A lizard beckons us towards ancient desert petroglyphs

Shooting down I-8 in southern Arizona on the way to a town called Gila Bend, Masayo and I saw signs for a petroglyph site. We looked at each other, nodded, and I slowed the car down to exit. We were on our way, somewhere off the interstate, to Painted Rock Petroglyph Site.

There were no signs explaining how far it was, so this detour was going to be unknown. Could be a mile, could be 100. Who knows?

The road there was at first flat, passing by a gigantic field full of solar panels. Desert rats scurried across the road and dust clouds occasionally whipped up into a vague funnel before losing interest and disappearing into a formless cloud. After a few miles it got hillier and the road got much more curvy. Giant saguaro cacti could be seen on either side of the road, and the nearby red rock mountains on the left kept drawing the eye.

Eventually we arrived at the site of the Painted Rock Petroglyphs. A small gravel parking lot held about thirty cars, though only two or three were there. And given the quiet, middle-of-nowhere feel of this place, that was surprisingly high.

There is an “honor system” pay box where you put your $2 in an envelope and drop it in a slot. We only had change, and the envelopes’ glue had dried in the heat so our coins ended up in the bottom of the canister. I hope they find them.

The site consists of a short concrete walkway, beside which stand several markers with explanations on them, of the hundreds-of-years-old petroglyphs, the Hohokam people who once lived here, and the area itself. The path winds around the main attraction, a 20-foot high pile of black rocks.

After circumnavigating the pile about three quarters of the way, you suddenly notice all the shapes and figures etched into the boulders. Human shapes, spiral suns, unmistakable lizards, horses and cacti are all over the surface of the rocks in a haphazard jumble. The shapes are simple and evoke a spirit of playfulness and the human creative urge, if not exactly solemn religious importance.

At least that’s how it seemed to me. It was more like doodles from an ancient time, which may well be what the Painted Rock petroglyphs are.

While we were there, two researchers sat on the rocks behind the “do not enter” signs erected to keep the public out; they chatted and cataloged the etchings on the rocks halfway up the pile.

The other life form of note this day was a white and brick-red lizard that was sauntering around the lower reaches, showing off for my camera.

The whole detour had been about an hour long, 11 miles off the interstate. There were only a couple other people there, including an older couple having a snack on the covered picnic table. There was also an RV parked further in the distance at the attached campsite. But these obscure creatures on the edge of the larger civilization weren’t enough to disturb the tranquility, even in the mild April heat, that blows through the enormous plain south of the Gila River at the Painted Rock Petroglyph Site.

As usual, an unplanned side trip became a highlight of the day. Sometimes I think that, in a very real way, it’s the detours taken on a whim that are the real story of any journey.

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