There’s Gotta Be a Ghost Here Somewhere, and It’s Probably Short

A few days ago, when we were finishing up the new irrigation system, I had to dig one last ditch. It was all going smoothly until the final two feet when I hit a batch of large squarish rocks. That’s rare. I dug ditches all last week and aside from a few very small rocks, all I had to dig through was dense clumps of earth. These rocks were conveniently stacked on top of each other, so I resorted to pulling them out by hand and throwing them out of the ditch above me. Danny happened to be passing by and asked me to stop for a minute. He inspected some of the rocks and told me I just discovered a new Anasazi ruin. I asked if he wanted to uncover more of it, but he just shook his head. “No,” he said, “that’s the 17th ruin found on my property so far.”

On our hikes around the canyon, we’ve explored an underground kiva, a solar calendar (not unlike Stone Henge), several food storage caves still covered in bricks and lots of cliffside homes. Broken pieces of pottery are all over the place here, and Danny picked up two complete arrowheads when we were climbing last weekend. They were just lying on top of the ground! Similarly, Hosey’s trailer is full of arrowheads, ancient toy marbles, broken axes and all sorts of other artifacts that he just happened to notice while walking around.


The Anasazi are something of a mystery. They seem to have just disappeared several hundred years ago. The ruins here are believed to be 1000 years old. The most recent theory is that their tribes were integrated with Pueblo tribes and moved to different territories in the Southwest.

My trailer lies at the bottom of the canyon wall, which is about 700 feet tall. About 300 feet up, there’s a small Anasazi cave. I explored it with the Brits my first week here, but that was in the daylight. Last night, at about midnight, I was walking to my trailer and I stopped to admire how bright the canyon looked. It was almost a full moon and the cliff was glowing with a bright pale blue color. That’s when I saw the cave and had what seemed like the most brilliant idea ever.
I threw my sleeping bag, sleeping pad and a lantern into a backpack and started climbing. The lower half of the canyon is the steep part, and after losing my grip and sliding down a few times, I started to question my brilliance—but not enough to stop. It took about half an hour, but I finally made it to the cave. The opening drops straight down the cliff of the canyon, so you have to approach it from the top and carefully lower yourself in. The interior of the cave is an oval area about seven feet wide and five feet deep. At the tallest point, the ceiling is less than four feet high. The entire floor slopes inward in a cone shape. It’s not exactly my cozy trailer, but I thought “Hell, if the Anasazi can sleep here then so can I!”

I had a horrible time finding a way to lie down that wouldn’t cause me to roll into the rocky center. Eventually, I was stable and started to drift off when I heard something loud rustling outside. That woke me up fast. Believe it or not, it wasn’t until that point that I remembered I saw a mountain lion down the road last week. They say mountain lions don’t care for humans much and all you have to do is make yourself look big to scare them away. Looking big in a four foot tall cave, however, can be a bit of a challenge.

I finally just told myself I was being paranoid and managed to fall asleep—curled up in a tiny ball. The ground didn’t feel hard under my sleeping pad and I ended up ditching the sleeping bag because it was too warm for it. I still woke up several times, usually with a strong, insatiable craving to stretch out, but I stuck with it through the night. I refused to admit that this cave was too cramped for me. Besides, it was hard not to enjoy the view from where I was laying; the whole canyon lit up in the moonlight.

Birds woke me up bright and early, chirping at the cave’s entrance. I stayed long enough to watch the sun rise over the vineyard—which alone was worth the late night trip—then climbed back down to my trailer and slept for a couple more hours. I did, after all, need some decent rest for the long work day ahead of me.

During breakfast, I told Danny what I did. He loved it, but pointed out that the Anasazi were only about five feet tall. I’m 6’3”. That explains a few things.

To the Batcave!

We have Sundays off, and this past Sunday was the Brits’ last full day here, so Danny wanted to make it a good one. He told us to load up on water and granola bars and put on our hiking boots. We obeyed like giddy children, then grabbed Hank the Wonder Dog and drove deep into the canyon.

Our first stop was an abandoned uranium mine, unused for about 50 years. Decades ago, a landslide blocked the road that led up to this mine so we had to hike the last mile. On the way up, Danny told us this canyon was where uranium was mined for the atomic bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. Then he told us stories about how many of the mine workers died of radiation poisoning. We all slowed our ascent when he said that, but nobody wanted to be the coward that turned back so we kept going.

We came around a bend and saw the remains of an ore shack that loaded the uranium into trucks for transport. All of us had fun climbing up and around that before going into the mine itself. The entrance was covered with lots of spray painted warnings about explosives. On the ground lay an empty dynamite tube and an unused fuse. Danny tried to scare us with it, but we all knew he would never really pick up an old stick of dynamite (we’ve all seen Lost).


We only had to walk about 100 feet into the mine until it was pitch black. Nobody thought to bring a flashlight, but I had a tiny bike light in my backpack that led the way. The biggest danger was the chance of falling down a vertical shaft in the ground, so we kept the light on our feet the whole time. Danny only led us through the first few tunnels because it turned into a crazy maze after that. Aaron and I got separated from the others while Danny had the light and we had a heck of a time finding our way back. The two of us took a break to snap some pictures of each other by some of the tunnels. It was blind photography because we couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces and we had no idea what was on the pictures until the flash went off. While Aaron was posing for one, he said he thought something flew past his face. I was about to tell him it was probably just a draft of wind when I felt something fast brush across my hair. Right then, we heard Danny shout “Watch out! We woke up the bats!”

Aaron and I could hear one rushing over our heads every few seconds. We crouched as we walked back up the tunnel until we got to a point with enough light that we could make out the dark bat shapes flashing by us. I was trying to catch one on my camera when Aaron asked if I heard a loud squeaking noise from a hole in the wall across from where we stood. The bats flying around us were squeaking, but not as intensely as this new noise. We both squinted our eyes to see the hole it was coming from, then let out a stream of expletives and hit the floor.

Dozens of bats rushed out that hole straight toward us! A whole flock of them (swarm? herd? gaggle?) was going berserk racing in circles above where we lay. I kept my hands over my head, but could still feel them brushing past my hair, and the high-pitched squeaking was nonstop. It was like a cliché cave scene out of a cheap action movie. I could hear Hank in the next tunnel barking like mad, and Danny shouting “No Hank! We do NOT hunt bats!”

The bats finally calmed down enough for us to make our escape. On the way out, Danny found an old empty bag of explosive powder with a kitschy label. He decided it would make a good decoration for the ranch. Later, I got really excited when I looked at my photos and saw that I caught a few bats in mid-flight.

After the mine, Danny drove us to the top of the canyon. We hiked to the far edge where the plateau turns into a peninsula and you can see for ages. This part of the canyon faces the southeast, so you can see mountains from Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona. We had been to a different part of this peninsula before, but this time was special because a dark thunderstorm was brewing in the distance.

Danny said the mountains would direct the storm away from us, so this was a good and safe place to watch it. We all sat around on sandstone rocks with our feet dangling over the edge of the canyon wall as lightning flashed across the sky. We counted the seconds between the flashes and the thunder to see how far away it was, which held at a steady three miles. Even at that distance, the thunder made everything around us shake. It was spectacular! Although rain was plentiful in Oregon, thunder and lightning were incredibly scarce there. I haven’t seen a storm like this since I was a kid on the East coast.

Then the wind changed.

I first felt some light mist, then big pellets of rain speckled across my back. The Brits wanted to hike back to the truck, but Danny just laughed and told them not to worry, storms never come this way. I was glad he said that. I didn’t mind getting a little wet for this show, so I moved to take a seat on the tallest sandstone rock.

No sooner did I sit down that than a huge flash of light lit up the whole sky from behind me, and simultaneously, the loudest cracking noise I ever heard jolted my whole body. It felt like all my muscles contracted at once with a quick, sharp pain, and it took me a moment to collect myself. It wasn’t until I looked up and saw the other three guys running away at top speed that it occurred to me I should probably be running, too.It took me a while to catch up with them.

We all ran a good quarter mile before we stopped and talked about what just happened. I was facing the wrong way to see it, but the others told me a lightning bolt shot down into the canyon right behind me. Everyone felt a piercing shock, and Danny pointed out that the sandstone we were sitting on was an electrical conductor. Apparently, the jolt from the lighting traveled through it and buzzed all of us with a mild electric charge. Danny was shaken, but laughing. The Brits were freaking out. And in a matter of seconds, it was pouring.

Suffice it to say, we headed back to the truck then and drove home. I don’t have a sense of smell, but the others complained about a wretched odor and blamed Hank for rolling around in something on the hike. After we arrived at the house, I saw Danny smelling his boot. Then he asked to smell mine. After he did, he said he figured out what the funny smell was. I asked if I stepped in something, but he said no; the rubber soles on our boots were burnt.

The rest of the evening was pretty chill. We ate dinner, had some drinks and lounged around the ranch. That’s when I finally saw a black widow! There were several of them in a cave right behind Hosey’s trailer (the Brits and I have made a late night tradition of hanging out there).


We actually caught one in a glass jar to show Hosey, who has been bitten by black widows three times in his life. Said it hurt like hell every time. He checked out our specimen and said it was the biggest he’s ever seen. The Brits had some ideas of getting it stoned and pulling its legs off before killing it, but Hosey and I had other ideas. He convinced them to wait until morning so we could see what kind of web it would spin in the jar overnight. The next morning, he found me first and told me he let it go. Over the past couple weeks, I’ve learned that Hosey is more perceptive than people give him credit for. Even drunk, he could tell right away that I didn’t want them to hurt that spider.

Hell of a day.