By OBBM Network Editorial Staff

Derived from an episode of The Buried Archive.

In a dimly lit canvas tent on the rim of a side canyon, John Wesley Powell recorded a startling confession from an elderly Paiute elder named Tavwotes. The elder spoke of unseen forces moving beneath the Colorado River gorge—an account Powell deemed credible enough to note, yet never published. Discovered decades later by graduate student Miriam Ashcott, these eleven lines reveal a rare glimpse into indigenous knowledge that was deliberately set aside, raising questions about what early scientific explorers chose to ignore.

The winter interview that never left Powell’s official reports

During the winter of 1873, Powell’s second survey party set up three tents along a side canyon that fed the lower Colorado. Powell’s tent, equipped with a fire, a writing desk, and a single tallow lamp, became the setting for a conversation that would linger in a Smithsonian archive for ninety‑four years. Accompanied by an interpreter named Delenbor, Powell asked his usual topographic questions about water sources and passable routes. After two hours, he deviated from his list and asked Tavwotes whether there were places the Paiute avoided.

The elder’s response, recorded in eleven lines, described “places in the canyon country where the ground was hollow, and where things beneath the ground were still moving… not sleeping, not dead, not gods, but something else… the ones who are still finishing their work.” Powell wrote in the margin, “He is not lying.” This brief marginal note is the only direct evidence that Powell took the testimony seriously.

What the notebook actually says

The eleven lines, as transcribed, read:

“The ground in certain places along the canyons is not still. The stillness that surface people experience is the stillness of the upper layer only. Beneath that layer there is another layer, and in that other layer there is movement. The movement is old… it began before the Paiute came into the country… it is the movement of the ones who are still finishing their work. The Paiute know where the places are. The Paiute do not go into the places. The Paiute do not disturb the work.”

Powell noted that Tavwotes delivered this information in the same practical tone he used for mapping springs, not as myth. Delenbor, who had lived among the Paiute long enough to discern when an informant was reciting legend versus reporting observation, confirmed that Tavwotes remained in the “second register” of practical knowledge throughout.

Why Powell’s silence matters

Powell’s own commentary reveals his internal conflict. He wrote that the content could be dismissed as superstition, but it was the manner of delivery—precise, geographic, and actionable—that unsettled him. He even considered sending a small party to investigate the location Tavwotes had gestured toward, noting that a previous party member had also been refused entry by a Paiute guide for the same drainage.

However, the next entry in Powell’s field notebook, dated three days later, jumps to unrelated topographic notes, and no record exists of whether the follow‑up party ever went out or what they might have found. Graduate student Miriam Ashcott, examining the notebook in 1967, flagged this omission as unusual for Powell, who was known for meticulous record‑keeping. She suggested two possibilities: Powell abandoned the plan, or he discovered something and chose not to document it.

Broader patterns of hidden knowledge

The episode’s presenter notes that this case is one of thirty‑five similar instances where indigenous testimonies were recorded, archived, and then effectively erased from public scientific narratives. Each follows a pattern of discovery, documentation, acquisition, and disappearance. The cumulative effect is a systematic marginalization of native geographic insight that could have informed early American geological understanding.

Moreover, the compound word Tavwotes used—translated imperfectly as “the ones who are still finishing their work”—appears in Southern Paiute linguistic records fifty years later among a different band, suggesting a persistent cultural concept about subterranean activity. This continuity underscores that Powell’s notebook captured a living tradition rather than a fleeting myth.

What the rediscovery tells us today

The resurfacing of these notes invites contemporary scholars to reassess how early scientific expeditions engaged with indigenous expertise. Powell, a decorated Civil War veteran and the second director of the United States Geological Survey, was celebrated for his rigorous approach. Yet his private acknowledgment of Tavwotes’s testimony shows a willingness to entertain knowledge that fell outside the dominant scientific paradigm of his time.

For modern readers, the story serves as a reminder that archives often hold more than the official record. Hidden voices, once deemed irrelevant, can surface to challenge prevailing narratives and enrich our understanding of the landscapes we inhabit.

The full episode of The Buried Archive is available on OBBM Network TV.