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A Beginning at Chaco

Chaco Culture National Historical Park

Each of the 19 Puebloan tribes, with different languages, traditions and genetics, has stories of what we call Chaco and of their time at Chaco as an important stage along the migratory path taken since their origins in this world from a unique “emerging place.” Some of those traditions speak of a golden age of brotherhood. Others speak of dark times, dread and slavery. What is clear is that from around 700 or earlier, settlement in significant surface dwellings began in Chaco Canyon by various Puebloan peoples, settlement that began modestly and ended with a monumentally complex and ambitious society and the public architecture to go with it. It is also clear that by 1300 all of those peoples had yet again moved on.

We found Chaco down a long, dusty, washboard of a road taking us on gravel and dirt for half of the 1 1/2 hour drive from the nearest place with a motel, Farmington, New Mexico. The only other option is staying at the campground where, thank heavens, they’re finally taking reservations. It was one of our many stops in the Four Corners as we carved a giant loop in and out of Grand Junction, Colorado, to enjoy the area and deepen our understanding of the inheritance of our country. To make some sense of this, we’ll start the telling with Chaco.

Although the area was sparsely populated from roughly 9300 BCE, from around 400 CE the development of pithouses (more on this later) allowed a year-round population to thrive by cultivating corn, squash and beans. By 1200 CE the population of the Four Corners region was greater than it is today. Pueblo Bonito was one of the first Chaco “great houses” and other above ground settlements on which construction began by 850.

As with most people of the era, the Chacoans were obsessed with the study of the heavens. The sun, moon and stars behaved in orderly and predictable ways that not only inspired humans, but provided invaluable tools by which to organize the timing of agriculture (especially, when it was safe to plant crops). The central figure in the panel, above, is a representation of a total eclipse of the sun and the panel is located at one of the many observation posts the Chacoans used for their observations.

Kivas are submerged dwellings with a standard architecture for a small family group and include, for instance, a hearth with a clever ventilation system and post holes for a loom. Great Kivas are public architecture and likely had a ceremonial purpose as a gathering place that could accommodate hundreds of people. This is a living tradition, carried on by contemporary Pueblo people. This Great Kiva at Casa Rinconada is the largest excavated kiva in Chaco Canyon. While other Great Kivas are placed in the plazas of great houses or along roads, this Great Kiva is on a prominent hill set among a large community of villages.

Una Vida is another “great house” at Chaco, i.e. a large multistory public building with a Great Kiva. However, it has undergone only a small amount of excavation so that it looks like it did in the middle of the 19th century when the area was discovered by the modern world. The scattered building material on the ground in the foreground indicates that underneath lies a structure. Archeologists are, however, focused on stabilizing structures and trying to prevent damage rather than further ambitious excavation. Lidar is now used to locate structures and improve our understanding of what lies beneath the surface.

Moving on from Chaco

(or maybe that’s too simple an explanation?)

Aztec Ruins National Monument

The unfortunately named Aztec Ruins lie about 70 current road miles north of Chaco Canyon. The dwellings and other structures there are, of course, not Aztec and calling them “ruins” offends the Pueblo who consider them to be current sacred dwellings. This substantial settlement is part of the same culture as Chaco and it is one of perhaps 150 great houses over a region of as much as 60,000 square miles connected by 30 foot wide engineered road beds, 400 miles of which have been documented.

Around 1100 C.E., Ancestral Puebloan people from Chaco migrated north and began construction at Aztec Ruins, an existing settlement known as the Place by Flowing Waters (the Animas River). Rather than the old term Anasazi, these master builders are now referred to as the ancestral Puebloans to make clear that they were the ancestors of the various Pueblo peoples and not a distinct tribe.

Mesa Verde National Park

It may look like a theme park attraction, but this is a dwelling reconstructed from the ruins of a structure built between 1190 and 1260 CE by those ancestral Puebloans down below the rim of a canyon, part of a 700 year occupation begun around 600 of what is now Mesa Verde National Park. It’s the largest cliff dwelling in North America and it can be visited in the company of a Park Ranger.

Unlike Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins, the dwellings at Mesa Verde are nestled in cliffs. And, there are thousands of them throughout the region. Ancient dwellings are not restricted to our national park system. The cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde were built by people farming on the mesa – corn, beans & squash, of course. Why they chose to build there no one can say for certain. It’s all informed speculation as they did not have a writing system with which to communicate with the future.

It may not be photogenic, but this pithouse is an important part of the ancestral Puebloan story. It was roofed with an entry through the roof, as in the later-developed kiva structure. It had many of the kiva attributes, including a ventilated hearth and posts for a loom. In population centers as they developed into the stage of the cliff houses or great houses, it’s likely that most people still lived in pithouses. A typical pithouse is thought to have accommodated a nuclear family.

Mary Hemenway was a 19th Century Boston philanthropist who funded the first scientific archeological study in the Southwest, including of Mesa Verde. From our familiarity with Hemenway Landing in Eastham, we knew It must be a family with ties to our hometown.

In our visit to the Four Corners region, we discovered that cliff dwellings are everywhere, there are thousands of them of different shapes and sizes wedged into large and small openings up and down the canyons. Sometimes it seems that people accessed them from the mesa tops and sometimes from the canyon bottom or in some places both. It’s usually assumed that the Puebloans built there for defensive purposes, although that’s not a very satisfying explanation. Other perfectly good reasons would seem to be ready access to water when it’s seeping out of the canyon walls in the back of the openings, the moderating effect on temperature from living in a cave, and the thrill of accomplishment. After all, the people building the cliff dwellings did so on the backs of the significant accomplishments at Chaco.

Canyon of the Ancients National Monument

Canyon of the Ancients National Monument is run by the Bureau of Land Management and they do a nice job. Their museum is small, but well thought through and helpful and they have some good introductory films, including one about the Wetherill family who were ranchers who conducted their own archeology in the 19th century in a careful and respectful way, recognizing that they had stumbled on something special and had a responsibility to protect it.

Hovenweep National Monument

At Hovenweep (Ute/Paiute for “deserted valley”) dwellings are on the canyon rim, the canyon floor, and on the canyon walls of this relatively small and shallow, almost intimate, canyon and no one has lived there for over 700 years. Again, was it drought or the depletion of resources in this desert environment? While the area had long been populated, a great influx began around 1100 and by the late 1200s everyone was gone. Perhaps a newly fashionable area was ruined by its success.

Canyon de Chelly National Monument

Canyon de Chelly is the intersection of different histories, some of which don’t actually intersect. The Ancestral Puebloans, the Hopi and the Navajo have all left their marks, although by the time the Navajo arrived, the Ancestral Puebloans (or Anasazi to the Navajo) were long gone. There had been conflict over the canyon and the Navajo now control it along with the National Park Service. There are many cliff dwellings in the canyon which the Navajo treat with respect as still containing the spirit of those who have departed. There are also a startling number of pictographs and petroglyphs. So, the Navajo now guide the outside world through their land to see artifacts of another time while they continue to live there with small scale farming and livestock. Mostly, it has become a summer residence for all except one woman who lives in the canyon year round. It’s a place to enjoy the traditional life. The ride out and back, by the way, makes Toad’s Wild Ride seem incredibly tame, as you careen through loose sand and plunge in and out of steep gullies, grateful that it’s not the wet season when they’re running with water for two months.

Of course, hogans are always round and the doorway always faces east. It’s the external structure to support the roof of this old stone hogan that is square. The Navajo moved into Canyon de Chelly around 1500 and it is an important home for them. While the federal government did establish a National Monument, the land is Navajo owned and about 80 families have rights on the land. Being a matriarchal society, land passes to and is owned by women. Our guide Eleanor’s great grandmother had owned land in the canyon and she has many friends there. As part of her business, she sets up campsites for non-Navajo people and provides Navajo guides (which are required at all times in order to be in the canyon). In addition to the occasional cow, small groups of mustangs (some branded, some wild), and the usual small animals, the canyon boasts bobcats, mountain lions and bears.

Spider Rock, an 800 foot sandstone spire, is an important part of Navajo tradition. The Spider Woman lives there. She brought the knowledge of the loom to women and is the great protector of humans, except for misbehaving children, that is. Naughty children she will capture with her giant web and eat. A double edged story if we’ve ever heard one. Eleanor likes to camp out by Spider Rock. That’s where we ate lunch.

All the cliff dwellings and rock art can become overwhelming after a while. It’s like the fatigue you can feel when visiting one of the great art museums of the world. You know that each of these things you’re trying to take in and understand and give its due is not being adequately appreciated because you only have so much capacity for wonderment at one go.

That made our time with Eleanor, hearing her stories about people, accidents, bear and mountain lion attacks on livestock, the destruction caused by invasive Russian olive and tamarisk, morning prayer with corn pollen, the work she does to maintain the rough track through the canyon, the somehow sad beauty of the cottonwoods turning yellow when they really don’t belong in the canyon (having been planted by the CCC to try to stem erosion) a wonderful balance. We already knew about the atrocity at Massacre Cave, the refuge sought by the Navajo at Fortress Rock and other intersections in the lives of people in the region that we’d like to forget, but mustn’t. It was just nice to hear about ordinary people living ordinary lives while we admired the work of people who had lived in the canyon long before our time.

Let’s face it, Prague is a beautiful city and there is little wonder countless tourists flock to it. After five years absence (see our April 3, 2014 post), it seemed busier than ever (although tourist season may not have started at the time of our earlier visit). It’s the incredible architecture, the very generous amount of green space, and the excellent public transportation that really set it apart. We preferred to ignore the large crowds in the oldest part of the city and wandered the city just to soak it in and enjoy some of the interesting shops.

Last time, we missed what’s left of the walled Jewish quarter (or “Josefov”) in Prague where Jews first settled in the 10th century. The Old New Synagogue (1270) is the oldest remaining medieval synagogue of twin nave design and the oldest active synagogue in Europe. The survival of the Josefov through WWII has been attributed to Hitler’s desire to create a museum of an extinct race.

Up a funicular (included with your transit pass) to the top of a ridge overlooking the city and the castle, there is another large park (one of many), this one including the remnants of a world’s fair. There’s an observatory, the Eiffel-inspired Petrin tower one can climb for an even better view and the “Mirror Maze,” i.e. a very old fashioned funhouse.

Taking some time off from their push to complete end-of-term projects, Kyle and Hui followed up on an instructor’s recommendation and we headed off to the DOX Centre for Contemporary Art in Prague 7. Although much of the museum was a bit heavy on the ironic and of questionable esthetics, we did enjoy what we’ve posted here, especially the work of Eva Jiricna for whose 80th birthday the exhibit had been arranged to celebrate a stellar career as one of the few women in the upper ranks of architecture.

Sometimes our adventures seem to be chosen for us, determined by such things as the timing for returning a rental car. Looking at where we were (Pau) and where we needed to be by 3:00 in the afternoon (Bordeaux Airport), we figured that St. Émilion would offer the chance of a decent lunch and a walk about an interesting town. We didn’t anticipate the quite extraordinary drive along narrow country roads twisting through the countless vineyards of the region. It was beautiful, poppies along the side of the road, vines just leafing out, and picturesque villages and buildings along the way. Too bad there was absolutely nowhere to stop for a photo.

The shocker for us was just how charming a town it is. We should have believed the Michelin Green Guide (2 stars). The downside of that acclaim is that it was loaded with tourists (like us, but in large groups). Parts of town also feel like a wine bazaar, with one shop after another mostly representing individual vineyards. Even our restaurant (so-so, with an overbearing owner/waiter and an undisclosed cash only policy) was owned and run by a vineyard. Make no mistake, however, it remains a town worth visiting and those 2 stars are merited.

That need to return our car kept us from enjoying a tour of the largest sanctuary in Europe carved out of rock, taking advantage of some existing natural caverns and grottoes, that was transformed between the 8th and 12th centuries.

As we got on our way, we were glad there had been a car park outside the ramparts.

Beginning with Pau (rhymes with “low”)

Henry IV was a monumental figure in the history of France. He brought a halt to the Wars of Religion and unified the country (forgive the gross oversimplifications). It takes some effort to imagine back to the 17th century when the Kings of Navarre controlled parts of the Gascon Pyrénées wedged between territories controlled by the French crown to the north and east, the English in territories to the west, and the Spanish to the south and when savagery ruled in the struggles coming out of the Protestant reformation.

Henry was born in the fortified château at Pau to Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre (1553). The Queen was a staunch Protestant and Henry became an inspiring military leader in the Protestant forces. Abridging the story beyond reason, Henry switched sides a couple of times (he also had a claim to the French crown) became King of France as a Catholic, didn’t persecute the Protestants, and unified France (ta da!). Popular guy.

Restored in the 19th century, the interior of the Château is (as you can see) quite sumptuous with seemingly innumerable tapestries from the Royal storehouse, many of them Gobelins tapestries.

Pau has been fortified since the 11th century and became the capital of Béarn. The fortified castle was constructed overlooking the Gave de Pau in the 14th century by the Count of Foix, Gaston Fébus. If you’re like us and never heard of the term “Gave,” it’s a local word for “river,” pronounced with an “a” as in “cat.” Anyway, the Count seems to have been an interesting fellow, a Gascon who wrote the “Book of the Hunt” in French as he was one of the leading huntsmen of his day and died of a stroke while washing his hands after a bear hunt (or so the story goes). The castle was subsequently transformed into the Renaissance Château and then completely remodeled in the 19th century with furnishings chosen by Louis-Philippe and Napoleon III.

More recently,

Pau remains a very pleasant small city and was a good base from which to explore the French borderlands. We enjoyed purchasing components for a lunch at our rental house from the merchants of the recently opened Les Halles, one of the most sparkling and nicest food markets we’ve seen. We also enjoyed poking in lots of shops and admired the window display of the umbrella maker. Pau is known for its artisanal umbrellas and we regretted not having an important reason to splurge on one. The aptly named item pictured above certainly seemed like one of those things businesses offer for sale but never expect anyone to buy (we hope). [We also hope you recall the political assassinations with poisoned umbrella tips for which the Bulgarian spy agency was notorious.]

Saint Jean de Luz

In this most Basque of French towns, a charming seaside town just down the coast (where it starts bending west to outline the Iberian peninsula) from the much larger and glitzier Biarritz, the central historical figure is Louis XIV. He wasn’t born here, but here is where he got married.

A year before that marriage (1559) Louis, alas a persecutor of Protestants, achieved a notable success in concluding the Treaty of the Pyrénées which divided the Navarre between France and Spain, signed on Pheasant Island in the middle of the river that continues to form the border between the two countries (about midway between St. Jean de Luz and St. Sebastián). But, it’s the wedding to Maria Theresa (the Infanta of Spain) that put St. Jean de Luz on the map. It was a major diplomatic event made possible in part by Cardinal Mazarin (Louis’ chief minister) prevailing upon the King to give up his passion for the Cardinal’s niece (who the Cardinal sent into exile). There were Swiss Guards lining the route, companies of Gentlemen-at-Arms, the King’s mother Anne of Austria drawing the curtain on the nuptial bed and the walling up of the door through which the royal couple left the door after the ceremony. Against all odds, it seems to have been a happy marriage. We toured the house where the King stayed and brought his bride (now known in his honor as the “Maison Louis XIV” and where photographs aren’t permitted) which was built in 1643 by a shipowner in whose family it remains. It was well worth visiting even by those of us with limited French. The imposing and well furnished house pretty much remains in original but well-maintained 17th century condition, with barely noticeable concessions to modernity such as a microwave in the enormous kitchen discretely draped over with a cloth.

After falling on hard times for quite a few centuries, the town has regained its population of about 15,000 and is a great place to soak up some atmosphere. The name “de Luz” is derived for the Basque word for a swamp. The city long suffered from catastrophic flooding until sea walls were installed, allowing it to flourish.

As mountains are wont to do, the Pyrénées play favorites and provide more rainfall on the windward side as the air rises and releases its moisture as it cools. Somewhere behind Amanda and the two people checking out the recent avalanche is a somewhat more arid Spain. The place is the Cirque de Gavarnie, a modest hike (but, a hike nonetheless) up from the village of Gavarnie.

There is a very extensive national park all through the Pyrénées and we were impressed with how organized it is. One of our biggest surprises was how massive the mountains are and how wild.

Indeed, it wasn’t until we were back down the mountain, nearing Gavarnie itself that we could again appreciate the full scope of this natural amphitheater that Victor Hugo described as a coliseum in his poem Dieu, “c’est l’édifice le plus mystérieux des plus mystérieux des architectes; c’est le colosseum de la nature : c’est Gavarnie.”

Man cannot survive on natural beauty alone. Fortunately, a 24 hour fresh bread dispenser was available before we headed back down the mountain and onto the autoroute beyond Lourdes.

It’s nice to be back in France, but to someplace we’ve never been. Bordeaux wasn’t on our “must see” list, but we decided to spend a few days before heading south to the Pyrenees. Wouldn’t you know, we really like the city.

A Great Place for Wandering Aimlessly

The Garonne is navigable up to Bordeaux and the waterfront is quite attractive with a long and very popular promenade. There are also passenger boats offering a sort of taxi experience at a few points along the bank.

Although wandering aimlessly is quite relaxing, it doesn’t offer much of a story line. We’ll get better organized!

Keeping an Eye Open for Trouble

Our first day after sleeping in a bed was May Day, a public holiday made for demonstrations. On our way out in the morning for a time we were following a group of 6-8 young men carrying yellow vests, some were also carrying the large poles news coverage shows being used to break windows. The evening before we had noticed another young man on a bicycle wearing a black bandana over his lower face cruising through the central city neighborhood where we were staying, apparently part of a group of violent far left provocateurs. A number of times during the day we ran into intense police presence, lots of very heavily padded and protected police with visored helmets and those large shields on the march or sitting in transports, with guns for firing tear gas canisters. The photo above shows the least intimidating police barricade we saw. Another we walked through had a fire hose at the ready. We were very alert for trouble, but saw none. It was a very peaceful day and the people wearing yellow vests tended to be middle aged or older, joining the parade and clearly enjoying the nice weather.

The Unexpected

Meandering near the Hotel de Ville we noticed what Jim thought at first might be some sort of industrial building because from a distance it looked a little like the tanks in which vinegar is made. Looking at the signage and then investigating online, we confirmed that we were looking at the Bordeaux Courthouse (built in the late 1990s). The seven courtrooms are each an individual pod accessed by the judges and the public by different gangways. The thought is that somehow justice should be in the open. (Makes you wonder whether it just makes justice look more elitist.) Here’s the architect’s website: https://www.rsh-p.com/projects/bordeaux-law-courts/ (the same firm that designed the Pompidou Center). The whole area is a justice ministry complex and if you simply turn around you see the medieval looking round building in the bottom photo with access at the top that seems to prefigure the architectural idea for the courts. Too obvious?

Walking Bordeaux, we kept noticing intriguing distractions down side streets. In this case, it was a well hidden and pretty extraordinary late 17th century Baroque church. Having been visually bludgeoned by the baroque cathedral in Valletta, it was wonderful to take in the delights of baroque done with restraint.

Notre Dame de Bordeaux is also where the artist Francisco de Goya’s funeral was held in 1828. He had fled to Bordeaux after some especially subversive works critical of Ferdinand VII made his situation precarious in Spain.

All through the city are wonderful door knockers that leave us guessing what lies beyond them. The one on the left is easier. It belongs to an historic monument, the Petit Hôtel Labottière, a late 18th century example of the “art de vivre.” Nor could we go into the home sporting the knocker on the right. We found it at the intersection of two small streets and then looked back to see that there was a lush garden growing on the roof a level up. We could tell it was beautiful without seeing it.

City Gates Still Define the Old City

City gates throughout Europe didn’t fare well over time. We were delighted to see so many in Bordeaux that had survived both war and urban renewal (for sticklers, a few are medieval triumphal arches). Indeed, it’s a very nice city for walking not only for what has survived, but because they’ve created extensive pedestrian zones with quiet electric trams and buses.

We Had Sworn Off Churches

Having trudged through more churches, cathedrals, temples and shrines than we care to remember, we had been ignoring them. Our stumble onto Bordeaux’s Notre Dame, however, tempted us back.

CAthédral st. André

Most of the cathedral is 11th-15th century, although there are bits as recent as the 18th century. All that aside, it’s actually quite beautiful when you take a look.

basilique st. Seurin

Complete with an 11th century crypt, Saint Seurin is darker all around, but fascinating. It’s also at the site of the ancient necropolis where Charlemagne laid Roland’s horn on his return from Spain in 778 and before undertaking a pilgrimage (at least that’s what the plaque says).

Basilique st.Michel (+ flèche st.michel)

We didn’t venture inside this 14th and 15th century basilica. We were in the neighborhood before we went into Notre Dame. It is, however, pretty imposing and the “flèche” is the tallest in southern France. We understand that these separate belfries were intended to better safeguard the structures of the attendant basilicas and cathedrals from fire and other misadventures. Together with the Cathedral and Saint Seurin, St. Michel is on the Way of Saint James and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

This & That (Yes, let’s try to wrap up!)

QUINTESSENTIALly french

Ending on a sweet note, how can we write about France and not talk about food? Our experiences in Bordeaux were consistently good. Jim even had a chance to have some razor clams with garlic and parsley. The one exception would be the sweet concoction for which Bordeaux is known and that is sold everywhere. The canelé (pictured) has a dense rubbery texture and a pleasant taste. All we can figure is that nostalgic tradition keeps it popular (although we noticed clear inroads by cookies, brownies and other barbarian treats).

One odd thing about blogs is that you read them (or perhaps should read them) backwards, but no one does. There’s no beginning and (you’re thinking) no end. But, it’s the blogger who’s left with tasty tidbits that haven’t fit into any of the stories that have been cooked up to try to make sense of what we see. So, here are some of those tasty bits and pieces.

Trying desperately for a decent segue, we offer our first taste of a spiny lobster. We were talking with Antonio, our van driver for the run out from town to the lagoon in San Ignacio and learned that he also ran a restaurant on the square and, yes, he would make ceviche for us if we gave him an hour’s notice and, yes, he had some lobsters. Keeping it short, it was fun and they have an earthy taste halfway between a Maine lobster and a blue crab. They were big for spiny lobsters according to independent witnesses.

Water is a dominant theme when trying to understand the Baja Peninsula or the entire southwestern region of North America. Consistent with what Amanda and Ken learned when exploring the canyons of the southwest in the US, water usage is a zero sum game where the numbers keep getting smaller. The Colorado River no longer empties into the Sea of Cortes and the large delta it used to feed is no longer a delta, all with implications for the quality as well as the abundance of water. Of current interest is the fate of the vaquita, a small (5’ at most in length) porpoise that lives only in the Sea of Cortes and has been reduced in numbers to perhaps 10 individuals, where the water quality is a big concern in addition to the loss of these mammals in gill nets or for their very valuable swim bladders on the black market.

Adios for now.

Isla Espírito Santo

The islands and water around Espírito Santo are protected and tightly controlled. The islands with their reefs and wild occupants may only be approached by small boats for snorkeling. This is what we did.

Despite being in the Sea of Cortez approaching the Tropic of Cancer, the water is not Caribbean warm if you plan on spending any time in it. We were rewarded with sea lions swimming near us and an abundance of colorful fish, including parrot fish, sergeant majors, and barber fish tending to the coral in the guano enriched waters. Indeed, juvenile sea lions will bump into you or come charging at you in play. Star fish, sea urchins, moray eel, crabs and the ever present brown pelicans competed for attention less aggressively. Our guide was vigilant in making sure we kept a proper distance from the shore where the adult sea lions were hanging out and remained in “neutral water.” We were glad for this when a huge male cruised by, vocalized and gave us a look of acknowledgment.

Cabo San Lucas

Despite the insanity of the harbor and the party atmosphere, we enjoyed Cabo in a different way. Our guide (piloting the boat) likes to call it Cabo San Loco and it is unabashedly crass and commercial, but the exuberance of the place also has something to say for it. And, we were very lucky to have an excellent guide.

Cabo San Lucas is the fastest growing city in Mexico and is now second only to Cancun as the largest resort area. It has grown at such a remarkable pace that each ten years it is newly unrecognizable. Its economy is entirely based on tourism as commercial fishing is prohibited in the area, but it draws the rich and famous along with the spring break crowd. Needless to say, the people who work there cannot afford to live any closer than 30 to 40 minutes away. Although people may think they live in paradise, as the shirt of the young entrepreneur offering the shirt attests, it’s “strictly business.” All has also not been paradise in terms of crime and lawlessness, with Cabo the location of a death from tainted alcohol and numerous violent crimes. However, after a disastrous 2017, the government stepped in to drastically increase policing and the violent crime rate dropped by 90% in 2018.

Santa Rosalia

Although the outskirts of town have a grim industrial look, Santa Rosalia is a pleasant small city once dominated by Compagnie du Boleo, a French mining company.

Lacking wood to build their church, the Compagnie du Boleo bought a metal church designed by Gustav Eiffel out from under some South Africans who wanted it because of the problems where termites reign supreme.

El Triunfo de la Santa Cruz

In the 1750s gold and silver mines were established at El Triunfo. By the 19th Century they had figured out that the fumes from the smelting operation that were killing off people, so a truly massive chimney (at the time, one of the tallest in North America) was created to try to keep them from settling on the town. By midcentury, operations had ceased and many of the bricks were carted off to La Paz for construction there.

Goat Ranching up in the Hills

If there’s not gold or silver or water enough for crops, there’s always goats.

The owner has 40 lactating goats she milks in 1 1/2 hours. We thought that was pretty impressive. Many of the other goats are free range and her husband will go out with his dog to gather them in. They simply follow like a pack.

Loreto Mission

The Loreto Mission, having been built in 1697, was in complete ruins. The parish priest long dreamed of reconstructing it and promised in his prayers that if he played and won the lottery he would use the money to rebuild the Mission. Obviously, he won. He also kept his promise to God. He kept asking the authorities in Mexico City to share the Mission’s plans from the archives of Jesuit records so that it could be faithfully reconstructed. They never responded. So, he proceeded to reconstruct the Mission the best he knew how, including the common feature of a bell tower. Once construction was completed, the authorities notified the priest that the newfound source of town pride must be demolished because the original Mission did not have a bell tower. However, the indignant community worked together to overturn the demolition order.

A local shopkeeper invited us to go up on the roof of his building to get a good photograph of the Mission. Glad we took him up on it. It’s the bell tower that makes it beautiful.

San Javier Mission

In 1699 the Jesuits founded their second mission in Baja California, San Javier.

When the Jesuits arrived, the indigenous people (the Cochimies in the area of this Mission) were hunter gatherers with a Stone Age lifestyle. The Jesuits located their Missions where water was available for agriculture and started growing the crops important to them, namely figs, dates, olives, grapes, wheat, barley and pomegranate. They then recruited the native people as a labor force for both agriculture and for building the Mission itself, with the understanding that to be part of the agricultural age they must give up their traditional lifestyle and become part of the Mission community.

These alter pieces from Spain are 300+ years old, according to a friendly man from town.

This very old olive tree survives from what had been the Jesuit’s orchard. People from the community use the grounds to grow a number of crops and take advantage of the water reservoir that’s been long established.

Santa Rosalia de Mulegé Mission

Founded in 1705, construction began in 1766. The native population dropped precipitously during the mission years, from 40 to 50,000 people on the peninsula to 2,000 due to European infectious diseases.

San Ignacio Mission

Once again, the Jesuits founded (in 1728) a Mission in a favorable location at an oasis in this largely desert peninsula where the native inhabitants were close at hand to be proselytized and recruited to the work of the Mission. In addition to being quite well preserved, a distinction of San Ignacio is that it bears the traces not only of Jesuit architecture, but of the successor religious orders which took on the Missions after the Jesuits were evicted by the Spanish government around 1768 (accused of accumulating wealth and power, not without basis).

When the Franciscan Order took over the Jesuit Missions of Baja California, they added their own touches such as this statuary representation of a Franciscan wearing the rough garment and cord around the waist adopted by St. Francis when he took his vow of poverty. Of course, poverty does not preclude vanity.

The Dominican Order took over this particular Mission after the Franciscans lost interest and added the distinctively shaped structures on the roof line (or so we were told). However, the Dominicans were not new to Baja, having arrived in 1722. The Missionary Era ended in 1843.