Story: The Mission San José de Tumacácori

It was a blustery and rain filled afternoon, with black clouds and a chill in the air. San José de Tumacácori is located on the border of Southern Arizona and Nogales' Mexico and is a high mountain agricultural port of entry to the US. We were unaware that its elevation is 3865' above sea level, and during February can be very cold and blustery. I was not prepared for the chill...

The Mission San José de Tumacácori, founded in 1691, was somewhat foreboding as I entered the main courtyard, it seemed as though the slightest bit of earth movement would bring it down into a pile of rubble within seconds. I was hesitant to enter the main chapel structure for this very reason.

Upon entering the building, a strong smell of mildew filled my nostrils, it was pungent and suffocating as though it were the smell of very old and rotting wood and dust; the smell of death. It was freezing cold and made the hair on the back of my neck and arms stand up. I somewhat expected other visitors to be inside, but the mission was completely silent and empty. The darkness was eerie and I tried to imagine what life must have been like for the monks that lived and worked in this environment. I can only describe it as dark and cold and lonely.

To my right there were small openings that led to another corridor, I had to duck under and found a landing and stairs that led up to the bell tower. The darkness made it difficult to get my camera to capture the feel of the adobe and the environment around me. The life of a monk must have been isolated and monotonous. The dark hallways and only the light of a candle would have made for a very uncomfortable existence in the 1600's.

The main cathedral was a sight to behold, fashioned out of clay, mud and straw; it would have been quite a feat to build manually by hand. Massive beams from the walls and the ceiling braced up the tallest part of the interior, but the altar dome was smooth and round without visible support. A crucifix was once mounted in the altar wall but had been pulled from it's place by someone or had simply decayed and fallen. I pictured in my mind what it must have been like with hooded monks all kneeling around murmuring sounds and prayers, with the smell of incense and earthen must. To the right of the altar was another small doorway that led to a room with only one tiny window and another doorway out to the side courtyard.

In the courtyard there were granaries that were once covered, but the roofs had long ago disintegrated; as had the grinding wheels that protruded from round holes by giant timbers around the sides of each circular building. The sun was breaking through the clouds and its warmth began to make me feel comfortable again. I was glad to be outside and feel the comfort of light and clean air.

The graves were scattered around the granaries with placards of just a few words and some with only a single name. Arches and gates to different areas were around the walled compound and obviously there to keep out the unwanted.

A row of buildings to the east of the granaries must have been the quarters of the monks, with door after door and room after room, and very little privacy. Each room had it's own adobe fireplace and this must have made the rooms much more cozy and warm. The roof of the dorm was long since destroyed, and only the wooden framed windows and doors in the adobe walls were left. It made for an excellent view of the bell tower and main structure. The grounds were barren with very few shrubs and a couple of trees that were arched and decaying.

I enjoyed photographing the mission and hope to return again.
For my Partner Jeff.
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