Also known as Halfway House, as it lies halfway out on the mesa to the winter grazing grounds for the cattle. I didn’t know that much about the place, except that Dad used to live here as a summer ranch hand, and that in recent years it had been infested by scorpions. However undesirable as that may sound, it remained near and dear to our hearts during the field season as it is the only source of clean water for miles and miles. Luckily that could be pumped from outside.
But on this day I was curious about this place. My great aunt and uncle used to make a life here, managing a ranch and raising a family, yet I had never stepped foot inside. This place is what had brought my Dad out from California, decades before it ever came back into his (and therefore my) life when he was asked to collaborate on the archaeology of the region. Funny how life can be so circular. Vic and I took a closer look.