Special for The Republic
Jun. 9, 2006 04:47 PM
This is a still and barren land.
The tree line ends a few miles to the south in the foothills of the San Francisco Peaks and in a geographic moment, most living things are replaced by sandstone.
It is not devoid of life, not by any means. Small creatures skitter among the red rocks and lesser shrubs cling stubbornly to the landscape almost in defiance of their stark environment. The ruins of a former settlement lie close to the horizon and stare eternally at the Painted Desert. But there is little else.
And yet, people come here. For centuries, humans have migrated to this area. In the old days, they arrived on foot and settled in to eke out an existence from what then must have been a much more inhospitable place than it is now. They had names but they didn't leave written records so nobody knows for sure what they were. Because modern science dictates that all things must be categorized, modern scientists have labeled them "Anasazi," "Sinagua" and "Pueblo." Some protest; most accept.
Those who arrived here first didn't stay around long. Excavations in the area indicate they came here in the 1100s, built this place and several like it, farmed the land as best they could, then left about 1200.
Like their arrival, their departure is shrouded in mystery. Speculation says they left to find a better life in the Verde Valley or along the Colorado River. Or perhaps they went east to the Hopi mesas or Zuni villages. The official guidebook sums it up by observing, "In their own histories, Hopi, Zuni and Navajo know where the Ancient Ones went and why."
Now, other people come here for different reasons. They arrive in cars and trucks and huge motor homes to look, mostly. The more serious ones, the scholars and scientists, ponder and pontificate and speculate. Those less interested in actual fact and theory, the tourists and sightseers, come to capture the moment with cameras. All will eventually be disappointed. The scholars can probe and poke but they'll never know who these people were and where they came from. And the tourists can focus and shoot but they'll never capture the essence or the sense of loneliness that permeates Wupatki.
Others come here, perhaps, simply because of the name.
Wupatki.
There is something indescribably pleasant about the sound it makes when it emerges from the lips.
Wupatki. Wupatki. Woo-POT-kee.
Say it over and over and it becomes a rhythm that will pop into your brain 10 thousand times over the course of your lifetime, but, like Tuzigoot to the west, it will never become repetitive.
There are those, of course, who don't hear the music and will point out that "Wupatki" actually is a Hopi word that literally translates to "long cut house." It says so in the guidebook, along with such other tidbits as this:
"By 1182, perhaps 85 to 100 people live at Wuptaki Pueblo, the largest building for at least 50 miles. Within a day's walk, a population of several thousand surrounded Wuptaki."
And this:
"Pueblo dwellers shaped their lives to this land letting sun, water, wind and earth influence decisions. Their buildings fit perfectly into the landscape. Using the red sandstone outcrop as a backbone, and its naturally fractured blocks as bricks, masons laid stone rooms up and down along the length of the formation."
Considering that they didn't have cement, steel rebar or angle iron bracing, their efforts held up fairly well against the elements. Although basically unoccupied for more than six centuries, the buildings were still impressive in 1851, when a member of the Sitgreaves Expedition wrote:
"We found . . . all the prominent points occupied by stone houses of considerable size. . . . They are evidently the remains of a large town."
The site was left unattended for a long time after that rediscovery and was ravaged by time, agrarians, herdsmen, pothunters and curio seekers. Concern over the looting led to its protection as a national monument in 1924.
Unfortunately, that led to desecration of another kind. In an effort to show how things used to be, the federal government tried to restore many of the ruins and even built housing for park rangers. That ended in the 1950s when the add-ons were removed. Now stabilization is ongoing, but in a manner consistent with the original buildings.
And the human need to know also continues, but, unlike the serenity of Wupatki itself, it generates a degree of controversy. One section of the guidebook explains:
"This section of the pueblo remains unexcavated. These rooms represent an opportunity to learn more about the past, but that knowledge comes at a cost. Excavation disturbs the site and, potentially, the people and artifacts buried there.
"In the past, few people challenged the purpose of archeological investigation, but today many voice concern about disturbing sites. . . . Possessions were intended, by those who buried or left them behind, to remain as placed, acted upon by time and the elements. Excavation represents a curiosity foreign to American Indian culture, unnecessary to understanding their past, and often considered culturally offensive."
And later in the book, this passage:
"As tribes exert more control over their heritage, diverse opinions about appropriate treatment of archeological sites emerge. As an example, Hopi believe everything must be allowed to recycle, returning to the earth. If human creations are made to last forever and not let to die, 'the world would get filled up, and the purpose of living would disappear.' This philosophy challenges the National Park Service mandates to preserve and perpetuate the physical remains of the past."
The Ancient Ones probably never gave it much thought.
+ + +
Learn more about Wupatki National Monument
The tree line ends a few miles to the south in the foothills of the San Francisco Peaks and in a geographic moment, most living things are replaced by sandstone.
It is not devoid of life, not by any means. Small creatures skitter among the red rocks and lesser shrubs cling stubbornly to the landscape almost in defiance of their stark environment. The ruins of a former settlement lie close to the horizon and stare eternally at the Painted Desert. But there is little else.
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And yet, people come here. For centuries, humans have migrated to this area. In the old days, they arrived on foot and settled in to eke out an existence from what then must have been a much more inhospitable place than it is now. They had names but they didn't leave written records so nobody knows for sure what they were. Because modern science dictates that all things must be categorized, modern scientists have labeled them "Anasazi," "Sinagua" and "Pueblo." Some protest; most accept.
Those who arrived here first didn't stay around long. Excavations in the area indicate they came here in the 1100s, built this place and several like it, farmed the land as best they could, then left about 1200.
Like their arrival, their departure is shrouded in mystery. Speculation says they left to find a better life in the Verde Valley or along the Colorado River. Or perhaps they went east to the Hopi mesas or Zuni villages. The official guidebook sums it up by observing, "In their own histories, Hopi, Zuni and Navajo know where the Ancient Ones went and why."
Now, other people come here for different reasons. They arrive in cars and trucks and huge motor homes to look, mostly. The more serious ones, the scholars and scientists, ponder and pontificate and speculate. Those less interested in actual fact and theory, the tourists and sightseers, come to capture the moment with cameras. All will eventually be disappointed. The scholars can probe and poke but they'll never know who these people were and where they came from. And the tourists can focus and shoot but they'll never capture the essence or the sense of loneliness that permeates Wupatki.
Others come here, perhaps, simply because of the name.
Wupatki.
There is something indescribably pleasant about the sound it makes when it emerges from the lips.
Wupatki. Wupatki. Woo-POT-kee.
Say it over and over and it becomes a rhythm that will pop into your brain 10 thousand times over the course of your lifetime, but, like Tuzigoot to the west, it will never become repetitive.
There are those, of course, who don't hear the music and will point out that "Wupatki" actually is a Hopi word that literally translates to "long cut house." It says so in the guidebook, along with such other tidbits as this:
"By 1182, perhaps 85 to 100 people live at Wuptaki Pueblo, the largest building for at least 50 miles. Within a day's walk, a population of several thousand surrounded Wuptaki."
And this:
"Pueblo dwellers shaped their lives to this land letting sun, water, wind and earth influence decisions. Their buildings fit perfectly into the landscape. Using the red sandstone outcrop as a backbone, and its naturally fractured blocks as bricks, masons laid stone rooms up and down along the length of the formation."
Considering that they didn't have cement, steel rebar or angle iron bracing, their efforts held up fairly well against the elements. Although basically unoccupied for more than six centuries, the buildings were still impressive in 1851, when a member of the Sitgreaves Expedition wrote:
"We found . . . all the prominent points occupied by stone houses of considerable size. . . . They are evidently the remains of a large town."
The site was left unattended for a long time after that rediscovery and was ravaged by time, agrarians, herdsmen, pothunters and curio seekers. Concern over the looting led to its protection as a national monument in 1924.
Unfortunately, that led to desecration of another kind. In an effort to show how things used to be, the federal government tried to restore many of the ruins and even built housing for park rangers. That ended in the 1950s when the add-ons were removed. Now stabilization is ongoing, but in a manner consistent with the original buildings.
And the human need to know also continues, but, unlike the serenity of Wupatki itself, it generates a degree of controversy. One section of the guidebook explains:
"This section of the pueblo remains unexcavated. These rooms represent an opportunity to learn more about the past, but that knowledge comes at a cost. Excavation disturbs the site and, potentially, the people and artifacts buried there.
"In the past, few people challenged the purpose of archeological investigation, but today many voice concern about disturbing sites. . . . Possessions were intended, by those who buried or left them behind, to remain as placed, acted upon by time and the elements. Excavation represents a curiosity foreign to American Indian culture, unnecessary to understanding their past, and often considered culturally offensive."
And later in the book, this passage:
"As tribes exert more control over their heritage, diverse opinions about appropriate treatment of archeological sites emerge. As an example, Hopi believe everything must be allowed to recycle, returning to the earth. If human creations are made to last forever and not let to die, 'the world would get filled up, and the purpose of living would disappear.' This philosophy challenges the National Park Service mandates to preserve and perpetuate the physical remains of the past."
The Ancient Ones probably never gave it much thought.
+ + +
Learn more about Wupatki National Monument
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