It is another world in cow camp. You arrive, heading south across the sage strewn desert slowly ascending the hills, that until this moment have been inviting blue silhouettes on the horizon. As you tip over the pass, the shimmering heat is behind you and the world is graced with wildflowers, running water, and inviting aspen forests.
If ever a tree possessed magic, it is a quaking aspen. It is in the pristine beauty of the snow-white bark, the rustling whisper of their summer green leaves, and the cleansing smell of a cool grove. In the mountains of Nevada, it is in the stories they tell. Carefully incised in the bark of many trees are names and dates. Names of Basque herdsmen, who fled their homeland, between France and Spain, in the face of cultural, political, and economic discrimination.
The Basque diaspora to Nevada (and Idaho) began in the 186os, but reached new heights during the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s and the resulting dictatorship of General Francisco Franco. Skilled tradesmen and fisherman in their homeland, men were forced to find new work in their new surroundings. These hardy strangers became immersed in Western agriculture, often employed as sheepherders.
Herding sheep is a lonely occupation, pursued on vast ranges. Herders are charged with the care 1,500-2,000 head of sheep (this constitutes a “band”) and left to tend to the flocks’ needs and safety. These men often carved names, dates, images into the inviting trunk of nearby aspens. When riding through these trees, up quiet stock trails near bubbling streams, you come across these haunting voices in the scarred bark. They are affirmations of a lonely man’s existence, “I am. I was here.” The hardships of herding earned these men the right to leave their mark. This is history, these names and dates transcend graffiti. For a moment, you feel the weight of their presence and the solitude they endured to create a life in a new land.
For further information about Basque arborglyphs and Basque culture, check out the University of Nevada’s Basque Program or the Sheepherders of Northern Nevada multimedia project.
A Few Facts.
1. Aspen live for less that 100 years, as a result the lifetime of these carvings is limited. Additionally, many of these unique carvings are lost to fire, decay, and vandalism.
2. As the tree grows, the vertical lines of the carvings or scars expand at twice the rate of the horizontal lines. This contributes to the unique block lettering visible in the second photograph.
3. The oldest arborglyph I, myself, saw was carved in 1925, the majority of trees I saw and photographed were carved in the 1950s and ’60s.
What are your thoughts on the line between history and graffiti?
Wow. What a lovely post. A great sideline hobby to capture the moments of the past of the lonesome cowboy markings on the bark of a tree.
We travelled all the way to Cave of El Castillo (Cuevas del Monte del Castillo), near the town of Puente Viesgo, Northern Spain to see the earliest grafitti. That was a thrill.
I cannot separate Basque and good food. I try to imagine what they cooked around the campfire on a good day.
I think of the trains that come through with graffiti from big cities, most probably from gangs. Perhaps they are alone in the wilderness too. Great article.
Beautiful analogy, Mary. Thank you.
Never thought of it that way.
I agree with you that there is a line between history and graffiti. Carving your name on a tree while out on a picnic is different than leaving your mark while living lonely in the mountains through wind and rain and solitude. The herders put in the time, and they become part of the place, so their marks fit the land. They are part of its life. They add to its meaning. Same thing with petroglyphs and pictographs.
I think that is exactly it, the herders carving their name or figures in the trees is in a way the growth of sense of place, for a people so closely linked to their original homeland. I find the initials and hearts carved upon trees directly adjacent to roadways very irksome now, an unearned encroachment upon the landscape.