Grants, New Mexico?

Moving on toward home, we departed Santa Fe for a few days stopover in Grants.  Why does anyone vacation in Grants?  Turns out there were a few things we wanted to check out in that neighborhood.  A short drive on moving day allowed us to have a late afternoon drive up Mt. Taylor and a brisk hike.

Road access took us to about 9,300 feet elevation; from there, we climbed another 500 or so feet on the washed-out rocky trail.  Even blindfolded, it would have been obvious we were at an elevation to which our lungs were not accustomed.  It was beautifully forested on that mountain slope: we had plenty of time to admire our surroundings because we stopped often to catch our breath.

We attained enough height to see the summit, but we dared not go further so late in the day lest we have to make our descent in the dark.

 

We were traversing a trail that will be the route for an annual 50K run next week.  Curiosity demanded that I look up past race results.  Last year, male runners did it in less than five hours, and females in less than six!  The señor opined that we could do it in three days; I'm not certain we could make it at all.

Cougar country . . .

Glad I didn't notice that sign until we were back at the truck.  My head would have been on more of a swivel than it was.

War in the West - too many battlefields . . .

Before we began our way back home, we spent our final day in Santa Fe visiting two sites of interest: the Civil War battlefield at Glorieta Pass, and Pecos Pueblo.  

Bureaucracy strikes . . .

The battlefield site is allied by the feds with Pecos Pueblo - one visitors center and more than its share of federal government idiocy.

The only facility at the Glorieta site is a bathroom.  The gate to the parking lot is kept locked, and one must get the gate code at the pueblo site.  There is no charge, no ID required, and no reason whatsoever for the gate to be locked, but some bureaucrat somewhere deemed it must be.  Without the code, anyone can park outside the gate and walk a few feet for the same access.  The inanity continues: those with the gate code are admonished to relock the gate behind them.

I admit I carried on for a spell about the absurdity, but finally settled into the walk through the woods.  Although we were deep in thick piñon/juniper forest with almost no views beyond, we learned by interpretative signage that at the time of the Battle of Gloriieta Pass, the area was quite different.

The 1862 Battle of Glorieta Pass took place on range land between two historic ranch headquarters - Pigeon's & Johhnson's; at that time, the land had been cleared of trees for building timber and firewood.

Several skirmishes occurred between federal troops and Texas military over the course of three days, with the southerners finally being repulsed in their efforts to gain territory for the Confederacy. 

Although mostly obscured by brush, we spotted bits and pieces of remains from ranching operations, but little else of interest.  Although signage explained about what occurred at various places along the trail, it was hard to envision because of everything being so closed in.

It was a good workout walk, one of quite a few we've gotten on this trip.  Back on the road - the old Santa Fe Trail/old Route 66, we stopped near the only remaining structure from Pigeon's Ranch, which had been quite a large waystop on the trail.

This 1880 photo by Ben Wittick shows an entirely different scene than what we encountered. 

Now, the highway guardrail is so close to the adobe building that it requires a life-threatening dash across the road with a leap (more like a tortured scramble in our case) over the railing.  At that point, one must try not to notice that vehicles are speeding past mere inches away while one is attempting to lean back far enough to take a photo.

Got 'er done, for no particular reason really, but it was there and I had to do it.

This is what we call the Kelley stance: in my family when in proximity to an abandoned building, we must do several things - 1. Take photos always, 2. Peer into every window, 3. Try every door, and if unlocked, enter.

 

After risking life & limb by reclimbing the guard rail and dashing back across the road, we discovered the most amazing well I've ever seen.  It was about 15 feet across with a rock wall built around its perimeter and sides reinforced with rock.  Must have been a bear to construct - very impressive!  Water was standing about 20 feet down.

The tragedy of Pecos Pueblo . . . 

Near where the Glorieta battle occurred eons later,  an ancient dwelling site was constructed along and on a long ridge rising above the surrounding land at a major cultural crossroads of indigenous people.  Known as Cicuye Pueblo, the native name for Pecos Pueblo, the site was occupied as early as 1100 AD, eventually growing to house 2,000 people as a major trade center.

Coronado's expedition arrived at the complex in 1540; the first of a series of Spanish missiions was constructed in 1619, destroyed like so many others during the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 and rebuilt later.

There are at least 40 kivas at the once-five-story village of  Cicuye.  We walked the self-guided tour and entered one of the kivas.  This time, we were allowed to take photographs of the interior.

 

 

 

From high on the ridgetop, the views are of surrounding countryside and Glorieta Mesa. 

 

 

 

The pueblo flourished for eons before disease and warfare tolled its demise; the last twenty surviving inhabitants moved to live with their kin at Jemez Pueblo in 1838.  Broken potsherds - evidence of its habitation - are amply strewn everywhere on the ground.

Although the huge once-thriving center is now only a long high rubble heap, ruins of the Spanish mission stand as a stark reminder of conflict; ironic, in that the mission ruins are a symbol of the disease and loss of agricultural land to Spanish settlers that ultimately was the downfall of Cicuye.