North of Albuquerque, you can find one of the Southwest’s many hidden gems. It is a bit off the beaten path, but then again, most gems are. You will need to head north toward Santa Fe before exiting toward Cochiti Lake. We will not be actually visiting the lake. Not today, anyway. No, today’s visit is about something very different.
Follow the signs for the Kasha Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument. This site is far off the Interstate, but you will realize when you are close, especially if you go during the summer. People visit the rocks in droves, all eager to see the dagger-like landscape hidden deep within a canyon.
Join the crowds on the hike to the rocks. It will not be easy. You will navigate some ups and downs. You will squeeze by on narrow trails. You will carefully wind your way through a slot canyon. You will hike up a slippery, silty slope. Eventually, you will reach the top of a mesa. You will look out and see them.
Here in the Southwest, we will see many, many sights that seem to defy explanation. Sights that feel unreal, as if they’ve been picked out from a fantasy novel and plopped before you. Perhaps you may find these on some alien planet, but not Earth. And yet, here it is. Here you are.
The tent rocks are one such sight.
There are dozens standing in the canyon before you. The rocks themselves are shaped like perfect cones. They stretch high above the distant ground below, at times nearly a hundred feet tall. They stand apart, each cone its own separate entity, and yet they gather in clusters. It is as if you are looking out at a massive army of stone, all poised and ready to attack.
What is the story here, you may ask. An army, turned to stone? A people cursed by the gods? Monsters rising up from the Earth below?
No, my friends. The story of this place is not one of supernatural beings or even of the greed or hubris of humans. There are plenty of those stories throughout the Southwest, and we will find them in time. Today’s story, however, is a story of nature.
There were no humans around to tell this story. It predates even the oldest on Earth. Fortunately for us, the land tells its own stories. We just have to know how to listen.
Listen, my friend. Look. There are clues around you. Examine the ground where you stand and the dirt on your shoes. The soil here is very fine, to the point of being soft as powdered sugar. It coats your fingers in a fine layer of dust as you feel it.
The geologists out there have likely figured it out by now. For those of you who haven’t, it is ash.
This whole land is the product of a volcano.
Millions of years ago, the Southwest was a volcanic minefield. Volcanoes forced their ugly heads above the ground, true monsters rising up from the deep. They spewed forth lava and ash and rock. Some created lava flows, like the one we saw in Albuquerque. Others, however, were far more violent. Their lava could not flow. It was too thick, too syrupy. It built up, the pressure rising from submerged gases trying to force their way out, until it finally exploded into a pyroclastic flow.
It is very fortunate people did not live here at the time. Anyone who did would have witnessed the Earth transform into Hell.
Molten rock raining down from above. Ash blocking out the sky. An avalanche of hot dust, ash, and rock bearing down upon the land. Can you imagine looking up at the mountains around you and seeing a massive cloud of molten volcanic ash race itself down the mountainside? You would die instantly from its power. You would choke on the poisonous gas. You would burn from the red hot rock. The ash would fill your lungs and bury your body. You would be no more.
That is the power of a pyroclastic flow. That is what swept the ground where you stand today. The rock beneath your feet is no ordinary rock. It is that same ash, now hundreds of feet thick. The tent rocks are made of the same stuff, now slowly eroding away.
This site, this pleasant, sunny site full of hikers and families, is all that remains of that ancient hellscape. Many visitors do not realize the power of nature that once covered this land. They come to look out on the pretty rocks. To marvel at the incredible views. To stand atop a mesa, look down on the world below, and feel strong and powerful.
You likely had this feeling yourself, did you not? When you reached the top and looked out at the rocks, did you not feel strong? Capable? Satisfied with your own abilities? After all, it was not an easy hike through the canyon or up the slope. And yet you did it.
Do not feel embarrassed that I could call out your feelings so well. It is a human trait, this seeking of power. Who does not enjoy feeling strong and powerful?
So while you are here, look out over the rocks. Enjoy the feeling of triumph over nature. Stand amid the dozens of other humans crawling across the land, all seeking the same feeling. You are one of many. Do not think yourself special. And as you hike down, keep this in mind. You may feel you have bested nature in this moment, that you hiked atop a volcanic hellscape and up a mesa to see one of nature’s best kept secrets. You may think you have won.
But never make the mistake of thinking you are more powerful than nature. She allowed your victory today. You did not take it from her.
Look up as you walk back through the slot canyon. As you squeeze your way through the narrow stone walls, look above your head. Do you see the water mark, high above? If you’re familiar with the dangers of the desert, you may realize its implications.
Flash floods. Rains.
This may seem odd to visitors of the Southwest. After all, is this not a desert? A place known for its arid nature? How is flooding a danger here?
Contrary to common belief, the desert is not without rain. Yes, for ten months of the year, there is little to no moisture. It is dry and arid, heat radiating from the sun and ground alike. But for those remaining two months?
It is a monsoon. Most of the Southwest desert’s annual rainfall arrives at once, falling in torrents during afternoon thunderstorms. And when that happens, the water becomes dangerous.
You see, when this canyon floods, the water can reach all the way to that high water mark, high above your head. It is a windy, narrow canyon. The water will be moving fast, faster than you could ever hope to escape. You would be swept up, dashed against the rock walls of the canyon, and drowned. All within seconds.
Never think yourself above nature, my friend. She could wipe you out easily.
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