What's the Salado Term for "Fat & Out of Shape"? - Tonto Nat'l Monument 5/16/11

Tonto National Monument's surrounding beauty, dominated by Mesquite tree and Saguaro cactus, masks an insidious cruelty. There, sitting high above the basin, daring the curious to leave the comfort of an air conditioned car or visitor center, sits the Lower Cliff Dwelling. Sure, it's observable from down below, but who could come all that way and simply stare from afar? One must inspect its wares up close and personal. A one-mile hike round-trip? Paved but steep, clocking in at an intimidating 350-foot ascent? Have to. Will. Damn this to hell. My gait, so confident and assured at first, quickly slowed to a crawl, and the only available sound to drown out the bees was the jackhammering of my poor, untested heart. I gasped loudly and often, and the sweat, that glorious reminder than one is pushing it too far, moved from trickle to monsoon, and at the halfway point, I half expected my knees to buckle, sending my heap over the edge to be scraped from the parking lot like so much chewing gum.

But I get ahead of myself. First, we had to get there. We left Scottsdale, AZ early in the morning, assuming the map's measure of closeness would get us to the monument in no time flat. Do not be fooled. If you decide to take AZ-88 (Apache Trail) - as one logically would, given that it's the shortest distance between two points - be prepared for hell. Or, if you're familiar with the film Wages of Fear, a white-knuckled delivery of explosives over terrain better reserved for the pre-automobile age. For twenty-two insane, regrettable, curse-laden miles, we ambled along the high and the low, the rough and the rougher, and, most importantly, the barrier-free, with only a tuft of weeds separating our car from oblivion. Early in our drive - the part that was paved - we saw a car overturned, its driver on the side, waiting for the emergency vehicles to arrive. My god, we should have asked ourselves, if the easy part of this road took no prisoners, what could we expect once it got worse? Once ahead of schedule, the pass chewed up our time and spit it overboard, and I'll be damned if the surrounding cacti didn't cackle with delight at our arrogance. Oh, you're going to Tonto?, a particularly nasty Saguaro asked us on an especially brutal hairpin, I hope that isn't a bit of squealing coming from your brakes, foolish one.

Our brakes did squeal, and we wondered if we could possibly see tomorrow, let alone the remaining monuments for the day. As I am writing this blog entry, we did in fact survive Apache Junction, though not without a great deal of stress. Is this how normal people take a vacation? As with so much, only the obsessive-compulsive end up clinging to life on a poorly maintained mountain road. That said, Tonto stands as one of our finest achievements, and the passport stamp will always remind us of what we went through to secure its glorious green ink.  But is it worth it, this Salado dwelling from 700 years ago? Had this blast from the past merely been tucked between the VC and a Porta-Potty, the answer would be a resounding NO. Indian ruins we've seen, and after awhile, they all start to look alike. People were here, they left some pottery, then disappeared without explanation. Tonto, on the other hand, is transformed from the typical to the transcendent by its gorgeous perch overlooking Roosevelt Lake. As such, it's a keeper, and impossible not to love.

It's a tough love, and one that might require CPR, but when one reaches the top, pride rushes forth like the blood to your face. As I arrived, broken but not beaten, I observed a lonely park ranger, wisely hogging the shade on this punishing May day. Our chat was brief but pleasant, though I was a bit confused by her confession that she had worked here for sixteen years despite having no particular affection for prehistoric peoples of the Southwest. She did confess a certain attachment to the mystery of Tonto, which holds for every other site related to excavated ruins. We know so little about these people, and despite a treasure trove of items from within their walls (the theft of which prompted the Antiquties Act of 1906), we speculate more than we proclaim. I for one prefer to gaze upon the surroundings without a great deal of knowledge. At the very least, we know that the Salado were smart enough to build their abodes on high, both to appreciate the beauty of what lay before them, as well as keep an eye out for danger.

In case you're interested, there is an Upper Cliff Dwelling, but tours are only available from November through April, largely because the hike is so damned long that the summer heat would likely kill every single person who gave it a shot. Even the ranger, honest to a fault, admitted that the Upper Dwelling hike wasn't really worth it, but then again, should I trust the person fanning herself while sitting on a cool ledge? I half doubted she'd ever been out there at all. No matter, as I wouldn't go unless airlifted by helicopter. The visitor center, though safe and sound and out of the sun, is pretty sparse and typically embarrassing, showcasing dated items that may have been inspected by Theodore Roosevelt himself. The film went unwatched, though I can't imagine it could compete with the drama of the day. Tonto National Monument has been survived, and yes, I'm the better for it.

FINAL RATING

8/10