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National Geographic : 1993 Sep
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Park Service archaeologist Joe Labadie. "The caves were perfect shelter for those who lived here," Labadie explains. "The river fur nished mussels, fish, turtles." Archaic peoples, the first to learn the lessons of Pecos survival, had a spiritual life. Labadie showed me a painting of a shaman. His white rectangle of a body was outlined in red, with arms outstretched in silent ecstasy-a sight to make the hair stand on end. When Amistad Dam was built on the Rio Grande in 1969, it backed up the Pecos for 18 miles and flooded several of these caves. Some 250 remain, covered by a reverie of snakes, panthers, and deer in red, yellow, and black. The pictographs have faded and will con tinue to do so. Sooner or later water, wind, and sun will erase them. Another Pecos dream, longer lasting than most, will vanish. The Pecos-River of Hard-won Dreams I thought of all the Pecos dreams I'd heard about, some incinerated by drought, others swept away by floods. In parched times, even the river itself could turn into pure illusion. Why do people live here? Perhaps they find something of themselves in the lean, spare landscape. "We just do whatever it takes," Margaret Woodward told me the day I watched her hus band's crew round up a thousand sheep on their ranch near Bakersfield, Texas. Out beyond the swirls of red dust kicked up by live stock, the thin green line of river was snaking its way through rock and sand. Wave after wave of pioneers had crossed this river with hope. Many had left with a bro ken heart. Through it all there echoed a Pecos refrain, constant as the sighing wind. Whatever it takes. O
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