Mesa Verde

  Leaving Quemada, I continued to ride in those beautiful New Mexico hills for many miles.  In addition to the many signs of elk passing trough the area, I saw actual elk.  Actually, only one elk.  But that one elk (cow) proved to me that I was right: there were elk in the area.

  But beauty, as we know, is never constant, and all too soon the green and tree covered hills gave way to brown and brush, and I dropped into Gallup, New Mexico.  I needed water, and lithium.  Lithium batteries, I should say, for the SPOT.  After I found the right street for the one bridge over the railway tracks, I headed north to visit the Four Corners where Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado meet, and then to Mesa Verde.  The country was brownly beautiful.

  That mesa in the far distance is huge.  You can see it from the top of Mesa Verde.

 (By the way, in all of these areas, the oil and gas companies paint all of their buildings and infra-structure the same color as the local desert.  They are much less obtrusive than what we see in Alaska).

  Four Corners is a commercial enterprise run by a Native Tribe, and I refuse to recall which one.  I paid three dollars to approach the "monument," and had I known the amount of insanity there, I would not even have done that.  The monument is in a plaza, with booths on each of the four sides.  You may purchase all types of stuff, either before or after standing in line so you can stand in, on, or near the four corners.  I chose to purchase only water, and to take pictures of others having their picture taken.

  Having amused myself in this fashion, I rode on to Mesa Verde.

  I had never seen actual cliff dwellings until April of this year with Meredith in Arizona.  Of course, Mesa Verde is the largest collection, and they are stunning in their concept and execution.  Imagine a people with no steel or iron, weaving their ropes from plant fiber, scaling these cliffs, carrying baskets of rocks to a cleft, then building these communal structures.  Growing their food in the valley floors, hauling all that they need and had, including their water, up these cliffs.  What perseverance.  What imagination.  What strength.  No Super-Size-Me here, just humanity at its very best, working together that all might survive.  Do you hear that, Los Angeles?  Working together that all might survive.

  Look at those logs!  They had to be hauled up the cliff too.  Did they rig a block and tackle?  Or did they do it the old fashioned way, dragging the rope hand over hand over hand.

  The natural defenses to their "cities", the vast canyons and cliffs that surround the Mesa.

  My camp that night.

  A wonderful place.