The heat was building as we traveled west out of Durango , to the dusty roads near Mancos and out to the Yert.Rugged mountains lined the horizon against a bright blue sky .The cactus,sage brush, and twisted weathered trees made me think of scenes out of a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western.
Then the book I had been reading (Reinventing Collapse by Dmitry Orlov)came to mind. This place has so much history to it. But it remains unchanged.This place doesn't care if the country collapses or not. This place has more character. Unchanged , unaffected by moods or economies or wars.It will be here....always.
When we got back to the little farm, Cliff welcomed us back with head held high and tail wagging. Chickens nervously clucked as we walked through the yard.
Upon entering the Yert, we found Becca reading to Orin and Joe playing with Isaac. Playing and laughing.The young family turned their attention to us . The adults inquired about grown-up stuff,(what'd we think of Ft. Lewis, Durango, etc.)
A pile of books were plopped in my lap and Orin was ready for me to take over where Becca had left off. Orin listened intently as I read until he saw a toy car I had put on a nearby table,then it was off to the races!
Isaac was an eager participant as long as I kept my distance. He seemed to think that the faces and noises I made were quite entertaining and funny, but with every attempt I made to hold him, he turned away to a safer place in his mothers arms.
Things settled down after a short time . Isaac was off to sleep and Orin was tuned in to a childrens dvd on the computer.
Kiah went to the pond for a cooling dip,Amy read a book and I took a short nap in the tent.
After delicious home-made pizzas.(between the girls, the guys,the chickens, Cliff,and Delilah the farm cat, not a crumb was left!)
A lazy afternoon turned into an evening adventure.
Joe, Cliff and I took off down one of the trails to the north of the Yert. A large red-tail hawk circled high above. Joe said it holds it's own in territorial battles it engages in with the bald eagles in the area.
As we moved down the dusty trail, Joe stopped to show me remnants of previous civilizations. Right over here, an arrow head. Thirty or so more steps and there's bits of pottery. Shards of stone used for making weapons.And over here, a slab of rock used for grinding corn. Down here,a probable 'dumpsite' for discarded tools, broken bowls and everyday items from a house-hold vanished hundreds of years ago.
And right up here, the foundation of that household. The walls scattered by weather,vandals and time, but the foundation remains. I listened but could not here the echos of those that lived there. It is quiet and still now.
There was more to see and Joe moved to the west. Cliff seemed to know the drill as he had already plunged himself into the deeper thicket where we were headed.
We made our way to a thicker growth of trees. The trail suddenly dropped into a ravine.Turning north, the trail disappeared. We were now in brambles and underbrush. Another drop and a switchback to the southwest revealed a jagged cliff over our left shoulder. As we got deeper into the thicket, the humidity got higher. The cliff became more prominent as we dropped to it's base. A swarm of mosquitos wanted a piece of my ear, but I waved them away with my hand.One final push through a web of stickery brambles and Joe said'This is what I wanted to show you".
My jaw must have dropped because Joe quietly snickered at my reaction.
There before us ,underneath the cliff was a rock dwelling. An ancient home. Built into the natural crevice beneath the cliff. Stacked neatly and packed with morter, stones formed a wall. A one room rock house at the base of the cliff.Hundreds if not a thousand years old. Upon closer inspection, I found fingerprints! In the dried morter were the builders fingerprints. I placed my fingers in the dried indentions and tried to imagine the emotion that the builder must have felt in completing this very important project.Looking inside the one room dwelling, I saw what most certainly was a cool place in the summer. A blackened ceiling told of warmth and safety in the winter. The creek at the bottom of the ravine was the life-source,bringing water to the hunter and the animals he hunted.I could have stayed there much longer, but daylight was waning. As we retraced our steps to leave the dwelling,Cliff started barking. He was down somewhere in the bottom of the ravine and his deep barrel chested bark echoed up the canyon. We couldn't see what he was excited about,but the mystery was quickly solved when a smothering cloud of skunk spray lifted out of the ravine. Only moments later Cliff proudly bounded up to us looking for approval.I must say that I at least applaud his enthusiasm.(The tomatoe juice bath theory would be tested that evening when we got home.)
Before we got home, Joe and I ate some lemon berries, scouted out a likely moutain lions den (we kept our distance), looked at some fish in a little pond that forms when the water level in the creek drops. We talked about how some indian tribes use Yukka plants for energy and the fibers from the plant to weave sandals,etc.Joe showed me some of the arrow and spear heads that he has made. There were many 'adventurous tales' that filled that evenings hike through the rugged trails. Joe's straight forward approach to taking on the challenges of hiking and exploring reveals something new with every turn.
Somehow all that I experienced in the two days we were at Joe and Beccas has special meaning to me. I'm not talking about good company, good food, playing and laughing with the boys. All that is wonderful without saying.
What I'm talking about is the way the world is and the way people survive in it. The book Joe gave to me somehow parallels all of these thoughts.
We are a country of people that for the most part depends on someone else for everyday survival.The supermarket, the gas station, the electric company, the water district,the department store and on and on.
It is inspirational to see Joe and Becca live a life that is so independent.The little farm onwhich they live reflects the strength and determination of pioneers and even civilizations long before them. I think of the civilizations that lived on the very land that Joe and Becca,Orin and Isaac now live.
The living,loving,laughing,and playing that went on in those little dwellings, were independent of things going on beyond the nearest horizon.
If author Orlov is right,(and even if he isn't) that's probably the way we all should be striving to live.
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Pete, Thanks for your account of the trip and your visit with Joe & Becca. You did a great job describing their landscape as well as capturing a sense of their lifestyle. You're making me very homesick for them!!
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