Salome, Where She Danced

Opening windows to the past: Peter Pilles and the 'Rocks of Ages'

A small army of eager individuals armed with spray bottles, colored marking pens, ladders, shovels, and axes scrambles up a dusty slope headed for one of the most spectacular panels of prehistoric rock art in Arizona. Stopping just short of a weathered overhang, they fix their eyes on supernatural beings, nightmare creatures, and fantastic animals staring out from the deeply varnished sandstone-priceless works of primitive art scratched and painted by human hands ages ago. Suddenly, a tall, thin man in jeans and blue T-shirt steps out from the crowd, points toward the ancient glyphs, and says: "When we're finished, you won't be able to tell this had ever been here.' Arizona's "rocks of ages" doomed? For a moment, it appears one of archeology's worst fears is about to become a reality. But not so. A closer look at the antediluvian artwork discloses what the tall man is referring to: a series of ugly black scratches, gouges, and gashes marring the age-softened surface. Beside them a stillfresh scrawl suggests we "have a nice day."

The man in the T-shirt on this early Saturday morning in spring is not about to destroy part of the world's valued heritage. He's about to preserve it. He is Coconino National Forest's archeologist, Peter Pilles. The people with him are volunters, men and women, young and old, who have come here to help remove those barbaric defacements from a panel of prehistoric art, the Red Cliff Pictographs near Palatki Ruin west of Sedona. In addition to creating this timely and innovative program, Pilles has won adoption of a new Coconino Forest policy supporting public visits to these "windows to the past." Formerly, where inaccessibil ity posed severe problems in protecting such art, the locations often remained closely guarded secrets, with sites visited infrequently by rangers and authorized scientists. But, as many ruins scattered throughout the forest effectively illustrate, that form of protectionism didn't work.

Today, visitors to the Coconino National Forest who ask where ancient art galleries may be found are met not with evasions but with directions. If they prefer, they can hire one of the commercial guide services that, for the first time, are permitted to visit certain areas. And once they've arrived, marked trails lead them around.

"We've found that when we increase visitation on those terms, vandalism actually decreases," Pilles says. "People are less likely to act destructively if they think there's a chance they might be interrupted. That's especially true if the person who might interrupt them is likely to be someone who cares about whatever is being destroyed."

But Pilles has also learned to hedge his bets. He's initiated a program of volunteer patrols that include people from groups like the Sierra Club, the Arizona Archaeological Society, and the Sedona Westerners (OPPOSITE PAGE) Palatki Ruin on the Verde River consists of two masonry structures, occupied from A.D. 1150 to 1250.

(ABOVE) Archeologist Peter Pilles instructs his clean-up crew on restoring pictographs. (LEFT) Using distilled water and a towel, two volunteers remove graffiti from priceless primitive art.

to make regular visits to rock art sites they've adopted. So far, Pilles' cultural-resources-for-themasses policy has been a striking success. In one instance of severe and repeated vandalism, his theory about protection through encouragement of visitors was responsible for saving an 800-year-old pit house from being utterly destroyed.

"We kept fixing it," says the archeologist, "but I knew it was going to be lost unless we came up with a way to protect it. There was no way to patrol the area regularly enough to stop the problem, so just to see what would happen, I put a guest register there, just a book on a rock. The vandalism stopped."

Another Pilles tactic that has resulted in saving precious reminders of the distant past is the volunteer clean-up program, as at Red Cliff Pictographs. But the task was fraught with difficulties. One problem that at first seemed unsolvable was finding a way to remove graffiti without wiping out the rock art along with it, a challenge that is doubly difficult when the subject involves ancient mud or charcoal drawings. For safety's sake, the first tests were made well away from any rock art. Pilles and a few helpers began by trying everything from exotic solvents to oven cleaners. All not only removed graffiti but the natural patina of the rock as well, leaving an ugly smudge. Then, while cleaning up the solvents from one aborted attempt, the experimenters got a break. Using a plastic squirt bottle, Pilles splashed a spray of plain water at some scribbles made on a rock with charcoal, a material frequently used by vandals. To everyone's surprise, the marks just melted away. Switching to distilled water minimized side effects. In the field, using towels and plastic to protect an actual pictograph panel, Pilles got some outstanding results. In some cases, he was even able to remove 20thcentury scrawls from atop ancient artwork with no harm to any of the graphics underneath-and no evidence of a cleanup operation.

While the task appears easy, Pilles cautions people not to "help" by cleaning sites on their own without professionals well-versed in restoration, since "damaging cultural resources, even if done with the best of intentions, is a violation of federal law."

By late afternoon on Saturday, the Red Cliff Pictographs clean-up crew had found their task more fun than hard work. They had removed several obscenities, the invitation to have a nice day, a number of autographs with dates, several declarations of eternal love, and a mindless sketch of a spaceman. Then, still fired with enthusiasm, the volunteers cleared a trail to the site and marked out a path from which visitors could view the art.

Today the concept of archeology for and by the public, tested in northern Arizona's Coconino National Forest, protects cultural resources on various public lands in the state through the Arizona Site Steward Program, sponsored by the Arizona Archaeology Advisory Commission. Initially, the project focuses on coordinating a system of citizen stewards to patrol vulnerable sites. As that is achieved, the program will be expanded to a full schedule of public involvement in protecting Arizona's rich cultural heritage.

For more information on the Site Steward Program, contact the State Historic Preservation Office, 800 W. Adams St., Suite 415, Phoenix, AZ 85007; (602) 542-4174.

Dan Dagget of Flagstaff is a free-lance writer, custom knifemaker, and river runner.