The Gallo Campground at Chaco Canyon, New Mexico
Late on May 21, 2011, I arrived at Chaco Culture National Historic Park. Known colloquially as Chaco Canyon,
the place is almost equidistant from Nageezi and Crownpoint, New
Mexico. For Interstate Highway reference, Chaco Canyon is about fifty
miles northeast of I-40, if exiting at Thoreau, New Mexico. Although
situated at what once was the crossroads of the Pre-Puebloan world, Chaco Canyon slipped into obscurity after the Great Disappearance, one thousand years ago.
Today, the larger Navajo Reservation encompasses over sixty percent of San Juan County, New Mexico.
Of the county’s 130,000 residents, about thirty-five percent are
Navajo. Seventy percent of county population resides in the Farmington
Metropolitan Statistical Area (MSA), including Aztec
and Shiprock. Sparsely populated Indian lands dominate the balance of
the county. Finding Chaco Canyon, sequestered as it is among high desert
mesas can be difficult, unless you are Navajo.
Even
in this era of GPS navigation, the Magellan map database is woefully
inadequate in Navajo Country, which surrounds Chaco Canyon on three
sides. At least twice during my southern approach from Crownpoint,
Magellan instructed me to turn at erroneous locations. The first road
resembled a dirt track; the second existed only in the minds of early
Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) surveyors. Between my late start toward
Chaco Canyon and Magellan’s sweet-voiced siren luring me toward sandy
tracks across New Mexico and the high desert plateau, it was after 9:30
PM when I arrived at Gallo Campground in Chaco Canyon.
There, as I scanned the bulletin board for information, the
campground host emerged from her coach. That kind soul, living in the
middle of nowhere, had held back two RV spaces for late arrivals like
me. Had she not done so, there would be no other legal RV camping
within twenty miles, via treacherous, washboard roads. That night, I
had tempted fate and fate had smiled on me. It came in the form of the
volunteer host who saved my camping bacon.
While
conducting research for this article, I found the “Gallo” name
attached to many features in New Mexico. After I had no luck discovering
who “Senor Gallo” might have been, I recalled that in Spanish “gallo”
translates as “rooster”. Is the derivation of the local place name as
simple as, “Rooster Wash”? Either way, its adjacency to the Gallo Wash,
makes “Gallo Campground” an appropriate name. On the mesa north of
Chaco Canyon, three “Gallo Wells” stand among the few other
human-constructed landmarks. Every drop of fresh water used in Chaco
Canyon originates in that sandstone aquifer.
Early in the past decade, the Gallo Wash flooded
a portion of the campground. During my September 2007 visit, several
low-lying campsites sported yellow tape and barricades. Floods along
this Chaco River tributary had damaged the septic system, requiring
extensive repairs. If you look at a satellite photo of the campground,
long, geometrical berms associated with the new septic system are
evident. Used as causeways during wet weather, one of the flattop berms
ends at the communal campfire circle.
To
their detriment and possible demise, Anasazi visitors and residents
stripped the San Juan Plateau of all its timber. Deforestation
eliminated extensive root structures, which had long held the soil.
Later, cattle and sheep that grazed around Chaco Canyon exacerbated the
erosion begun during the Ancestral Puebloan era. Undammed and wild, the Gallo Wash became a twentieth century focus for erosion control projects.
Beginning in the 1930s, the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC)
conducted extensive tree planting in the lower reaches of Gallo Wash. By
that time, it was too late to save the meandering stream of
yesteryear. Today, most of Gallo Wash is a deeply eroded, if somewhat
stabilized ravine. Although only treetops are visible from the Main
Loop Road, cottonwood trees planted there eighty years ago still
flourish. At either end of Chaco Canyon, highway bridges span Gallo
Wash. At the eastern bridge, near the confluence of Gallo Wash and the
smaller Fajada Wash, you may stop and view full sized trees growing up
from the streambed, far below.
Only
upstream from the campground does the wash retain the look of a broad
arroyo. With scrubby growth stretching from bank to bank, the water
table there is closer to the surface. With less soil or sand below that
section, floodwaters spread, rather than cutting deeply into the soil.
In satellite photos, the larger Gallo Wash stands out as the most
highly eroded canyon in San Juan County. Did early exhaustion of
timberlands and arable land doom Chaco Canyon to depopulation and
eventual abandonment? Today, the grassy wasteland that we see in and
around Chaco Canyon tends to say, “Yes”.
The following afternoon, I spent time walking south along a
nearby canyon wall. Other than the contemporary toilet facilities, the
most prominent permanent feature at Gallo Campground is a humble
Chacoan rock house. Unlike the multi-roomed and multi-storied great
houses found elsewhere at Chaco Canyon, this structure contains only
two small rooms. Tucked under the canyon overhang, most of the
structure has stood the test of time. In its heyday, around 1050 CE,
what function did this structure serve?
The
Chacoan rock house sits near the seasonal stream at Gallo Wash.
Perhaps the structure was a granary, overlooking a stream fed cornfield
or milpas. Maybe it served as a welcome center or port of entry to
Chaco Canyon itself. Northbound, Chacoan visitors had the unique round
kiva at Kin Klizhin
to welcome them. For southbound visitors, the campground may have
served much the same purpose that it does today. Then, as now, the site
provided a final rest before viewing the great houses at Chaco Canyon.
As I continued my campground tour, I felt and then saw the spirit
of the ancients on the walls around me. Whether decorating the canyon
walls with pictographs and petroglyphs
or building a small granary, the ancients imbued their outdoor areas
with sacred art. As with many of the structures at Chaco Canyon, the
rock house at Gallo Campground displayed an anthropoid image to me.
Using its windows, air vents and roof beam holes, this little structure
exhibited a face with character equal to its age.
As
I approached the canyon wall, a variety of rock art images leapt out
at me. One of the more obvious examples was a red ochre painting of a
man. A pair of slim antennae emanated from the top of his head and a
male organ pointed downward. Standing spread-eagle, this ancient Vitruvian Man predated Leonardo Da Vinci’s by five hundred years. As with so many ancient spirits,
he had evolved over the past 1000 years. With two small rivers of gold
flowing over his body, I noted that his stone cranium was
proportionally larger than that of current humans. Perhaps the longer a
spirit lingers on a Chaco Canyon wall, the greater consciousness he or
she attracts.
My next stop was under the overhanging wall. There, water and
minerals have seeped through porous sandstone, leaving their unique
mark. If you study the Gallo Campground, you will find that both wind
and water play a continuing role in the shaping the local landscape.
Since the ancients last viewed it, this perennially damp wall has been
sand blasted by one thousand years of storms.
As
I stepped back, the erosional rock formation (image above) revealed its
ancient essence to me. With the profile of a Mayan warrior in
headdress, a face appeared. His large left eye seemed to spy me at the
same time that I saw him. We both looked startled, I am sure. Regaining
our respective composure, I asked if I could photograph him and share
his story with the world. In silent ascent, he posed ferociously, if a
bit comically for my lens. Oh, the stories he might tell of campfires
and revelry at Gallo Campground, both past and present.
Soon, I reached the end of the cliff wall, where I discovered a
cave large enough to shelter a family from the elements. When a
freestanding slab of sandstone tilted, and then came to rest against
the canyon rim, the cave established itself. Not knowing what wildlife
might be lurking inside the cave; I remained outside.
As
I completed my circuit of the campground, I could see Fajada Butte
rising in the distance. The lowering angle of the sun reminded me of
other plans. By then, there were less than three hours before sunset.
My planned trip around the Main Loop Road at Chaco Canyon would take
most of that time. Although the loop contains only nine miles of paved
road, I hoped to stop and visit other Ancestral Puebloan spirits along
the way. During a previous visit to Pueblo Bonito, I had discovered a
cleft-rock frieze that I called “Lizard Man”.
Had Lizard Man sloughed off in a recent rock slide, or did he patiently
wait there for my return? I could not wait to find out.
Email James McGillis
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James McGillis
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