Trip West, Part IV: Hell's Backbone Farm and Grill, the Anasazi, and Unintended Consequences

If ever I needed proof of avian communication, the conversation among the geese on the pond outside our room at Boulder Lodge would have convinced me. Such a heated give and take! Such honking and grousing! We were frustrated eavesdroppers in need of an interpreter.  

After yesterday’s mood swings from anxious to uplifted in our ultimately successful search for the slot canyon, Boulder Lodge was a lovely haven. My friend Edie had suggested nearby Hell’s Backbone Grill and Farm for dinner but cautioned that we might not be able to get a reservation because it was one of the best restaurants in the country. I assumed that was hyperbole: what would the best restaurant in the country be doing here, in the middle of nowhere?

Because that’s how it felt. After settling in, Dave and I saw only trees, hillsides, and the occasional house when we took a leisurely drive to find the charming little western town I expected Boulder to be. We later learned that, while expansive in miles, the town center was basically Boulder Lodge, the post office, and the restaurant. Where, by the way, we were able to get a reservation. 

 

We’d poked our heads in the door right after check-in and were warmly greeted at the desk by the hostess, Lacy, and one of the co- owners, Blake Spalding. When I related Edie’s rave review, Blake smiled and gestured to the wall behind the hostess stand, a wall crowded with James Beard awards. 

 

Whoa. We were lucky to get that reservation! 

 

When we returned for dinner, Lacy greeted us and led us to a table by a window that looked out over the mountains. Best table in the place; thank you Lacy! 

 

After perusing the menu and reading about the restaurant’s environmental goals and “No-Harm farm” that supplied the organic produce and grass-fed beef, we ordered roasted cauliflower with mint, toasted chickpeas, and a house-made spice rub so divine we bought two jars to bring home. For our main course, we tried the skillet-fried trout encrusted with blue corn, molasses and almonds; cilantro-pepita rice; and organic asparagus. 

 

Delicious. James Beard was right.

*          *

 

It was a brisk November day in 2004 as David Holladay hiked the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in Utah with his dog. When he spotted an arrowhead on the ground, he knew by its pinkish tone and craftsmanship that he’d discovered something extraordinary. He left it in place until he could return with the proper authorities. 

 

Wait. What? He left it there? Who would do that? If I spotted an arrowhead, I’d absolutely pick it up and pocket it. And, despite guilt being a default for me applicable in countless situations, I’d have felt no guilt. Why would I?

 

Turns out Mr. Holladay did the right thing. An artifact’s placement reveals significant information, and the Bureau of Land management asks that any such discovery be left in situ, and the BLM notified. 

 

But, but, but… Mr. Holladay and the experts were unable to return to the site for months because of snow. So much could have happened in the interim! What if run-off or another hiker had carried the point away? What if the melting snow had changed the ground enough to leave the location unrecognizable? Seems to me Mr. Holladay took a risk with his good intentions, but in the absence of theft and unruly Nature, Mr. Holladay’s Clovis Point is now on display in the Anasazi State Park Museum, our primary reason for visiting Boulder, Utah. 

 

While the archaeological dig of the Coombs Anasazi village site out back was intriguing, as were the displays depicting Anasazi dwellings and implements, it was our conversation with the docent that prolonged our stay. It began with my questions about the microscope that was broken, the interactive panels that didn’t work, and the items that were missing. While there was much to see and do, the theft and damaged exhibits were noticeable. 

Jamie, the docent - or was she the director? – acknowledged that these were concerns. Large school groups were hard to monitor as were the increasing numbers of tourists following the sequestered year of Covid. Jamie asked if we’d noticed the Clovis Point, which, to be honest, I’d seen, but breezed by. There were lots of pretty arrowheads on display, so why linger on one? 

 

Because it’s between 8,000 – 11,000 years old. Because, to a point connoisseur, it was remarkable in workmanship. Because, well, it was displayed all by itself under a spotlight, so I should have known it was special. 

 

Dave is curious and always bubbling with questions, and Jamie was delighted to have inquisitive visitors. She squired us around the museum, with particular attention to the reproduction Anasazi dwelling, tools, pigments, and sandals created by the same David Holladay who discovered the Clovis Point. There was also a beautiful fan-like array of arrowheads he’d made during demonstrations at the museum. 

 

Informative, and clearly an admirer of the Indigenous American jewelry bedecking her fingers, neck, and waist, Jamie was generous with her time. The tone of our exchange wavered some, dipping and rising in a diplomatic dance, when I asked her about Bears Ears National Monument.

 

In 2016, President Obama designated the Bears Ears buttes and 1,351, 849 acres as a National Monument. In 2017, former president Trump reduced the monument by 85%. In 2021, President Biden restored Bears Ears to the original acreage. Hm. Definitely some politics involved.  

 

As a local, Jamie’s take was practical … and bitter.  “I understand the need and wish to preserve lands in National Monument designations… but they don’t include funding nor anticipate the repercussions when lands previously left pretty much alone suddenly come to the public’s attention. People swoop down in droves…and there are no restrooms, no parking, no trails, no plan for garbage collection.” Her nostrils flared in disgust as she described the results of such omissions.  

 

Federal protections in general led her to mention her sympathy for ranchers who’d lost livestock to wolves. We were treading in tricky territory.  She was a local, no doubt had rancher friends, and was certainly far more knowledgeable than I, but I love wolves and if, like my canine friends, I had hackles, they would have been bristling. 

 

Wolves have been given a bum rap. Humans kill and eat innumerable animals, so vilifying wolves for doing the same in order to survive is sheer hypocrisy… but I tried to say that nicely. I asked if Jamie had seen the video “How the Wolves Saved Yellowstone” that demonstrates how wolf re-introduction had bolstered other animal species and restored riverbanks and shrubs. 

 

She had. We agreed that these issues are complicated. 

 

As if to graciously acknowledge my point, Jamie mentioned past efforts by farmers to eradicate beavers, believing that their dams diverted water from crops. To the satisfaction of the farmers, that effort, along with trapping for pelts, led to the near extinction of beavers in North America in the late 1800’s. 

 

Jamie raised an eyebrow and said, “Well. That certainly backfired.”

 

In the animals’ absence, farmers came to recognize, and miss, the ecological benefits of beaver activity in creating streams and pond systems. Now programs have worked to re-establish beaver populations in order to efficiently and inexpensively retain local water supplies, revive degraded wetlands, and support biodiversity.  

 

Hm. Humans and the peril of unintended consequences: so many lessons, yet we are so slow to learn.