Awakening on Ute Mountain

Awakening on Ute Mountain

The ultimate experience of our conference last year on the Ute Mountain Ute Reservation was our journey to the tribe’s spiritual center on that peak that resembles a sleeping warrior. As a non-Indian, I wouldn’t be allowed to set foot on that sacred ground but the tribal council had granted us permission and sent several tribal members to guide us. 

What I witnessed and felt that day was so moving that I have refrained from speaking or writing about it. But I woke up this morning after reliving the journey in my dreams with a new understanding and the urge to tell about three moments during the day. At this confusing and  despairing time most of us are living through, I feel compelled to share. 

The Injured Eagle

After we gathered at the foot of the mountain and sent up prayers for our journey, we piled into vans and started up a winding road. Suddenly, we came to a stop. Looking out my window, I saw the silhouette of a large bird hopping by the side of the road. Our guide Farley Ketchum hopped out of the lead van and retrieved a blanket from the trailing vehicle. He approached the injured eagle calmly and deftly wrapped her in the blanket, gathering her in his arms. As he walked past the van he took off his hat and placed it over the eagle’s  eyes, calming her. 



Later, we learned that the eagle was taken to the tribe’s Wildlife Rescue Center. She had a broken leg and other injuries but was expected to recover. All wildlife, and eagles especially, are protected and held sacred by the Ute tribes. Even a single eagle feather is treasured and passed down to generations. Non-Indians are not allowed to possess or even touch eagle feathers. But I was able to witness this act of mercy and caring, which gave me a taste of what was to come.  

From Where We Came

On our journey, we talked with some women from the Northern and Southern Ute tribes and learned about their roles during the Bear Dance and the Sun Dance, two of the ceremonies performed on the mountain. Rounding a corner, we briefly stopped by the side of the road and our guide told us about the beneficial plants that grew on the slopes. I looked up and saw a ridge line stretching to the southeast, with a strange peak in the far distance. I recognized it instantly as what non-Indians call Shiprock. Indigenous people saw the crag as a resting bird with wings outstretched to the sky. Beyond it, the ridge line disappeared into the southern horizon. The Puebloan peoples who came from Mesoamerica thousands of years ago passed this way, and navigated by climbing these peaks and getting a birds-eye view. 


A View of the Blues

The road wound around Ute Mountain, the highest part of which is called the “elbow” by non-Indians, hinting at the fable of the sleeping Ute warrior. Eventually, our vans stopped and we walked a ways farther to an overlook. We could see across a vast plain to some mountains far in the northwest. Our guide Farley Ketchum told us we were looking at the Blue Mountains, home of the Manti-La Sal National Forest, where Indigenous people have been known to live as far back as 12,000 years. It is also part of Bears Ears National Monument, protected by President Obama in one of his last executive orders. 


As I took in this vast expanse, I felt like I was literally lifted up by the mountain. I had been trudging on a monotonous  desert plain for I don’t know how long, but there was a verdant forest ahead of me and I was going in the right direction. Some day, there would be deep shade, woodland meadows, rushing streams and vibrant wildlife. I felt like I was looking into my future, into our future, and I saw hope. 

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