Puye Cliffs
Ever wonder what it might be like to live in a cave? Last weekend, when Jim and I drove out to Puye Cliffs to participate in their Open House, I had a chance to examine that question up close and personal.
Doorways in the Rock
As so often on such expeditions, our friend Michael Wester was with us. During the nearly two hour drive north from Albuquerque, our conversation ranged from the prehistoric peoples who had occupied the land over which we traveled, to the very modern issues of computer technology, to the role of entropy in the choices we make. The weather noticeably cooled as we moved north. The pale green of the cottonwoods showed as a pale ribbon of green that meandered through the darker greens of the pinyon and juniper, contrasting against the golden brown of rock and sand.
When we arrived at Puye (pronounced “poo-yay”), the cliffs dominated the landscape, their color shifting from grey-brown to almost golden, depending on the light. Since the day was partly cloudy, we had ample opportunity to enjoy the shifting hues and enjoy the crisp mid-morning air.
For the first hour or so of our visit, we observed the cliffs from below. The small Puye Cliffs museum and gift shop occupies a former Harvey House, built in the 1930′s to cater to tourists who found the newly expanding railroad a wonderful way to explore the Wild West. According to the brochure, “puye” means “place where the rabbits gather,” a name that provides at least one indication as to why the area was originally settled.
As part of the Open House, Jim was giving a flintknapping demonstration. As he used hammer stones and pieces of deer antler to break off flakes that might eventually be turned into arrowheads, I helped by explaining what he was doing to groups which included both residents of Santa Clara pueblo and tourists in for the day.
In between batches of visitors, I soaked in Chuck Hannaford’s explanations of the various primitive tools and weapons that are part of the kit used in the educational outreach program sponsored by the Office of Archaeological Studies where Chuck and Jim both work. I already knew that the arrowhead was considered the “disposable” part of a spearhead or atlatl dart. However, many of the creative ways the primitive weapons makers had come up with to preserve the valuable straight wooden shafts were new to me.
Several tour groups came and went, then it was our turn to ascend the cliffs.
Our guide was Sam, a big burly man from Santa Clara pueblo, the Tewa group that is descended from the original inhabitants of these cliffs. There is still some debate as to where the inhabitants of Puye Cliffs came from originally. Some say they came from Chaco Canyon and Mesa Verde. However, many archeologists now feel the inhabitants were present in the Rio Grande valley long before the migrations from further north. Either way, Sam’s ancestors have lived in this region for thousands of years.
The cliff dwellings were in use when the Spanish came into New Mexico in 1598, although much of the population had moved into the lowlands where there was better farming and more water. During the pueblo revolt of 1680, the cliffs became one of the strongholds of the revolt. Today, the caves are vacant. However, Sam’s tour was sprinkled with anecdotes related to his own childhood, of visiting the cliffs with his father (who was also a guide) and of splashing with his brother in the water held in a catch basin built by his long-ago ancestors to supply their needs.
Puye Cliffs are made from relatively soft volcanic tuff – a stone formed from dense concentrations of volcanic ash. In this case, the ash was supplied by the explosion that created the Valles Caldera, a massive explosion that scattered debris as far as Kansas and Louisiana. The tuff could be easily hollowed out, making small caves that held heat in the winter and remained cool in the summer. The interior of these caves was plastered to help improve the natural insulation. Where the rocky shelf outside the caves permitted, blocks of tuff were used as bricks to make more roomy habitations. Although these exterior structures were gone, we could still see the holes in the cliff face where the narrow logs used to support the roofs had once rested.
Since the cliff dwellings occupied several levels connected by ladders, they reminded me of apartment buildings. As we walked along the trail, Sam pointed out various petroglyphs etched into the stone. In many cases, the pictures were the clan signs of the group that had occupied that particular area. Sometimes more than one clan sign was displayed side by side and may have indicated closely related clans.
Sam pointed out places where the interior of the caves had been sculpted to make living more comfortable. Among the most common adaptations were hollowed areas meant to hold water jugs. As Sam explained with a grin, water was very precious and in those relatively crowded spaces, it would be all too easy for an overactive child to spill the supplies. One of my favorite caves was the one where a weaver had once lived. Two holes in the wall showed where the top of the loom had been anchored.
The cliff dwellings were not the only place the inhabitants resided. On top of the mesa was a sprawling pueblo (now little more than a mound with scattered courses of blocks indicating where the rooms once stood). Here, too, were the kivas – the rounded buildings in which sacred dances and other rituals were held. All of this was framed by wide reaching views over the green forests, to the surrounding mountains.
Today, it is hard to imagine the vibrant community that once must have lived here. The quiet, windswept areas seem to belong very much to the snakes, rabbits, and birds that we glimpsed. One of Sam’s favorite stories was about the mountain lion who rambled among the caves just last year. Needless to say, tours were halted until the puma moved on, but Sam showed us a place where the big cat had leapt to use one of the ladders, scraping its claws against the soft stone, leaving its own mark to join the petroglyphs of the former inhabitants.
I found myself wondering what it would have been like to live at Puye. Would I have chosen one of the cave dwellings, neat and snug, caught between earth and sky? Would I have preferred to live on top of the mesa where the views stretch seemingly forever?
I’m not sure which would have been better.. I do know that I’ll go back someday. Maybe then I’ll decide.
