A Picnic on Petroglyph Cliff

No visit to the 7MSN is ever complete without a hike up Petroglyph Cliff. 

I took the GoPro this time so that you might experience what's in store for you should you ever visit

in person. I have it on good authority (Mr. Scientist from this post sent me an email) 

that the petroglyphs on this cliff were the works of the Southern Tewa Pueblo, 

who occupied my neighborhood between 1350 and 1500 A.D.

Danni, Paul and I partied with them in spirit.

Ethel, Fred and Lucy tour the neighborhood

 Since this was Fred's first visit to the 7MSN, we all piled into the Ranger

for a neighborhood sightseeing tour.

 Our first stop was what I call "mini Stonehenge." 

I stumbled upon it many years ago on one of my petroglyph hunts,

and it proved as mysterious this time as the first.

 It's an ancient circle of rocks...

 ...surrounded by a half dozen or so smaller circles of rocks...

 ...and upon all the rocks are still more circles.

We all walked in circles looking at these circles, trying to figure out how they got there.

Every rock in the immediate vicinity had at least one or two;

they look like targets, with a lighter circle inside a darker circle. 

Until proven otherwise, I'm going to believe that the ancient ones used the rocks

to make a celestial map, and the circles represent stars.

My alternate explanation is a flock of birds with very symmetrical poop frequents the area.

Google has been of no help (so far) in support of either theory.

Here is what the area looks like from Google Earth's satellite view.

It seems to me like there are circular paths around the rock circles.

It also seems to me like the area is outlined by the profile of a lion, or maybe a man with big hair?

It probably seems to you that too many margaritas were consumed over the weekend.

I shall neither confirm nor deny.

 Our next stop was the pictograph site. I've written about this site before,

but in all my previous visits, I'd never taken a close look at the surrounding area.

 Sure enough, a few paces down from the pictographs were more circles, 

this time with dark centers. More stars? More symmetrical bird poop? More tequila?

 I'm hoping a knowledgeable archeologist will stumble across this post

and put an end to these mysteries.

 Our last stop was the homestead on the hill.

(p.s. We didn't find any circles on the rocks.)

The homestead on the hill has a cave, where we kicked back and enjoyed a picnic lunch

while contemplating the mysteries of the universe and the neighborhood.

This is what all the fuss was about

Remember the bus story? How could you forget? It was the one where I was heading out to the highway to escort the hay man back to the ranch, when I ran into a tour bus smack dab in the middle of nowhere. These tourists had paid a bunch of money to see my neighborhood petroglyphs. The good thing that came of this misadventure was that I was able to get precise directions to the petroglyphs, which I had failed to find on two previous attempts.

Anyway, over the weekend I went looking for them again. Since the directions included "crawl under the barbed wire fence," I went unaccompanied, except for my camera.

The petroglyphs were not as easy to find as I was led to believe, and there was more than one moment when I said to myself "why oh why did you not tell someone where you were going, you knucklehead?" but I did find them.

So this is what all the fuss was about. Those orange and red images are actually pictographs as opposed to petroglyphs (pictographs are painted onto the surface of rocks whereas petroglyphs are etched or carved). From what I've been able find on Google, I think the images are masks of some sort. These pictographs are located on a rock overhang, and the area underneath was just about big enough for one person to take shelter. As my imagination started to run off in its usual wild direction wondering about the artist, I looked at the ground beneath the overhang. (Cue ominous music.)

What's this? A sacred offering to the gods? Nobody told me I was supposed to bring a gift.

Upon closer examination, I figured out it was just some rodent who had chosen this place to die. Still, it was kind of weird that he picked this particular spot. Moving on...

To the right of the masks, the panel of pictographs continued. The images now looked like masks wearing blindfolds. And what about the smokey blue vertical lines to the right? Where's Mr. Scientist when you need him to explain these things?

Further to the right and in the very bottom right-hand corner of the picture above, I spotted some petroglyphs. I tiptoed through some tall grass, convinced that a rattlesnake or two was lying in wait, to get a better look.

Ho-hum. As far as neighborhood petroglyphs go, this set was pretty mundane compared to the ones I showed here. However, whomever carved these drawings chose this spot for a reason. The rock face is at a unique angle that catches the wind just right.

Above and to the left of the petroglyphs, you can see how the wind eroded a cave in the rock, where a very large (or strong) creature has now built a nest. And below the nest, the wind has carved out a formation worthy of those famous ones in Utah, albeit on a much smaller scale.

Here's a closer look at mini Moab.

I walked crawled beyond the petroglyph panel for a few more yards and found one last pictograph:

It is a mask-like figure with six toes and an evil eye, who appears to be guarding a passageway through the rocks. (Note to archeaology students who may have landed here: author has an active imagination and you probably shouldn't cite her in any research papers.)

When I find stuff like this so close to home, I can't help but wonder about all the people who have lived here before me...who they were, what they wore, where they shopped, why they chose to live in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the middle of nowhere used to be the middle of somewhere? Maybe I should just stop wondering and go do my chores.

The third weirdest thing that's ever happened at the 7MSN

You guys called it in the comments. "Events happen in threes," you said. "What will happen next?" you asked. I scoffed. A mad-scientist kind of fire, two fully dressed horses showing up in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere..that was enough weird stuff for the week a lifetime, right? Wrong.

It was Saturday afternoon. The Hay Man called and said he could be here in an hour with another load. He had delivered the first load on Friday but had some trouble getting up Steep Rocky Hill, so we agreed that he should take the alternate route from the highway. While it is more twisty-turny and up-and-downy, it would be a better choice than to risk dropping the whole load of hay on Steep Rocky Hill. I told Hay Man I would meet him at the highway and escort him the 8.7 miles back to the 7MSN.

I hopped in my truck and happily made my way out to the highway – happy because my hay barn would soon be full, I didn't have to do all the work by myself for once, and I didn't have to deal with the stress of hauling hay up and down the road.

About halfway to the meet-up spot, I rounded a curve on the narrow, barely-one-lane dirt road and there was A Bus. A great big honking motorcoach of a bus, dropping off a load of camera-toting tourists. Excuse me? This is nowhere, this is not Disneyland! What are you doing here and why are you in my road and how is Hay Man going to get past you to fill up my hay barn? I tried to remain calm while the bus driver explained to me that these tourists had come from all over the United States to view the petroglyphs. "Well, isn't that nice," I said aloud, while my inner voice was screaming "get the f* out of my road, my Hay Man is coming." Bus Driver said he couldn't pull over any further without tipping the bus over. I said try.

I got my truck around the bus with a millimeter to spare, then proceeded to the highway to meet Hay Man, who showed up a little later than anticipated because he had lost all the tread on one of the trailer tires. The tire still held air so Hay Man thought if he drove slowly, he would make it. I thought he was nuts. I was skeptical. I sized up the hay trailer, and it wasn't any wider than his or my truck, so I was cautiously optimistic that we might be able to squeeze by the bus...if we made it that far.

Slowly we drove and all was well. We got to the parked bus just as the tourists were hiking down the hill from the petroglyphs. They saw Hay Man's truck and heavily laden trailer and started to gather 'round. I squeezed past the bus, parked, and got out to guide Hay Man through.

Two things were obvious: 1) the treadless trailer tire was now shredded to a pulp and Hay Man was driving on the rim; 2) the tourists thought this might be as interesting as the petroglyphs and began taking pictures. Perhaps they are bloggers, too. 

I did not have my camera with me so am forced to recreate the scene from a picture taken at the exact location about three years ago, when I unsuccessfully tried to find the petroglyphs these folks had come to see. (Here's the link to that post.)

One very nice gentleman who was taking pictures of Hay Man's truck shoehorned next to the bus approached me and asked if that was my hay and if I had a ranch back here. He commented that this was probably the first bus I had ever seen on this road and I confessed it was. He apologized for the inconvenience and explained the significance of the petroglyphs and that he was the lead scientist of the group and I think he said he was from UCLA. I would have been paying more attention but my stomach was starting to churn over the flat tire and how we were going to get 125 bales of hay down the road. Anyway, Mr. Scientist told me exactly where the famed petroglyphs are, so I should be able to find them next time I venture up that way, and for that I am eternally grateful.

While I was chit-chatting with Mr. Scientist, Hay Man and Bus Driver were discussing the odds of traveling another four miles on a rim, a wing and a prayer. The shredded rubber still clung to the rim, and I theorized that we'd be driving on dirt, so even if the rubber fell off we might still be ok. We'd made it this far... Hay Man, God bless him, wasn't the least bit upset. He said, "Hay Hey, nobody's getting hurt. Let's try it." I know his inner voice was saying a rosary or two. Maybe three.

Hay Man successfully squeezed around the bus, drove across four more cattle guards, and made it to my hay barn with the rubber still hanging on to the rim. He may have fallen to his knees to pray when we finally arrived.

Unloading and stacking the hay seemed like child's play after what we had just gone through. I thanked Hay Man profusely for delivering his gorgeous green grass hay under less than ideal circumstances, then he removed the rim from the trailer and drove off on the three remaining tires.

So I think we would all agree that there has been entirely too much weirdness and drama around here lately. I hope to return with our standard bucolic fare tomorrow.

p.s. Google tells me that the people in the bus were actually on a trip called "Under Southwest Skies – Astronomy, Archaeology, and Summer Solstice in the American Southwest," led by Dr. E.C. Krupp, director of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles – a.k.a. Mr. Scientist.

My own private petroglyphs

Ok, they’re not exactly my own, but I can pretend, can’t I? As I was chasing off a trespasser one day, he mentioned he had heard that there was a petroglyph of a rattlesnake that could be seen from the dirt road that leads back into here from the highway. I was a tad skeptical, but started looking for it each time I headed out. I finally looked in the right place one day and saw it.

Since then, I’ve led intrepid visitors up the cliff to see this rock art up close and personal. I’ve tried to figure out how old it is and who might have carved it and what it might mean, and all I’ve determined is: it’s really old, it may have been carved by any number of native peoples who once lived around here, and it’s anybody’s guess what it means. I do know that it’s really cool.

There are dozens of petroglyphs all along the edge of this cliff.




Many more have tumbled down as the cliff has eroded. It’s sacred ground, to be sure, and a well-kept secret around these parts. Despite its proximity to the highway and the dirt road below it, vandals have left it alone, except for one knucklehead who carved his initials nearby.

I’ve posted a full set of petroglyph pictures on my Flickr page, if you’d like to look at them up close. I’ll keep their exact location a secret, but if you ever happen to be in central New Mexico and want to get the bird’s eye view, just let me know–and bring your hiking boots.