The More Things Change The More They Stay The Same..., or "Today's Lesson"

 
   

Good afternoon class. If we haven't met before, my name is Mr. Whitney. That's right, like the girl's name. Get your laughs out now. Before we begin, I want to know something, have any of you ever read any James Michener? No. Well I don't blame you. Today we are going to do a "reverse Michener". Instead of starting way back in time and building up to now, we are going to tear down the present and end up back at the end of the Ice Age. Sounds cool, right? Hey! Quit your groaning in the back, Kristina! Make sure you're paying attention, this will be on the test.....

   Okay, so now that the formalities are out of the way let's start with a little town called Fairbank, aptly named as it sits on a nice little spot along the banks of the San Pedro river in Southern Arizona. No one lives there anymore. It's a ghost town. Once it was a nice little mining town near Tombstone, famous for Wyatt Earp and the Clanton feud. Ike Clanton himself had a ranch nearby little Fairbank but that's another story. So here we are in 2016 and all that is left of Fairbank are some little wooden buildings, a cemetery, a rebuilt school house and the ruins of a large Silver Stamping mill. The school house was restored in 2007 and also houses a modest library and gift shop for visitors. It is maintained as a historic site by the Bureau of Land Management as part of the San Pedro Riparian Area. If you happen to visit, I highly suggest you see if Ron Stewart is the volunteer for the day. He is super nice and very knowledgeable. What's left of this little town is tucked away along a lonely stretch of highway between Whetstone and Tombstone, the buildings are huddled together beneath the shade of Cottonwoods and the humidity of the river.

The Fairbank Silver Mill

     Just under a mile away is a small cemetery, run down and decrepit. The perfect place to either bury a treasure or be haunted by an old cowboy's ghost. Your choice. The hill has been eroding for nearly a century since the last person was buried there, the wooden crosses have dry rotted and the stones that keep the dead in their tombs have began to migrate to greener pastures. Even further down the trail are the megalithic remains of an old Silver Mill. Here, the gravity of falling water generated enough steam and energy to forcefully move metal rods up and down, up an down, again and again, essentially grinding raw silver ore into dust. Now, all that's left are giant walls of mortared stone, a lasting testament to both man's ingenuity and greed.
     The real question is why do you think this town sprung up here? Anybody? *chirp chirp*. You, the blonde in the back with Doctor Who shirt. Yes you. What do you think? Very good! It's the river. The river is why they chose to build. As mentioned before, this town relied heavily on its Silver Mill, which of course used the coursing water of the San Pedro to do its job. The Mill brings workers, workers bring their families and then a town pops up. The Railroad comes to ship the goods and soon enough you have a hotel, a mercantile and schoolhouse. But eventually the rails decide to move elsewhere, the people run out of things to do and they all move on. It's the story of more little towns than one can probably count. At one point, the U.S. census states that there were a whopping 72 people living in Fairbank. A little strange because the Business Directory lists at least 242 in 40 households. During this time, the Census was not something to be trusted. Many people considered it government over reach and some just plain didn't want to be found. Fairbank was never very big by any means, Tombstone being only a 15 minute drive away, but it had its place in the web of the mining economy in Southern Arizona.
    Speaking of Tombstone, let me deviate for a second for a pretty cool story. Don't roll your eyes at me Mr. French. Wyatt Earp. Famous and/or notorious gunfighter of the Old West. Made popular by his shootout with the Clanton gang at the O.K. Corral in Tombstone, Arizona, was once tried for murder. Many thought that he wrongfully killed those men cold in the street, many had a less than positive perception of the man. They charged him with murder. Fearing that he would not get a fair trial in Tombstone, the judge had his trial moved to Fairbank. After news spread of Wyatt's charges, old acquaintances and friendly citizens of Dodge City, Kansas sent letters speaking highly of Earp's honor. Wyatt was eventually acquitted and the charges dropped. Prime example of how important it is to have a good reputation.
    Anyway, Fairbank was founded alongside the San Pedro because of the abundance of water. It lasted from 1881 to 1973. But what happened before? Any guesses? Susie, go ahead. There were Native Americans there? Well, you are not wrong, but there was something else in between. Ah, the Spanish. Awesome. So the Spanish had come to this area for the same reason. The land was rich and fertile because of the river valley. Fairbank was built within the boundaries of the San Juan Boquillas y Nogales Land Grant that was once owned and operated by the Elias family out of Sonora. They came into the land in 1823 and the Spanish intended to settle it as part of New Spain, or Mexico, by today's terms. They had a hard time of it because they weren't the only ones there. The Chiricahua Apache fought them every step of the way which led to the abandonment of the area, leaving nothing but thousands of wild cattle roaming the San Pedro River Valley. In 1854 this area became part of the United States after the Gadsden Purchase but wouldn't be settled until the founding of Tombstone, Charleston and Fairbank.
    So why were Spanish trying to ranch there? What made it good for such a thing? Andy? Very good, its the water. I think you are catching on to the pattern here.  The San Pedro River creates an area that is far more fertile than the surrounding Sonoran Desert. Water is a hot commodity in the desert and everything relies on it. Even today, the land around the river is filled with Cottonwood trees, Mesquite, marsh grasses and all kinds of wildlife that rely on the water found there. In 1695 Father Eusebio Kino visited a string of Apache villages just north of the ruins of Fairbank. 156 years earlier, in 1530, Fray Marcos de Niza explored the area for the King of Spain describing the area as "an irrigated, evergreen garden" (Friends of the San Pedro River). Again, its the water.

Prehistoric Pottery and Points

     Alright, one last thing, I promise. The time machine is going to start moving faster now. Before the miners, the Spanish and the Apache, there were others. The Hohokam, the Mogollon and the Salado cultures all had settlements alongside the San Pedro River. Before them was the Cochise Culture lasting from around 5000-200 BC. Before the Cochise still, we have the Clovis. Who can tell
me who the Clovis are? Red hair and glasses, in the front, what do you think? Perfect, the Clovis were one of the first major migrations into the Americas. This happened between 12-9,000 BC, give or take a few and low and behold, there they are right along the San Pedro River. Now the climate back then would have been much different from the desert that it is today, but regardless the water was very important. The San Pedro started flowing at the end the last Ice Age and would have attracted all kinds of animals including Megafauna. Near Fairbank is Murray Springs that has evidence of Mammoth and Bison Antiqus kills. Also along the River are the Naco and Lehrner Mammoth Kill sites, just a stone's throw away.
    Ah, a question Mr. Petro? What's the point of all this? Excellent, I was just getting to that. What have I told you again and again is the point of studying History? Not the names. Not the dates. History shows us the overarching themes of human interaction and existence. Now I know it seems obvious that people need water. Everything needs water. But today we have talked about some concrete examples of how people relied upon the San Pedro river for their lives and livelihoods. The river gave them game to hunt, grass to feed cattle, and power to run their mills. It brought food, settlers, miners, merchants, and families. This is a pattern that will ring true nearly everywhere in the world with only a few exceptions. Where there is water, you will find people. Even today, the San Pedro is a conservation area that attracts visitors and outdoor enthusiasts from all over. Ranches still dot the valley and other towns have sprung up. If you ever hope to understand people, history is where you need to begin. Thanks for paying attention today class...for the most part....except you Scott. I saw you sleeping over there. I'll see you after class. 


 

Sing it from the Mountain Top, or "Too Far From the Beaten Path".

  

Top of the Mountain

   Since last time I wrote a post I have a lot of stuff go on in my life, all of it positive I might add, but still requiring a lot of thought processing. When I feel overwhelmed or stressed out, the best place for me is outdoors. I realize that there is a lot of talk about how the outdoors can help with things like depression and anxiety, and that might be true in some cases, but that is not true for everyone. But

Looking East from the Sandias

that's not necessarily what I am talking about. Being outside is like my meditation. Being surrounded by the Natural World refreshes sense of wonder and gives me some perspective. Its like meditation for me. Except I don't really know what that feels like because my mind wanders too much. But I can imagine there is a similarity. Maybe it's standing next to towering Ponderosa pines, hearing the wind blow through the the grass in a high mountain meadow, or making eye contact with a pair of deer as they nonchalantly pick their way through the brush; whatever it is, it brings me peace. As I mentioned before, big week for me. Lots to think about. Something in me decided to climb a mountain. So I did.
     I had been reading about interesting things in the area and read about an outcrop of limestone at the top the Sandias that supposedly had fossils. Nothing really special, mostly coral and small bivalves, but regardless, I wanted to see it. I could have driven to the top, parked, had a short, relaxing hike and been done. Did I do that? No. No I didn't. On a whim I parked just short of halfway up that bad boy and hiked. One of my favorite parts of hiking up a mountain is being able to go through all the different ecosystems that melt together as the elevation increases. The trail I chose began next to a small stream at the very top of Madera Canyon, it was a fairly modest trail, lacking in upkeep and only tenuously marked, making it all the more exciting. Looming above me, somewhere above the massive pines, was the peak that I sought to reach. The tail meandered up around the side the mountain, taking me through some truly beautiful stretches of forest. Unfortunately that was not the case the whole time.
     I spent a lot of time in my life working for a Nature Center in Nebraska where were basically in constant battle with Invasive Species. Sounds dramatic? Good. Because it was. Lost a lot of good

Prescribed burn back in NE

people out there. Stretches of the forest that I walked through were in really bad shape. Inches of duff (basically dead plant matter) covered the forest floor with barely any under story growth. In other places Scrub Oak blanketed the area in a near mono-culture. The mountain is in desperate need of a good burning. Fire was one of the most important aspects of managing our Prairie back home, and is also super important for keeping a healthy forest. I admit, I am not an expert in forest management and I realize there is a ton of planning an budgeting that goes into it. Problem is, unless you stay on top of it, the next time there is a fire it can be severe. Just a week or so ago, a large fire sprung up in the Manzano mountains southeast of Albuquerque. The Sandias are closer to an urban area and could potentially cause a greater loss of property and life if not contained in time. Thousands of years ago, lightening and mindful Native Americans made sure that fire did its part, whether it was intended or not. There are even a number of plants that will remain as seeds until fire coaxes them out. Fire is important, and it hurts my heart to see the forest in such bad shape.

Easiest way to read "Owls Hoot in the Daytime"

     Anyway, enough of the preaching. So I am about halfway to my destination and I stop to down some Powerade. What do I hear? An owl hoot in the daytime. First off, I freaking LOVE owls. Back at the nature center we had these two little screech owls and they were so cute and perched on my hand and then there was this blind Barn Owl and watching him eat was disgustingly fascinating. Second: "Owls Hoot in the Daytime" by Manly Wade Wellman is one of my favorite short stories ever! If you haven't had the chance to read it, find me and I will make sure you do. In the story, the owl calling out during the day signifies that the main character has traveled too far from the beaten
path. It is derived from old Appalachian folklore; I promptly ignored its warning and continued on.

     It was a long trek, not going to lie. I had to take a more than a few breathers because walking up hills is hard work. My eyes widened as I walked

Looking down from the top

into a wide open meadow very near the top. The top of the Sandias is a really popular hiking/trail running/dog walking area and I rapidly came to realize that I was not really in the wild anymore. My dreams of bear taming crushed for the day, I couldn't help but pick up some of the trash I came across in the trail to at least be placed in a trash can next time I saw it. I can forgive ill maintenance of the parkland, I get it, its hard, it costs money, and it can be really dangerous. You know what isn't any of those things? THROWING AWAY YOUR DAMN TRASH. Seriously. Put it where it belongs. Awesome, two preachy moments in one post.

      Anyway, eventually I made my way the highest point on the mountain and looked down and out across the world around me. Gods is it a beautiful sight. In moments like that, I am overwhelmed with a sense of place. That meditation thing I was talking about at the beginning. I knew where I was and for a moment my doubts and fears rushed away with wind. But I still had a goal. I had to find me some fossils. The age of the earth is profound to me. The fact that at the top of the mountain I am standing on what used to be the bottom of an ancient sea. Untold centuries of violent processes radically changed the shape of the surface into what I was seeing then. Talk about perspective. Looking out into the horizon, feeling the weight of time and pressing my hands against the remnants of some of the earliest lifeforms on the planet. People find solace in many things. Religion. Fantasy. Art. I find it most often in the feeling of insignificance. It is peaceful there. Maybe a bit lonely. But it's clarity. For me at least. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I look up at the sky. Down at the world. Peace. The hike back down in way easier. I feel a little high. Maybe its the meditation, maybe its dehydration. Who knows. Aside from being stabbed in the side by a Yucca thorn, it was a good day.

Bottom of the Ocean

A walk down a forested path, or "how I get lost..."

   Finally I feel like its safe to say that spring is upon us. I am sitting here and as we speak the temperature is gradually reaching into the 70's. Thank the gods. Yesterday it was nice enough for me to venture forth into the wilderness and go on my first real hike of the year.
    I almost always like to stick close to the river, I have always had a fondness for water and fate probably missed the boat by not making me a fish. Right now the water is still frozen solid on the surface but life is already waking beneath the frozen sheet. I came across a young man fishing through a hole in the ice and I sat watched him creepily with my phone camera poised to catch the act of pulling a fish from the river. It never happened. Too bad.
     After climbing some trees and steep embankments I came across the undeniable scent of skunk. I am by no means an expert tracker, but I do share a name with wolverine and decided I would try and follow my nose. I successfully tracked the skunk to its den. On second thought I may have been smelling a skunk victim, but alas I did not find the smelly culprit.
     I did however, stumble across an archaeological site. It appears to be a trash dump littered with bottles and automotive parts. I know it doesn't sound exciting but it is so deal with it. Using the bases of some bottles I was able to place it somewhere within the realm of the mid 1950's. Not anything super old but technically anything over 50 years old counts.
    Afterwards I bushwhacked back to the jeep and rewarded myself with a mint chip cliff bar. Mmmmmm. I suggest to all of you that you get outside and take some time to see what you can find. Don't be afraid to travel off the beaten path and poke around where you might not think you should. Just finding little mysteries in the world or maybe things you've never seen before can make the whole day worth it.

A Grand Ole' Time, or A Few signs You are over the Hill...

     Being from Nebraska, today is a pretty big day. On March 1st one hundred and forty-seven years ago, Nebraska was changed from being part of a territory to an official state. It became the 37th state in the union in 1867. The capital was also officially moved from Omaha to Lancaster, which would later be renamed to Lincoln shortly after President Abraham Lincoln's assassination. When people think of Nebraska they don't think of much. It is something of a curse placed upon states in the mid-west and Great Plains. Sure there is a lot of flat ground, there are a lot of corn fields and there aren't a lot of big cities or anything like that. But Nebraska and the rest of the plains states have a rich history full of exploration and excitement. It is easy to see why people like places like Arizona, or Maine, or California. The scenery there is dramatic and awe inspiring. We don't have that here in the plains, it takes a special kind of appreciation to enjoy what the plains have to offer. For us its not generally the sweeping scenery but the minute details that make up the landscape.
     The plains has a long history of settlement by the various Native tribes such as the Pawnee, Sioux, Omaha, Mandan, Otoe, Winnebego and many others. I am not super qualified to speak on the history of the plains Indians but I do know that their mark has been left all across the face of my home state. The first Europeans to cross were Spaniards that followed Francisco Vasquez de Coronado on his quest for Cibola, the golden city. On his way through the Great Plains he crossed Oklahoma and Kansas searching for Quivira, the golden city. Then would come the French-Canadian explorers and trappers that traversed Nebraska on their was south and west. Later, Lewis and Clark would travel down the Missouri River on their way west. There are a number of state parks and camp sites that are placed on the very spots that the legendary duo stayed at on their expedition.
     Perhaps one of the most dramatic events in American History is the westward expansion on the Oregon Trail. In order to travel the trail and make it to one of its many destinations, one had to be prepared. Unfortunately, many of the settlers would not be. Whether it be from lack of supplies, sickness or some other hardship, many people decided to stay in the Great Plains and make their home. This led to an influx of settlers in Nebraska and other plains states. Another side effect of the Oregon Trail comes in the form of my favorite kinds of stories, treasure legends. You see, when rich people from the East decided to move out west via the trail, they brought all of their most expensive belongings. Soon the would realize it was either their stuff or their lives. Choosing life, they buried their valuables in caches across the plains hoping to return. Most never did, so their antiquities still  remain buried beneath the fields and rolling hills waiting to be uncovered. You can still see ruts in the ground from the Oregon Trail in a few places across Nebraska.
     In modern times, in all honesty, Nebraska doesn't look like much. It has a super low number of public land acres and only a few parks, its only state forest is hand planted. However, if one takes the time (and gas), it is easy to get lost on the meandering dirt roads that lead to far and away homesteads, abandoned cemeteries and Native American camp sites. There are a multitude of organizations that are attempting to restore the people's want to explore the world and find the little things that still remain mostly hidden or forgotten and renewing our since of exploration. So on this day, March 1, 2014, I say Happy Birthday Nebraska. We may not get along all the time, we may never see eye to eye and sometimes I might get bored of your presence...but I still love you because I have seen the beauty that you keep hidden from all but those who choose to look.

Oregon Trail Ruts in Rock Creek, NE

 \
Coronado's Route

 
 Lewis and Clark's Route

Chimney Rock National Monument

Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie...

     As many of you know, I have been hired as a field surveyor on an archaeological project in New Mexico. This is my first job as a professional archaeologist and is quite exciting. I have already done one 8 day session but unfortunately I did not bring my computer nor my camera. I can assure you that it was a fantastic first week on the job despite the nearly constant presence of rain. We are surveying ground for a windmill farm that is taking us across a multitude of ranch land in central New Mexico. The majority of our findings are depression era relics however we have also found many stone tools from wandering Native Americans. Today was a particularly exciting day; firstly because I brought my camera and secondly because we found a site that told a story. I am going to share that story with you now.

     In the early 1900's the railroads passed through and bought up all the land alongside the tracks. Eventually this land was sold to people all over the country, but mostly back east with the promise that the land would be fertile for years to come. Many of these men and women took to growing beans; think pinto, not soy. This worked fine for awhile, however the elevation of the area keeps the annual rainfall fairly low and eventually the farmland was drying up. Then comes the Dust Bowl and Great Depression. These hard times cause many people to drop everything and leave, some head back east, others west as migrant workers. The remnants of this era are scattered about the empty short grass prairie.
     My day started out relatively normal as far as survey goes. We drove our truck down some lonely dirt roads that snake between large tracts of grassland. We parked, we got out, we line up and then marched in lines. For the first hour or so we found nothing, which seems to be the norm out here. A herd of female Pronghorns trotted by and a very short distance, followed closely by two ever watchful males. Shortly after we met the owner of the property who has lived on this land all his life; we all guess he was pushing his 80's. His father moved out here and bought the land in 1913 and started out as a bean farmer but turned to cattle when the farming looked bleak. This is one of the few families the survived through the Dust Bowl.

Remains of Model T

1930's wheel well/running board

     In another 45 minutes of walking we began to see scatterings of objects on our transects. The first being an old trash pile with the remains of a Model T Ford as its center piece. Later we found the wheel well and running board of a 1930's style luxury car. Atop the next hill appears to be some kind of structure that our boss guesses is the homestead to which the trash belongs to. As we get close the debris become more frequent. We start seeing old fruit or meat cans, Prince Albert tobacco and shattered glass jars. Upon finally reaching the top of the long rolling hill we come upon the place where someone once tried to make a home.
    The bodies of two old farm trucks; one a Ford, the other likely a Chevy, sit rusting away. A well
sits unused, still filled with water, and a scattering of large stones and a deep depression marks where

the dugout that the family lived in once stood. Among the artifacts that we found were broken china with intricate flower patterns, broken wine bottles, cosmetic jars, a belt buckle, a marble, various tools. Now I love the mystery found in a scattering of prehistoric pottery and flaked stone, but those kinds of artifacts leave behind a lot of guess work. Here we had a story of people who tried to make a living in a far away place and failed. These people are likely remembered by someone, their records left behind in a census or bill of sale or some such thing. This makes the site more personal and easier to access in a number of ways. This isn't the only sign of the tragedies of the Dust Bowl, not but 3 miles away is another abandoned farmstead. These are the sad, lonely reminders of one of the worst hard times in

Remains of Dugout House

American History.


















Here are some other pictures from the day...

The Longest Hajj: Explorer of the Month

     It is thankfully the last day of February and Spring is right around the corner. It has also been a full 28 days and I have yet to post an Explorer of the Month. Never fear.

 Ibn Battuta, brought to you by Ibn Battua Mall in Dubai.

    I love the so called "New World". I love mountain men, and cowboys and treasure hunters and Conquistadors and natives and all of that New Worldy stuff. However, there is much more to the world than that and I decided I should talk about that as well. Not that I don't love it as well, it just isn't my specialty. So that brings me to the Explorer for this month. He is a man that traveled many thousands of miles during his life time and saw more people, places and things in his journeys than many explorers of European descent. Yet he still remains obscure to many. His name was Abu Abdullah Muhammad Ibn Abdullah Al Lawati Al Tanji Ibn Battuta. Doesn't ring a bell? Perhaps you know him simply as Ibn Battuta.
    Ibn Battuta was born into a family of Islamic scholars in Tangier, Morocco (making him a Tangerine!) on the 25th of February of 1304. At the age of 21, Ibn dropped everything and left his home, family and friends behind in order to complete his Hajj, or pilgrimage to Mecca. This feet would take him sixteen months to complete but he would not return to his home for 24 more years. His travels would take him across nearly every corner of of the Old World.

Believe it or not, this map is courtesy of "Fuck Yeah Cartography!", Google it.

     As you can see from the map, this guy went a lot of places. He saw parts of Africa, Europe, Arabia, India, Indonesia and china. It no wonder that his trip took as long as it did. Ibn Battuta made his way to Mecca by way of Syria, he would stop in Medina to visit the tomb of Muhammad. On his way he visited many holy sites including Jerusalem and Bethlehem as well as the great port city of Alexandria. Upon reaching his destination he decided he would keep on walking in order to see the extent of the Muslim Empire. All along the road he wrote about everything he saw and compiled an autobiographical text about his journey, known today as the Rhila. His next destination was a Mongol Khanate called Ilkhanate that was centered in Persia. This is merely the beginning of his epic journey to see the world, which is the one thing he desired the most. After ending his wanderings he relayed all of his quest to a scholar named Ibn Juzzay, to whom he said "I have indeed - praise be to God - attained my desire in this world, which was to travel through the Earth, and I have attained this honour, which no ordinary person has attained." I could go on and on about what he did and saw and where Ibn Battuta went. However, I merely would like to wet your appetite for knowledge and hopefully you will take it upon yourself to learn more about this great man. I here by deem Ibn Battuta as the Explorer of the month for February 2013, 708 years and three days after his birthday. I do so on the grounds that he was a man who wanted only to see the world and to learn from what he found. I can think of no better definition of an explorer than that.

There are a ton of books about Ibn Battuta and his travels; here is a link to Amazon.com that will provide a good jumping off point for those interested.

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_5?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=ibn+battuta&sprefix=Ibn+B%2Cstripbooks%2C142&rh=n%3A283155%2Ck%3Aibn+battuta

Explorer of the Month: Douglas Preston

     While wandering up and down the musty smelling aisles of the local public libraries I have passed a certain book more than a few times. I love to read very much but am a heinously slow reader so no matter how much my curiosity was spiked I always passed this particular volume by. The tome is thick, somewhere around 400 pages tiny printed text, bound in a large hardcover with a water color painting of Coronado scrawled of the front. The book jacket is yellowing clear plastic and with the library bar code placed in the upper left corner. This particular book is titled "Cities of Gold" and is written by this months Explorer, Douglas Preston. Douglas Preston is an author from Cambridge, Massachusetts and is a bestselling author of both fiction and non fiction. He got his writing career off to a start when writing for the American Museum of Natural History in New York. He wrote his first book, Dinosaurs in the Attic, in 1986 and continues to write today.
   Having lived and fell in love with the deserts of the southwest I was drawn to "Cities of Gold" simply by title alone. I did not really know what to expect from the book but upon my completion of the book what I found is quite possibly the greatest nonfiction story I have ever read. Mr. Preston, once a product of the city and described as a Yankee by many people throughout his book, decided to move to New Mexico on a whim. Eventually he decides that he will trace the trail of Francisco Vasquez de Coronado through the American Southwest; from the Mexican border, through Arizona, and up to Santa Fe. For Coronado and his men, this was an excruciating, arduous trek that led them across most of the American continent. For Preston and his companions this would prove to be just as difficult as the original search for the seven cities of gold.
     The quest of Douglas Preston and his companions I feel was many things, one was the search for what it means to be American which I feel is a very important question for those of us from this country. Another reason for this journey was to simply prove that they could do it. Throughout the book Preston often expressed frustration when people told him that we was just a "Yankee" and would probably die along the way. The writing of this particular book really conveyed the sense of wonder, danger and awe that he must have felt as he traveled through the desert southwest. One of the most compelling parts of this book are the interactions with the myriad of people that he met along the way. Preston also conveys a deep sense of respect for the land and its people, especially the natives that lived there before us. There is a stark contrast between the "once was" and the "is now" and it is very interesting to see the changes and how rapidly they came. I have literally only glanced over what is contained between the covers of this book. I do need to say that after completing it I was brought to tears by the shear beauty and poignancy of this "Cities of Gold". I am probably not considered an expert on literature, but I feel as though this is one of the most important books I have read.
    Enough about the book, I need to say a little as to why Douglas Preston has earned this Explorer of the month award! Firstly, it is well known that Coronado did not have an easy time with his journey, scholars are not even sure of the exact route. Having the courage and the grit to take up the challenge of following in the footsteps of one of the great conquistadors is merit enough. Secondly, he has not only done this once but continued to seek adventure throughout the world by following other historic trails on horseback. Very soon I will be reading a follow up book of sorts about another one of his adventures. I will be sure to post my thoughts on what I am sure will be another excellent read. I think most of all I appreciate Mr. Preston's ability to leave everything behind and pursue something different, something of the beaten path. That is what has earned Douglas Preston my explorer of the month award for February of 2013.

Here is a link to Preston and his partner's website: http://www.prestonchild.com/

Here is a link to the Douglas Preston Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/Douglas-Preston/e/B000AQ0AWW