My First Full Day at Hovenweep

On Monday, November 29, my first day of work at Hovenweep National Monument, I awoke to a fresh blanket of snow. About two inches had fallen overnight (well, that was our official record taken as one of my duties at the Visitor Center, equaling 1/10 inch of precipitation). 

View from my Bedroom

When I got up I was overjoyed to see the view from my bedroom in the employee housing area just a bit to the north of Little Ruin Canyon. The mesa top is occasionally broken by lovely canyons which hold a whole different ecosystem. Little Ruin Canyon by the house is about 85 feet deep.

Another View from my Bedroom

My little “roller skate” had its first covering of snow for the season as well. It had snowed in Michigan City before I left for the west but we were away the weekend that the snow had fallen and all we saw was a bit of snow on the ground, residue from the storm.

My Driveway

The dominant feature to the south and east of the park is Sleeping Ute Mountain. From any location in the entire region, you can orient yourself by locating the Great Warrior God. At nearly 10,000 feet, Sleeping Ute Mountain is nearly twice as high as my little piece of Cajon Mesa at 5,200 feet.

Sleeping Ute Mountain from Hovenweep Campground

So, work.!

I am one of three volunteers here at Hovenweep. Along with two park rangers (one interpreter and one law enforcement, etc.) and a maintenance/facilities manager, we are the entire staff.  It is a small park with the main Square Tower area and five "outliers"spread over about twenty miles of Cajon Mesa. Each day, I am scheduled half of that day at the Visitor Center desk. The other half of each day is devoted to patrolling the trails and interacting with visitors in the field. When I am on an "opening" shift at the Visitor Center I am responsible for opening the building, getting it ready for the day, setting up for the daily fee collection and sales for the Canyonlands Natural History Association sales outlet, collecting the daily weather data, raising the flag, and then anticipating the arrival of our first visitors. 

Hovenweep Visitor Center

On my first day, there was a good wait for those first visitors. The snow had made travel in the area challenging. It did, however, provide me an opportunity to peruse the park library and begin to ground myself in this amazing place. Our first visitors arrived late in the morning.


The afternoon was devoted to patrolling parts of the park. My first official walk in the Square Tower Group was wonderful. What is this place all about, anyway?

"Hovenweep National Monument was established in 1923 to protect 13th-century ancestral Pueblo standing towers and villages. The monument contains not only extraordinary examples of prehistoric architecture, but the landscapes in which they have existed for over 700 years. Hovenweep is made up of several distinct units that range in size from 14 to 400 acres, including the first protected archaeological site in the United States." 

Twin Towers (Little Ruin Canyon)

Here on the Cajon Mesa which ranges from 6,800 feet elevation at the north end and slopes to about 4,950 feet at the south end, are four distinct ecological zones. The mesa is cut in a number of places by canyons which have carved their way through the area. The caprock is called Dakota Sandstone, a porous material that played a key role in the human use of the region in the 1200s. Again, I am struck by the need to understand an area's geology and its critical function in coming to know the natural history, cultural history, and human settlement patterns of a place. Hovenweep's geology is, by no means, an exception. The porous Dakota Sandstone sits atop the relatively impermeable Burro Canyon Shale. At any point along a canyon wall where water seeping through the sandstone meets the shale there can be a seep or spring. These most often occur at the heads of the canyons cutting the mesa and it is at these locations that the Ancestral Puebloans established their villages, parts of which remain at Hovenweep. The springs, snowmelt, and potholes are the sources of water. In this high desert environment, a steady and dependable source of water was critical to the survival of the Ancestral Puebloans and all who came after them.

Seep Spring at Cajon Site (Allen Canyon)

Snow Melting at Square Tower Group (Little Ruin Canyon)

Icy Potholes in Slickrock Above Little Ruin Canyon

In patrolling the Square Tower Group Trail, the objective was to make sure the rocks that line the edge of the trail were all in place, to erase any footprints left by visitors who went off the trail, and to contact any visitors who were out enjoying the resources. It was a solitary patrol by myself and my personal guide, Jacqui. She is a volunteer with the Student Conservation Association and has already been at Hovenweep for six weeks. She taught me a lot as we were paired up for the day. We did erase a footprint or two, replaced a few trail bordering rocks, and left the prints of either a gray fox or coyote, a desert cottontail and an unidentified rodent for others to enjoy.

Gray Fox or Coyote Tracks

Rodent Tracks

There are a number of amazing ruins on the canyon rim in the Square Tower Group as well as several on the talus slopes of Little Ruin and Side Canyons.

Rimrock House and Eroded Boulder House

Hovenweep Castle

Stronghold House from Little Ruin Canyon

All along our patrol hike of the Square Tower Group I was fascinated with the plants. They feel like a link between this new place and the place I know best having spent the last five years in Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. Interestingly enough, many of the desert plants here at Hovenweep have close relatives living in the very arid foredune and oak savanna communities in the dunes. I will be doing an entire post about the plants and they way they anchor me in this new place.

Utah Juniper (Juniperus osteosperma)

Narrowleaf Yucca (Yucca angustissima)

Mormon Tea (Ephedra viridis)

Common Pricklypear (Opuntia erinacea)

To finish out the day, Jacqui took me to see the Cajon Group, the lowest elevation unit of the park (more about Cajon in a future post). 

Cajon Group Entrance Sign

From Cajon, one is afforded an amazing view of Monument Valley to the west.

Monument Valley from Cajon

And then...We went to pick up the mail. Some have asked for my postal address which is simply c/o Hovenweep National Monument, McElmo Route, Cortez, CO 81321 (in spite of the fact that the Square Tower Group and my house are in the state of Utah). Well, folks...Here is the mailbox.

Hovenweep's Mailbox

It is simply a drop box on the open range, about ten miles from the central unit of the park. It is double locked with a park key and a Postal Service key. The area is frequented by horses, goats, sheep, and cattle in the business of grazing. Quite a spot.

Back to the Visitor Center and then home. A good day was had by all!

My House at Hovenweep

Before I turned in for the night I had the lovely opportunity to see the colors of the sunset behind me glowing on the western facing side of Sleeping Ute Mountain.

Sunset Shining on Sleeping Ute Mountain

The Last 42 Miles to Hovenweep

From Cortez, elevation 6,200, I traveled through McElmo Canyon and onto Cajon Mesa at an elevation of 5,200 feet. It was an unusual trip in that it felt like a constant uphill journey but I actually dropped a thousand feet, overall. Driving through canyons here is confusing. As I was climbing to an elevation of about 6,800 feet at one point I was very perplexed because I was going uphill while heading to the west and McElmo Creek was flowing downstream while heading west as well. I experienced some interesting ecological changes. At the highest spot on the drive, that 6,800 foot point, I was in the juniper-pinyon forest.

Utah Juniper (Juniperus osteosperma)  

Pinyon Pine (Pinus edulis)

After the high point I dropped back into the valley. One thing that really struck me was the amount of agriculture in McElmo Canyon. I expected only livestock but found a variety of other crops growing here. I passed at least two vineyards, some fruit orchards (apples I presume but they could be peaches, pears, or other similar crops). I had also read that this area supplies a majority of the pinto beans produced in the United States. The fields were relatively small, not the massive square and rectangular fields in the flatlands south of my home in Indiana, on the outwash plain left behind by the melting of the last glacier. Here, fields are tucked where they can, wherever a bend in the creek has deposited rich silt in a flat bit of land.

When I stopped the car to photograph a particularly nice looking agricultural field, holding a bit of snow from the previous week, I saw that the parched mud along the side of the road held an important lesson for me about the preferred method of disposing of my beer bottles (and I sure have a lot!). It, unfortunately, reminded me of how Edward Abbey referred to distances he traveled in the canyon country slightly to the north in six-packs rather than miles. He also wrote of throwing the empties out the window because ha had not given the “state” permission to build the road through the wild lands he loved, and claiming that since the highways had already littered the landscape, his contribution was only fitting. Ahhh, yet another man of contradictions.

As I continued along the road I was afforded vistas of geologic revelation. It is wonderful being in a landscape where the historic layers of the land are so evident. I have already done a bit of investigation of the area's geology. My fascination with geology came to the fore while working on whale watching boats on Cape Cod, having a clear sense that understanding the area's geology was essential in understanding its ecology. There I learned the glacial history of the land (above and below the ocean's surface) and my teaching about marine life was always prefaced with the glacial chapter of the story. That fascination continued in northwest Indiana and was significantly developed by my study of Dr. Henry Chandler Cowles, the pioneer ecologist who looked at the land of different ages from the brand new open beach to the thousands-of-years-old Beech Maple Climax Forest in the Indiana Dunes and then the unique plant communities found in each geologic zone. I like to think I follow in Cowles' footsteps by teaching in such a fashion that I look at interactions of components contributing to a whole rather than a reductionist view of the parts themselves. I have been similarly influenced by my colleague Dr. Ken Schoon and his book, Calumet Beginnings in which he looks at the geology of the Calumet Region and the influence it had on human settlement patterns there.  Clearly the geologic story of the Hovenweep region will be an integral part of the story I learn and tell to the visitors I encounter there.

I passed a section of the Bureau of Land Management Canyon of the Ancients National Monument. I did get out of the car for a bit in the light, wet snow to walk to the BLM sign. 

There was a wonderful indication there that this is a landscape that has been peopled for a long, long time. Another unique sign I saw told a nice story of respect for the land and the people who have called it home.

 As I passed the Ismay Trading Post (Picture to come), the road changed to a more pothole filled thoroughfare. I was in the state of Utah and was informed that I was getting closer to my final destination. 

From one of the lower points along the trip I rose above the canyon, through some scrublands and eventually onto Cajon Mesa. The mesa is an amazing landscape, one that belies the treasures held in the numerous canyons that cut through the relatively flat, sage covered plain (part of the “Great Sage Plain”).

One final turn at about Mile 41 and I was crossing off of the open range, across a cattle guard and into the main section of Hovenweep National Monument where the Visitor Center, Campground, and staff housing area is located. I was about to arrive at my home for the next couple of months and ready to begin the actual adventure.

The Final Journey West

Well, after a night of sleep that was not unlike the one before the first day of school, I am about to drive the 42 miles west from Cortez, CO to Hovenweep National Monument. I visited two grocery stores last night, purchasing the supplies I will need for at least a week (to add to the home-canned goods I brought along with me).

I will stop in the Visitor Center today to check in with my boss and retrieve the key to my housing unit. The boss has scheduled today as my day to settle in and I join the work schedule tomorrow. I will be spending half of each day at the Visitor Center, working either an opening or closing shift. The remainder of my time will be spent in mostly informal interactions with visitors, on the trails and the outlying sites of the park. I imagine I will walk the main trail at the Square Tower Unit today to get the lay of the land.

I'm ready for the adventure to begin.

On November 25, 26, and 27, 2010 I traveled from my home in Michigan City Indiana, near Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, to Cortez Colorado. The journey of about 1,500 miles took me through the states of Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, and Colorado. Tomorrow, Sunday November 28, I will travel the final 42 miles to the Visitor Center Complex at Hovenweep National Monument just over the state line into Utah where I begin a couple of months as a volunteer interpreter.

This journey, unlike a similar trip as a child, did not include any significant stops or side trips other than to sleep for the nights.

Much of my early experience of nature and the American landscape took place on my family’s annual summer vacations. While traveling on those trips I saw nearly every landscape imaginable through the back window of our beloved Henrietta, a 1963 Dodge station wagon. Most of what I saw was particularly unique because it was seen, in a fashion, in retrospect. Driving away from home, gazing out the back window, the familiar faded. The suburban houses unique in their similarity, the roads intersecting in blessed right angles, the shopping center, the Big Boy restaurant near home, the corn fields and farmland dotted with barns, houses, hay bales, and openings of trees gave way to a whole new realm of American experience. I found great beauty in traveling back-first into new worlds of experience. Trips in that station wagon took my family and me to the mountains, to great chasms, to sites of history and geohistory. Just like home, the unfamiliar became part of me too. In a way, all of the United States became the collective place I’m from. For me, tourism was my way into the American landscape and American stories. The trips provided my early lessons in American history: natural, cultural, geological, and perhaps personal. Vacation travel was an introduction to a way of knowing nature, a tease, and a lasting lesson.

This was not a back of the station wagon journey, rather one in which I was alone and covering a lot of territory in a short time. In a fashion I was dreaming of vacation travel all along the way. It is a dream both personal and professional. I have made a career of studying the American landscape and sharing what I have come to know with others. Perhaps I have learned a thing or two about helping others to come to know special places on their own and learning about the special features on the American landscape. I will put this assumed knowledge to the test while at Hovenweep, reflecting on my work, observing the experience of visitors, and thinking about the ways in which the National Park Service constructs and presents places of significance.

In the last couple of days there were many places I passed but had to save for another journey, perhaps for the trip home to Indiana in February. I did make a brief stop at the World's Largest Truck Stop in Walcott Iowa for coffee and some postcards but did not stop to visit the Iowa 80 Trucking Museum.

On another trip I want to visit What Cheer Iowa, Friend Nebraska, and Happy Canyon Colorado. They seem like good places. On a trip as a child my family made stops at Herbert Hoover National Historic Site in West Branch Iowa and the Harold Warp Pioneer Village in Minden Nebraska. I have no clear memory of the Hoover site. I do remember enjoying Mr. Warp's Pioneer Village and have a distinct recollection of seeing a toy cast iron cook stove and other kitchen toys on display that were identical to those my mother had as a child in the 1930s. She was fascinated to see items from her own experience on display. Perhaps that seeded my interest in the history of the recent past. 

I spent last night in North Platte Nebraska and must say, I need to return. When I arrived, the Fort Cody Trading Post, "Nebraska's Largest Souvenir and Western Gift Store was already closed. I know the kind of fun I could have there and the ways in which my home, and my friends might benefit from such a visit. I was also fascinated to read in a town tourism brochure that there is a historical marker in town commemorating the friendly service provided for servicemen during World War II at the North Platte Canteen. I will have to look back at my father's story from his Army days to see if he may have stopped in North Platte.

As a real fan of national parks and the resource-related stories told as well as the places preserved, it is hard for me to pass by any such site. On this trip I passed signs for the Hoover site as well as Homestead National Monument of America, Bent's Old Fort National Historic Site, Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve, and Mesa Verde National Park. I know that I will visit some of these places while out in this part of my world.

Along the way, there were a few lovely sights that I recorded with photographs. 

Shortly after passing into the northeast corner of Colorado from Nebraska I noticed that there was not only relief to the land but a wonderful display of holiday lights.

I was taken by the sign I did not photograph along Interstate 25 south of Colorado Springs that said "High Winds Likely." How can they be likely if it is uncertain as to whether they exist or not? This sign, nonetheless, may solve my existential crisis.

After cresting La Veta Pass in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains (in what some call a motorized roller skate, my Suzuki Swift), I dropped down into the San Luis Valley which was ringed by mountains.

The roller skate also crested the East-West Continental Divide. Quite a different sight than the continental divide I live near in northwest Indiana. The Valparaiso Moraine, just south of the Indiana Dunes is a north-south divide. Water falling off the north side of the moraine flows into Lake Michigan and eventually into the open Atlantic Ocean via the Saint Lawrence River. Water falling off the south of the moraine flows into the Kankakee River, then the Illinois River, eventually into the Mississippi River and into the Gulf of Mexico.

The Mountains at the Continental Divide are stunning.

I simply liked the neon sign at the Pinewood Inn in Pagosa Springs Colorado. I may have to stay there one day.

My intent is to continue sharing my experience with photographs, reflections on practice, as well as thoughts on natural and cultural history. I don't think I will have internet access so will be posting several items at once each week. I will keep you posted.