Escape to Mesa Verde

So I did both--went to the Mesa Verde program and then walked in town. In 20 minutes, I covered about 1/3 of Mancos. And the obvious became so: Deer Hill is tightly wrapped. It's pretty and bucolic, so people from outside come and marvel at how lovely it all is and how great it must be to be here. Inside, though, it's fun and games slathered over a deep pool of strain, tension, and judgment. In the moments when I can unhitch from that--looking up at the stars at night, or sitting alone in an Adirondack chair after lunch--I see the loveliness. Most of the time, though, it's a heavy weight, the kind you don't notice until it lifts.

It lifts for me at Mesa Verde. I love that amphitheater, in the crisp night air, listening to stories and looking up at stars. I like to go early and sit by myself there, reading or plotting (or skating in the parking lot). Tonight, the moon was the kind they draw in children's books, and the program was about animals and the ancient Puebloans--my favorite yet. It's cold (I miss warm summer nights--they don't happen here, ever) and the benches get uncomfortable fast, but I always want to linger afterward, soaking it all up.

National Park evening programs started at Mesa Verde in 1907. Then, Jesse Fuchs, the park anthropologist, would sit around the campfire at night and discuss the day's discoveries. From there, one of the great features of our National Park system began.