Mystery at Plaza Blanca

by Jessica Ratrh

​When I lived in Abiquiu (2000 - 2009) I visited Plaza Blanca almost every day. The weird rock formations which looked like spires and steeples reminded me of European castles. Some other crags looked like giant kings and queens. But most of all, the white sandstone cliffs gave me the feeling of a motherly embrace, warm and nurturing. 

Like a fairy tale – or sugary confections?

When I went there by myself, I wouldn’t venture forth too much but stay close to the existing paths. But when a friend came along, we could explore more and hike further up. 

Magical Views

​One time in 2008 we made it over a crest and when looking down we didn’t believe our eyes – there were paths, low walls, steps etc. similar to the ruins at Bandelier for example – but there was no historic site, nobody had ever lived there, as far as we knew. The remnants of a Native American pueblo wouldn’t be so hidden away, and when we looked closer, our discovery didn’t look very old. But what was it?

Seats? To sit around a fire?

This looked almost like an amphitheater.

I asked some local people, but nobody knew what I was talking about. Which confirmed that we hadn’t discovered any old ruins but something that was built recently – earth art?
 
And then I found the right person, quite by accident. It turned out that a software developer from Nebraska was looking for several hundred acres of undeveloped land near Abiquiú, and I had stumbled upon the man who had helped him find the right property. I also found a dirt road that led to the area, which allowed me to explore the rock walls and pathways I had seen from above more closely. I went back several times, taking lots of pictures.

Pathways, and maybe an unfinished gate – for what?

Was this supposed to be a garden, possibly?

​Clearly, whatever had been built here had not been finished. We found walls which looked like the foundations for buildings, lots of pathways lined with rocks, steps that went higher up.

​Other sections looked like amphitheaters, with ascending rows of seats around an area in the middle. We saw circles made out of rocks. 

One stone structure looked like a Native American kiva, with steps leading down into a walled circular space with a seating row all around. In the middle was a fireplace, or maybe a sípapu. 

A ceremonial kiva

A sípapu in the middle?

​By far the most peculiar find was an outdoor shower and a restroom area. If nothing else, this was a sure indication that all this had been built quite recently. It looked so out of place in the beautiful landscape and made me wonder how anybody could just leave it like that.

The shower area. Image credit Zoë Rath

It has a spiral-like entrance. Image credit Zoë Rath

Shower stalls. Image credit Zoë Rath

Most of the fixtures were gone, but one could clearly tell they were shower stalls, and another section had separate bathrooms.
 
The big question remained unanswered: what was this supposed to be? Why was it left unfinished?
 
It took a lot of research, but I finally arrived at some vague, if incomplete, picture. It is a rather sad story, and I had doubts whether I should write about it or not. But it is a part, if ever so short, of Abiquiú’s past. And it is an interesting story, telling of unfulfilled dreams, lofty visions, and broken promises. I decided to leave out any names.
 
So, here is what I could gather. In 1993 the owner of several software companies who came from Nebraska bought about 500 acres of land on the west side of Plaza Blanca. He wanted to create a learning and retreat center where managers and other professionals with stressful jobs can unwind and get in touch with their inner selves. In addition, he was interested in Native American culture  and wisdom. His project sought to combine these two areas. He had initial meetings with a number of Native American Elders with a promise to develop a culturally relevant plan with thoughtful phases for an off-grid learning center where people could experience models for sustainable living, based on Indigenous cultural life-ways and land wisdom. 

A display area for sculptures? Image credit Zoë Rath

​Art was supposed to play a major part, and an outdoor-gallery was created where the sculptures of Native American artists could be displayed. The software engineer who planned all this brought in stone masons from Mexico, and they built the pathways, walls, the kivas, the shower facilities – everything that is still visible today. And then he installed electricity. The remnants can be found here and there, and look decidedly odd in the landscape. 

Some electric contraption

​Electricity was not part of the original plan, it did not align with the goals which were established in collaboration with the Native American Elders. But the organizations and corporations and business operations which were supposed to send their team members to participate in the retreats offered in the future – would they survive without electricity? Without hot water? Quite unlikely. And thus, the beautiful dream came apart.
 
A huge billboard with the name of the project was erected at the entrance of the property. The whole project was turning into a commercial enterprise, and the Elders and Native Americans who had shared their time and wisdom and support felt betrayed, because they had not been consulted about this new direction. I don’t know what exactly happened and if there were other factors, but the work stopped, the man sold the land and left.

I believe the black rocks are basalt. What a contrast to the white sandstone.

​The landscape is so utterly beautiful that it might have been a blessing in disguise – what if some of the future participants would have arrived in their private helicopters? Would there have been cell towers so that participants could talk on their phones whenever they wanted? And based on the weird shower stalls, who knows what other ugly buildings might have been erected? This is idle speculation of course, but the fact remains that despite its lofty ideals this project was designed for IT specialists and people working in computer technology; or better: people who expect a certain comfort and ease of living. 

Breathtaking!

The built walls seem to crumble and merge with the landscape

​This happened just about 30 years ago. I don’t know who owns the property now, maybe the Dar-al-Islam educational center. It is strange to witness the remnants of dashed dreams, but I’m confident that this section of Plaza Blanca will sooner or later return to its pristine beauty. Wind and rain will take care of that.