Under the arching roof of a tremendous cave stands a silent, empty city.

For almost seven centuries it has stood there looking out across the canyon toward the setting sun. Proudly, almost haughtily, it has resisted the heavy tread of those slow centuries. Like a giant with a shawl of everlasting stone pulled closely about its shoulders it has stood with unbowed head, an eternal monument to the intelligence and industry of its builders.

Almost seven centuries ago the people turned their backs on their proud city and walked away. All of the forces of nature seemed to be against them. The rains failed to fall; the springs ceased to flow. No corn grew in the fields. At last, weak from lack of food and water, and bewildered by the failure of the gods to answer their hysterical prayers they surrendered to the inevitable. Sadly they turned their backs on the once happy city and walked down the canyon, never to return.

Cliff Palace, the crowning glory of the Mesa Verde, was a silent, deserted city.

In spite of the protection offered by the cave Cliff Palace has suffered from the leveling forces of time. The owls and pack rats have been careless tenants and the lack of repair is evident. Some of the walls have cracked; a few have fallen. Foundations have slipped; roofs have disappeared. The once-bright plaster is peeling from the walls.

These minor changes have failed to dim the splendor of the largest of all cliff dwellings. From one end of the cave to the other stand unbroken lines of houses. Story upon story they rise to the very roof of the cave itself. On a still higher ledge, far up under the cave roof, stands a long row of small rooms where the people once stored their abundant supplies of grain. In some of the houses paintings are still bright on the walls; in others footprints of the people are still clearly evident in the 4 hard-packed clay floors. At each end of the cave is the trail which once led to the corn fields on the mesa top; below the cave is the trail that led to the bottom of the canyon.

In reality Cliff Palace has not changed a great deal since that day when its inhabitants disappeared. They walked away, it is true, but they are still there. You can see them if you close your eyes.

Unfortunate indeed, is he who views this ancient city and sees only the towering walls. Unfortunate because the stones are the least important part. Cliff Palace is really built of the hopes and desires, the joys and sorrows of an industrious people. It is not a cold, empty city for it is still warm with the emotions of its builders. In each fingerprint and tool mark lie the prayers of a young couple for a home filled with children and happiness. Each storage bin is chinked with a farmer’s prayers for a bountiful harvest. In each plastered kiva wall is an ancient priest’s reverence for his gods. A pot is not just a piece of baked clay: it is an ancient potter’s moulded prayer for beauty and strength. Each solid wall is a testimony of success; each shattered human bone, each broken jar is an admission of defeat.

Cliff Palace stands today as a monument to the ancient people of the Mesa Verde. For many centuries they occupied the great, green mesa and finally, almost in its center, they built their greatest city. Certainly it was their outstanding architectural achievement but it is only one of many hundreds of ruins which stand in silent testimony to the skills of an industrious people.

For over a thousand years the Indians enjoyed the security and bounty of the Mesa Verde. In the beginning their culture was simple but as the centuries passed they progressed steadily without taking a backward step. Finally they reached the highest point of their development and for the brief century during which they occupied the cliff dwellings they enjoyed the fruits of their long struggle. Then catastrophe came and in a short time they were gone.
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The north rim of the mesa rises 2000 feet above the valley

The flat mesa top is cut by a score of rugged canyons
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The complete archeological wealth of the Mesa Verde will never be known. The great mesa, which rises high above the surrounding country, measures fifteen miles from north to south and twenty miles from east to west. Its flat top, sloping gently to the south, is cut by a score of rugged canyons and access to the remote areas is difficult. The ruins are often hard to find and many will never be discovered. In the days of discovery, as we shall see in the next chapter, the early explorers entered almost every cliff dwelling but they left few records. In recent times it is doubtful if one-third of the cliff dwellings have been entered and probably no living person has been in one hundred of them.

The ruins on the mesa tops far outnumber the cliff dwellings but most of them are difficult to find. Earth and vegetation have covered them, often completely, and intensive search does not reveal all. This wealth of mesa-top ruins is indicated by a recent survey of a small portion of one mesa. Careful search of an area of only three square miles revealed over three hundred ruins.

In 1906, one-half of the great mesa was set aside as Mesa Verde National Park in order that the ruins might be preserved for all time and made accessible to visitors. Cliff Palace and some of the other cliff dwellings have been excavated and out on the mesa tops ruins of earlier types have been excavated to complete the archeological story. In the nearby museum are to be seen the things which have been found in the ruins. Displayed in their chronological order they tell the story of the ancient inhabitants of the Mesa Verde.

It is a fascinating story of a vanished people. For endless centuries they dominated the Mesa Verde, passing through higher and higher stages of culture. When an unendurable calamity forced them to leave they left behind abundant evidence of their skill and industry. With the care they now receive Cliff Palace, Spruce Tree House, Sun Temple and the innumerable other ruins will stand forever as monuments to the skill of their ancient builders.

Mesa Verde National Park was created to preserve the works of those prehistoric people. Slow, silent centuries have spread a cloak of mystery over it and visitors should come with open minds, prepared to hear an absorbing story of a strange people. Complete enjoyment and understanding come only to the visitor who is able to leave his modern self behind, momentarily, and live and think in terms of the past.