My latest adventure took my mom and me back to the southwest for a fix of Native American culture. Oh, what a time we had!
Road trips are in my blood. Most family vacations of my childhood included a tent, a camp kitchen, and a trusty station wagon. These trips were semi-planned, meaning we lingered a few days longer if we found a place along a river we liked. This trip was no exception.
For the last forty years, my mom and I have returned again and again to the southwest to renew our spirits in a place we feel at home. Our usual destination is Santa Fe, but we had a new idea this time. Why not explore the trading posts in northern Arizona and steep ourselves in Native American history? We traced a tentative route on a AAA Indian Country map with a destination of Canyon de Chelly, a National Monument that the park service and Navajo Nation manage together. Our trip was so eventful that I decided to break this story into two parts: Canyon de Chelly and the next installment, our favorite trading posts.
After a night in Flagstaff and the next in Kayenta, we departed early in the morning to drive wide-open country roads on the Navajo Trail past tall red sandstone mesas to Chinle to catch our reserved 9 a.m. jeep tour of Canyon de Chelly and Canyon del Muerto. We booked the tour through Thunderbird Lodge, near the canyon entrance and our home base for the next two nights. Experienced Navajo guide David John expertly maneuvered our ten-person, six-wheel-drive behemoth of a vehicle that would take us into the canyon’s depths for the ride of a lifetime. Four of us strapped in and bumped through shallow creeks and deep sand, the towering adobe-red walls hugging us from either side. I’m surprised by how few people are here. You cannot enter the canyon to hike or camp without a Navajo guide—a good policy.
In front of us scampered a robust turkey with her tiny chicks racing behind. I am stunned by the canyon’s peaceful beauty and could easily see why the Anasazi, Hopi, and Navajo made this their home. David stops the jeep to point out petroglyphs on the cliff walls. He speaks rapidly to tell us about the Kokopelli, sun, moon, and deer symbols representing the nature the people so embraced. Deep cutouts in the cliff’s face give shelter to the cliff dwellings, suspended between heaven and earth and occupied by many groups of Native Americans over the centuries. Tall ladders and footholds dug into the cliff face also give access to the homes.
According to David, bears, coyotes, mountain lions, bobcats, and deer wandered the valley. Also abundant were crops of watermelon, squash, corn, and fruit trees of peach, apple, apricot, and cherry. The water source eventually dried up, and with no wells in the canyons and a long-term drought, crops and livestock faltered. The few remaining families who live here now are elderly, determined to maintain the old lifestyle even with no electricity or running water. I admire their tenacity and hope their grandchildren will learn about living with nature from them. We passed one recently abandoned home with a large loom still sitting next to the house, almost like an homage to the weaver who lived here. Mom said when she was here in the 70s, a woman, most likely on this spot, sat and wove rugs. She was lucky to visit the canyon when a more active community resided here.
Tall cottonwood trees showered us with white puffs, like snow, as we traveled down narrow, rutted roads to view cliff dwellings built around 750 AD. In the seven hours we spent in the canyons, we clocked around fifty miles, stopping frequently to hear the history of certain wall paintings or how the cliff dwellers lived. On one tree-lined canyon stretch, a magnificent wild Appaloosa stallion ran beside us, his mane and tail flowing in the breeze to match his gait. Later in the afternoon, we saw a grouping of wild horses, head to tail, keeping cool next to the cliff walls. This mare, below, ran in front of us, her swaying belly suggesting she was pregnant with foal—such beautiful free spirits.
The scenery becomes more vivid, and we are where most other vehicles cannot navigate. Deep into the heart of the canyon, quiet abides, and the only noise is the rustling of leaves and the whispered stories of the ancestors high up in the cliffs. We stop for lunch under a shade tree, with a view of Mummy House. Here we become fast friends with our tour companions, Elliott and Susan. I discover that Elliott has written two books and is into his third. This author connection, along with Susan hailing from San Diego, bonds us, and I know we will correspond in the future. I am grateful we all met!
The tour comes to a close in the late afternoon. We are sun-drenched, thirsty, and need a chiropractic adjustment, but we wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. We accomplished what we set out to do—immerse ourselves in Navajo culture—and we could not have gotten a better lesson. I feel a close connection to this place and all it represents: strength, nature, and community, and I will return for more life lessons.
I have been to the end of the earth, I have been to the end of the waters, I have been to the end of the sky, I have been to the end of the mountains, I have found none that are not my friends. Navajo Proverb.
Ciao for now,
P.S. Be sure to check out my author, writing, and copyediting website at Mary Knight!