Time TravelerA Time to Remember
Where Trails Cross
By Ronnie Powell
Most folks passing through the Ozarks are led more often than not directly to tourist attractions where food, lodging and entertainment are provided at a premium cost. There are also many residents who turn a blind eye to the natural wonders of this unique and beautiful land known as the Ozarks. Once a highland comparable to the present day Rocky Mountains and inhabited by people long since gone where their secrets abound in the remnants of secluded areas, some ageless and are endangered and perhaps will slip into infinity undiscovered and much worse completely destroyed.
Without the past, humans would do little more than mill about each day without collective memories, starting anew with nothing. Without foundation, society would crumble to begin again with the same errors never learning; never achieving culture and never knowing reason, for without the past to learn from our intellect would be little more than the creatures we share this planet with.
Several years ago while floating the Osage Fork River I discovered a cave, a very large opening with a massive overhang jutting out overlooking the river well above the flood plain. The entrance to this cave is at least thirty feet in height and at least sixty feet in width. I have no actual knowledge of how deep it is, but was informed later the cave exceeded ten miles in. I decided to have a look and beached the canoe and what I saw next was startling to say the least. Pot hunters as I shall call them had completely devastated an area in front of the opening digging for prehistory artifact. Three majors excavations were noted, one at least twelve feet deep, shored up in places to prevent it from collapsing. Potsherd lay everywhere around the dig, along with bones of which many were human. The site represented total disregard for the knowledge it once harbored of the past.
Near one side of the entrance a few feet inside the cave was a pile of discarded beer and soft drink cans and other related debris. This very small aspect of the site was the only place I saw that had not been disturbed. Working quickly with the aid of a stout stick and my hands I cleared away most of the debris and found loose dry earth and began excavating it. To my surprise I discovered a layer of stones and several minutes later found beneath them the skeletal remains of a human wrapped in a very thick hide, (buffalo I believe). The deceased lay face up with hands across the chest and most remarkable of all it was near perfectly preserved in a mummy like state. The face was of a man staring up at me through hooded eye lids, the lips drawn tight revealing teeth in a state of remarkable preservation. A large earthen bowl lay upside down on his chest. The huge hands weathered by time appeared claw like, yet strangely beautiful. At his left lay three arrow shafts containing stone points and it was at this aspect of the dig I ceased the excavation. I quickly conducted a rough measurement of the ancient man at or near seven feet in length.
I am reasonably certain the remains were that of a Prehistory Osage Indian. They were gentle folks I’ve read, but in the end when trails crossed their own by people who came like a tidal wave sweeping them aside forcing them to leave their dead behind in a sacred land. The burial sites too are slowly and or have been destroyed from this ancestral land of the Osage.
I sat for a time observing the fellow looking into the vacant eye sockets of a once magnificent human who had lived in a wilderness few today can or will comprehend. There was little of course he could reveal to me, void of life and soul and the rest of the story lay around me in shambles, defiled and in those parting moments I experienced a profound sadness.
I replaced all the stones and earth along with the debris and over the years I have often thought of the giant and if he too became a victim of the pot hunters, cast aside or stolen like the knowledge that was contained there in that lonely secluded place, a wonderful, natural treasure lost forever. Adios
Where Trails Cross
By Ronnie Powell
Most folks passing through the Ozarks are led more often than not directly to tourist attractions where food, lodging and entertainment are provided at a premium cost. There are also many residents who turn a blind eye to the natural wonders of this unique and beautiful land known as the Ozarks. Once a highland comparable to the present day Rocky Mountains and inhabited by people long since gone where their secrets abound in the remnants of secluded areas, some ageless and are endangered and perhaps will slip into infinity undiscovered and much worse completely destroyed.
Without the past, humans would do little more than mill about each day without collective memories, starting anew with nothing. Without foundation, society would crumble to begin again with the same errors never learning; never achieving culture and never knowing reason, for without the past to learn from our intellect would be little more than the creatures we share this planet with.
Several years ago while floating the Osage Fork River I discovered a cave, a very large opening with a massive overhang jutting out overlooking the river well above the flood plain. The entrance to this cave is at least thirty feet in height and at least sixty feet in width. I have no actual knowledge of how deep it is, but was informed later the cave exceeded ten miles in. I decided to have a look and beached the canoe and what I saw next was startling to say the least. Pot hunters as I shall call them had completely devastated an area in front of the opening digging for prehistory artifact. Three majors excavations were noted, one at least twelve feet deep, shored up in places to prevent it from collapsing. Potsherd lay everywhere around the dig, along with bones of which many were human. The site represented total disregard for the knowledge it once harbored of the past.
Near one side of the entrance a few feet inside the cave was a pile of discarded beer and soft drink cans and other related debris. This very small aspect of the site was the only place I saw that had not been disturbed. Working quickly with the aid of a stout stick and my hands I cleared away most of the debris and found loose dry earth and began excavating it. To my surprise I discovered a layer of stones and several minutes later found beneath them the skeletal remains of a human wrapped in a very thick hide, (buffalo I believe). The deceased lay face up with hands across the chest and most remarkable of all it was near perfectly preserved in a mummy like state. The face was of a man staring up at me through hooded eye lids, the lips drawn tight revealing teeth in a state of remarkable preservation. A large earthen bowl lay upside down on his chest. The huge hands weathered by time appeared claw like, yet strangely beautiful. At his left lay three arrow shafts containing stone points and it was at this aspect of the dig I ceased the excavation. I quickly conducted a rough measurement of the ancient man at or near seven feet in length.
I am reasonably certain the remains were that of a Prehistory Osage Indian. They were gentle folks I’ve read, but in the end when trails crossed their own by people who came like a tidal wave sweeping them aside forcing them to leave their dead behind in a sacred land. The burial sites too are slowly and or have been destroyed from this ancestral land of the Osage.
I sat for a time observing the fellow looking into the vacant eye sockets of a once magnificent human who had lived in a wilderness few today can or will comprehend. There was little of course he could reveal to me, void of life and soul and the rest of the story lay around me in shambles, defiled and in those parting moments I experienced a profound sadness.
I replaced all the stones and earth along with the debris and over the years I have often thought of the giant and if he too became a victim of the pot hunters, cast aside or stolen like the knowledge that was contained there in that lonely secluded place, a wonderful, natural treasure lost forever. Adios
1 comment:
Wow that guy in the picture looks like he means business. Very interesting story. Thanks for sharing. I will tuck it away.
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