Ghost Ranch, Part 1

Sorry for not posting last night upon my return from Ghost Ranch, but I was just too tired after a very active - physically and mentally - weekend.

I arrived at Ghost Ranch around 2:00 on Saturday, checked in at the Welcome Center, and headed to my room up on the mesa. My first intro to the Ranch's honor system was no room key. There were locks on the door to use when in my room, but none to secure the room when I was out. I was assigned Room 3 in the Tumbleweed complex, and was immediately impressed. Our friend Janet had stayed at the Ranch last year and described the lodging as abysmal. Turns out she was in one of the old buildings down below - think summer camp cabins. Tumbleweed is very modern, with private bath, a separate sitting room, and views to die for. The Piedra Lumbre basin, of which Ghost Ranch is a part, is known as The Valley of the Shining Stone. It's not hard to see why, given the view I had out the front of my room.

In the other direction is Cerro Pedernal, the flat topped flint mountain which looms over the entire region. This is the mountain that Georgia O'Keeffe, the famous painter, claimed as hers, saying that God said if she painted it enough she could have it. (Of course, if you study Georgia O'Keeffe, you soon find that she thought everything was hers.)

The view toward Pedernal was nearly obscured by smoke from the giant Wallow fire in Southeastern Arizona, which has consumed around 300 square miles since May 29. Though over 200 miles from Santa Fe, we've seen and smelled smoke from the fire, and the sun and moon have often been tinged orange.

After getting settled, I decided to go for a hike. Marie and I have always hiked the Chimney Rock trail here, so I wanted to do something different. I drove to the trailhead for the Box Canyon hike, and almost immediately things got interesting, as they often do when I hike (just ask Marie about Sleeping Giant on Maui). But first a bit of history. Ghost Ranch is now owned by the Presbyterians, but it started out owned by the Archuleta brothers, a couple of vicious cattle rustlers. (Their original casita is now called Ghost House at the Ranch.) They made their living by stealing cattle all over the Piedra Lumbre, and they'd hide them in Box Canyon until they found a buyer. Then they'd drive the cattle under cover of darkness to the new owners. As the saying goes, there's no honor among thieves, and one brother killed the other when he suspected him of hiding money from him. Shortly thereafter, the authorities raided the homestead and hung the remaining brother and his cohorts from a cottonwood tree next door. Ghost Ranch - and Ghost House - got its name from the persistent stories about the sounds of arguing in and around the casita after they died.

Intrigued by the history of Box Canyon, I arrived at the sign that directed me right to the Kitchen Mesa trail and left to the Box Canyon trail. As I have so often done in my life, I took the third option - the unmarked trail in the middle. This led me up an arroyo that was initially dry, then host to a small stream. Off to the left, a formation that looked like an ancient sentinel loomed.

Eventually I lost sight of any trail markers - upside-down green coffee cans - and followed a trail off to the left. This trail got increasingly steep, both up and down, and I had to stop frequently to catch my breath and give my legs a rest (the altitude was around 7000 feet). Finally I got to the rim above the head of a canyon, and continued up to the top of the mesa. Though my instincts told me this couldn't be Box Canyon, I was too tired to do anything but scout around the top of the mesa. The view was amazing, and I found myself beneath one of those quintessential southwest trees.

My scouting was rewarded with the discovery of another lithic site where prehistoric inhabitants chipped tools and weapons. I found one broken obsidian arrowhead and numerous pieces of flint-knapped chert. Though still exhausted, it was time to hightail it back to the dining hall for dinner. Dinner at Ghost Ranch is served from 5:30 to 6:30, no exceptions.

The dining hall is usually crowded with folks visiting Ghost Ranch for retreats, conferences and workshops, but by the time I got there around 6:20 it was nearly empty. A large part of the Ghost Ranch experience is the interaction with other "Ranchers", so I plopped down at the only occupied table and introduced myself to the lone occupant, one of the summer college student interns who had just arrived. She was from LA and went to college at Hiram College in Ohio. Other than offering me a spare dessert, she wasn't too talkative, but eventually warmed up. After she left for a meeting, a minister from - go figure - Washington, DC came up and we talked for a good 30 minutes about New Mexico and retirement. We had a really great talk and I was glad for the company.

Now it was time to retire to my mesa-top view of the shining cliffs to enjoy some quiet time to read and enjoy the sunset. Unfortunately, this was rendered impossible by Michael Jackson. He's gone, right? Not to the wedding reception going on at the foot of the mesa. While I never heard the chicken dance song, every other staple of wedding receptions throbbed - and I do mean throbbed - up and over the mesa for 90 minutes. THIS is not what I came to Ghost Ranch for! I did enjoy the sunset, though. The cliffs really do glow!

The music thankfully stopped around 9:00, so I got some quiet time to read before my eyes refused to stay open any longer. I didn't have ANY trouble falling to sleep.

The next morning, I walked down from the mesa toward the dining hall for breakfast. A woman intersected my path and we ended up eating breakfast together. And so began a VERY interesting day. But that's for the next post ...

Comments

[Gene Kendall]

John....glad to know you've crossed paths with the western mecca for Presbyterians. I was at G Ranch a handful of years ago for just a few hours, but enjoyed its ambiance greatly. Curious as to who the DC pastor was you ran into...enjoying your musings as you travel......Gene

[John]

Hey Gene,

Good to hear from you. The pastor's name was Monroe Wright. He said he was United Methodist.