The trail followed the western edge of the canyon, and in some places climbed low hills. On one of these rises I noticed markings on a pair of large upright rocks and climbed up to them to investigate. The smaller section had split off from the larger rock untold eons ago, and in the space between the two the rock surfaces were covered with petroglyphs. There were many shapes marking the rocks, some of them obviously representing animals, but most were abstract symbols of some sort.

Intrigued, I stopped and spent some time examining these rock markings. Most of these drawings were made using a percussive technique - the rock was struck with a pointed smaller stone, a spear point perhaps, and the outer layer of rock flaked away under the impact. The rocks had a layer of dark patina coating them, perhaps from oxidation, and the  flaking revealed a lighter layer of rock underneath. Some of the drawings may have been far older than others, having re-acquired a layer of patina on them. One of these caught my eye and sent my brain reeling - it was an elk or a deer, and I knew I was looking at something thousands of years old. Who had made this animal picture, and why? I stood between the two rocks, staring out at the broad river valley, wondering how things looked back then, wondering about the people who lived here. This place seemed like a doorway onto the land beyond, and these markings on the rock were full of meaning and purpose, though I was too far away in space and time to understand more than that.

I needed to be on my way again. The morning was beginning to get some heat to it and I still had miles to go. The river made a turn away from me and wandered away to the other side of the canyon, while the trail continued to skirt the foothills to the west. I passed a small cemetery and the ruins of a small chapel. The headstones marking the resting places of Mexican immigrants who had lived here more than a century ago. Eugenio Padilla, I read on one grave marker. Abeyta Murio. Maria de la Cruz. Their headstones were made of cement, and decorated with incised patterns around the names and dates. Tomorrow's petroglyphs - who will read them a thousand years from now?

This place clearly had more to offer and I could spend the entire day wandering about in search of petroglyphs and ruins and never reach my destination.  I needed to get my head out of the historic if I was ever going to get to the prehistoric. I put my feet back on the trail and moved them along at a steady trudge. I was certainly thankful for the straw hat on my head.  As it was, several times I ducked underneath small cedar trees to enjoy a few minutes out of the sun and drink a little water. My arms were going to be sunburned before this was all over...