Ernesto Mayans: What is the environment?

     Conversing with Ernesto, both as a group and individually, was something I will never forget. He is very engaging, bringing everyone into the conversation and slowly drawing out their points of view; even those who are timid and soft-spoken cannot resist taking part. He was ready and able to converse on any subject, from art, to the environment, to philosophy. Moreover, he has friends in every field doing incredible things, and he is always excited to tell you about them.

     Not surprisingly, my favorite time with Ernesto was talking to him about philosophy. He introduced me to a school of thought called Phenomenology, gave me many recommendations on philosophical works that I should read, and provided a very realistic and down-to-earth approach to a subject that is often caught up in abstractions and theoretical discussions.

The best philosophical conversation I had with him was one pertaining to the environment. It began with him posing the question, “What is the environment?," a seemingly simply question that proved very difficult to answer. After making several attempts at giving a definition of the environment, only to have Ernesto politely shoot each one down, I finally said something along the lines of “our definition is always changing”, and instantaneously his eyes lit up. “Yes,” he said, because the environment is always changing, and before we can effectively address the environmental problems we have, we must first realize that the environment is change. To try and define the environment as something constant and absolute is both futile and silly, for such a definition would be missing the core idea of what the environment is, which is a dynamic balance of life and energy that is constantly in flux. Things live and die, energy is used and released, reactions occur, and all the while a delicate balance of interdependence is maintained; this is far from being static or constant. The idea was very mind-altering for me, and from the look in Ernesto’s eyes I had the feeling that had deliberately led me down this path of thought hoping I would come to this realization.

Ernesto was one of a kind, as they say, and I am very thankful for the time that I was able to spend with him.

The Poets Are Coming! (Arthur Sze Edition)

     Before I focus in on my encounter with Arthur, I just want to say that the morning that we spent with Carol and Arthur was a truly wonderful experience. They are two very charming people who are obviously very passionate about their craft, and it was great being able to talk to them about their work.

     Arthur is a self proclaimed “science dropout” who was enrolled at MIT prior to deciding that he wanted to pursue poetry. After being recommended by one of his professors at Berkley to move to Santa Fe, Arthur took on a series of seemingly odd jobs, such as working on a reservation and in a prison; these experiences were crucial influences on his poetry in that they provided him with very raw insights into the cultural tensions that exist in New Mexico. (On a side note, he is also an avid mushroom hunter, and if you bring it up in conversation it never fails to put a smile to his face.)

     As a Chinese-American cultural tension is something that Arthur is very familiar with; he often infuses his Chinese heritage and the tension that it generates into his writing. Arthur’s work also highlights the cultural tensions in New Mexico between the Anglo, Hispanic, and Pueblo cultures. He referred to his work (and, more generally, New Mexico) as “a braiding of cultures”, and the tension between those cultures generates “friction, heat, light, and vitality” that make both his work and New Mexico vibrant.

     One particular part of the conversation we had with Carol and Arthur was very meaningful to me, especially as a person who makes a hobby out of poetry, and that was towards the very end when they described their own writing process. They talked about how, in revising a poem, one is really re-envisioning it and that one must surrender oneself to the poem, for it is all too easy to lose the poem in revising it. They also spoke about the tension between tradition and innovation, which is always present during the creative process, and how they go about balancing tradition with innovation in their own work.

     Overall, the time we spend with Arthur and Carol was awesome.

Taos Pueblo and Earthships

It wasn’t until we were nearing the end of our week in Taos that we finally made our way to the Taos Pueblo. The village lay at the edge of town and consisted of ancient adobe buildings, some over 1,000 years old. We were given a tour through the dusty streets by a young Pueblo woman, who pointed out the notable features of the area, such as the church and the natural spring where the Pueblo people continue to get their drinking water. After the tour, we were free to wander around the premises and explore the ancient homes, which had frequently been converted into shops for artisans to sell their goods. I bought a piece of fresh fry bread from a young woman who chatted with me about growing up in the pueblo as I watched her roll out a ball of dough and drop it in a vat of bubbling oil. As I munched the fry bread drenched in honey and wandered through the adobe structures, I was struck with the familiar mix of guilt and curiosity that I had become accustomed to on this trip. Despite my efforts to be a respectful tourist, I found it hard to shake the feeling that I was allowing myself to be a part of a system which inevitably exploited a native culture. Of course, I wanted to support the artisans and the people living in the Pueblo. I wanted to buy their goods and pay for their tour guides, because I knew that they were, like the rest of us, just trying to make a livelihood. I also appreciated that experiencing and witnessing first-hand what life was like on the Pueblo was an important and eye-opening opportunity to learn about another culture. However, it was hard not to feel like my presence was inherently disrespectful and invasive, as I and the other visitors traipsed through homes snapping photographs. 

The afternoon brought a change of pace. We visited the famous community of earthships near the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. The homes all resembled something out of a post-apocalyptic fantasy movie, stretching across the desolate New Mexican environment and decorated with tires, glass bottles, and aluminum cans. We toured the visitors center, a beautiful building which resembled a cross between a typical home in a wealthy neighborhood, a greenhouse, and an ornate and earthy fortress. The homes were a fascinating example of merging architecture and sustainability, producing their own energy and recycling their water 4 times. Although we were only able to view most of the earthships from afar, the afternoon successfully peaked our interest in a new method of expressing creativity and simultaneously striving for sustainability. 

-Leslie Reynolds

A Day in the Life of a Lama Resident

        I’ll admit it; I was skeptical at first. I wasn’t exactly sure what a “spiritual community” entailed, and I wasn’t sure if I bought it, whatever it was. My cynicism and weariness regarding self-proclaimed counter-culturalists, anarchists, hippies, and their ilk led me to approach the Lama Foundation with some degree of hesitation and judgement. Based on my interactions with disgruntled youths and unmotivated derelicts, I was anticipating a bevy of unshaven, hemp-laden, self-important bohemians, holding hand and singing Kumbayah, or else eager to expound upon the many ills of modern society, technology, government, etc. As we stood in the early morning light, stung by the bitter wind which whipped angrily about the mountaintop, Joe, our friendly guide, informed us that we would first participate in a short (thirty minute) group meditation. I struggled not to roll my eyes and scoff at the suggestion. I had never attempted to meditate, and had never exactly seen the appeal. Nevertheless, as we sat in the great octagonal room, perched upon round cushions, I tried to relax and clear my mind. It seemed an impossible task as my brain refused to cease its perpetual rumination, and it continued to scour the contours of my memory in search of amusing tidbits to keep me occupied in the utter silence. Luckily for me and my ever-active brain, kindly Joe cut our meditation short to allow us to introduce ourselves and proceed on to breakfast. 

        Upon reaching the dining area, we were greeted by a motley group of hippies from all walks of life: overzealous young people with ample facial hair, wizened old women with kind features, and everything in between. This greeting might have solidified my predetermined antagonism had I not been surprised by the warmth with which we were inducted into the group. Before eating, we all held hands while one member of the community led us in a song (not Kumbayah perhaps, but close). Then we were invited to eat the ample breakfast provided for us. During the meal, the community members approached us with curiosity and kindness, expressing their pleasure at having us as guests. I had anticipated a clan of bitter, opinionated hemp heads who would either be too blazed to engage me in conversation, or else would eye me with scorn as if they could tell that I ate meat, occasionally enjoyed TV, and sometimes shaved my legs.  However, the after being met with such an amicable and welcoming reception, I was suddenly ashamed of my judgmental outlook. It appeared I had been wrong about who exactly was the bitter one.

After breakfast, we returned to the octagonal room, this time with all of the Lama residents. Sebastian, a bearded redhead with glasses and a charming smile, invited us to listen to a song, in order to appreciate the intricacy of the music, the feelings which it aroused, and the process of listening in general. We sat in silence for a few minutes as he played a lively yet somehow heartrending melody sung in a language I didn’t understand. When it was over, we formed small groups to discuss our experiences while listening. In my group, a tall, boney boy with an eyebrow ring explained an internal checklist he assess every time he hears a new piece of music. Another man attempted to voice the powerful emotions which the piece evoked in him. I shared a memory, long dormant, which the music and awoken in me. 

We then turned our attention back to the whole group for the daily practice of “heart tuning.” Everyone went around in a circle and said a few words about how they were feeling in whichever way they felt appropriate. People shared a few words, some serene and pleasant, others marked by pain and sadness. Others recited verses of poetry or sang short songs to convey their state of being. When it was my turn to speak, I was surprised by how easily and comfortably I was able to share with the group. Speaking in front of people, particularly candidly and with little preparation, often leaves me gripped with anxiety and dread. However, all I felt was the welcoming and accepting atmosphere created by the residents. 

After the group disbanded to take on their various responsibilities for the day (cooking lunch, cleaning the alters scattered around the grounds, washing the meditation pillows, etc.) Joe led us to the campgrounds, where visitors slept during summer retreats. As our contribution to the community, we helped clear off the tent sites and cover them with hay to make them more comfortable. After only a few hours of work, the sun had come out, we had stripped off our coats and scarves and were sweating in our t-shirts. We were more than ready when we heard the bells chiming to signal lunch time. The residents had cooked an authentic Thai lunch, which turned out to be one of my favorite meals of the entire trip. While we ate, we mingled with the others and heard the stories of how they arrived at Lama. Again, I was impressed with their openness and willingness to share their stories, as well as hear our own. 

When it was time to go, many of us had fallen so in love with the community that we were ready to move in. Despite my initial hesitation, even I was sad to go, although I certainly would have missed indoor plumbing had we stayed much longer. Although I may not ever really grasp the point of meditation, Lama certainly helped me shed some of my unfounded and unwarranted antagonism.  


-Leslie Reynolds

"One day at a time"

I woke up on the morning of May 20 in Santa Fe and strained to remember what was on the agenda for the new day. The memory of Jeff chanting "THE POETS ARE COMING THE POETS ARE COMING!" the previous night reminded me that the poets--Carol Moldaw and Arthur Sze-- were in fact coming to speak with us, and also reminded me that I had put off the reading of their work until that morning. After a quick breakfast I decided to face my shameful procrastination and read the selected poems that were assigned to us. I started with Carol's poem entitled Summer Sublet which abstractly describes some of her memories and struggles from her early years in Santa Fe. I immediately fell in love with Carol's poetry. After reading the remaining selections, including the impressive Lightning Field, I identified the beauty in Carol's work as her attention to both subjective and objective elements and her ability to weave them together so skillfully. I began to get really excited when I remembered that the talented artist that I had just discovered was going to be arriving at our Santa Fe house in just a few minutes. When the poets arrived, she was everything that I had imagined. Carol and her husband Arthur read a few poems aloud to us and engaged us in conversation. Many of us had questions for the couple and we discussed things such as the balance of community and individuality in Santa Fe, the influx of the art community since the 1970s, the importance of physical environment to identity, and the sensuality of words, along with various other topics. Our time with the poets seemed to fly by but we had some great conversations. Although my procrastination was unintentional, I feel lucky to have gotten to fall in love with a poet's work and meet that same poet all in about an hour. I was able to find a collection of Carol's newer poems called So Late, So Soon at Collected Works, a great local bookstore near the plaza. Meeting with Carol and Arthur was very interesting and rewarding and I feel privileged for having the opportunity.

Monica Chatterton

Bandelier National Monument

Our trusty van pulls up to Bandelier National Monument on a typical New Mexican afternoon, marked by dry heat, wind, and blindingly blue skies. Having only a vague conception of what to expect, I recall a visit to a similar national monument I made with my family as a child while I lather on sunscreen and fill up my water bottle. The memory is dulled and warped by many years of stagnancy in my brain, and I can conjure up only disconnected snapshots—my father helping me up a wooden ladder; peering through a tiny window in the stone wall; the coolness of the air inside the small, dark rooms. At the time, it had felt like my own personal playground, an archeological adventure waiting to be explored. I had hardly even taken note of the fact that those dwellings had once served as shelter and protection for other people.

            The cave dwellings at Bandelier have the same playful and inviting quality. Perfectly formed and intricately designed caverns beg to be explored, narrow rock stairways want to be climbed, and dangerously steep ladders dare us to scale them. As we set off on our hike among the long-abandoned dwellings, I again have to remind myself that we are exploring a site that once housed a thriving community. We walk along parallel to the cliff face, which stretches smoothly up to dizzying heights. From afar, the cliff appears to be punctuated with holes of various size and shape, peculiar enough that they might have been formed by some trick of geology and weather. But upon closer inspection, the caverns’ careful intent marks them as something much more than an accident of nature. The trail takes us to a series of larger caves, spacious and structurally sound enough to hold nearly our entire group. We take advantage of the unique photo opportunity and pose for snapshots inside the cool stone walls. The caverns are so far removed from my conception of a home that it is difficult to imagine people inhabiting them. But once I do, they hold such a greater significance.

            Toward the end of the hike, the trail winds through a wooded area, tall pines lining our path. I wonder how the environment must have looked so many thousands of years ago, when the area was first inhabited by the Pueblo people. At the end of the trail are a series of steep wooden ladders, some reaching up 40 feet or more. When we finally scale them all, we are allowed to enter a small circular room used as a ceremonial kiva.

In this room, more so than any of the others, I attempt to be a respectful visitor, admiring the scene with reverent curiosity.

            It is nearly impossible for me to imagine the lifestyles of the people who once inhabited the area, but Bandelier helps visitors to visualize this phase of American history first-hand. While it’s easy to separate the monuments from their original purposes and their historic significance, they can provide a unique and interactive learning experience for visitors who are willing to treat the area with the respectful interest that it deserves.

-Leslie Reynolds

Visiting Ernesto Mayans Gallery and Joel Greene

One of the first truly sunny days since being in Santa Fe, the group arrives at Ernesto Mayans Gallery. Ernesto greets us as door, jubilantly, and we enter the gallery. With much laughter, Ernesto makes a genuine attempt at learning all of our names, and immediately I feel welcome. The gallery is small but cozy, extending from the small room we entered one room to the right, a hallway to the left, and another small room beyond that. The ceiling is low, reminding me of the characteristic 'human scale' of classic adobe structures. With warm laughter and friendly conversation as a backdrop, I wander into the room on my right. Monica is delighted to find a sculpture; a twisted branch made to look like a strange and warped giant pencil. I notice one oil painting on the wall, a landscape of New Mexico, by Joel Greene. I study it for a moment before moving on, watch the warm colors of the hills flow together, appreciate the sweeping clouds. I wander on through the gallery, in the hallway now, and stop at these impressive screenprints. Ernesto and Jakob are engaged in an interesting discussion of philosophy, but Ernesto comes over to share a little about the screen printed pieces. He casually discloses his insights, dropping some facts about the artist, who I see is world-renowned for their talents, intermixed with Ernesto's own thoughts about the beauty of the pieces. I follow the hallway into the back of the gallery and find a few more interesting works before the group gathers with Ernesto in the front room off the hallway. We're here after all to get a look a some of Joel Greene's artwork, and talk to with Ernesto about, among other things, Joel Greene. The second part of our day is visiting Joel Greene at his studio. Ernesto has this whole room full of pieces by Joel, and a portfolio of some of his early work and sketches. It's a good day, Ernesto and his gallery are great, and it seems like everyone is excited and seems genuinely interested. It can't hurt that laid out on the table with some of Joel's cards was a bottle of sparkling cider for us. As we sip on cider and look around, I observe that Joel's work is a mixture of flowing tones and geometric landscapes. On one wall there is a collection of paintings depicting thunderstorms, other paintings are of rock faces, vast skies, boulder fields, desert vistas, and pine trees, but there is definitely something cohesive about his style. His images seem simple, his color palette, indicative of the natural landscape, doesn't overwhelm you. Even still they're impactful, coming together in impressive representations of the New Mexican landscape. His paintings grasp the vastness of the sky here, and simple power of the elements. Ernesto ensures us we're in for a treat, meeting Joel. He tells us, unlike many artists, he's very laid back, and has a good sense of humor which we should enjoy. As we begin to file out, almost done with our gallery visit, I follow the deep red of the wooden floorboards. The painted floor is the only thing tying all the rooms together, worn in little paths from room to room, from so many people's footsteps. In one last little story, Ernesto tells me the story of the floor color. When he started the studio only one room had a red floor, painted over years of other colors, but red was the most apparent. He decided to paint them all to match, so all the wear we see is is just from the beginning of his gallery to now. I was so surprised that all of that wear, giving so much character to the little gallery, could have happened in such a relatively brief history from people just like us walking back and forth appreciating the artistic vision of others.

After a short drive out of town, we arrive at Joel Greene's studio. There's an old truck parked in the driveway of a very nice looking building. I would have called it a house, but I knew it was the studio. We walk in and right away the good nature and boyishness Ernesto described seems apparent. Joel is smiling, and welcomes us to his studio. We enter into the print shop and it isn't very long before Joel is explaining the some aspect of how a small press works. The second large room, with large sliding glass doors looking out to a beautiful view, is the painting room. His whole studio is very open, helped by tall ceilings and neatness. He has a couch, and chairs, a bookshelf full of movies and books, a little TV, and of course his two easels and a drawing table. Everything looks like it has a place, and we settle in. Everyone asks questions, about his technique, how long it takes him to finish a painting, his experiences in New Mexico, he answers all of them thoughtfully and usually with a chuckle. Some of his paintings decorate the walls of his studio, and someone, Connor I think, asked a question about the development of his style. A few of the paintings seems to have softer rolling look, while others are morethe great light out here, which we had heard about, and clear air that makes the landscape all that more appealing to paint. I won't try to quote, but in explaining his color palette, Joel pointed out that the desert can tend to blend into a mess of tans and beiges if you're not looking for the colors, but they're there. It was so wonderful to visit with his, he was light hearted and modest, very welcoming, and kind. He so readily answered our questions, whether they were practical and about his process or some object or tool in his studio, or about his thoughts, ideas, and inspirations.

Meeting with Ernesto and Joel proved to be a great day in my book, they both had interesting stories and were wonderfully welcoming. Their willingness to share their experiences and work allowed me a moment to take away, a true 'expereince' to reflect on and tie together in the future, rather than just a visit.

-Laura McCaughey

During our free day in Santa Fe, I was sitting by myself in the plaza, enjoying the beautiful weather and interesting sights, when a Native American man came and sat down beside me. We began to talk, and the conversation quickly came to be about cultural history and relations in the area. Our conversation was easy and heartfelt, not at all uncomfortable in the way that conversations with strangers sometimes are. Upon my phone ringing, we said good-bye. A little while later, as I sat on a bench with my sister, he approached me and told me to hold out my hands, into which he placed a pair of beautiful dark blue earrings. He said that he wanted me to leave New Mexico with something, to have them. Then he told me the story. His young nephew was in the army, and was sent to Irag twice and then Afghanistan. While in Afghanistan, a bomb blew up nearby him. He said it looked like it was raining blue. He and the other guys went to check it out- the bomb had hit a quarry of lapis. His nephew brought home a large chunk of the deep blue rock, and made jewelery from it. The man was wearing a ring and a bracelet made from that chunk of lapis, and the earrings that he'd given me were made from it as well. He told me that he wore those earrings while he danced; people would say why are you wearing those silly dangling earrings, but you know. He also said that his nephew was sick, and they don't know if he'll mentally recover from the war. He then shook my hands and said May the great spirit be with you. My thank you wasn't sufficient. But each time that I wear the earrings, I will be sending good thoughts to the man and to his nephew. We never did exchange names.
emily

Forest Encounters

    The forests of northern New Mexico are central to discussions of its complex interplay between culture and natural environment. After spending time hiking through some of the gorgeous woods, we got the opportunity to hear from the National Forest Service, at their office in Santa Fe. First we met with Ruben Montez, then with the public affairs officer, Lawrence, who each gave us some idea of the Forest Service's role and current projects. Traditionally, the Forest Service has played a major role in fire prevention and fire control, emerging with the internationally known Smokey the Bear as the mascot for fire prevention. Smokey, who is from New Mexico, is still widely used in campaigns, especially for kids, and the Forest Service is still active in fore prevention. However, science has come to discover that not all fire is bad; in fact, the forest has evolved with natural, periodic fires, and thus our total prevention of them over the last century has not been beneficial. Small, low intensity fires help burn away the underbrush in the forests, keep tree density favorable, and allow for healthier new growth. When underbrush is allowed to build up, and tree density is not thinned, then those human-caused fires that get out of control cause incredible, unnatural amounts of damage, as they are able to rage through the high-fuel woods. Thus the Forest Service now aims to manage the forests through periodic thinning and burning. Their current focus is on the CFRP: the Collaborative Forest Restoration Program. This program aims to incorporate and find agreement among several concerned groups that have historically fought over forest issues, including  local community members who rely on forest use, environmentalists, the National Forest Service, Native American tribes, and local business owners. A federal advisory committee, consisting of these various people, chooses which proposed projects receive grants.
     Later that afternoon, after satisfying our sudden, urgent need for donuts, we got to meet with a CFRP grant recipient, David Cordova. David's father, Max Cordova, is known for his activity with the Alianza, a Chicano group who fought for local rights to the forest. Many New Mexican communities, including Truchas, have historically relied on logging as a livelihood. When the Forest Service began to ban forest use by locals in the 1900s, they naturally fought back, and this tension still exists today. David explained that they never felt they were misusing the forests; they only took what they needed, and came to intimately know those woods, yet a federal agency controlled their relationship to the land. However, the Forest Service has better intentions now than it did at times in the past, and the CFRP seems like a step in the right direction. David walked us through the forest, explaining the process of tree thinning. We also saw the deadly effects of the mistletoe fungus, one of the natural phenomena that can emerge despite man's careful management of the forest.
    It was wonderful to hear two different perspectives on forest issues, from our nation's forest managers,  then from a local native who understands the community. The perspectives were not completely in agreement, yet not completely at odds, and it gave us a fairly well-rounded picture of this complex topic.
    Emily Deitchler

Leaving Chaco via Acoma

Our last morning in Chaco Emily, Laura, and I woke early to hike up on the Mesa to watch the sunrise.  At 5:45am the sky was already mostly light but the sun had yet to peak over the lip of the canyon.  Due to fires that had began the day before in arizona we weren't sure if we were going to be able to see the sunrise when we got to the top--sometimes smoke/pollution make the sunrise brighter, sometimes they obscure it.

At the top we waited and waited, watching the arch of sky become lighter but unable to find the sun through the bank of thick smoke to the east.  A hole of color appeared in front of us, a tiny island that smeared the otherwise dusty gray expanse.  It was through that hole that we watched the sun, which judging from its distance from the horizon had been risen for a while, surface and then slip back beneath the cloudy smoke from arizona fires.

Since the beginning of the trip Jeff had been warning us of the perils of the south road out of Chaco.  After all that warning and hype, however, it was much milder than we had all anticipated.  We arrived at Acoma Sky City mid morning.

Acoma is built on a mesa and sits above the valley in which it is built.  All of the homes on top of the mesa are family homes and are owned communally by Acoma families.  Not all homes are occupied but to me Acoma feels more like a place that people actually live than a tourist destination.  After visiting Taos Pueblo several days earlier Acoma offered us a very different look at life in a native american pueblo/tourist destination.  At Taos Pueblo once we had paid the entrance fee we were allowed to wander at will around the Pueblo.  Acoma, in contrasts, requires that all visitors enter the village with a guide and stay with the group.  Several members of our group commented that this made them feel very uncomfortable and aware of their role as outsiders.  To me, however, this uncomfortableness felt right because it did not all us, as visitors, to forget that we were encroaching on other people's private space.  Although perhaps not always the best feeling I feel that this feeling of awareness is incredibly important and that visitors should not be allowed to forget the role they play when entering someone else's space.  This feeling is one that we struggled with frequently, the balance between embracing community and a feeling of a 'sense of place' but also acknowledging that we were only briefly there to experience that feeling.  Acoma challenged us to consider this idea anew and to think about the ways in which tourism can intrude into people's private lives and the ways in which we, knowing this, can be as respectful of tourists as possible.

-Maya Lemon

Ghost Ranch and the Beginnings of Chaco Canyon

On Tuesday, we packed up and headed out from Heron Lake. Fortunately, Ghost Ranch contacted Jeff the day before to say that we could come tour the Ranch after all. We were all excited and headed that way. On the way, we stopped to see Echo Amphitheater, which is a natural rock formation that makes a perfect echoing amphitheater...who would have guessed from the name. At Ghost Ranch, which Jakob and I read about in Deeply Rooted, two ranchmen talked to us about their cattle grazing program that is open to ranchers in the community. A rancher can put up to 40 head of cattle in the program to graze on the Ranch over the winter months. It is a really great program because many ranchers would have to sell their cattle before the winter because they could not feed them all. About 1,000 cattle roam the pastures of Ghost Ranch on a rotating basis during the winter. Every two weeks, ten of the ranchers help move all the cows to the next  pasture. While it would be better to have smaller pastures that were rotated more frequently, Ghost Ranch's practices are far better than letting the cattle roam free all winter, a practice called "Columbus grazing" because the ranchers must "discover" their cattle in the spring. We saw a plot of land that had never been grazed since a CCC group fenced it in in the 1950s. It had more tall bushy plants, but the grass was very much the same as the grazed land all around it. Our visit to the Ranch was informative and gave us some input from actual ranchers, rather than scientists or ecologists.
Next we headed to Chaco Canyon. We stopped for lunch in Cuba, NM and had some delicious new Mexican food. We entered the canyon via a 37 mile long dirt road that was rather bumpy, especially in the van. Somehow a few people still managed to sleep for most of the road. Once we got into the Canyon, we stopped at the visitor center to register and then headed on to our campsite. The part of the Canyon we could see so far was breathtaking and we were all excited to go exploring. We set up camp in our large group camp site and then went on a tour of an ancient kiva ruin. GB was our guide and he was very informative and excited to tell us new information. The kiva was a 'great' kiva both because of its size and use. A kiva is a large, round, usually subterranean room that is used for religious ceremonies. The doors were facing due North and due South, with perfect alignment. Not much is known about the use of the structures inside. The two large rectangles could have been used for foot drums, for planting seeds, or for fire wood. A bench surrounds the entire inside of the kiva and there are a few niches inside the walls. Most are evenly spaced, but a few seem to randomly inserted into the wall. A roof probably covered the kiva and was supported by large wooden poles. A window on the east side of the building allowed light to shine into the kiva in a perfect rectangle during the Summer and Winter Equinoxes. The kiva had many parts of its architecture aligned with the cosmos; one would assume they were all planned intentionally, but we can never know for sure. After the tour, we hiked around to a few more pueblo ruins and then we went back to our campsite to hang out until 8:30 when a pharmacology professor that also studies herbal medicine gave a talk about plants in the canyon and their medicinal and food uses. The talk was really interesting and he even had samples to pass around. We all tried a bitter plant that helped numb the throat to reduce coughing and he passed around a plant that induces vomiting that we did not try. He knew a lot about plant uses and had made a powerpoint to illustrate some plants he did not have with him. The next day when we went hiking, we even recognized a few of the plants. The day was long but very informative and fun. I really enjoyed going to Ghost Ranch, even though I wish the cows had been there. It was neat to see the place that I had read about. Chaco Canyon was breathtaking and awe-inspiring. So many people lived there between AD 900 and 1150. To see the ways they routed water and built housing that was up to three stories high was so mystifying. If we had to do that now, I don't know that we would even survive. I had a lot of fun in the canyon and it continued to the next day when we went hiking and exploring even more.
-Katie Kilpatrick