All This and Juarez, Too: Chamizal Nat'l Memorial 3/19/10

On August 29, 1963, President John F. Kennedy and Mexican President Adolfo Lopez Mateos signed a treaty calling for "a transfer of land, relocation of nearly 5,000 residents, and confinement of the Rio Grande to a concrete channel to curtail its wanderings permanently." Though the land swap itself would not be formalized until 1967, the treaty signified a new day in Mexican/American relations, symbolized by the Chamizal National Memorial. Though officially a 55-acre celebration of peace and reconciliation, Chamizal is also a public park, hosting live music, dancing, and arts festivals in the spirit of friendship. With so many memorials (NPS and otherwise) marking tragedy and sadness, this is a hopeful, optimistic place; a haven of color, beauty, and joy amidst the chaos of the surrounding community. Original intentions aside, its location is now a sick joke, as just over the pass lies Juarez, Mexico (now, and perhaps forever) the most violent city on planet Earth.

Arriving at Chamizal as we did (late in the day, with no festivals on tap), it was a confusing memorial indeed, as it was indistinguishable from the local park of your choosing. That's not the fault of Chamizal, of course, but without a schedule of events, this becomes a place that, at best, will hold fifteen minutes of your attention. The visitor center is more of a gallery, showcasing the contributions of children, both from Mexico and El Paso, Texas. I'm no fan of "kid art," so none of it affected me in the slightest, and all I cared to view was the short film on the treaty's history and impact. As an educational showpiece, it was a remarkable little movie, and it provides the context and perspective one needs to understand why the treaty was so important. To these eyes, it appears to have been an apology of sorts for the Mexican-American War of 1848, which is fine by me, as we still retain California and the entire Southwest. Apologies are okay, so long as the land stays on our side.

After the film, visitors are left with, well, the above border marker, which is sort of hilarious in light of the current problem with illegal immigration. The visitor center has a brightly decorated mural and the park's grounds are clean, but you're in trouble when people start looking for a swingset for want of anything to do. Reaching Chamizal is also an adventure, as turning your head for a moment will ensure that you end up on the road to Juarez, with no means of turning around. El Paso is, against the odds, one of America's safest big cities (think about all the federal agents and such in the area), but as said, there's no reason to go to Juarez unless you harbor some kidnapping and beheading fantasy. We drove down by the international bridge (the crowds were thick and endless, but we still assumed we'd be the ones killed), but could not find a parking space that made us think there'd still be a car left when we returned. But yeah, that's just an excuse. Despite getting passports for this very trip, we just couldn't enter Mexico. At least not here. Maybe I'm being sensitive, but I long ago vowed never to piss my pants with fear while on vacation.

So yeah, Chamizal is all about the stamp (plus a bonus!), and there's nothing wrong with that. Get in, get out, and spend some quality time in El Paso, which surprised me with its accessibility and windy charm. Mind you, I'd never live here, but I felt good being out and about, though it's easy to feel all cocksure and secure when you venture no further than Outback restaurant and Baskin-Robbins. But from the busy highway after the sun had set, we could see the lights of Juarez proper, an endless metropolis that, despite its placid appearance, bleeds from every pore, sparing no one in its drug-fueled depravity. It seems Chamizal was all about the battle, forgetting entirely about the war to come.

FINAL RATING

2/10

The Ruins of History: Fort Union Nat'l Monument 5/16/09

Like Capulin Volcano to the north, we had passed Fort Union National Monument many times in the past, not at all tempted to walk its grounds, nor discover its place in Western history. Forts weren't on our radar screens back then, that is, until we discovered the passport stamps that accompanied them. But this is an old story. Fort Union, located near the nowhere town of Watrous, New Mexico (right off I-25) is different from other forts in that it's been left as a mere shell (no reconstructions here, unlike Bent's Old Fort or Fort Laramie), a fortunate decision in that it's better appreciated as a relic from the past, rather than a reproduction with modern gloss. The structures that add some new paint, furniture, and sturdy facades are, in their own way, helpful in re-imagining days gone by, but if given the choice, I'd rather see husks; broken shards of a time so vital in its moment, now having fallen silent forever. Even more fortuitous was the overcast sky above us. Usually a blue sky is what we crave, but somehow the ominous weather added to the sense that we were walking with ghosts.

Fort Union, like all forts in the 19th century, served the dual function of protecting trade routes and sheltering settlers from Indian encroachment. There were actually three Fort Unions, the first of which operated from 1851-1861 and was, according to the literature, "a collection of shabby log buildings needing almost constant repair." But it served its purpose of keeping an eye out for those using the Santa Fe Trail and acting as military headquarters for the region. Fort #2 (1861-1862) must be understood within the context of the Civil War, and was to be a defense against an expected Confederate attack. After the South was turned away in March of 1862, the second fort was abandoned in favor of #3, which held from 1863-1891. This final incarnation had more of a permanent "city" feel and was a key military supply outpost for much of its existence. Food, clothing, arms, and ammunition made their way through here, and as such, Fort Union's importance in helping to "win the West" cannot be underestimated.

The site's pamphlet is a good one, as it provides detailed descriptions of what visitors were looking at, even if mere blocks remained. From officer's quarters to the military prison, the walk is easy and deliberate, with a true sense of the fort's existence as an oasis in a lonely landscape. Also, the map demonstrates that the Santa Fe Trail runs right along the northeastern edge of the site where the transportation and post corrals would have been. The railroad would eventually kill the trail (and the fort), but in its day, bustling doesn't even begin to cover the level of activity.

While this "outdoor museum" is far from a destination spot, its location off the freeway makes it a no-brainer to visit. Only a grouch could hate a fort, and it's all the more interesting to see once you've also tackled Fort Larned, Bent's, and other links on a lengthy Western chain. The visitor center didn't seem like much, though we strolled right through, so we're not sure if they even have an introductory film (UPDATE: We saw their new film in March 2011, and it's outstanding). The only comments from our lips were in reference to the lonely young ranger, who treated our mid-afternoon visit as a genuine treat, as it was likely the first of the day. The site might also think about repairing the broken audio tour stops, but something tells me they're barely hanging on as it is. Sad, but an inevitable fall for what was once the largest military installation on the Southwestern frontier.

FINAL RATING

6/10

Avoiding the Crowds: Hovenweep Nat'l Monument 5/28/10

According to a recent article in the LA Times, Hovenweep is #10 on the list of least-visited National Monuments. Receiving only 27,855 visitors in all of 2009, Hovenweep, likely due to its proximity to the staggering Mesa Verde National Park, will always be a requirement for obsessed stampers, but never a destination of its own. And while the ruins are haunting and worth seeing in their own right, there's not enough at the site to justify a drive into the Southwestern abyss. Located just over the Colorado border in a particularly rugged part of Utah, Hovenweep is, at least for the average traveler, a single collection of dwellings (the Square Tower Group), accompanied by several others (Holly, Horseshoe & Hackberry, and Cutthroat Castle) that are accessible only by Chaco-like dirt roads. They're so remote, in fact, that the NPS literature (two separate maps) fails to mention where they might be. So for the time being, the twenty-mile area of mesa tops and canyons will be limited to a single walk along the Little Ruin Canyon.

Before embarking on that stroll, there is the visitor center, an extremely humble little building that, when compared to others in the park system, is really no more than a glorified closet. And given the limited visitation, anyone would be hard-pressed to convince the park service to expand. The film (requiring headphones so as not to disturb, uh, the ranger on duty) is pretty good, and a worthy supplement to the sparse literature. Hovenweep, like so many Ancestral Puebloan sites, is shrouded in mystery, although archeological studies estimate that as many as 500 people occupied the Square Tower area as late as 1300. They are also fairly certain that the people of the area raised corn, beans, and squash, and the recovery of numerous examples of pottery, jewelry, and clothing indicate a relatively well-developed culture. Why they disappeared from the area is anyone's guess, though, as with other parks and monuments in the Southwest, it is assumed that strife and drought played major parts in the drive to push onward.

Deciding against the longer Rim Trail Loop (we had to make Natural Bridges, after all), I instead walked along the Tower Point Loop, which stays on the visitor center side of the canyon, topping out at a reasonable 1/2 mile. Along the way, "hikers" (stumblers, in my case) will see the Stronghold House, which is assumed to have had a defensive purpose, though no one knows for certain. Indeed, damn these people for failing to leave behind a chain of emails explaining themselves. One can see (quite clearly, in fact) the Rim Rock House and Round Tower across the canyon, and the Twin Towers provide quite a sight. Again, why the towers? According to the literature, they could have been anything from observatories to signaling stations, though I'm inclined to favor the ceremonial chamber thesis. Any structure that holds vast differences from the rest, for me, has some sort of spiritual dimension, like a more vertical kiva.

The best part of the short hike is the Hovenweep Castle, located at the very point where you turn back towards the visitor center. There's a little more "ruin" to the ruins here, as well as a prime spot for great photos and quiet contemplation. Though it must be said - have any of these sites really fostered a deeper reflection on the past? No, neither of us plop down on the earth, clear out the world, and meditate on the lives of the ancient ones, but I always take a place like Hovenweep as a home tour of sorts, only without the usual trappings of modern life. These people, rough and tough as they likely were, need not be romanticized out of existence. Culture, only possible once mere survival has been semi-conquered, is little different from our own, reflecting a need to understand one's place in a vast world. The people of Hovenweep were neither more "in touch" nor less so, only the usual products of their environment, adapting as needed and pushing boundaries when possible. Sure, it's a graveyard of sorts - we'll provide our own soon enough to the generations of the future - and we remain curious because they met the same end in store for us all.

FINAL RATING

7/10

Hellacious Hoodoos: Bryce Canyon Nat'l Park 5/22/10

No one ever confused erosion for eroticism, but then again, I doubt the most passionate amour could ever hope to compete with the majesty of Bryce Canyon National Park. Love fades, but the hoodoos remain, even though they too will eventually go the way of all natural wonders. For now, and millions of years beyond, these pillars of rock - formed through a process where gullies widen into canyons, fins become exposed to more erosion at their vertical cracks, and freezing water expands within those cracks in winter, peeling off layers and carving out vertical hoodoos - will stand as oddities in the minds of humanity, beautiful in our imaginings, but not at all for our benefit. They existed before us, would exist if we were gone, and our only say in the matter is that, for the time being, we have granted them exalted status within the confines of a national park. It's a good one, too, for one long glimpse at any number of lookouts is bound to leave a man speechless. Like the Grand Canyon, the hoodoos at Bryce have an unreal quality to their puzzling existence, and while we might come to understand how they came to be, our still childish minds will chalk it up to nature's artistic bent.

Utah, for my money the most striking state in the lower 48, has unending eye-candy from every corner, but it's Bryce you'll remember above all else. More specifically, you'll recall the Bryce Amphitheater, a landscape so unique you'll wonder why the hell it took you so long to get here. There are miles of road beyond the Amphitheater, of course, but it's like eating at the Sizzler after dining on filet mignon; take in the best, lock it away, and head out firmly on top. There are four vantage points located here - Sunrise Point, Sunset Point, Inspiration Point, and Bryce Point - and it is Inspiration that truly gets the blood pumping. The climb is steady and steep (a wheezing sound is not out of place), but once there, you'll be tempted to declare that the pinnacle park experience has been reached. It's all there before you - Thors Hammer, Queens Garden, or the Wall of Windows - none of it less than heart-stopping. But why waste words when pictures will do so well?

Fine, the last picture is a cheap shot, and not at all worthy of so glorious a park. I'm the last person who would ever dare compete with a hoodoo, but at some point we have to prove that we were here; not to ourselves, but the millions of readers who will make this blog the toast of the internet. At this point, you might be asking: "Hey you, the guy with the waistline buckling under the pressure.....why not partake of one of many backcountry hiking trails?" Fair enough, but in our defense, numerous sources less flabby than ourselves have asked why one would ever consider such a thing when the best views are safely atop? Who are we to disagree? A hoodoo is one thing that certainly lends truth to the maxim that familiarity breeds contempt. Let them remain distant, aloof, and full of mystery. And to date, no one has ever had to sit for a breather by just looking. Bryce is like a painting, and no one has to break a sweat at an art museum.

It's of special note that President Warren Harding first protected much of this park as a National Monument in 1923. It took additional legislation to get it fully classified as a National Park, but the initial spark should give pause to anyone thinking that Harding was nothing more than poker nights and scandal. Middle America judges a president based on whether or not they'd have a beer with the man, while I base my assessment on their use of the Antiquities Act. What of it?

For those interested in such things, Bryce's visitor center is a decent one, and the informational video better than tolerable (at least they provide a history worth a damn). The stamp was a bit light for our taste, so please, someone send this park a few extra dollars for a top flight ink pad. It's a lonely drive to get here, and sure, there's a general store at the park's entrance that's typically overrun, but put it all aside. It's all about differential erosion. And those wonderfully wacky hoodoos.

FINAL RATING

10/10

The One That Got Away: Mesa Verde Nat'l Park 5/27/10

If there is a passport Waterloo for the Cales, it is Mesa Verde National Park in the Southwestern corner of Colorado. The park itself (more later) is peerless as a romp among the ruins, but as we drove away - no small task, as the drive to the overlooks is neverending - we lacked an essential stamp that can only be found here: Yucca House National Monument. We banked on the stamp being at the Anasazi Heritage Center in nearby Dolores, but were crushed with disappointment the next morning when it was nowhere to be found. Oh, the center had a map to Yucca House, but kindly informed us - as if we didn't know - that the stamp was back at Mesa Verde. Really? Where? The visitor center had but one stamp, and even that one was a bit smeared. Were they playing games? Was some sassy ranger hiding it under lock and key, waiting for some obscure password to release the riches? Didn't they realize that we'd obsess over its absence in our passport book for months on end? Not that we wouldn't drive all the way down here for a a single stamp, but there's a principle at stake, one that threatens the very fabric of our collective sanity.

Before I move on, let it be said that there's nothing to see at Yucca House, and it boggles the imagination that they'd grind the boot heel of obsession into our chest for what amounts to a mound of dirt. Yucca House, unexcavated and lacking any dramatic vistas, is a weed or two on some poor sap's private lot, which can only be found by channeling one's inner Zelda. It's proof that anything and everything Indian is cause for celebration, even if its loss (did I mention everything of value is buried beneath the earth?) would not be noticed by anyone, especially in light of the fact that it's next door to one of America's most striking examples of Ancestral Pueblo architecture. So where is the stamp? While I was exploring the Cliff Palace, Brooke went to get a souvenir at the Chapin Mesa Museum. Or did she? She claims not to have found anything, even though the NPS says it's located at the front desk. Was it there, or actually buried behind a secret door at the Long House? Available for one hour per year, and only after a full moon? We've seen it on other web pages, so we know it exists, but until it's secured, it might as well be Bigfoot. Life is beyond cruel.

The SOBs who conceived of Yucca House aside, Mesa Verde is, at least for me, the end of a lifetime's journey. Had I really lived in Colorado my entire life and not visited? Brooke says she almost came here as a girl, but the long drive in was too much for her parents and they turned back before reaching the Far View Visitor Center. But me! A native! And yet I had gone putt-putt golfing 677 times before I was twelve. No one ever accused my family of giving a damn. But now, better late than never, I was here: the granddaddy of Indian ruins, and one of the most iconic sites in the country. Sure, the drive in (as Brooke's parents know) is a test of anyone's endurance, but unlike Chaco, this road is paved, sparing one's tires, if not one's sanity. Still, it keeps everything nice and tucked away, much like it would have been for Richard Wetherill and Charles Mason that fateful day in 1888 as they searched for stray cattle. Well, not exactly. Today, Mesa Verde is as glorious as ever - beautiful and noble, all at once - but it's pretty damn crowded, even in May. The sweaty flock doesn't detract, of course, but it's a bit different in spirit from the quieter Chaco.

There are two distinct areas at Mesa Verde (Wetherill and Chapin Mesas), but it's more than sufficent to hit Chapin alone and the Spruce Tree House, follow it up with the Cliff Palace, and take leave of the park. Heresy? Maybe, but the former is the park's best preserved cliff dwelling, while the latter is the largest, so you're getting the best of all worlds. Spruce Tree House is at the bottom of a long (but not overlong) walk, but it's a challenge to make your way back to the top. That said, you'll be down at the site for a long enough time to prepare your fragile lungs. The trail is well-kept and teeming with stunning sights, but pay attention.

And then there's the Cliff Palace. The views from above can't be beat, and then you stand face to face and take it all back. This is the park's true highlight, and there's no shortage of thrills as you stand in awe of this ancient marvel. A ticket is required to take this tour, if only to keep crowds to a minimum, and it's not the easiest stroll. Thin passages and steep stairs abound, but it's not enough to keep away the curious. The ranger-led discussion was passionate and hearty, and she even hung around at the end to answer a question I had about Chaco. The Mesa Verde staff have this down to a science, and their timing was impeccable, without a moment wasted. Sure, the ranger talk is scripted, but it never seemed so, which is a testament to genuine historical interest (unlike, say, Mount Vernon, where the minimum wage kids running the show had all the joy of a cancer patient). As the ranger reminded us again and again, life under the cliffs was not an easy one, but they left no shortage of beauty and culture for posterity. And maybe some clues about the stamp for Yucca House.

FINAL RATING

10/10

Side Dish - The William J. Clinton Presidential Center and Park, Little Rock, AR - 5/2008

"It don't hurt....You drink yo' 40 and get yo buzz on....you straight. I got this brand cause I'm down for mine!! West 23rd....Fo' LIFE"

That immortal quote from Bangin' in Little Rock - (Best.HBO.documentary.ever.) all but sums up Arkansas' passion for Bill Clinton. No matter what Bill did, it "don't hurt" and whatever negative attention he might have brought to the state of Arkansas, they are most certainly still "Down fo' mine". 

The recent naming of the newest 394th unit of the National Park Service is the ridiculously long "President William Jefferson Clinton Birthplace Home National Historic Site" (which will have a hell of a time fitting on a passport stamp). Arkansas loves their president. And ironically, Bill Clinton loves himself to an even greater extent. It was with his blessing and near constant input that the William J. Clinton Presidental Center and Park came to be.

Clinton agonized (and no doubt drove staffers bonkers) over every single detail of the museum. What story it would tell, what perspectives it would take, to the kind of energy it drew from (all green BTW), all were not able to proceed without the 43rd President's approval. President Clinton was (and is) adamant that his legacy not be focused or centered on the ridiculous sexual scandal that resulted in his impeachment, but of the many accomplishments that he was able to acheive.

When remembering the decade of the 1990's, prosperity did in fact reign and yes...Clinton had a major part in keeping the world at peace and paychecks in the pockets of American workers. Hindsight is, as the cliche states, 20/20, and history has already begun to bear out that Clinton's presidency was, for all intents and purposes, a success.

And once you buy your ticket, you ain't ever gonna forget it.......Remember Little Rock drank their 40, and they are indeed straight.

The museum itself is an impressive specimen. The architecture is stunning, and the place at first seems massive when first entering. The visitors are given an audio wand, which describes all exhibits and memorabilia. The audio program is extensive, and if all chapters were listened to, would take an entire 8 hour day browsing the museum.

The museum is located on two floors. The top floor begins with a film chronicling the life of William Jefferson Clinton and his presidency (Monica Lewinsky - GTFO...no room for you in this film). After viewing the film is a small rotunda, the theatre brings you to an exact replica of Clinton's Oval Office, down to the last speck of dust. A very nice presentation of the office, along with the Cabinet Meeting Room, immerses the visitor in White House life.

The Cabinet Room is equipped with audio/visual touch screen programs highlighting accomplishments of Clinton's Presidency (and judging by both visitors in the picture above, are apparently as riveting as Citizen Kane).

The rest of the second floor is dedicated to the various gifts that Bill, Hillary, Chelsea, Buddy, and Socks Clinton received during the White House years.....Case after case is filled to the brim with gifts spanning the globe. Every gift, down to the tietack, is recorded on the blue display signs.

The first floor of the museum is extensive to the point of exhaustion. Every year of Clinton's presidency has one (sometimes two) sections of the bottom floor. What appears in the photos above and below to be lovely blue pillars, actually represents a small amount of documentation the library is in possession of, which includes:

20 million e-mails

78 million pages of official records

2 million photographs

12,500 videotapes

Each year's exhibit has the opportunity to focus on every minute detail that may have occurred on Clinton's watch. From the bombing of the U.S.S. Cole, the Rwandan massacre (about which Clinton did precisely NOTHING about - although the museum does express Clinton's regrets), to Wall Street's monumental gains....it's all here.

But nothing can prepare for the introduction of the man that singlehandedly derailed what could have been "the greatest presidency in American History" (Clinton tried that line, no doubt) and brought every good thing crashing to the ground........Newt Gingrich. An entire section is devoted to the impeachment trial and the investigation by Gingrich and his cronies. No mention of Monica Lewinsky is found here either......this investigation apparently appeared out of thin air. However - we can't complain. We admit to feeling the same way about Gingrich that the museum does; however, it does seem all a bit one-sided and continuously repeated "Clinton - Gooood, Gingrich - Baaaad."

The grounds will eventually hold the remains of President Clinton (and assuming Hillary - but you never know), and it is clear that at the time of our visit, much still needed to be accomplished to prepare the grounds for any kind of interment. And with the manorexic visage of Clinton getting thinner by the day, they might want to speed things up.

The William J Clinton Presidential Center and Park is an impressive achievement in storytelling and architecture. It is a good way to pass the time in Little Rock (trust us....you'll want to spend as much time there as possible....not much to do in this town), and a well-told, albeit biased, narrative of the Clinton Presidency. But this is Arkansas...........they won't let another story be told.

Fo' LIFE.