Day Nine - Mesa Verde and the Solar Eclipse

Day Nine - 20th May - An Asazani Eclipse

Today I saw my second Solar Eclipse this time though it was slightly more incredible than watching it from the steps of Godstowe. Back then, surrounded by hundreds of stereotypical English private school girls, our awe was somewhat diluted by the fact that we all had to line up, single-file, row upon row, staring up at the sky and sneaking peaks over the rims of our goofy glasses when we thought no one was looking.

Instead, as we giddily wait at the top of the hill, we’re surrounded by people who are obsessed with this eclipse. There are people here who have been preparing for months for this exact experience. They have cameras that are filming the actual occurrence, cameras filming us as we run around and talk and almost burst with excitement, and of course cameras for photos too. They have special screens with them to make sure their cameras aren’t fried by the sun. They’re more prepared than a Thanksgiving turkey. Tom pretty much led our motley troupe through the whole thing, his Starwatch app making him the one in the know. I’m fairly certain he could do anything he wanted with his life – he just seems to know so much about so many different things. Anyway, he was the one that realised the eclipse was happening and did all that hocus-pocus-technology stuff to put us at the top of that hill.

We’d spent the day exploring the Asazani Cliff Dwellings – citadel like ruins that are literally built into crevasse-type gouges in the side of the cliffs. If you read about the solitary Buddhist monasteries that cling to the edges of mountains or miraculously perch over a frothing gorge, you’ll have some idea of what these  ruins are like: strange, unique, many storied impossibilities. We heard the little history that’s know about them. Likely lived in around the time of Christ or not long after. Likely abandoned around two or three hundred years later. At first where we visited seemed the only settlement but there were ruins everywhere. In fact, we’d all poured out into one of the many standing structures that repeated as far as the eye could see. Ancient stones had tumbled and not moved for hundreds of years, lichen and moss-covered now, home to insects and worm. A perfect place to hide from the elements or the enemy as their camouflage colours conceal the majority whilst the caves themselves do the rest.

The tour guide was what we’d later realised was a fairly typical Santa Fe character.

“The experience of the ruins is like touching out into the universal history of mankind.” He says in a slow, soft voice, “It changes your soul. I’m going to take you on a journey and it’ll change you.”

Cynical as it may sound, fairly certain he was a wee bit deluded. Life changing was Yosemite or the Navajo – a forty minute tour surrounded by thirty-odd blobby Americans and Ranger Scott crying over his red bike , being ushered through faster than it takes to snap a photo... it’s the sort of thing that hints at history, suggests a one-time world and  culture then strips it of any and all power.

Yet an impromptu trek up to the top of a hill, surrounded by hippies strumming Wagonwheel whilst waiting for the ring of fire. THAT was the experience that made a difference to us all.

Furthermore, we did learn some interesting stories about the different ‘worlds’ – I found it curious that the Ancient Greeks and Romans imagined the world detracting from the Golden Age to the Iron Age (our own), yet the Asazani reversed it – seeing progress from the First World to the Third and the Fifth (our own). Perhaps it’s worth some reading. However, those stories will never have the ring that Richie’s voice gave How the Stars were Made nor lend the peculiar mystery that lingered in Jordan’s.

A wonderful day – completed with Dave buying dinner at a quaint little place in Durango but I’d definitely urge people to go to the ruins early and embrace the bizarre there. And try to avoid dear old tearful Scotty. 

Je serai poète et toi poésie,
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