Enchanted. If you don't feel awe while standing in the shadows of ancestral ruins, there might be something wrong with you as a human being. No matter who you are, some aspect of the ruins of another culture's community calls to you; maybe that explains people's fascination with ghost towns. Alisha and I were in Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, spending our evening exploring the ancient Puebloan ruins scattered throughout the canyon alcoves and atop mesas. We had signed up for a guided tour of Balcony House Ruins, one of the ranger-led progams that took you down and around a large alcove ruin. The last tour of the evening, we knew we would be able to take our time and not rush through the area so that the next group of tourists could see the place.
Our tour guide was a local, a Native American who had grown up just outside of the park's borders and who's reverence of the place was tangible. He spoke of the ancients, his ancestors, with respect, and his perspective on what the ruins were like when they were humming with life was one that I've never had the pleasure of experiencing. I've only ever received the cut and dry version, what the "experts" think each area, each tool, each building was used for. He led us through the ruins and instilled in us all a sense of respect for the place in a way that I've never felt before. He was by far the best tour guide I've ever had.
Now, the trail itself to and from the alcove was easy. Except for the ladders. I hate ladders, and we had the horror of climbing up a single 30ft wooden ladder that was bolted to the cliff face in order to reach the alcove. And then, as if that wasn't bad enough. we actually had to climb up three more 10ft wooden ladders to get back to the top of the mesa and the parking lot. But I did it. I dutifully put my hands and feet on the rungs and willingly trusted my life to a couple of wooden poles nailed together by man. I'd really rather not do it again. And let me tell you how relieved I was to get to the top!
Alisha left early the next morning, but I still had time to explore. I signed up for the first guided tour of Cliff Palace, another ruin in another alcove, yet all part of the same extended community of the area. Our tour guide was not nearly as interesting as the ranger we had at Balcony House, and he seemed almost bored, as if he didn't really want to be there. Dude, a little enthusiam for your job would go a long way. After a while, I couldn't help but tune him out. He spouted off facts straight from the guide book, and his opinions about the uses of certain buildings and of the kivas were ones that were prevelent in the '90s. "Ceremonial or religious purposes." How about everyday life? Just because it's not something we're used to seeing doesn't mean it wasn't part of normal, everyday life for the ancient people. Ceremonial, indeed. I wanted to see the ruins up close, or I wouldn't have even bothered with the guided tour. That's generally the only reason I ever take a tour: to see something I couldn't see on my own.
Again, the trail to and from the alcove was easy. Down some metal stairs, along a winding trail set above the canyon bottom, and along the front of the alcove. This time, we actually saw some of the hand and toe holds the ancient people had pecked into the rock face, which was their way in and out of the alcove. We took a slightly easier way out of the canyon, though we still had to climb up a short ladder (that really wasn't so bad) to reach the top again. It was worth the tour just to see Cliff Palace up close, but I could have done without the guide. Sometimes, however, ya just gotta deal.
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