Bandelier. The name evinces mystery, beauty, antiquity. Just saying it makes me want to be there. Bandelier National Monument was the first place I ever visited in New Mexico, two years ago, and it keeps drawing me back. When I returned in April, I planned to spend the whole day exploring the monument on foot.
First things first
But… I’d left our brand-new camera on the plane two days earlier, and despite filling out Alaska’s online “lost items” form and repeatedly calling the 800 number and the Albuquerque Sunport in hopes of talking to a real person, I’d run into dead ends. Turns out Alaska closed its baggage office at ABQ, and the only way to reach anyone there was by going. So instead of heading east to Bandelier right after breakfast, I headed south to the airport.
Fortunately, the 66-mile trip was quick, thanks to the 75 mph speed limit and light traffic. I walked up to the Alaska counter, told them I’d lost my camera, and after asking me for a description, the agent ducked behind a door and came out holding it in her hand. I was so relieved. Let the adventure begin!
Choosing a hike
The worthwhile detour to recover the camera meant that it was after 1:00 p.m. when I walked into the visitor center at Bandelier. I showed our annual pass to the ranger and handed her my ID. “I’m from Spanaway!” she exclaimed, noticing my Olympia address. The towns are about 25 miles apart. We heard a voice behind us: “We’re from Tacoma!” It was a guy in a Seahawks jersey and his wife. We exchanged some Mount Rainier National Park stories, then got down to planning.
The ranger recommended hiking up to and along the canyon rim, past the unexcavated Frijolito archaeological site, then returning via a gentle descent back into the canyon. Although I’d hoped to do a longer hike, this five-miler would provide lots of opportunities to stop and observe the cliff dwellings from a high vantage point. Sounded good to me.
Despite the altitude-induced headache I’d suffered on arriving in New Mexico, I knew I was fully recovered when I started to climb the switchbacks to the rim. I was breathing hard — it was steep — but without difficulty. It was great to feel normal again, and to be in one of my favorite places. I heard the descending notes of a canyon wren singing as I neared the top. Our friend John had identified the captivating little birds on our hike into Rio Grande del Norte National Monument, and I was delighted to be able to spot them here.
The many treasures of Bandelier
President Woodrow Wilson created Bandelier National Monument in 1916, about six months before the National Park Service came into being. Named for Alfred Bandelier, a Swiss anthropologist who studied the cultures of the Southwest and advocated preserving the site in the 1880s, the 33,000-acre monument protects archaeological, historical, cultural, and natural treasures. Famed for the aptly-named Long House, a stretch of dwellings known as cavates hand-carved into the relatively soft volcanic tuff of the canyon walls, as well as the excavated circular village of Tyuonyi (QU-weh-nee) next to Frijoles Creek, the monument offers an extraordinary opportunity to contemplate the daily life of ancestral Puebloans. Pictographs and petroglyphs tell stories we don’t entirely understand. Kivas served as ceremonial and religious centers.
Archaeologists have identified more than 3,000 sites throughout the monument. The bulk of these date from between 1350 and 1500, although there is evidence of human presence in Frijoles Canyon from 10,000 years ago. Today, six pueblos claim ancestral ties to Bandelier: Cochiti, San Ildefonso, San Felipe, Santo Domingo, Santa Clara, and Zuni. Pueblo members work with the National Park Service on research and preservation projects.
On the canyon rim
Atop the rim, the trail flattened and the views expanded. I suspect most visitors to Bandelier view the cliff dwellings from the excellent Main Loop Trail, perhaps venturing another half-mile to the series of ladders and stone steps leading 140 feet above the canyon floor to Alcove House. That’s how we explored Bandelier in 2016. But seeing the cavates from the rim provided a new perspective into the extent and sophistication of the communities created by the ancestral Puebloans in Frijoles Canyon. I could see the Main Loop Trail and the Frey Trail, which descends the opposite wall of the canyon. I could see the Tyuonyi Overlook Trail, an out-and-back from Juniper Campground that affords a view into the remarkable village site. How many of these trails follow ancient paths, I wondered. The current entrance road was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s; access prior to that date was via the Frey Trail.
Bandelier has more than 70 miles of trails, and 70 percent of the monument is designated wilderness. If you’ve got time and stamina, it’s easy to leave the crowds behind. Atop the plateau, the Jemez Mountains sit on the horizon. Alligator junipers, pinyon pines, and other desert plants grow scattered on the plateau. Deer tracks abounded. When I walked, I saw no one.
Timelessness and quiet
Visitors to Bandelier are often struck by a sense of timelessness that imbues the place. Centuries of habitation have left intriguing evidence of ancient cultures, even as modern structures have been added over the last century. Perhaps some of that life-force remains, because I experienced a sense of profound peacefulness walking along the canyon rim. Time seemed to slow down as I inhaled the desert air and stopped to look around. Long swaths of white cloud formed and dissolved in the spring sky. Mr. Adventure would be at his conference until late that evening. I had no schedule other than that imposed by the track of the sun across the sky. What a gift to be able to sit on a rock and simply be.
That’s what Bandelier does to me, and why I feel inexorably pulled to return.
The breeze pushed me along, past the unmarked Frijolito site to a junction with trails leading to Yapashi Pueblo, a 12-mile round trip. Perhaps next time. Now, though, I needed to turn downward toward the canyon floor. As I descended, dawdling a bit to extend the magic of the hike, I could occasionally hear the murmur of voices carried up the canyon walls. Clad in desert khaki, I imagined the walkers below could not see me camouflaged against the cliffs.
Too soon, I was crossing the bridge over Frijoles Creek. It was nearly 5:00 p.m. and the monument was emptying. I stopped at the Western National Parks Association store to pick up some postcards and a copy of Jennet Conant’s 109 East Palace, a social history of Los Alamos that friends had recommended. Crossing the parking lot, I spotted an Abert’s squirrel darting under a picnic table. I wasn’t ready for the day to be over, so I decided to head to Bandelier’s smaller Tsankawi (SAN-keh-wee) section, about 15 miles away.
Tsankawi Loop Trail
Mr. Adventure and I had hiked Tsankawi two years ago, and as soon as I stepped onto the trail I remembered our utter delight in exploring this place. The loop trail heads up the side of a mesa. Hikers have the option of climbing a ladder in a few places. Atop the mesa, an unexcavated village contains clusters of fallen masonry block walls and potsherds scattered everywhere. Despite multiple signs warning against removing antiquities, I’ve been told the Park Service “salts” the site because so many pottery pieces are taken by visitors.
The Tsankawi trail is a wonder. Although only 1.5 miles long, it is so interesting, and there is so much to explore along its length, that it takes me at least two hours to complete it. Trod by thousands of feet over thousands of years, it cuts into the volcanic tuff, some places three feet deep. The loop goes to the top of the mesa, with expansive views of the Pajarito Plateau, the Sangre de Cristo and Jemez mountains, and the valley of the Rio Grande. Highway 502 comes in from the east, swinging past Tsankawi and up to Los Alamos. I haven’t yet mastered a sense of direction in this area, and must study a map to orient myself. As I gazed at commuter traffic, I thought about the Manhattan Project up on what locals called “the Hill” during World War II, when it was given over to the development of the atomic bomb. Housing was in such short supply at Los Alamos that some project scientists stayed temporarily at Bandelier Lodge, one of the many structures built at the national monument by the CCC during the Depression. The buildings now house staff and office space, and the lodge lobby is a gift shop.
As I descended from the mesa top and the ruins of the village, I heard voices ahead of me on the trail. Coming around a curve, I met a couple of hikers exploring some of the cliff dwellings. One from California, the other from Wisconsin, they had met that morning in Frijoles Canyon and were hiking together. They, too, found the cliff dwellings fascinating. We climbed up the tuff slopes, sometimes using steps the ancestral Puebloans carved for that purpose. We ducked into some of the cavates, noting blackened ceilings, the chimney holes that let smoke escape, and rows of holes above the doorway that once held roof timbers. We speculated about the defensive features of this village built on a mesa and about the gardens that the ancient peoples tended in the flatlands below. Lingeringly, we strolled toward the end of the loop trail, trading stories about hiking and public lands.
By the time I got to my car, the sun had dipped behind the horizon. I gulped down some iced tea, and reluctantly headed back to Santa Fe. My time at Bandelier had been shorter than I’d planned, but so fulfilling. I already can’t wait to return.
Bandelier was also my first and only introduction to New Mexico – fun to hear about it again!
I visited last October and loved it. I woke up early my last full day in New Mexico and wandered Tsankawi as the sun came up and it was very, very cool. It’s a magical land, for sure.