[Photo Credit: Brian Stansberry]
Everybody needs a hideout, a special place of refuge from the world. The best hideouts are secret places made safe and comfortable by familiarity—places you, and only you, know about. In your hideout, for a little while, you can be lost to the world.
In my life I have had four such hideouts, and I cherish the memory of time spent in each. One such place for me and Mary Ann many years ago was our secret spot under a canopy of giant trees in Perkerson Park. It was a special place that offered peace and escape during a time of tumultuous events in our lives. But, before Perkerson Park, in a time that seems so distant now that I can hardly connect it to this lifetime, I remember another special place of solitude and magic. It is an ancient place where magic has lived from antiquity.
Thirty minutes northeast of El Paso on Ranch Road 2775 three low mountains rise from the desert between the Franklin Mountains and the Hueco Mountains. Hidden inside the boulders of these mountain formations are hollows (huecos, the Spanish world for “tanks”) which naturally store rainwater to support the area’s abundant wildlife during long periods between rains. In the past, for thousands of years, American Indian tribes relied upon the life giving water to support the rich cultures which flourished nearby. Evidence of these cultures remains in the form of thousands of well preserved, fantastic paintings drawn upon the rock walls by the ancient Mogollon, and more recently by Mescalero Apache, Kiowa and Tigua.
In the late 1960s Hueco Tanks was regularly visited by area school children on field trips and by historians who came to study the wall paintings. Tourist interest was minimal, and finding solitude among the boulders was easy. Many a plan did I make, and many a dream did I dream, sitting alone there in that quiet place.
Because I lived on the far side of El Paso, for me it was an hour’s drive to Hueco Tanks, a sixty mile trip that my parents would not have sanctioned as frequently as I found myself headed there. I was sixteen years old and, as in the life of every sixteen-year-old boy, there were many important things that needed sorting out and deciding. It seemed to me that the spirits that danced everywhere about the tanks might suggest the answers to the questions in my heart or offer clues to inform my decisions. Magic allows for many wonderful things.
The last time I visited that hideout in the desert was in November, 1967. It was a cold Friday afternoon, the day after Thanksgiving. I drove down the narrow road that approached the North Mountain, parked my red and white ’62 Chevy pickup in the usual place, and proceeded on foot to my spot in the direction of East Mountain. Once alone, I pulled a pepper loaf sandwich and paper sack filled with tortilla chips from my coat pocket, huddled between two rock walls to hide myself from the cold wind, and began what was to be a fine lunch in the company of friends.
As I ate my sandwich I put many questions to the spirits that drew around me. My father had told me that our family would soon be moving hundreds of miles away, and I was afraid of the changes that would soon be coming in my life. I wanted to hold on to the life I knew, a life that was familiar and comfortable, yet I was curious about this strange new place that would be at the end of our journey. I remember feeling as though I wanted to laugh at the things the spirits were saying, but I remember more clearly the sadness and the tears I cried as I saw the beauty and comfort of that time and place already beginning to fade away.
The little tanks east of my home remain unchanged. Over the years since my last visit there, Hueco Tanks has found new popularity among tourists and has become a world famous site for the sport of bouldering. People come from all corners of the world to enjoy the unique rock formations. Doubtless, thousands have passed by my secret spot without taking notice of its special qualities, without hearing the spirits there that spoke only to me.
On that cold day in November so many years ago, the spirits joked with me, laughed and danced playfully in the shadows as bright knives of sunlight stabbed between the boulders. They laughed in anticipation of all that was to come, that happy moment when the unexpected smile of an enchanting girl would stab into my heart like those bright knives of sunlight and claim it forever; that moment when Mary Ann would for the first time put her hand in mine and consent to follow me on this walk that has led us every day into new places.
The spirits have always been with me, always since that day, living in a secret hiding place inside my heart. Occasionally, I hear them laughing, faintly as though they are frolicking just around the bend or over the next hill. They encourage me to follow and promise that all will be well.
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
Interestingly your thoughts have awakened spirits that have been hidden within me. Thanks Prentice. You have my immense gratitude.
My brother and I have traveled to several bouldering sites around the U.S. and climbed at Hueco Tanks in 2005 and 2007. There are so many places to hide there that no one could find them all. There are parts of the park where you definitely can feel the history and “spirits” of the people who once lived there and left the drawings on the rocks. It is such a wonderful place to visit that I can imagine how great it would have been being a kid growing up there. We are looking forward to going back there next summer as it is one of the best climbing areas anywhere.
What a wonderful video! It is overwhelming to recognize natural history and sacred tradition that has, and will continue,to dwell in this place of perfection.
I grew up in El Paso and never heard of Hueco Tanks. A friend of mine in Colorado told me about his trip there and what a great place it is. I can’t believe that I spent 24 years within just a few miles of it and never heard anything about it. I am definitely going there the next time I have a chance to go to El Paso. Thank you for the inspiring article.