(I apologize if the photos are distorted. Uploads from my phone are having issues. I'm trying to fix the problem.)
Day 43: Mystery Rocks and Haunted Highways
Monday, October 5
I woke up this morning with a smile on my face. I slept well, albeit in the back seat. I had some cold Mac and Cheese for breakfast, after which, I walked around the rest area stretching my legs. However, upon a failed attempt to start my car, I wondered how long I might be stuck there.
It was my battery. Completely dead. I honestly couldn't complain too much though, since I hadn't had a single car problem until that moment. I popped my hood and pondered as to what I should do. It was about 7:30am. Few there were, that were up and adam, and as well, at the stop.
But as luck would have it, a thoroughly Christian truck driver, shortly, came to my aid. He jumped my car, informed me that my battery was nearly five years old, shook my hand and went on his way.
I made it into town and bought a new battery. From there I made my way toward the Decalogue Stone.
It was somewhat off the beaten path but is easily enough discovered if some effort is put into it. Step by step instructions can be found online, along with the exact coordinates. I won't make an attempt here to explain how to get there exactly. Suffice it, it's about fifteen miles west of the city Los Lunas, in the New Mexico desert. I found the road that wrapped around the hills it was reported it be in. It led to a waste management facility, of which there were few other ways to go. The road forced you through the gates, but I was hesitant so I pulled off the road and evaluated my situation.
There were signs posted everywhere that the property was under new management and that trespassers would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Disheartened, I made my way through the gate toward the dump. I rolled my window down and before I could say a word, the man behind the plexiglass asked, "looking for the mystery rock?"
I smiled, "yeah."
He then began to give me instruction on how to get there, though he had never been himself. He had explained this to a lot of people before. I pulled around and parked and then made my way through a narrow gate passing the intimidating signs.
I followed a dirt road and then after it diverged from where my gps coordinates were taking me, I began the trek into the hills. You could tell that people occasionally made their way out this way but there was no obvious pathway to the stone. Essentially it came down to following a dirt road, then following a barb wired fence line and then following an arrow painted onto a large stone that pointed into a small rocky canyon. Really it wasn't far, maybe about two miles into the rocky New Mexico hills, from where I parked.
I was worried I would miss it but it was apparent as soon as I rounded a large boulder. There it was, a large rock that had tipped over at some indefinite time in the past with paleo-Hebrew/Phoenician engravings on it at an awkward slant. The writing has been identified as the Ten Commandments.
I sat down in front of it and just stared at it for several minutes, taking in all the mystery of the whole boulder. Picking out the words "Jehovah," and "God," I selfishly succumbed to my human disposition and touched the engravings with my fingers, feeling the grooves and the depth of them in the solid stone. There were other engravings that you could call vandalism, of more modern origin all over. One infuriated me while another made me smirk. Someone had scratched out the first line of the inscription on the stone, while another said "Elder Evens, 8-25-15." This one, I'd assure you wasn't even on the same boulder as the mystery engravings, quite farther away, happily. Even I gave into a temptation, to test what it would take to engrave something of such depth into the stone. I walked aways away from the engravings and found that it wasn't too difficult to make marks on the stone as most of the modern graffiti was, but to gain the depth and precision that the Hebrew letters were etched must have taken a significant amount of time and effort.
Perhaps they were done with modern tools. Some say it is a hoax done in recent years, while others argue that it could be 500-2000 years old. This would be extremely significant if it were true.
It was first noted in 1933 when Professor Frank Hibbert, an archeologist from the University of New Mexico was guided to it by an unspecified person.
This person, he claims, had been aware of the inscriptions since he was a boy back in the 1880's. Which could be important because it closes the gap between when the language was well known in the area.
I've read nothing about it moving since its purported discovery in the 1880's. It is a massive boulder after all. But out of it all, even massive boulders fall over from time to time. One thing that stood out to me, something I haven't heard anyone mention or read anywhere else. The script is at a very steep angle. It's hard to image that if someone would take the time to etch deeply into stone the Ten Commandments that that someone wouldn't do it on a horizontal level plane. Why crane your neck and etch at an odd angle? It was also even apparent how it used to stand erect.
I think it's a matter of determining how long ago that boulder was standing up right. We can judge the age of the earth, date thousand year old trees, explain in detail through blood splatters how and when a person was shot, and explain large scale geological phenomenon, you'd think that there would be a science dedicated to falling boulders. Come to think of it, I really think it wouldn't be that hard to figure it out. There was a tree growing out from underneath the boulder of which I thought could give a clue as to when it fell. But I rationalized that the tree was probably far too young to have been present during the original collapse. Certainly there must be a way though.
Upon my way out I ran into two others making their way toward the stone. I gave them brief directions. They thanked me and I was on my way.
From there, I made my way toward another sort of rock art, the Petroglyph National Monument in Albuquerque less than thirty miles north of the Decalogue Stone. These were an absolute delight to hike through. Waves of black volcanic rock speckled the elongated hillside. These hills are the homes of thousands upon thousands of petroglyphs, pictograms etched into volcanic rock, made by the Pueblo Native Americans up to 700 hundred years ago.
There were no letters in these rocks though. They were mostly figures that resembles animals and people, but there were symbols as well. Yes, there were crosses, but perhaps more interestingly, to me at least, another common one was a spiraling circle. Supposedly this represented the circle of life and or continuing generations of specific families. I, assuredly innocently took a selfie of me high fiving a figure that looked kind of like a wizard. But should I find out in some other life that I did indeed hi five Jesus, I'm sure he'd be ok with that! To be sure, I didn't physically touch the petroglyphs.
Upon leaving the petroglyphs I made my way toward Highway 491, formally known as Highway 666. Come on people, it was in my vicinity and I just couldn't help myself! Supposedly this is the highway where people appear in your back seat! I'll tell you that no one appeared in mine the whole highway, but I'm sure it's only because they wouldn't have had anywhere to sit! Been on the road for a month and a half. The back seat de-evolves quickly...
I will tell you briefly of my experience with it though.
I turned on to the very beginning of the highway as the sun was setting behind ominous clouds. There was a series of, let's just say, less than inspiring roadsigns. They said, "entering safety corridor" "warning, use extreme caution" and "zero visibility possible."
I drove while it got dark, headlights slowly trickling off in number the farther I drove. It slowly became a lonely road. Suddenly lighting streaked across the sky, illuminating for a moment a solitary, looming plateau in the distance. It seemed to preside over the darkening desert, ushering in what was to ensue. It began to rain. Semi trucks began to barrel down on me racing the opposite direction merely feet away, engulfing me in torrents of waves in their wakes. Lighting struck again hotter and closer than before! Electricity blazed through the tumultuous darkness, continuing for an hour! The screen on my phone caught the corner of my eye as it began to light up and dim repeatedly. It was almost as if the lighting was trying to send me a message. I didn't dare take my white knuckles of the steering wheel.
It began to downpour. The semis kept coming. Just when I thought it couldn't get more intense, I ran over the carcass of some unknown animal laying mangled in the middle of my lane. I cringed as I kept driving steadfastly. And then, the most unbelievable thing happen. I began to hear a thumping noise of which I couldn't tell where it was sounding from. It was slow at first but it started to pick up its beat. It started to get louder. My eyes widened as I realized that it was the beat of a drum. And then shockingly the voice of a Native American Indian blasted through my vehicle singing, chanting! I could almost see him dancing around in the flashing sky!
It was my radio. It had turned on to this chanting Indian song that was slowly getting faster and louder. I just could not believe it. It was a very long, intense and remarkable drive along highway 491. And before I knew it I was at Hole in the Rock, southern Utah.
I pulled off into a rest area, checked my backseat for shapeshifters, wrote an entry and went to sleep. I am currently in Colorado.
Goodnight:)