Twisted Reunion

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. The park trees are photogenic.

Roped-Off Reunion

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. Although we climbed narrow ladders and squeezed through tiny tunnels during our visit to the park, many of the areas happily were off limits to tourists.

A Different Path

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. We get out of the car and take a walk.

Shelter

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. Things look small when you step back.

Parched Reunion

Near Mesa Verde, Colorado, July 1967. We visit the area near Four Corners.

Dry

Near Mesa Verde National Park, July 1967. I am not climbing to the top of the hill.

Rocky Reunion

Near Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967.

Weathered

Mesa Verde National Park, July 1967. The trees at the park have complicated histories.

Heights

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. I wrote earlier that this is the place at which I learned the meaning of "claustrophobia." It's also where I came to terms with my fear of heights.

Durable

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. The tree adapts to its conditions.

Desert Tree

After our vacation in Rocky Mountain National Park, we drove southwest and spent a few days at Mesa Verde National Park. I've written about my dislike of Mesa Verde's desert climate. I also remember feeling that once we had toured the spectacular ruins, there was not much there of interest to a young child. It's one of the few spots we had visited where I felt somewhat bored.

Looking back now at the photos from that trip, I realize I probably missed a lot.

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. My Mom wears that top that got a lot of mileage!

Leaving

At the end of our family vacations, my Dad sometimes took a photo of one or of all of us as we packed to leave the summer spot. I often contrived an expressions of mock sadness for these ceremonial snapshots. On other occasions, I really was unhappy about ending the adventure.

Here is a photograph that captured genuine sadness. We had just spent a month at a cottage in Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. I had become attached to two dogs that hung around the lodge property, and I did not want to leave them. I had been crying just before my Dad snapped this photo. I remember that he tried to cheer me up as he focused the frame.

Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado, July 1967. There's the gold Buick LeSabre, trunk open, ready for loading. We left Rocky Mountain National Park and drove to Mesa Verde.

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Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado, July 1967. This is one of the dogs that stole my heart that summer. He's standing at the entrance to our rental cottage. I wanted a dog badly, and my encounter with this hang-dog occurred two years before Gigi came to live with us.

Mesa Verde

Mesa Verde National Park is the place at which I learned the meaning of "claustrophobia." 

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. We traveled to Mesa Verde after a visit to Rocky Mountain National Park.

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Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, July 1967. This was also the spot that taught me that I don't like desert weather.

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"Visiting a cliff dwelling can be strenuous. The cliff dwellings are at 7,000 foot (2134 m) elevation. Please consider your physical health before hiking or going on tours. ... Trails are steep and uneven, with steps and ladders. … Although there are no height or age restrictions for tours, children must be capable of walking the extent of the trails, climbing ladders, and negotiating steps independently."