Ancient Shangri-La

Steep canyon walls lifted from the earth on both sides. Dank, cold air rose from the muddy bottom as we stepped over branches and stagnant water. It was only us and no one else for miles. We were alone.

My boots were still wet from wading through a thigh-deep stream that morning. Normally the wash was nearly dry, but soaking rains had flooded the channel and we had no other options other than to cross.

Now as we hiked up the short canyon I noticed an alcove in the distance. There it is, I thought. With reluctant legs I trudged up the muddy bank with Jenna at my heels. Then it came into view⸺a rectangular stone structure perched inaccessibly on a shelf high on the cliff. 

We walked along the edge of the alcove on the lower level, skirting a jumble of boulders and rabbit brush. Another group of ruins came into view, some collapsed and others well preserved. 

The timbered roofs had long since disappeared, but the wall to one stood perfectly intact and a low door led inside a room. The face of the cliff served as a back wall for the room. On one side of the cliff was the reversed red image of a hand. Nearby was another hand, but with unusually long fingers. This one was not painted, but lightly etched into the rock. 

Smooth grooves were carved into slabs of rock. This is where the Anasazi ground their corn and sharpened their knives. It is hard to believe that people actually lived here over 800 years ago. Back then there was probably perennial water running from a spring. 

But it was also evident that they were on the defense. They were hiding. They protected themselves in the canyons and high on the cliffs. They were pursued by an enemy. 

We moved past the cliff dwelling and deeper into the short canyon. Now we hoped to find a way out and onto the ridge. Then Jenna called out, “Dad, look! There's a shed!” 

She has better eyes than I do and I turned, looking for a man-built structure. I was baffled as to why a shed would be built out here. “Where?” I asked. 

She pointed to the ground in front of her, but recoiled when that “shed” was still on the animal. “It's an elk and it's laying down!” 

Now I saw it. But it wasn't just laying down. It was dead. It looked as if he had tumbled because his neck was contorted in such a way that he was face-down, his front tines pierced into the dirt. A bullet hole entered behind his left quarter and came out his neck. It was as if he was shot on the ridge and tumbled into the canyon. Who knew what really happened? It was a sad situation. He was a six-point bull with a beautiful spread. 

The dead elk lay near the end of the canyon and from here we found two possible routes out. Both required a steep climb up sloughed earth and then a precarious walk across very slanted slickrock. We felt comfortable with neither so decided to backtrack and find a safer route. 

Back a couple hundred yards we found a rocky ramp that led onto the slickrock. We moved upward toward the ridge. By now the wind blew unobstructed so I paused to put on a jacket and beenie.

Daylight was quickly drawing to an end. We had perhaps twenty minutes until the sun went down. Cold wind beat across our faces as we exerted a consistent uphill climb. I don't know if we were wise or not, but with the sun nearing the horizon, we had yet to reach our destination. 

As we approached the top we were suddenly met with disappointment as we learned that the slope we were on didn't quite meet the top of the ridge. We would have to descend the rock, then ascend another steep slope. We didn't have time for that. 

But we found another option that tempted us. Off to our right was a secluded valley whose westernmost edge sat at the top of the ridge. Pink cliffs sat on all sides and a faint trail ran through the middle that we supposed could later take us back to camp. 

We found a way off the rocky knob and down to the secluded valley. It was now just fifteen minutes until dusk and the sun's final rays slanted across the red clay and juniper trees. 

This isolated place had a mystical feel to it. On the far side of the valley we spotted an alcove with more Anasazi dwellings. This little valley was their home. I envisioned brown-skinned children playing on the soil or a fire kindled amidst their rock houses. 

We knew we didn't have much time so we quickly made our way to the rim. A grand view unfolded before our eyes. From our birds-eye vantage point we saw yet another valley, this one much larger, stretching from north to south for miles beyond what we were able to see. An empty, dusty road snaked along the bottom. Beyond that road to the west sat a complex of deep canyons, but the haze of the setting sun made them barely visible. 

Jenna sat on the edge and enjoyed the view. I heard that there were Moki steps that led to this very location, but could not see them, nor could I comprehend how they could be made on such a sheer cliff.

Just as the sun dipped below the horizon we decided to walk to the alcove. This ancient dwelling had remained intact for 800 years. I could detect at least five rooms now crumbled to the ground, one of which had walls on two sides that still stood several feet high. The rocks of the walls were held together by mud. 

With reluctance, but out of necessity, we found the faint path that led out of the valley and through the canyon. There was still enough light that our eyes could adjust. The post-dusk air became strikingly cold. White ocher walls towered on both sides and I knew that as we walked there were more secrets out there yet to be discovered. 

We avoided puddles of standing water when we could. The further down the canyon we got the more dense the vegetation became, with tender willows and pliable limbs. We exited the canyon and came out onto a slickrock flat. This was the first point at which we used our flashlights. 

Back at camp we struggled to cook dinner in the dark on a propane stove. A gentle, but cold breeze blew across the sage brush plain where many ancients once called home. I stretched my hands toward the flames. On the western horizon, just above the ridge, Jupiter and Venus slowly crept into oblivion. ♠

 

Almudena Cemetery—Cusco

The taxi drove us to Avenida Antonio Lorena and dropped us off in front of a large plaza. We paid him eight soles. Inca ladies sold arrangements of flowers on one side of the plaza. A vendor inside a kiosk sold decorations and snacks. 

Along the other side of the plaza was painted a mural with all sorts of colorful characters. Some wore masks, others played instruments, some wore ceremonial garb, but all the painted characters stood in this same plaza. 

Along that same side of the plaza were the walls of the cemetery. These walls were made of brick that appeared much older. Within the walls, but high enough to see from without, was the beautiful dome of a chapel. An archway along the wall served as an entrance to the cemetery. They say this wall was used by firing squads during the 19th century. 

The Cementerio General de La Almudena was built between 1846 and 1850 using rubble from the Convent of San Augustín that was destroyed during the Peruvian War of Independence. They chose an area far away from the city center where a hospital and the Temple of Almudena already stood. 

We entered through the archway into a world of the dead. The cemetery follows the same style as those found in Spain with most of the deceased placed in vaults and stacked in stories on top of each other. We walked down the various alleyways, taking note of names and dates. Nothing was very old. Most death dates came after the year 2000. I didn't know if there was a point when they removed older burials, or if we just couldn't find them. 

As I mentioned, outside the cemetery there were several booths selling flowers, while inside the cemetery we saw several families arranging flowers for loved ones. Each tomb had a shadow box where the family could display mementos such as soda cans, trinkets, eye glasses, flowers etc. 

Some families had mausoleums large enough to fit several tombs. Most of these we could look inside and see decorations, as well as individual tombs. One had stairs so we walked down and found twelve separate tombs. 

On the southwest corner of the cemetery was an old chapel with a large dome. The oldest burials we found were centered around this chapel. Here we also found the fanciest brickwork and elaborate statues. The dome belongs to the Temple of Almudena.  The chapel, which appears connected to the temple, is the Central Chapel of Santo Roma. The chapel used to house the funeral rites of the cemetery but now is used as an incinerator. 

One section that stood out was a wing of stacked vaults that were of a noticeably smaller size. I asked one of the workers who was entombed in these and he replied that they were children. By the diminutive size of the vaults, I concluded that they must have been babies. 

The cemetery was a busy place. Families visited loved ones, workers repaired walls and guards kept an eye on everyone. A dog even lounged in an alleyway, watching everyone go by. 

The cemetery lies on a hill overlooking the valley of Cusco. From certain points in the cemetery you can see the distant slopes near San Blas. Appearing small, but very distinct, is the statue of the White Christ with his arms stretched out. ♠