WHERE THE ANCIENTS WALKED : ON A SANDY NEW MEXICO MESA, VISITORS FIND TRACES OF ACOMA CULTURE.

Byline: Susanne Hopkins Daily News Travel Editor

The wind is fierce up here on this sandstone mesa overlooking the dry New Mexico valley. It picks up the silty sand and spits it in our eyes, ears and noses.

Sometimes it blows away the words of Maisie Leon, our guide on this tour of the Acoma Pueblo.

``I even have sand in my teeth,'' a woman complains.

But we wander the lanes of this quiet village anyway, straining to catch Leon's stream of information about this mysterious place some 75 miles west of Albuquerque. Since at least 1150, the mesa situated 367 feet above the valley floor has been inhabited by the Acomas (pronounced AK-kum-a), a Pueblo Indian tribe. And even though the number of residents has decreased from a high of about 900 six or so centuries ago to today's 14 or so families, it remains one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements in America.

It is also a magnet to the traveler. Nearly two dozen busloads of tourists trundle up the hill to the mesa from the visitors center each day. And while the admission fees pump needed funds into the operation and upkeep of the pueblo, one gets the impression that the Acomas, if they had a choice, would not put their sacred home on display and their traditions at risk.

But the 20th century has encroached on the American Indian way of life; to continue to survive, they must be commercial. So, there is a casino on pueblo land, an Exxon gas station - and tourism.

And so it is that Maisie Leon, an Acoma herself, is leading a group of about 24 of us around a portion of the 70-acre mesa called Sky City.

We stop first at San Esteban del Rey Mission, an unadorned adobe structure that looms over the eastern corner of the pueblo. Dating to 1629, it is the Spanish contribution to the pueblo. Until 1540, the Acomas lived without interference from the white man. Then, in his zealous search for the legendary Seven Cities of Gold, Francisco Vazquez de Coronado happened upon Sky City. But Coronado, whose company had to use steep stairwells or handholds cut into the side of the mesa to reach the top, found no streets paved with gold, just dirt and mud and an agrarian people who raised corn, beans and turkeys.

Still, the die was cast. From then on, the white man would have a profound effect on the Acomas and other American Indians.

Leon tells us that 80 percent of the Acoma people are Catholic, thanks in no small measure to Father Juan Ramirez. It was under his leadership that the mission was constructed over a period of 10 years, she says. The work was painstaking: Every grain of sand was brought up to the mesa. (This is almost inconceivable to me as I constantly brush from my eyes and face layers of blowing sand.

Inside, she points out the walls that are 10 feet thick in some places. Men - no one knows how many - were killed in accidents in the building of this church. They were interred in its walls, Leon tells us.

The walls do not betray their gruesome contents, however; whitewashed and accented with pink, they form a backdrop for painted rainbows, birds, pottery and other symbols important to the Acomas. Oil paintings with biblical themes, some of which date to the 17th century, also hang throughout the sanctuary where Mass is still celebrated on special occasions.

We walk out of the humble church to face the small graveyard of black-tipped white crosses, some dressed up with fancy red-and-white-lace memorials to ``Mother'' or ``Father.'' The black tips stand for God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Leon says, noting that there are three or four older graveyards underneath the current one.

Leon points out a tiny barred window in the wall of the annex to the church. That was the jail, she says; in old times, people caught stealing someone else's possessions - the main crime of the day - were kept here. Another part of the building was once a schoolhouse.

As we trod the dusty streets, residents quietly appear in front of their homes, hoping to sell pieces of their pottery, jewelry or other creations set out on tables.

Some of the pottery is white with black and rust designs; other pieces are black etched with a rainbow of colors; and still others are adobe-colored adorned with vivid turquoise birds.

``Fine lines mean rain and black clouds; orange is the mother earth and sun,'' Leon says, as we stop at a stand with a handsome display of traditional pottery.

Not all the art on the mesa is American Indian inspired. I spy a bunny holding an egg and there are cats in a variety of poses. Some pottery sports a glaze. It is greenware, commercially molded clay that is painted and fired - and it's another example of the eroding of American Indian ways.

But there are plenty of exquisite authentic pieces; many in our group eagerly make purchases.

As we pass some of the mesa's 465 homes, many of which are built atop one another so structures are three and four stories, Leon points out the old adobe ones and compares them to those that have been restored with stucco. Old adobe homes must be reconditioned every two or three years, she says. It is a time-consuming process; many of the residents are using stucco instead because it lasts so much longer.

And until the 1970s, there were no doors or windows, merely openings. Now, there are windows rimmed in deep blue wood and weathered, brightly colored wooden doors.

``We have to make sure our windows and doors are locked because we don't know what will happen,'' Leon says sadly, referring to the gang problem that, as in most places in the rest of the nation, plagues the pueblo.

Still, many of the old ways continue. There is no running water, no electricity on the mesa. Water is brought in from two reservoirs. And the outhouses that poke up from the sides of the mesa serve as the plumbing.

Houses on the mesa are passed from generation to generation through the youngest daughter or, if there is no daughter, the youngest son.

``We raise the younger generation to know that this is their home,'' Leon says.

With a hint of nostalgia, she tells us she lived on the mesa once, for a year.

``To be honest, it was nice to live up here, because we do have the four seasons,'' she says.

We come then to the only green on the mesa: a cottonwood tree planted about a dozen years ago. Its branches wave wildly in the wind, bending low over one of the mesa's several waterholes which even today are used to catch rainwater.

Not far away, we see a flat-topped adobe, a ladder poking from its center. It is one of seven kivas in Sky City; only men and boys are allowed to meet inside for religious ceremonies.

Leon points out a horno, a beehive-shaped bread oven that sits on the edge of the mesa. Cedar wood is used for cooking up here, she says. The oven can bake 20 to 30 loaves at once.

Other things besides bread are baked here; a woman comes out of a house, bearing a plate of plastic-wrapped individual apple pies, which she offers to our group for $1 or so. Further along the way, another woman offers, for $1, Indian fry bread topped with powdered sugar.

At Leon's urging, we stop at the edge of the mesa. Across the valley lies Enchanted Mesa. It's taller than Sky City - 430 feet high - but from our vantage point through a haze of dust particles, it looks smaller. Leon says Acoma history tells that centuries ago, the Acoma people lived there. Then, a fierce rainstorm washed away the trail to the top. The people who were tending crops at the base of the mesa searched for a long time for a way to get a small girl and her grandmother off the top of the mesa. But they did not succeed; rather than perish from starvation, the two leaped from the cliff.

It is a sad story, one that lingers with us as we continue our walk. The wind whipping clothes and hair wildly about us, we take refuge in a small house turned into a shop. The floor is hard-packed dirt, not linoleum as in some of the houses. It is dark here; the only light comes from the doorway. Shelves are outfitted with a sparse array of goods, but the welcome from the woman behind the counter is warm. Some people purchase soft drinks. Then, we make our way back to the bus stop.

Leon says we can take the bus back or traverse the steep ``hidden staircase'' that leads to the visitors center far below. Some hardy souls choose the latter; I linger and ask Maisie Leon what she liked about living up here.

``The advantage of living up here is, there's a sense of place and you can always remember where you came from and what your heritage is,'' she says. ``You don't have many worries up here. At least we know we always have a home to come back to.''

Later in the day, I tell a park ranger at Petroglyph National Monument headquarters that I have been at Acoma and the wind was fierce.

He grins. ``That's part of the Acoma experience - being sand blasted,'' he says.

Days later, I am still digging sand out of the corners of my glasses and my purse. But it is holy sand now.

On Location

Acoma Sky City is about an hour and a half west of Albuquerque on Interstate 40. Guided walking tours take about an hour and leave from the visitors' center about every half hour from 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. November through March and 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. April through October. The last tour leaves one hour before closing. Tours are given daily except for July 10-13 and the first or second weekend in October. Cost is $6 adults, $5 seniors, $4 children.

There is a $10 fee per camera if you expect to take pictures with a still camera.

Give yourself plenty of time, since tours fill up fast and you may not make the tour you want. No matter - that gives you time to visit the Native Food and Crafts shops or the small museum at the visitors' center.

At the latter, there's a fine collection of old Acoma pottery (which is renowned as among the world's thinnest). Some pieces date back 1,000 years.

There are rules - called ``visitor's etiquette'' - which you must abide by when visiting Acoma. Among them:

Stay on the pavement when descending from Sky City.

Stay within the plaza and street areas and away from restricted areas such as water cisterns, cliff edges and behind the church.

No video cameras/recorders are allowed; no still picture taking is allowed on special feast days.

Stay on the highway when arriving or leaving Sky City; camping, hiking or climbing rock formations is prohibited.

For more information, call the Acoma Tourist Visitor Center, [phone].

CAPTION(S):

3 Photos, Box

Photo: (1--Color) The old adobe structures of Acoma Pueblo, some of which may date to the 16th century, still house Acoma Indians.

(2--Color) Visitors follow the footsteps of ancient Acomas along the steep hidden staircase; above, an Acoma seed pot.

(3) The twin spires of the centuries-old San Esteban del Rey Mission at Acoma can be seen from all over the mesa. Many men were killed in accidents during construction of the mission. They are interred in the walls.

Susanne Hopkins/Daily News

Box: On Location (See Text)