Vogel Canyon is one of Colorado’s oldest history books. It records perhaps three thousand years of the past, in wordless texts carved straight into the landscape—some deliberately, some by chance.

The story told here is one of constant comings and goings, stretching back as far as 1000 B.C. At about that time, prehistoric migrants began leaving signs of their passing—abstract shapes etched or painted into the cliffs. Though difficult to interpret today, the rock art at least tells us something about where, when, and how these ancient Coloradans lived. We may learn more about them from the scattered evidence—stone circles, rock shelters, spear points, and the like—that Vogel Canyon collected over the centuries.

Other, more recent narratives are also represented. In the nineteenth century a branch of the Santa Fe Trail, the West’s oldest commercial road, came right through the canyon; the old wagon ruts, though fading, remain legible in places. The same route later carried stagecoaches from Las Animas to Trinidad, while sheep ranchers and homesteaders traced rambling paths of their own.

Vogel Canyon’s pages have gradually faded over time, as wind and weathering take their toll. But human visitors have done even more damage. Vandals have rubbed away or written over many of these precious signs, making them that much more difficult—in many cases, impossible—to read. The damage, though regrettable, does serve a purpose: it illustrates just how high the stakes really are in historic preservation. We stand to lose not just old buildings or old objects but old stories—the wandering narratives our ancestors wrote, the lines they scratched into the earth.