The Way In

It looks to be another cold, clear day here on the mesa top. It’s day three of my adventure at Hovenweep National Monument. So far I have been taken to all but one of the sites here in the park (the main area where the Visitor Center, Campground, and staff housing are located and four “outliers”). I have learned how to check the campground to see if any campers have used the area and how to collect fees from the lock box there. I have also learned the routine for cleaning the campground comfort stations. The campground at Hovenweep, by the way, is a great little spot. It's quiet and peaceful with nice views of the mesa top and of Little Ruin Canyon. There is also a sweet little amphitheater where campfire talks and gatherings take place during the busier times.

Hovenweep Campground

Entrance to Hovenweep Amphitheater

Hovenweep Amphitheater

Each of the cultural sites in the park: Square Tower Group, Horseshoe and Hackberry, Holly, Cutthroat Castle, and Cajon include various structures, mostly at the head of a canyon, built in the thirteenth century by ancestral Puebloan people.

Hovenweep Castle and Square Tower

In addition to my orientation to the campground routine and visits to the cultural sites in the park I have also learned how to pick up the mail from the postal service drop box at the intersection of two county roads, have begun to learn the routine of opening and closing the Visitor Center (not to mention the unruly safe), done a good bit of reading of park-produced and other literature to gain an understanding of the place, and even had the chance to welcome and orient a couple of visitors. I work another “closing” shift today so will spend the morning out in the park and will attend to the Visitor Center desk this afternoon and have another go at the close-out procedures. So far, so good.

Mailbox on the Mesa

This all speaks to routine but not the place. I don’t know if I have the words yet for the place itself. Awesome, grand, spectacular, sweet, and “really out there” come immediately to mind. This place feels very remote. The park is only forty-two miles from the town of Cortez, CO but being on the mesa top there is little immediate evidence of other people around. There are occasional oil tanks, windmills used to pump water for free-ranging cattle, horses, and sheep on the surrounding Navajo Nation and Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land. A few ranch homes dotting the expansive landscape. Nonetheless, the openness of the land and the harshness of the environment give a feeling of being very isolated. Visitation is low, we had ten visitors yesterday and five on Monday in the snow, so a sense of quiet rules as well, adding to the perceived isolation.

Free-Range Cow

Free-Range Horses

Free-Range Raven

I find myself particularly drawn to the plants here. For me, they provide a much –needed anchor of knowledge as well as a “way in” to understanding this place. Terry Tempest Williams, one of my literary sheroes, wrote a wonderful piece about her experience as a naturalist from the Great Basin traveling to the very unfamiliar Serengeti Plains of Africa. In the essay, “In A Country of Grasses” she states: 

“For a naturalist, traveling into unfamiliar territory is like turning a kaleidoscope ninety degrees. Suddenly, the colors and pieces of glass find a fresh arrangement. The light shifts, and you enter a new landscape in search of the order you know to be there.” 

In that kaleidoscopic fashion, the plants here in the high desert, the great sage plain, imply the possibility that I will come to know and understand this landscape. The plants, for me, also are a bridge from the familiarity of home to the unknown here. On first assumption, one might call Hovenweep a cultural site (if one subscribes to that long-standing split between culture and nature, consciously or not) because it is characterized by ancestral Pueblo structures. For me, I first see the arid-land vegetation here, some of it very similar to the plant makeup in parts of Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, also, surprisingly to some, an arid environment. And then, upon encountering the ruins and contemplating the lives of the people who built them about eight hundred years ago, it becomes evident to me that the story here is of the land and its inhabitants, and how they co-evolved. The plants hold a story of the harshness of the landscape, the extreme conditions the people faced. The plants also hold a story of ways in which they were used by the human inhabitants and the rest of the more-than-human world here at Hovenweep.

On first glance, any area could have plants similar to those in the Indiana Dunes due to the fact that there are more than 1,100 species of native plants in that small park along the southern shore of Lake Michigan. As a matter of fact, the biodiversity of Indiana Dunes is unmatched by most of the units in the National Park System. In exploring the arid high desert environment of Hovenweep, I find order in comparisons of this place with the foredune and dune complex ecosystems at home. The high desert and the dunes are each ecosystems with very limited access to water and extreme exposure to unobstructed sunlight. The irony of this in the Indiana Dunes is that the dunes are within view of Lake Michigan but similarly parched and dry. With its almost-purely-sand that stands in for soil, the dunes have virtually no water-holding capacity.

Indiana Dunes from Cowles Bog Beach

For each of the first high desert plants I have met here at Hovenweep there is a closely related companion species in the dunes. The land here is dominated by big sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata). In some spots, it seems to be the only plant, in others it is accompanied by Utah juniper (Juniperus osteosperma) among other species. It seems that once the temperature hits about 50 degrees f. the wonderful smell of the sagebrush is released from the shrub and perfumes the air. My anchoring plant in the dunes is beach wormwood (Artemesia campestris), a resident of the area just behind the first row of dunes beyond the open beach. It requires very little organic matter to grow and can tolerate extreme heat and dry conditions.



Big Sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata)

If I were walking inland from the Lake Michigan shore, I would be likely to find creeping juniper (Juniperus horizontalis) hugging the sand in a fashion that would allow it to conserve precious moisture. Here at Hovenweep, Utah juniper (Juniperus osteosperma) is a very common species. It can also hug the ground or boldly stand upright. It seems to be absent in areas that are heavily grazed. I would bet that either the cattle love the juniper and have consumed most of that resource, or that sage is more tolerant.

Utah Juniper (Juniperus osteosperma)

The canyons that cut through Cajon Mesa, the areas so critical to the ancestral Puebloan people who inhabited this area some 800 years ago, are home to a few stately Fremont cottonwood trees (Populus fremontii). The cottonwoods thrive in the canyons because that is where precious water is more available. The ancient ones of Hovenweep knew this, choosing the canyon heads as their preferred locations for their dwellings and other structures. In the dunes, eastern cottonwood (Populus deltoides) is a fordune tree, occasionally able to take hold, at least briefly, on the open beach. The waxy leaves protect the plant from the devastating evaporation of moisture and the flat leaf stems, being able to turn in even the lightest wind, allow this tree to grow and thrive under extreme windy conditions so common on the Lake Michigan shore. The wind in the canyons of Hovenweep can also be extreme. Cottonwoods are very well adapted for life here.

Fremont Cottonwood (Populus fremontii)

I was thrilled to see some residual fall colors, dusty red and brown leaves caught in a pocket of sand and twigs on the trail.

Residual Fall Colors

These were the leaves of threeleaf sumac (Rhus trilobata), also called skunkbush because of the not-so-fragrant leaves, and lemonade bush or lemonberry because of the sour taste of the fruit. I was excited to learn that Pueblo people today make a soup or stew from the ground berries with added cornmeal. Indiana Dunes is home to five species of sumacs (staghorn, smooth, winged, poison, and fragrant). Our fragrant sumac (Rhus aromatica) is the sand dune species. The others are found in somewhat more inland areas of the park. It is the closest companion to the threeleaf sumac of Hovenweep. I would also question the choice of the term "fragrant" to describe it. Odiferous may be a more appropriate term. Or skunkbush. I have never found it a pleasant smell, though a distinct one. Nonetheless, like the threeleaf sumac, fragrant sumac is an arid-land species and one of the plants here that provides me with a sense of familiarity and home.

Threeleaf Sumac (Rhus trilobata)

As one would expect in a desert environment, there is cactus here at Hovenweep. Most prevalent here is the common pricklypear (Opuntia erinaceae). I have also encountered the claret cup cactus (Echinocereus triglochidatus). Prickly pear cactus grows commonly in the Indiana Dunes. The pricklypears in both locations have similar qualities, habitat requirements, and unique adaptations. Our local species (Opuntia humifusa) can be found in the very dry areas behind the foredune, often in association with boreal remnant species like jack pine (Pinus banksiana) and arctic bearberry (Arctostaphylos uviursi). It is this diversity of southern and northern species that makes Indiana Dunes such a unique and valuable ecological oasis. The species of cactus at Hovenweep link me to home.

Common Pricklypear (Opuntia erinaceae)

It is no surprise that I gravitated toward plants when getting to know a new place. As a budding childhood naturalist, plants were my first real subject of study. I inherited my love of plants, particularly woodland spring wildflowers from my mother. She nurtured and allowed for that love as well. She tolerated and eventually embraced my fascination with wild edible plants. I can not see an elderberry bush blooming in the spring without thinking of how much she enjoyed making elderberry blossom fritters using a recipe from Euell Gibbons' Stalking the Wild Asparagus, a treat I had first introduced her to. Knowing the Indiana Dunes as well as I do, and having a strong, lifelong affinity for plants, it is no surprise that I would find solace and familiarity in them here at Hovenweep. They are the seemingly random pieces of glass in the kaleidoscope and help me to find the order I seek. For this I am grateful and comforted. Home, for me, is also a homing ground, the land to which all is compared. Here in this new and seemingly unfamiliar place, plants are a wonderful way in. I greatly look forward to the things this place can teach me.

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.