Desert Book - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

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the best possible testimony to its inaccessibility
and remoteness.
"I don't have any idea what we'll
find there," Kent said on the eve of
our departure. "Probably nothing important,
but we'll see some new country—and
we might find a cliff dwelling."
And now that we were 80 road-andtrail
miles west of Monticello and as
close to our goal as the jeeps could
take us, the next order of business
was to select a campsite in the nut
pines and junipers. As darkness settled
in the canyons, we fell to gathering
dry wood for our night and morning
fires. Fern prepared a good hot
supper, the others of us selected level
spots and unrolled our sleeping bags,
and by the time the first star appeared
we were well settled and making big
plans for the morrow.
Sunrise next morning found breakfast
eaten and camp made shipshape,
and after each of us collected the
articles he thought he would need for
a day of exploring on foot, we were
on our way. The air at this elevation
of nearly 6500 feet was frosty enough
to make a jacket feel comfortable, but
the sky was clear and blue, and a
beautiful day was in prospect.
Only a short distance from camp we
crossed a deep storm-cut arroyo at
the confluence of Fable Valley and
the side canyon through which we had
descended the previous evening. A
MARCH, 1959
The explorers, from left:
Bill Thompson, Becky Beckwith,
Fern and Kent Frost.
small stream coursed through the bottom
of the arroyo, and we were delighted
to find a good spring of cold
water gushing from the cutbank beneath
a clump of small willows.
Beyond the arroyo we headed south
across the sage-grown floor of Fable
Valley, having entered it midway between
its upper and lower ends. As
the target for our first day's exploration
we had voted to go to the head
of the valley and return.
We had not walked a quarter of a
mile before we noticed a tall rock
promontory on our right. Rising
abruptly to a height of 125 feet above
the valley trough, it formed a conspicuous
landmark quite unlike anything
else in this vicinity. It was" not until
we had approached quite near to it
that we caught sight of the Indian ruin
••
Trail into Fable Valley
still is on the rugged side,
and strictly limited to
jour-wheel drive vehicles.
built upon a rock spur halfway up the
side of this great natural tower.
The ruin was half-circular in form
and constructed of stone masonry, but
any door or window leading into it
was not visible from our point of observation.
We also discovered that a
low stone wall, like a parapet, stood
on the top of the promontory. Without
a ladder or rock-climbing equipment
it appeared impossible to reach
either ruin without great risk to life
and limb. It was quite obvious that
the great rock had served as a watchtower;
and if a guard had been needed,
then it seemed logical that there must
have been habitations above or below
this point.
With anticipation quickening our
footsteps, we pressed on up the valley.
We began finding beautifully chipped
chert and agate arrowheads, and fragments
of broken pottery were almost
everywhere we looked. Quality and
design of these potshards indicated
that the ware was typical of that found
in other ancient pueblo sites throughout
the Colorado plateau region and
south into New Mexico. In addition
to the corrugated and plain gray cooking
ware, a great many of the shards
carried black-on-white and black-ongray
designs, and a few were black-onred.
Our next discovery was a small ruin
in the southwest wall of the valley.
Becky and I spotted it first, and soon
as Bill responded to our shouts, he
and I scrambled up the rocky slope to
the structure.
Situated in the shelter of an overhanging
sandstone ledge, the ruin included
three rooms — evidently one