Puye/Bandelier 2, Chris & Rita 0

Okay, they got the best of us (mostly me, though I am loathe to admit it), but things are looking up now.  There was something about climbing down off the Puye Cliffs that disagreed with my leg muscles to a degree that had me moaning longer that it should have.  My pard experienced a bit of discomfort, but professed little more than that.

But before I have us climbing down, perhaps I will write a bit about being up there.  We had never heard of the Puye Cliffs, but when I saw a roadside sign for a turnoff to it and did a bit of research, we determined to investigate.

The site is tribal-owned, Santa Clara Pueblo to be exact, whose members are descendants of the 1500 or so of those who inhabited the Puye Cliff site from the 900s to 1580 A.D.  It is the largest prehistoric settlement on the Pajarito Plateau, with extensive ruins both on the mesa top and along the cliff face.

One original structure still stands among a vast partially excavated warren of room walls.

The site is accessible only via tours guided by Santa Clara peoples; Ernest led our small group of five, and had many tales that had been passed down from the elders.  The easy part was achieving the mesa top by van, and exploring the extensive ruins while enjoying the distant vistas.

Younger tribe members remud the exposed ruins to maintain them, we were told.  Excavations were done in the early 1900s, then ceased inexplicably and never resumed, leaving much of the area as nature reclaimed it after the peoples departed.

We had two choices to get from mesa top to cliff dwelling level: we could be smart enough to have the van pick us up, or we could take the route utilized by those folks who came before.  Of course we opted to climb down . . .

. . . perhaps not our most astute choice, as my leg muscles attest still after several days.  I'm fairly certain that Ernest was less than truthful when he said the oldest person who had taken that route was 97 years of age.  The photo below, taken from the top, does nothing really to convey what it was like slip-sliding down that rock face following the chutes & steps chipped & smoothed in antiquity by people whose only route it was to egress the mesa top.  It was nominally scary for me to undertake, but not the first thing I have done that made me doubt my sanity.  And it did not really hurt much at the time.  After our perusal of the cliff-side site, my legs commenced their protest as I descended the 30-foot ladder that delivered us to a more level land; however, a van (helicopter maybe?) rescue was no longer available, thus began the damage.

The extensive site once included multiple levels of dwellings built out from the cliff face.  Horizontal row after row of holes remain that once held roof beams for additional rooms.

Ernest & I had a little fun as he pretended to be ready to catch Chris lest he fall from the ladder.

Not surprisingly, the señor had a few tales to share with Ernest during and after our tour.

Interesting that the Puye Cliffs visitor center and exhibit hall was constructed and utilized as a Harvey House, the only one in the nation located on an Indian reservation.

New trip birds in that area were Say's phoebe & western kingbird.

Hopeful rehabilitation at Ojo Caliente . . .

I came, I saw, I mudded . . .

. . . alas, neither that nor the relaxing mineral hot springs relieved the pain in my legs.  In fact, I had a heck of a time accessing the pools via their few downward steps.

An earlier stop at a fruit stand allowed us to obtain fabulous tree-ripened peaches and other delectables.  The señor enjoyed his more than one would suppose based on this photo.

At the springs, we added barn swallow to the trip list, although I'm certain we saw them previously in the journey.

Hiking the canyon at Bandelier . . .

. . . was a good stretch for my Puye-impaired leg muscles, although it was touch 'n go with all the downward steps and slopes, which surely enough are present right after the upward steps and slopes.  There was plenty of both, but it was worth the discomfort to see the multiple prehistoric sites all along the canyon's sides and valley bottom.

There were similarities between the ruins at Bandelier and Puye, all a bit different than any of the other ruins we've seen around the Southwest.  The soft volcanic tufa cliff surfaces have weathered into bizarre shapes, some that give the appearance of melting candle wax . . .

 

. . . and some were reminiscent of ancient Easter Island carved figures.

As the trail climbed, we had a great overview of the lower village.

A few caves and alcoves bore the remains of ancient petroglyphs; not many of those remain on the more weather-exposed surfaces.

Two young women were revisiting the site they had enjoyed at age 10.  They wanted their photo taken, and of course offered to reciprocate.

This kiva had been closed to entry due to vandalism in the past.  How very sad that anyone would damage such a place!

This rock art has been preserved behind a clear covering.

The canyon is quite beautiful and peaceful (and a long walk, but I think I've mentioned sore muscles previously).

The prize at the end is the Alcove House, situated high up on the sheer cliff in, rather obviously, an alcove.  Access is not for the faint of heart, nor is it for those who have hurt themselves descending from other cliff dwellings.

In my case, the spirit was rarin' to go, the legs not so much, so the señor abandoned me to my fate and set off and up.  The climb is 140 vertical feet via ladders and steps, not too bad an accomplisment for someone with two newish knee replacements.  

As for me, I used the time to proceed further along the trail into the Bandelier Wilderness Area . . .

. . . which gained enough elevation to allow me to view the kiva within the alcove at a distance.

Meanwhile, Chris had completed his climb and recorded the site within via cell photos . . .

. . . as I recorded his descent (yes, he is in the photo).

New birds identified at Bandelier were canyon wren and a very bold spotted towhee that hoped for a share of our lunch as we enjoyed a break along the trail.

Our journey out to Bandelier was of necessity via park service bus, a rickety rackety half-hour trip.  The return trip became very enjoyable when I spent the entire time in conversation with a fellow grandmother who lives in nearby Los Alamos, and was hosting her out-of-town families for Bandelier.  We had lots in common, including an overriding interest in family history.  I expect to hear from her after we hit it off so well.