Side Dish: Fort Craig Nat'l Historic Site 3/5/11

This should not be a side dish. In a perfect world - one in which the faceless cowards at Eastern National didn't make arbitrary distinctions between the NPS and BLM, thereby denying the latter their own proud set of passport stamps - we'd make the turn from Interstate 25, drive the dozen or so miles of dirt road, and pull into a well-scrubbed visitor center to receive our bounty. No such luck. Mind you, we knew there wouldn't be any stamps at this location (we have studied the appropriate lists enough to know every last hiding place), but we felt obligated to at last make a visit, largely because we'd seen the road sign so many times that curiosity finally overtook common sense. I also knew that unlike many forts in the NPS system, this non-NPS locale was barren beyond belief, and what remained standing was barely enough to suggest a fort had even existed. Oh well.....what's an extra hour or so as the New Mexico sun begins its final fade?

It's a shame Fort Craig doesn't receive more attention, however, because from a historical standpoint, it can stand with other, more well-known structures. According to the brochure, "By July of 1861, Fort Craig had become the largest fort in the Southwest with over 2,000 soldiers and growing." It played a key role in the region's Civil War skirmishes (a show of force at the fort intimidated Confederate troops into squelching plans for a direct assault) and during the Indian Wars, numerous Buffalo Soldiers made their home there. During the fort's existence from 1854 until 1885, life was often described as lonely and deadly (leaky roofs, crumbling walls, and crowded conditions defined the remote site), but as conflicted as its legacy can be for modern historians, its continued preservation ensures that we'll always debate the merits of policies that both created an empire for some, while destroying a way of life for others.

Given the late hour, we were the only visitors at the site, though it's not hard to imagine the same would be true had we stopped by hours before. Some folks just dig forts - and we count ourselves among them - but as time goes by, we find that we're less inclined to drive to such places that fail to result in the inking of a stamp pad. The visitor center at Fort Craig not only lacks the sacred ink, but much interpretative data at all. I clearly surprised the skeleton crew on hand, as an aging woman ran inside to greet me, just in time to hand me a brochure that was clearly visible from the room's lone rack. I later learned that this woman lived on site in the RV parked next door, along with her husband, and that, along with a salary that can't be much more than the couple's Social Security checks, they were provided food, propane, and cyanide capsules for the winter months. These caretakers are charged with protecting the fort's shell from vandalism, though I can't imagine who would drive all the way out here to piss on some bricks. Never underestimate the will of your average bored teenager, I guess.

The site does feature living history displays and celebrations, but on this day, there's little more than a brisk walk along a rocky path, which inexplicably fails to loop around, forcing visitors to cover the same ground on the way back. This might sound trivial, but for the usually lazy and car-bound, this can be critical. The ghostly fort is spare, stark, and sad - and perhaps a little difficult to contextualize - but with the onset of twilight, the decaying walls held a certain grandeur, as if the past had a little more to say before it faded into silence. But as we drove away, leaving behind a lot of unanswered questions (the VC cries out for a film), I couldn't help but think about that old couple, likely finishing their Parcheesi marathon before settling in for a long, silent evening beneath the stars. What brought them here? Will they ever leave? And when will they once again meet with crazily obsessed visitors intent on seeing everything in the Land of Enchantment? Here's to 'em.