Bandelier National Monument

It didn't take long until we had left Santa Fe behind us this morning on our way northwest to Bandelier National Monument that protects an area where the Ancestral Puebloans of a later era (between about 1150 and 1600) had built their homes. The lady at the visitor centre in Santa Fe had urged Johann to visit this place because it is so beautiful.

We enjoyed the drive there already, quickly leading us into more mountainous scenery on Hwy. 285 towards Los Alamos. Colourful sculpted cliffs, juniper and pinion pine dominated the landscape, the high snow covered peaks of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range greeted from the distance, and shortly before the final descent to the park we stopped at an overlook that afforded a great view of the Frijoles Canyon, the part of the park we'd visit to see the pueblos.

We stopped only briefly at the visitor centre to pick up a map and get some information: the sky threatened rain, and the ranger urged us to go for the hike now because it would get busier as the day progressed; we could take in the exhibits and introductory video about the park after we returned.

The main (loop) trail is about two kilometres in length, and about halfway through there is the option of taking another trail to the so-called Alcove House, a sheltering cave more than forty metres above the valley floor that can only be reached by climbing four ladders. We were planning to take this second trail as well, but I wasn't at all sure that I would climb those ladders.

The trail map has corresponding information for markers along the way. We had stopped at the first three or so when the sky got ominously dark; we decided we weren't too far from our truck yet to go back and get our rain jackets, which proved to be a wise decision. First, however, the sun came out again, and it felt like spring. Trees along Frijoles creek to our left hastening towards the Rio Grande were starting to show some green.

This area was covered in about 200m of volcanic ash after an outbreak of the Valles Caldera further north in Bandelier park 1.14 mio years ago. This formed the tuff of which much of the area is comprised, a soft volcanic rock that has a 'Swiss cheese look' because of its many eroded cavities. The Ancestral puebloans who came here around 1150 made use of these features by widening the holes to so-called 'cavates', small caves that were used for living quarters, storage, and to keep animals, most notably turkeys. Not only did they provide meat but also feathers, which were made into soft, warm blankets and sandals. Dogs were kept as companions.

The puebloans grew corn, squash and beans in the valley using different techniques to preserve precious moisture. Seeds were planted deep, and grid gardens were built: depressions surrounded by a low stone wall to retain some of the day's heat in a climate where night temperatures could drop by 15 or 20 degrees. Areas rich in pumice, a very light, porous rock, were sought out to grow crops. The pumice acts like a sponge, absorbing moisture and releasing it slowly, and it was also used as a mulch for that reason.

Men were responsible for hunting, building houses and weaving while the women ground corn, cooked, looked after the children, made pottery and looked after the maintenance on the dwellings, like applying plaster. Part of the houses were built into the walls, while other pueblos were built on the valley floor. We saw an example in Tyuonyi, a circular pueblo site that had stood two to three stories high. In the plaza that is surrounded by the pueblo are also three kivas, round ceremonial rooms built into the earth. These were used for religious ceremonies. Six poles held up the roof beams which were covered in plaster to make it strong enough for people to stand on. The only entrance was via a ladder through the roof. Kivas are still used by modern-day pueblo people. 

The buildings we saw today have not been lived in since the 1500s, but for the pueblo people they are not abandoned: the spirits of their ancestors are still alive here, and all is sacred to them, as indeed is everything in nature.

View of Tyuonyi from above

We were able to enter some of the cavates – the openings in the volcanic rock enlarged by the ancient pueblo people – via short ladders, saw the 'longhouse', living quarters three or four stories high in the cliff walls, the holes from the roof beams still visible and a marker for the different stories. In the area of the longhouse many petroglyphs cover the walls, some of them are now believed to have held meaning beyond what seemed obvious. We thought we recognized a dog, a turkey, snakes, maybe a turtle with a human face, and the spiral shape that has significance for so many indigenous peoples.

The Longhouse

Petroglyphs; turkey on the right (?)

Meanwhile the dark clouds were now joined by strong gusts of wind, and soon we felt the first raindrops. We sought shelter in one of the cavates for a bit, and in typical April fashion the rain quit after a few minutes and the sun attempted to peek between the clouds again. We had arrived at the end of the guided walk and the spot where the trail branched off to the Alcove House high in the wall. There was no question that we'd walk the half mile and see it, and we kept going even though the wind now pushed sleet at us. Several groups of people were coming back already, and nobody was walking in our direction at the moment. Our pants were wet, and my hands were getting cold, but it wasn't long before we stood at the bottom of the high cliff that was the destination of our walk. Sleet and rain had stopped for the time being. 

A young woman was looking up, a bit undecided: her mother, who was with her, obviously was not inclined to go up while she really wanted to but was scared to do it alone. 'Oh, you can come with us,' Johann said. 'We are going.' We? I wasn't so sure of that at all. Again my fear of heights made itself known. The ladders were wet, and high, and while going up was not so much a worry the first step or two down would be, for sure, and there was no way to avoid that once I was up there. On the other hand, I really wanted to see what it was like ... The first ladder – the only one I could see from where I stood – looked sturdy and reliable, like the short ones I had climbed to get into the cavates earlier, and, encouraged by Johann and our companion, I started climbing. I counted the rungs, thinking it might be helpful when I came down again to know when I was getting close to the bottom: 19 rungs for this one. Stone steps connected this ladder with the next one which rose even higher from the small platform: I think I counted 28 rungs this time, but am no longer quite sure. Two down, two to go: the third one was slightly shorter than the second one, and the last one had only maybe eight rungs – nothing to it.

It was an amazing feeling to be so high up and imagine the people who had once lived here, who had to haul up everything they needed in baskets or clay vessels. The Alcove House holds a small kiva, but at the moment it is under renovation and can't be entered - too bad; that would have been really special. 

 

After we had gazed down the valley and (I with reluctance) straight down to where the young woman's mother was waiting we returned the way we had come. The ladders posed less of a problem than I had feared, although I was glad every time when I could grip the upper rung instead of the side beams. The smooth wood felt good and solid in my hands, and I had mastered my fear yet another time.

The walk back to the visitor centre felt like the Easter walk poem from Goethe's 'Faust': 'Freed from the ice are stream and brook ...' The little creek to our left, the budding maples and gambel oaks, green grass, sunshine (yes, again): it was lovely.

The visitor centre was a great source of more information with its interactive displays depicting life in the pueblos as it must have been hundreds of years ago. We were so glad we had come!