stone circles

I strip down and pull on the thermals I remembered to pack. And dig out the heavy winter coat. The one with a hood. Gonna need that on this walk. Only a mile or so, but the winds have got to be above 60 mph. I can see large swirls of snow rushing across the pass between the two mountains.

But I can also see the barrier of wood posts circling the wheel of stone, on top of the next ridge, beckoning me on.

I slide the digital camera into one pocket, and take no other gear. Foolish, perhaps, especially with the storms building in the west, but this will need to be a fast hike.

And I start to walk. Not too bad, until I get to the pass. The chain marks and ATV tracks in the frozen road provide good traction. But at the pass my face is assailed with storms of ice crystals, cutting like sand. Not a steady beating, but intermittent bursts of stinging bites.

One swirl of wind sucks the wind out of me.

Really.

Been through this before, where the air rushes by so quickly, so fiercely, that it literally sucks your lungs empty. And no amount of gasping can steal any breath back from the wind. Like drowning in open air. Nothing to do but bend over and wait. Wait for a brief lull in the gusts to fill your chest. And then walk on.

Near the crest, I pause to turn back, to watch the maelstrom at the pass, and the FAA dome beyond.

It's as though some spirits don't want me here today. Perhaps because they know I am drawn here by my selfish urge to take photographs as much as any desire to pay respect.

But my spirit prevails, and I reach the crest of the west ridge.

The Medicine Wheel. It and a couple other similar structures are North America's equivalents to Stonehenge. And probably served similar purposes. A wheel of white limestone, with 28 radiating spokes from a central cairn, with a half dozen outer cairns. When I lived and worked here for half a summer, I made several trips to this wheel. And one long hike. And then left it for more than a decade. With one visit with the family and some close friends about a dozen years ago.

And the visit last year. And now today.

The road swings around to the north side of the wheel to approach an interpretive sign.

As last year, I instead cut across a snow-filled draw to approach from the east. Most of the wheel is buried in snow, with only the main cairns visible. There are more tokens this year, scattered along the entire wood and rope barrier.

Most are made of bright cloth, some as simple streamers, others as tied bundles holding hidden ingredients.

Some have sprigs of sage attached,

or feathers.

Some are elaborate, including antlers and exotic shells

while others are no more than a simple stone, carefully placed.

A small crystal serves on another post.

Not all the tokens are on the rope barrier. One is inserted into the center cairn

while quite a few others are tied to the small trees beside the circle, at the crest of the limestone cliffs.

I brought no token of my own. Something I thought of several times in the past few days, but nothing that just felt right. That felt comfortable. So I am here empty handed.

I begin my walk around the circle, bearing clockwise. Starting at the east:

From the south:

The gate for accessing the wheel itself stands at the west side of the rope barrier.

A small sign on the gate says "No Entrance Without Permit." A restriction that is now reinforced with a chain and lock. There was no chain, no lock last year. The modern steel seems incongruous with this natural setting, and a little silly, given the barrier is only a few ropes to begin with.

I continue on to the north side of the wheel, passing the sign asking visitors to walk only to the left.

As I circle on to the left, I spy a flash of red in the white snow. A fallen token bag, half buried in snow. The sage leaves exposed. It had been tied with a natural thread, which is now broken and too short to use.

I carry no string. Do I leave this here on the ground, where it has naturally fallen, or return it to its place on the rope circle? Which would be the proper course of action?

I use the long white streamer of another token to tie the red one back on the rope. If there is truly power in these items, one would like to think that the lives of the donors of these two tokens would now somehow become entwined. And perhaps one would find support in the other.

But we will never know.

Back at the east side of the circle, I begin another circumference. This time looking outward, at the views offered in each direction. If you want to see them, they are here.

Again, as I near the east face, I find another token buried in snow. A garland of small cloth balls, each filled, I assume, with sage or herbs. I wrap and twist it onto the top rope. And spy another token on the ground. One that was placed there.

A miniature circle of stones.

I begin my last walk around the wood and rope circle that surrounds the stone circle. No photographs this time. It occurs to me that the poles and ropes are no longer a protective barrier around an archeological site.

They are part of the site. As much as the piles and lines of white limestone that they surround.

At each cardinal direction, I stoop to pick up a small stone. Much of the ground is covered with snow, but there is always at least one small rock bared at each of my eight stops. I place each rock into my left palm, in correct sequence.

At the west gate, the side facing my favored direction, and facing my favorite piece of this planet, I spot a small red rock. Totally out of place on this plateau of white and grey limestone.

After my third circuit, I check my watch. Ten after eight. Got a mile hike through the blizzard pass to the truck, and then the drive back down into the valley.

Time to go. A quick brush of a bared hand along the rough native rock, alongside the newest token for the circle, and I am on my way.

One last look back

and I step off back into the blowing snow, and real life.