“Well,” he slowly cradled his head on his knuckles. “I have only seen that mountain once. It was in late fall, and it was on a miserably cold day.” He stopped and appeared to be in deep thought. “There is something to that mountain. It isn’t natural.”
“What do you mean it isn’t natural?” I fished.
Ken locked eyes with me.
“I had a terrible feeling the entire time I was there. I felt like there were thousands of eyes upon me, yet I never saw a thing. It was really just a feeling I can’t explain.”
After a full minute of silence, I responded with a long, “Yes?”
“The mountain appeared to be a small volcanic cone with a very thin exterior of black volcanic rock. It is eroded in one place exposing an underneath of soft white rock formed with huge gas bubbles. Under a few inches of hard exterior rock, the interior of the mountain is a world of tiny caves. It just stands there, a very small volcanic cone in the middle of sandstone canyon lands. This country is full of small volcanic features. I’m sure you noticed many of them on the way in. Most of them are steep hills with black volcanic rock forming huge mesas. They are perfectly flat on top because the molten lava spreads out like pancake batter when it is extruded from the volcano. But we don’t have any cone volcanoes in this area and yet this mountain is a small and perfect cone. It seemed unnatural to me. I was glad to get away from it.”
“It has quite a history,” June added, sitting down at the table with them. Aunt June, the avid archeologist along with many other skills then added, “The old ones, the veijos, those first Spanish conquistadores, knew where the mountain was but kept its location a secret. They had little interest in exploring this area. There was nothing but ruins here even back then. They preferred to conquer living Indian tribes that could work for them, or lead them to El Dorado. They were looking for cities of gold, but all they found were small cities made of mud or adobe. Few traces of gold were ever found in those settlements. The Native Indians in New Mexico knew where gold was but placed little value on it other than to make small trinkets. They apparently traded it off to people who lived in central or South America, where gold became a very important part of their culture.”
The Mystery of Chaco Canyon
Uncle Ken then added, “Another theory is that they traded their gold to more southern tribes for macaw feathers or sea shells that could be used for decorations or ceremonies. There have been many early explorers that have crossed into the labyrinth of rugged canyon lands, but they all crossed into this area with a certain amount of trepidation. Ancient ruins are everywhere. They are unique to this area because they are like the ruins in Chaco Canyon which is located way to the north of here.”
I stopped his explanation by raising my hand, “What is Chaco Canyon?
Ken resumed his explanation, “Chaco is unique, located some fifty miles south of Farmington, New Mexico. Farmington is located on the San Juan River, like its namesake, agriculture occurs there but Chaco Canyon is something entirely different. It is an enigma in just about every way possible. Much of northwest New Mexico is a barren landscape. Arroyos there see no running water except for a day or two a year after heavy cloudburst. The badlands is completely devoid of vegetation except for sagebrush and tumbleweeds. Chaco Canyon lies there, in a basin a hundred miles long.”
Ken stared off to another world for a few moments and then continued, “Of all the places in New Mexico that I have been, this barren quarter of the Colorado Plateau is undoubtedly the most unfortunate place I have ever visited. In winter the snow blusters about like fine dust, and the temperatures can drop to twenty below. In summer the rocks get so hot you can’t touch them.”
Ken looked into my eyes yet he still seemed to be far away. “Looking for remains of ancient cultures one might expect to find nothing there. At most, one might expect to find where the ancient Anasazi camped on their way somewhere else but Chaco seems to be the center of the Anasazi world. The culture reached a peak in the eleventh century A.D. after they built a vast city there. The people who once lived there built walls with slabs of rocks, fitting them together with a unique style of masonry. They made an art form of it. The stonework alone required thousands of man-hours of work. Masons broke rocks into thin, workable slabs, some of them smaller than your little finger. Laborers hauled baskets of wet mortar and woodworkers stripped timbers and rounded the ends with stone axes before setting them into place. Within an area of ten miles they built thousands of structures including great kivas which they used for their ceremonies.”
After a moment to swallow some coffee Ken continued. “The roofs to those chambers were constructed with timbers. Those roofs weigh up to ninety tons each. To support the roofs over two hundred and fifty thousand trees were felled in mountains fifty miles away and hauled on the backs of men across the desert.”
Ken stopped for another swallow of coffee then refocused on me, “Imagine, hoisting and carrying massive logs in procession to Chaco. It is one of the little things that bother archeologist like June.”
June joined the conversation, “When early people excavated the ruins they found enough artifacts to load a train. The people there were importing and exporting goods as far away as South America. All of that construction, yet they have found only a few skeletons there and most of them appear to have come from somewhere else.”
June answered with another question, “What did they eat and drink? There is no permanent water there now and it takes massive amounts of water to raise corn or any food crop. They would have had to bring nearly all their food in from somewhere else. Something strange happened there, there are too many unanswered questions.”
She stopped talking for a moment. Then she said, “Something terrible happened. It appears that they deserted the place and went north up into southern Colorado for a short while, however something very different and strange was happening there. These were people who lived in constant fear, a terror of something or someone. They moved into cliff houses. Most people believe that they were killed by some terrible disease or some ancient warlike people killed them. Perhaps clan warred against clan until no one was left to tell the story but something very strange happened that is yet to be explained. The entire population appears to have shrunk.
“In time most of them left the entire region, going south into what is now central New Mexico and Mexico, becoming the Salado culture. The Salado culture is the culture to whom the Spanish, brought smallpox and other diseases. Virtually all of them died out. Here in New Mexico there are only fragments of them remaining; mostly the Zuni, Hopi, and various other groups like the pueblo at Isleta that you drove past on the way here. But for a while, they nearly all died off, and their descendants don’t really seem to know or won’t admit to what happened. To this day it is still a mystery as to what really happened and the same thing appears to have happened to the natives who built the ruins around here.”
I mulled this over for a minute then asked, “Could you show me the ruins around here?”
Ken answered her with a stern, “No” He then softened his tone and added, “Well maybe after the summer is over and things settle down around here. Right now I don’t want you outside of this house unless one of us is with you. Perhaps this winter we can take you into one of the back canyons and show you some ruins but I don’t want you or anyone else in this house to go near that mountain. All I know is that a large population used to live in the canyons to the south of us. All that is left of them is the bones and ruins. Particularly around that one volcanic hill, bones are everywhere, and some of them are human bones.”
I knew it was time to turn on the charm, the same charm I had used on Hidalgo. “Just supposing one of you fellows decided to go there, what would it take, I asked while fluttering my eyes?
After rolling his eyes and sitting up straight, Uncle Ken continued, “Exploring El Montana del Serpientes de Cascabels can only be accomplished by climbing up and down steep canyon walls, but once there, the traveler may find th
e volcanic cone. The route is dissected by side canyons, quickly losing and confusing any traveler. I have heard stories of a few brave souls who survived a visit to the mountain and told stories of lost friends and missing relatives. They found skeletons along the trails and, as an understanding of what was happening occurred, sheer terror would set in.”
“During the eighteen hundreds, the first white Americans ventured into this area. But they quickly stopped coming. Every time a prospector would find a small deposit of gold or silver in the area they would shortly thereafter be found quivering with arrows. The local Apache and Navajo Indians who were wandering near Serpiente simply wouldn’t allow themselves to be conquered by the Spanish or Mexicans, and certainly not by the newcomers from the east.”
Hidalgo, who had been listening from the living room, entered the conversation, “The Apaches would pass by Serpiente when running from the authorities, but they never ventured into the surrounding valley. And they certainly would never actually climb upon the flanks of the volcanic hill. It has a mystical or religious significance to them. They feared it. The Navajos and the Apaches could steal anything; sometimes knowing where and how to hide the loot and then disappearing was their greatest skill. They knew that few would venture into the canyon lands of Serpiente so they felt relatively safe there but my understanding is they all avoided that particular mountain.”
“You’re a Navajo Indian aren’t you?” I asked. At the moment, I was thinking of the dream that I experienced in far-away San Jon, New Mexico.
Hidalgo pulled up a chair and joined them at the kitchen table answering with a very slow, “Well, yes.”
I stared into his eyes trying to imagine what they would look like, twinkling in a campfire light.
Aunt June then leaned over and jumped into the conversation again with, “In time, Penny, you will learn that Hidalgo is no ordinary Navajo Indian. In fact, he is no ordinary person. He is one of the most intelligent and learned persons that I know. We all have deep respect for his opinions.”
I looked at Hidalgo as he blushed. He was a little embarrassed.
“Please tell me what you know about the people who lived around this mountain you’re all talking about,” I asked Hidalgo.
Hidalgo took a sip of steaming coffee, looked off into the distance and started his explanation. “Nothing is left now but ancestral memories and oral traditions, which are slowly disappearing. Although there are many modern Pueblo languages with dialects spoken throughout the southwest, little is known of the Anasazi who lived here long ago.”
“The Anasazi are believed to be one the oldest cultures of this area. We do not even know what their word for rattlesnake was and we have no idea what it sounded like. There are several different languages spoken here in the Southwest now, several official native languages in New Mexico alone. All languages change with time, but the Hopi and Zuni pueblos probably share the closest linguistic links to the ancient ones. The Zuni language, interestingly, has intriguing similarities to ancient North African cultures, which existed over two thousand years ago. Yet some language experts say that it is related to a Japanese culture; but that’s another mystery that folks like your Aunt June are trying to solve.”
I kept my innermost thoughts to myself. I recognized the inflections, and academic nature of Hidalgo’s voice. He talked just like the Navajo in the dream. Did he know that he had visited me in my dream?
Anasazi Life
Uncle Ken said with a serious tone in his voice, “Before you think about going into the back country of Serpiente you had better educate yourself to the people who lived there. Let’s see what you can learn in the next few weeks and then we might talk about letting you go there, but not without Corey and Hidalgo and not until cold weather sets in.”
I was starting to get angry but decided not to show my anger but rather to take this as a challenge. I thought I would bait my uncle Ken with a couple of questions. “First of all, what is so complicated about being an Indian? And secondly, what makes these Indians any different from Indians elsewhere? We have Cherokee Indians who live in Tennessee and they live just like the rest of us.”
“That’s true, answered Ken, however the world you grew up in is very different from this world and if you go back a millennium the world you grew up in would be entirely different. First of all, the world that you grew up in is green and lush with plenty of natural game and food that can be found in nature. Go out to the back pasture where the canyon opens up and live by yourself without camping gear, food and only the creek for water and you wouldn’t last a week. Most young people wouldn’t last a day.”
June who by this time was feeling a little sorry for me entered the conversation with, “To us, being an Anasazi would not have been much fun. We tend to forget how easy it is for most people to acquire water and food. Many ruins have been found near large rivers such as the Rio Grande or the San Juan, however many large settlements have been found where there is hardly any water at all. Chaco, for example, is one of those places. Small tanks or tinatas of water can sometimes be found in surrounding hills but often their water came from seeps. They had to strain their water out of the sand letting the sand settle in a large container and then skimming the useful water off the top. Sometimes there would only be a drip spring to support thirty or forty people. Some ruins have been discovered where it is a complete mystery as to where they got their water. They were obviously experts at using their water carefully; mostly for cooking and drinking, seldom would there be enough for bathing.”
“As for food, any modern grocery store has foods that an Anasazi would never have dreamed of. Potatoes originally from Peru, bananas from South Brazil, milk and dairy products, the ancient Anasazi would never have encountered these wonderful foods. We live in one of the most isolated areas of New Mexico yet we can easily drive into Belen or Los Lunas and go to a supermarket where we can buy whole bags of food if we choose too. Around here we raise all our own meat and depend upon our garden for fresh vegetables. But then, we have irrigation wells here. We buy in bulk and carry it back in the bed of our trucks. How did they transport their food?”
“They had to walk everywhere. Remember that the Spanish brought over horses from Europe and they were not used until a thousand years later. There was no such thing as a fat Indian. They lived on the edge of starvation all the time, but particularly in the wintertime and particularly here in the Southwest. Even when food was found it was usually a slim variety of food, for example only wild onions in the early springtime.”
I thought about this for a minute then asked, “Well, just what did they eat?”
“Theirs was an extremely bland diet, except for the three sisters as they are called. Corn, squash and beans were the only vegetables which they grew, where they could grow food, but mostly they lived entirely off the land. Even pinto beans which provided protein were not introduced until much later. However, your Uncle Ken’s challenge to you is not a hard as you imagine. If you were a determined person you could easily live off the food that is in the south pasture.”
I had only a blank look to offer at these revelations. I’ve always thought that Native Americans had plenty to eat; after all, it was the Indians that saved the early English creating a holiday everyone knows of as Thanksgiving.
June explained, “As you walk around the edge of the pasture you run into a thorny brush that produces small beans. The natives relished those beans which were usually eaten raw. In the forested areas there are acorn nuts and piñon nuts from the pine trees that grow there. They collected the nuts and made delicious flour out of them that was added to stews and made into tortillas. As you drove into Los Lunas you and Hidalgo drove through a swamp covered in cattails. When pulled out of the mud the roots are edible. Then there is tuna.”
This brought my head up with a look of confusion. “What a minute, I know that there are no oceans around here.”
“That’s true,” said June but there is prickly pear cactus growing all over the place an
d the little red fruit they produce is packed with nutrients. The name for these berries is tuna.”
Ken added, “Those tuna also contain seeds. To me, they taste like tomato sauce.”
June continued, “The prickly pear pads themselves are quite edible and eaten in Mexico all the time. They are quite good when flowered and fried. They actually raised cactus in order to eat the flowers and the little red buds that appear on them.
Ken added, “Everything has thorns on it but on bad years we burn the thorns off and feed them to our cattle. Even cholla cactus is edible, prepared in a number of ways, but you have to get rid of those thorns. For hundreds of years the only food the Anasazi raised was corn and squash. But again, you need to understand that their corn was different from ours. Blue corn was often raised because it could be planted almost a foot deep in the soil where it was moist. Regular corn was planted in shallow holes, with several seeds in each hole which produced cobs about the size of your little finger.”
“Like you see in Chinese food,” I interjected.
“Yes, but their corn was the forefather of modern corn,” added June.” They planted corn in bundles so the outer stalks would protect the inner stalks.”
Ken added. “They also had peppers, did you know that there is more vitamin C in peppers than in just about any food, including any modern food. The problem was obtaining a steady supply of food. The entire mass of the Anasazi was in constant migration which is one of the reasons there are Indian ruins all over the Southwest. They had to travel to gather food. Localities around a permanent settlement would quickly run out of small game such as rabbits and deer. However a young brave could easily feed himself if he was constantly wandering. They probably ate mesquite beans or anything green they could find to counter the effects of a constant meat protein diet. Wintertime would have been a serious problem for there is very little vegetation. Constipation followed by headaches would have been the result.”
The Family at Serpiente Page 5
