Cliff dwelling, Mesa Verde.
August 14, 2004 We go back into Durango this morning because Leigh wants to buy some things for the kids. Turns out it’s the first day of their annual arts in the streets festival so we wander around looking at the paintings, jewelry, pots, clothes, etc. Brilliant, warm, sunny day. There’s music and food and everyone’s very happy. Leigh gets into a conversation with a vendor from New Mexico. She tells him we’re going to Mesa Verde. He nods and outlines a shortcut. He travels all over the West and knows the shortest routes everywhere. We leave at 11:30 and head east on 160 to Mesa Verde (Spanish for Green Table) http://www.nps.gov/meve Again, we drive up winding narrow roads with hair pin curves and sharp-edged mountainous scenery that looks out over 100 miles into Arizona and Utah. Much of the landscape is charred and slowly recovering from several fires in recent years that have burned nearly 30,000 acres in this national park. We take a one-hour guided tour of Castle Rock, the largest cliff dwelling the in world, though it doesn’t seem all that big. We climb down narrow rock steps not much wider than our bodies. The descent overlooks a several thousand foot drop into canyon below. The guide is young. This is her first season, but she’s good. After she talks about life here, sleeping in little caves, and carrying water straight up or down, I ask what I think is the obvious question. We’re standing on solid rock. It’s a hundred feet up to the plateau. It’s 2,000 feet straight down. “Where did the cliff dwellers go to the bathroom?” She nods. “Good question.” She pauses. “We don’t know.” I’m disappointed. My burning question remains a mystery. I’m sure the other 50 visitors share my disappointment, but they hide it pretty well. Come on scholars, we’re all human. Answer the question: Where did a cliff dwelling Pueblo poop? We climb thick wood pole ladders to get out. Just as we come up, thunder rumbles, lightning flashes and we get a few raindrops but nothing serious. On the way to the museum I stop to let a three foot milk snake across the road. The guy behind us has a camera and gets a picture. The people behind him start honking. I’m going to get a bumper sticker: I brake for snakes. We spend an hour or so in the museum and I find out more than I ever wanted to know about pottery, growing corn, the million-and-one uses for yucca plants and ancient weapons. We walk down to another smaller dwelling and look at some more cramped stony quarters. This was not an easy way to live. Digging caves into stone. Sitting on stone. Sleeping on stone. Screwing on stone. Sex had to be a public kind of affair, and I know men haven’t changed. They love to watch. And I’ll bet they all kept score. On the other hand, the Pueblo religion and social life were so intertwined that everything no doubt was a matter of course. Sex was as natural as drinking a bowl of water. Still, I bet the guys kept score. * * *
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