Visiting the Sand Creek Massacre site is challenging but worthwhile

History can be learned from books and films and lectures, but a deeper layer of understanding comes from being in the place where things happened. That belief was what led me to visit Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site in southeastern Colorado earlier this month.

I had planned to join dozens of people who signed up to take a bus from Niwot to the site this fall. The trip, organized by the Niwot United Methodist Church in cooperation with several other community organizations, has been postponed until next year due to the coronavirus. But my husband and I were looking for a short, fall getaway that seemed lower risk, and decided on the wide open spaces of the eastern plains. As residents of Niwot, we wanted to learn more about the life and death of the town's namesake, Chief Niwot, who was mortally wounded at Sand Creek.

I share my experience here as a preview of what promises to be an enlightening journey for those who are signed up or would like to join when the time comes. The Courier will share the new date when it is scheduled.

Sand Creek is more than three-and-a-half hours from here. I generally appreciate the unique beauty of different landscapes like the prairie and farmland in eastern Colorado. But as we drove east then south, it was hard to get past the current reality. The region is experiencing exceptional drought, desaturating the already subtle shades of gray, brown and pale green.

An uneasy orange sun stretched across the sky, giving us a colorful distraction. I shifted in my seat, unsure whether to choose between sadness or awe. We had not outrun the wildfire smoke.

After a night in La Junta, we drove to the Sand Creek site, finding several large interpretive panels marking the turnoff. They offered a basic introduction along with an attempt to answer a question fresh on my mind. We just drove through a town that is a few inhabited buildings shy of a ghost town. I'm shocked to see that it is named Chivington, the name of colonel who led the massacre.

The interpretive sign references the town and acknowledges an argument that says that places like this remind us of the dark times and lessons of history. However, Colorado is currently considering new names for a number of places that honor the dishonorable. It will be interesting to see if this town's name survives.

There is only so much information that can be relayed on interpretive panels, so it wasn't a surprise that there wasn't much specifically about Chief Niwot, also known as Left Hand, on the signs we read throughout our visit. But his presence is acknowledged as part of the larger story of about 750 Cheyenne and Arapaho who were told to congregate in the area in the fall of 1864 if they wanted peace. That year had been an especially bloody period in the war between the U.S. military and Plains tribes. Those who wanted peace, food and other provisions were told to assemble close to Ft. Lyon. They made camp at nearby Sand Creek.

After reading the entry signs, we left the asphalt behind and headed down a dusty road that eventually led to a dirt parking lot with one RV and no other soul except an olive-green ranger. It's a little odd to be the only visitors at a National Park Service site. But this place is lightly visited. It was created in 2007 and gets about 20 people a day during the warmer months for a total of about 6,000 visitors a year.

The ranger eagerly greeted us and led us to the grassy picnic area, which hasn't fared well in the drought. Beneath the trees, she gave us a verbal orientation of the site. The main grounds consist of a small yellow trailer that is both office and bookstore, a yellow metal maintenance building, picnic tables and a bathroom. We learned firsthand that it's good to wear long pants and sleeves as protection from the prairie sun, wind, heat and biting flies, which can be "rude," as the ranger put it.

She left us and we began our visit by reading two large, golden signs next to us. They're representations of letters written by soldiers who were at the massacre, but who refused to take part. The letters recounted the horrors they saw the morning of November 29, 1864 when about 230 Cheyenne and Arapaho, including about 150 women, children, and elderly were murdered and mutilated at the command of the rogue Col. Chivington.

From there we walked on a trail that leads to Monument Hill, which overlooks the site of the Indian village. The gentle gravel path is a little over half a mile. It's level until the last bit. Visitors also have the option to drive to the overlook which has an open wood structure with benches and several enormous sandstone blocks.

Monument Hill stands on a bluff above Sand Creek, which is aptly named. It rarely fills with water, about once every ten years, the ranger said. Cottonwood trees show the path of the creek better than it does.

Out of respect, visitors are not allowed to go down to the creek where the massacre occurred, though Native Americans can make special arrangements.

From the overlook, the land is broad and stoic, beige but for the subdued yellow and fading green of fall leaves, silent but for the wind, offering a spaciousness for the imagination. A few other visitors came and went, everyone respectful, involved in their own contemplative thoughts.

From Monument Hill, we took the Bluff Trail that goes along the top of the sandstone cliff. It offers a different vantage point, closer to where the camp was. After a short walk, we paused on a lone bench. I'm not sure why, but I felt a stronger presence there.

Chief Niwot was among those wounded in the massacre. He managed to escape the site after the soldiers left, according to George Bent, who was there. He said the chief's injuries were so severe that he died within days.

The story of the great Arapaho peacemaker and the turbulent times in which he lived is well-detailed in the book "Chief Left Hand" by Boulder's Margaret Coel. I recommend it to put the Sand Creek site in context. Other related books are on the National Park Service website.

Knowing something about Chief Niwot's life, death and the events surrounding it made the site more meaningful to me. It is a place of unfathomable pain, but I am glad I went as a way of honoring Chief Niwot and the Arapaho people who spent summers in the Boulder Valley that we now call home. My husband, Dave Olson, agreed. "I had always heard about the Sand Creek Massacre, but I didn't know that much about it," he said. "Seeing the site made it that much more real. It was horrible what happened. But it feels important to learn about it."

On the way home, we drove through a dust storm for nearly two hours. Tumbleweeds of all sizes charged toward us like an extended family - grandparents, mothers, fathers, kids, right down to the littlest grand niece trying to keep up. It was as if Dust Bowl II had arrived, the sequel to another piece of history in this area.

It was a fitting end to a weekend in which we also visited Camp Amache, where Japanese Americans were interned during WWII, hiked a canyon with Native American petroglyphs and saw places where the Santa Fe Trail crossed the plains. The history in this part of the state is as immense as the landscape and the lessons remain relevant. It felt important to remember.