Moonhouse Ruin as a Fortress in the Desert

Moonhouse Ruin

Moonhouse Proper

     It seems I can reach out and touch the low-hanging grey clouds that promise moisture on the mesa as I turn off the pavement onto one of the rut-covered sandstone trails that passes for a road in San Juan County, Utah. Driving in San Juan County is an experience that enlivens all of the senses: the stunning contrast between the harsh sandstone and the gentle curve of the sage leaf, between the spine-covered prickly pear cactus and the delicately painted yellow of the yucca flower, delight the eye. One hears the slithering sound of the wind through pine and cedar, over sandstone and soil, beating on the window and carrying with it sand demanding to be let in. The smell of the high desert is unlocked as sage releases its scent and the all-important moisture on the air is often smelled long before it is seen. The seemingly smooth sandstone jostles and jerks any vehicle that dares attempt to cross it. The subtle taste of soil, sage, sand, and cedar creates the sauce that covers this high country desert.

Contrast along the trail.

     All of this can be found as one traverses the trails that snake across the mesa. It takes little imagination to look across the mesa and see the ancient farms that would have been here. Corn, beans, and squash were grown here, irrigated from the canyon bottoms and tended with an eye towards the harvest. With that harvest came the plenty that all societies hope for when the seed is planted. These staples were stored against the lean years that would inevitably follow. The ruin I sought on a foreboding day in April was, at least toward the end of its life, used as this kind of depository for the harvest. Any who view this site recognize its defensive position. The overlook provides a wide-angle view of the site and it is easy to imagine this ruin protecting not only the people who built it but also the staples they stored there. Their food was a resource that had to be guarded and stored in a way that would keep out not only the pack rats, mice, and other rodents, but also those who would raid and seize the staples that were deposited in the canyon walls

View from the overlook.

So well-fortified is the site that a Twenty-first Century traveler must negotiate many of the same obstacles that were no doubt valued by the ancient inhabitants for their defensive qualities. High on the opposite canyon rim one can see that the slick rock rim extends as far as the eye can see both up- and down-canyon. This would funnel all approaching traffic down-canyon or across-canyon, forcing them onto one of two paths leading to the Moonhouse ruin proper. One path leads through a narrow window situated under a huge hoodoo, the other up a narrow crack that would require stemming and climbing with both hands.

Guardian on the path to the Northwest.

     Once the observer enters the site, a path leads west to a kiva and easily identified water seeps. Sealing this end of the canyon off is the window under the hoodoo. To the southeast are rooms so uniform the local rangers have named them “Motel 6.” Chinking with white rock and a footprint in the mortar lend flair to these rooms. This path quickly ledges out.

Kiva to the Northwest

Motel 6

     The most iconic collection of rooms-six rooms, including the Moon Room for which the ruin is named-is found behind a formidable façade. The façade is pocked with loop holes to view any friend, foe, or eager hiker approaching up- or down-canyon. Petroglyphs decorate this important space. On the inner courtyard wall, facing out, is a white band 14 or so inches high with downward facing triangles on the bottom and dots along the top. It is as magnificent as any Monet. In a time when elsewhere in the world gunpowder was being invented, the Song Dynasty was passing, and Genghis Khan’s rule was ending with his death, here in San Juan County some ancient was putting paint to sandstone canvas with a human-hair brush.

Inner courtyard wall

      Found on the far end is a T door to a treasure room. Here, inside the Moon Room itself, a similar white band encircles the space. But instead of the geometric design found in the courtyard, you are greeted by a crescent moon in inverted white and brown facing a full moon. This room is completely captivating. The light is filtered through strategically-placed windows and shines along the band, illuminating the painted moon.

I understand farming, cooking, hunting and other daily tasks that the ancients would have performed. I also understand that there is a sacred nature and ritual that gives life direction and suggests that souls yearn to be taught, to seek favor, to find meaning. I see this room as special, though I cannot tell exactly why and even the most educated and informed observers of today can only hazard a guess. This room and rooms like it hold different meanings for different people. That is the real power: that 800 years later this room still bids the traveler to ask questions and to seek meaning-not just from books and research, but from the canyon, and from our own souls. In that way Moonhouse is still as significant to us today as it was to those who built it.

"Full moon"