it HAD to be harsh; our drinking water (that I was going to heat for tea) was frozen solid, and within 30 minutes of taking the liquid water out of the car, that entire gallon was starting to freeze, too. We were grateful for that bright, warm orb in the sky that morning. It’s easy to see why various cultures worshipped it.

This is a pretty boring post to those of you who winter camp, or who ask What’s the Big Deal?, but for us it was an important rite of passage. When you encounter obstacles and surmount them, it gives you courage to do it again in another context. While I’m not ready to build a snow cave and camp in it, below-freezing temps in my tent no longer intimidate me as they always have. This is progress.

April 9, 2010

Chaco Culture National Historical Park

In the ruins of Pueblo Bonito, Chaco Culture National Historical Park

Chaco Canyon, in NW New Mexico, is an unassuming panorama of badlands, grasslands, buttes, and mesas. It is dry, dusty, desolate, and appears to be filled with nothing but monotypic stands of blackbrush as far as the eye can see… unless you go with an archeology major. Ranger Casey’s birthday gave us a great excuse to drive the 200 miles to her favorite place.

Wavy walls at Pueblo Bonito

Ancestral Puebloans built and occupied this remarkable place between 850 and 1150 A.D. The National Geographic Society started excavations in the 1920s. It is a World Heritage site, like Machu Picchu and the Pyramids of Giza.

Take an expert next time you go someplace; you will have new eyes with which to see. All those mounds of earth along the canyon walls are NOT mounds of earth, but buried ruins. Casey would point out when a piece of wall protruded from the boring desert scrub, or how one ruin lined up with and balanced other ruins along the axis of the valley. She took us to an ancient route behind a minor complex that scrambled up ten or twelve stories of sandstone, for our cool photos from above. She sighted a ruin complex three miles away that, to my untrained eye, looked like a rock outcropping. She showed us an ancient 30-ft-wide staircase carved onto a cliff, part of the road system that linked Chaco with other scattered communities. We peered into kivas and great houses and tried to grasp how they would have been used.

Casa Chiquita, from the cliff top

We looked at different masonry styles; the preservation workers there can tell which walls were done by the same worker a thousand years ago, they are so stylistically unique. And, thanks to dendrochronology, each ruin can be dated by tree ring analysis of its ceiling timbers. Wild!

A philosophical shift happened in archeology about thirty years ago. Costly, time-consuming, and disruptive excavations have been set aside in favor of using underground imaging techniques with instruments I’ve never heard of. This is much more acceptable to the Hopi, Navajo, and other present-day descendants of the Ancestral Puebloans.

Ceiling timber is long gone. Artful masonry.

As I wandered this broad flat valley, with only my two companions, a few ravens, and my imagination, I pondered the life I would have led as one of the residents here twelve centuries ago. Evidences of their daily routine were scarce: only metates, or grinding stones, and a few potsherds. The rest has gone to museums.

What I know for sure is that I would have been highly in tune with light, seasons, cycles, weather, plants, animals, and the stars. When survival itself depends on these things, they assume an importance I will never experience. Thanks, Chaco, for inviting me to glimpse my world anew.

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