A personal encounter with the people and places of the American Southwest

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Old U.S. 6 and the Utah Border Herm

Mack, Colorado

The other day in my mythology class at Colorado Mesa University we discussed the ancient Greek practice of using a large stone slab or a pile of stones called a Herm to represent Hermes, guide of travelers and the dead. How did the association between stones, guidance, and Hermes begin?

Mark Morford, Robert Lenardon, and Michael Sham answer this question in their book Classical Mythology (Oxford University Press, 2014). The Greeks, as with many cultures, marked the graves of the dead with a single large stone or a stone mound. As these authors explain, “Passerby would add their stones to the mound, making it a guiding landmark. The god Hermes, whose name means ‘he from the stone-heap,’ was believed to live in this landmark grave-mound and so he became the guide and protector of travelers and also of souls on their way to the Underworld” (297). Thus, Hermes is the “creator and crosser of boundaries and an intermediary between two different worlds” (298).

In my class, we noted that we still use Herms as guides. Many wilderness trails have piles of stones, called cairns, to mark the way. Occasionally, hikers even emulate the ancient Greek practice of adding a stone to give the cairn more height and endurance. Of course, we still use gravestones to enshrine the dead. And while we tend to use signs now to announce state lines, in decades past, a stone or concrete obelisk often signaled the crossing of boundaries.

One such obelisk stands on the border between Utah and Colorado on Old U.S. Route 6.

This summer, my oldest daughter, Ursula, and I made the journey across the border along this decades old passage between states. From the town of Fruita, we followed U.S. 6 as it paralleled the Union Pacific rail line. In the village of Mack, where the street named Hotel Circle is these days bereft of inns, U.S. 6 joins Interstate 70. While this massive four-lane freeway climbs into the high foothills of the Uncompahgre Plateau, Old U.S. 6 follows a humbler path.

Within a mile from Mack on Old U.S. 6, the rail tracks left us as well, running southwest along the Colorado River to plunge into the depths of Ruby Canyon. Meanwhile, we meandered due west through low shale hills covered in sere grasses and salt brush. Crossing an 80 year old bridge over Salt Creek, we spotted the rail bed of the long abandoned Uintah Railroad, which had once carried gilsonite 60 miles from the Black Dragon Mine on Utah’s Tavaputs Plateau to Mack by way of the 8500 foot high Baxter Pass.

Then, in another seven miles, we were there – the border. A small pullout surrounded a ten foot white concrete obelisk on a granite stone base. On one side, the obelisk read in dark black vertically arranged letters “UTAH.” Beneath that were two horizontal words, “state line.” The other side stated, “COLO” and again, “state line.” The obelisk was all shot up, especially on the Colorado face, the O’s in COLO being especially fine targets. Sadly, folks had mistreated this herm, but nonetheless it still marked the invisible line between two remarkably different states of the Four Corners region.

We took some photos and decided to keep heading west. To the north, rain fell darkly on the Book Cliffs’ serrated ranks. After driving up some gentle rises and back down into desert folds, we rounded a bend in the shale hills and found ourselves in the midst of a herd of pronghorn. It was a magical moment, for the antelope-like mammals were unafraid, perhaps because Old U.S. 6 doesn’t embrace Interstate 70’s rushing torrent of traffic, only the occasional wandering soul. We pulled over, and the dozen or so animals just peered at us, some of them mere yards away, their beige and white bodies poised on graceful yet powerful legs, their ears erect, their eyes dark and placid. Finally, after about ten minutes, they began to slowly meander away over the hills, and we joined them in their drifting by continuing down the aging highway.

Hermes, the guide to travelers, had lead us to a beautiful scene, and we were grateful. I vowed that the next time I passed his Herm on Old U.S. 6, I would leave him a stone offering.