September 14 – 20 From the Desert to the Sea

We finished our stint in Arizona with an overnight in Lake Havasu overlooking the London Bridge.  We stayed at a hotel once again due to the heat.  Lake Havasu really does look like an oasis in the desert, populated mostly by retirees as we soon discovered. The water levels were quite good considering it was fed by the Colorado River which seems to be under constant threat due to drought.  The London Bridge is quite something when you think that it was reconstructed brick by brick at this location.  

The London Bridge

We woke up to a toasty 82 degrees and decided to get out for a walk early.  We strolled along the esplanade as the sun rose, passing a touching tribute to the queen and other gift shops and restaurants.  

The next morning we headed out to Barstow; there isn’t much in this area and the Mojave National Reserve had been flooded out by monsoons (much like Death Valley) so we couldn’t swing by there for a look-see. I did find a feature near Barstow called the Rainbow Basin with colorful rock formations that reminded me of the Artist Palette in Death Valley. We decided that would be a fun geological adventure to hike, but we soon discovered that that road had been flooded out as well🌊

We decided to pack it in and went to the hotel.  We had plenty to do with prepping BigB for sale, and other logistics related to our impending move to France.  

The next morning we embarked to Bakersfield where we would spend the night at the Orange Grove RV Park.  We stopped by a rest stop to clown around the Joshua Trees, and then drove through Tehachapi which was now brown, quite the contrast of the rolling green hills of our spring jaunt through this region.  

Our stop over in Bakersfield this time was a bit different from our stay in the spring when we were surrounded by the heady scent of orange blossoms; there were now oranges on the trees, mostly green, and the temperature was a manageable 83 degrees.  

I sat amongst the orange trees until the sun faded, enveloped by the cooling breeze – there were no ponds here to reflect upon, only what I had brought with me as I pondered the last legs of our trip; the thunderstorms I was so fond of that came in multiples while in Sedona, were now behind me.   

The last strokes of the summer sun was now slipping past the fading fields, no longer in sway as we cross over from the solstice to the equinox of charitable memories.  In the aftermath of a desert glow, my pupils, thankfully, no longer felt fazed by the sun.  I watched the breeze as it ran its fingers through the trees, teasing the leaves as they turned to gold.  The idea of autumn was upon us.  

The next day we arrived at the California coast, specifically Morro Bay. I hadn’t seen my leggings and sweatshirts since we boondocked across the Columbia Icefields in  mid-June.  Thinking back on the early stage of this adventure it seems so long ago!  We were staying at a small RV Park, it was more like a space attached to an Airbnb that had a cabin and across from that full hookups for our rig.

It was rather cold and windy as we went for an evening walk on the beach; I can never inhale enough of the effervescent Pacific breeze.  We built a fire and roasted marshmallows then slumbered in the dark and quiet, only interrupted by the occasional calls of the nearby seals and then an owl.  

The next morning we strolled along the beach and then stopped in the cove  next to Morrow Rock where the sea otters 🦦 hung out.  We watched them for about an hour, ensconced in their rituals.  The rangers had set up scopes so we could see them closer.  One of them had a baby on her belly – they are the most charming sea creatures!!!  

Otter with Baby Through the Scope

We then turned our attention to the birders who were watching the Peregrine Falcons on the nearby Morro Rock – a beautifully stunning site.  

Morro Rock

We headed down the Embarcadero that had restaurants and shops dotted along the waterfront.  It was a perfectly sunny day, hovering in the low to mid-sixties that made for such a treat after months of intense heat and humidity.  We picked up a few souvenirs and then did some food shopping.  We wound up walking several miles!

After relaxing back at the rig, one of Bob’s ex-coworkers picked us and gave us a tour then we have a great seafood pub dinner on the bay.  It was a great end to a perfect day.  

View of the Bay

The next morning we headed out to Highway 1 to Big Sur and Carmel-By-The-Sea. 

What we didn’t realize was the storm system that had hit California a few days ago had spun around and we were getting hammered as we drove the curvaceous wonders of the coastal highway.  When we stopped at a viewpoint for tea, the rig was literally swaying due to the gusts. 

Highway 1 with the Boys

When we hit the road again we watched as a Class C in front of us was spraying water every which way as it hit the vehicle, the driver struggling to stay on the road; we could empathize with his plight.  

We made it to Carmel just in time for a respite from the storm.  We encountered some gusts and a few passing showers, but otherwise we were able to browse this charming city for a few hours.  The architecture was a cross between English Tudor with spanish influences. 

It was busy, and there were some boutique shops hugging the big box stores that looked rather meek; I guessed that Carmel has a city code on the type of facades that were allowed. Thankfully this helped with a more authentic ambience.  

In the afternoon, when we reached the KOA the rain had let up enough for us to get BigB set up, and we huddled for the evening as more storms were forecast.  As the night drew to a close, we slumbered under the passing showers churning up from the coast.  We woke to low clouds and then the blue sky opened up in all its glory. It was in the sixties and very comfortable, and the air smelled of eucalyptus and pine, courtesy of Mother Nature.

That afternoon we went to the beach, reading and watching surfers skate upon the waves. I observed the Pelicans diving for fish and the Curlews swirling in unison up, between and over the imperious waves.  It made for a relaxing afternoon, the arresting clouds with occasional sun breaks.  We were fortunate the storms were gone and we were able to laze in comfortable tempatures on a virtually empty beach. 

The Serenity of the Beach
Surfers!

When we returned, our side of the RV Park had emptied out and we sat in serenity by the fire with little wind, no bugs and other encumbrances we had so often encountered, especially in Canada and the east coast.  We didn’t know when we would experience another classic American campfire since the Oregon Coast was beginning to recede into fall, beckoning the rain and cooler temperatures.  

Relaxing at the Santa Cruz KOA

I roasted what would probably be my last marshmallows.  One became a casualty of the fire, but I was not be dissuaded as I still had half a bag. S’mores are one of my fond childhood memories that I recapture from time to time.  It can become quite the religion; weaponized with custom forged tongs for the very purpose of roasting the perfect marshmallow.  Part of the experience is to find the right convection in an open fire, and as is the case with all wild things, one must be patient.  

For those of us who revel in solitude, it was quite the treat to be on the California Coast lazing in the receding sun of the evening with only our low playing music, the surf and the organic sounds of wildlife.  

Bliss. 

We only have a few more nights in the rig, just overnight stops as we journey up the Oregon Coast.  It’s a nostalgic thing to think we have traveled over 26k since May 9.  So many of our experiences seem like an eternity ago.  And the thought we will be leaving America on our migration to France is now upon us, literally week’s away.  After years of dreaming and planning the stresses of this new and exciting reality are now taking hold.  

Our life is changing in concert with the seasons.  

September 8-13 Zion and Sedona

While we were heading for Zion, Bob received news that the queen had died. Being British it was an emotional moment and we, like so many others, processed the information for days to come.  I posted a separate tribute on my blog to commemorate this legendary monarch.

We decided to travel through the back roads of Navajo land in northern Arizona, with the Vermillion Cliffs to the left, passing by Lake Powell, etched into the orange and peach sandstone, though you could tell the water levels were quite low.  The terrain into Zion was a prelude of what was to come; we passed through the Paria wilderness, home of the famous “Wave” where we sadly were not able to pick up a permit during the lottery.  As we reached the Grand Escalante Staircase a fierce thunderstorm was rolling in that gave us a good drench but not flooding. 

When we arrived at the east side of Zion, the landscape turned into pink and apricot ridges, complimented by haystacks sculpted by the elements; you could still see what looked like ancient lava flow. 

Heading towards the Zion East Tunnel

When we reached the entrance to the park, we were issued the tunnel pass as we were within the limits to pass through (check the Zion NPS site for requirements and instructions) – we waited while the kind and humorous Park Ranger arranged our passage.  We were the only vehicle going through at that time, I suppose it was later in the day.  

If we thought what we had seen so far was astounding, we were certainly in for a treat when we passed through the tunnel.  

Just Wow!!!

The effect is the same as witnessing places like the Grand Canyon and Yosemite for the first time; it’s sometimes hard to believe such marvels exist for real.

Zion on the way to Springdale

We got settled into the Holiday Inn Express in Springdale for the evening.  Later we watched the full moon rise over the peaks outside our window; everywhere we looked there were lovely views of Zion. 

The next day we took the shuttle from Springdale to the Visitor Center where we picked up the Zion Shuttle to different spots around the park where you can hike.  We decided to do the Narrows, which is world renowned and we were accompanied by a fair stream of foreign tourists.  We walked via a well-groomed path to the riverbed and started wading through the knee deep water. I took my hiking poles as you can’t see the rocks and it’s easy to lose your balance.  We zigzagged from one “shore” to the other.  We were wearing hiking boots that we weren’t worried about getting soaked – I was thankful for that!  We saw people in sliders and other types of shoes that would not give you the support needed; the current could be quite strong in spots and the rocks were precarious.  We meandered, albeit slowly, through this wetland of a enthralling slot canyon.  Since it is cooler due to the canyon being mostly in the shade and being in the water I certainly didn’t feel dehydrated.  In the end we did eight miles🥾

The Narrows

When we finished we took the shuttle back to the village, jumping off to marvel at the scenery and hopefully spot  a condor or two.  We decided to have a nice pub lunch at the visitor center – we had earned it!   When we got back to the hotel, we put our feet up until we could muster the energy to check out the downtown area and grab a gelato.  Zion isn’t really big and we didn’t take too much time, checking out the usual shops and a few galleries. The shuttle system is great and it’s really easy to get around. 

We left the next day, delighted that we were going back through the tunnel and we could do more touring as we left the park, backtracking through the Grand Escalante Stair Case and Lake Powell.  

Like those other stupendous places we have visited so far on our journey, Zion must be experienced; it is truly in a class all by itself.  

We made our way to Sedona, a bit worried about the flash flood warnings and we saw some dandies on our weather app radar; lo and behold we wound up behind a long line heading into Flagstaff, and after about a half hour we managed to get through the flooded part of Highway 89, slick with mud but fortunately we are a high profile vehicle.  It was a different story on the other side as the road was completely flooded out and would take hours to get cleared out- we saw the long line of folks stuck coming the other way.  These storms are not to be trifled with!  

It was pouring heavily as we came into Sedona and we got to our site to wait out the storm before heading to the market to pick up supplies.  

As we learned, the weather app can say it’s a clear day then boom…in an hour you hear the thunder and then the rain starts.  One just crept up on us as I am writing this – it’s getting closer and the thunder is starting to crack and I can hear the rain on the awning.  Oddly these storms in Sedona haven’t kicked up a lot of wind.  

View as we walked from the RV Park to downtown Sedona

The next day proved to be warm and dry and we decided to promenade downtown Sedona.  Many of the shopkeepers were commenting that it is now the slow season and were slashing prices.  There were a fair amount of tourists but not as packed as when we were there in the spring.  It was nice to have elbow room to explore where we liked, in no rush and dining al fresco watching the world go by.  

The following day we picked up a rental car so we could hike Devil’s Bridge.  It was warm and I was struggling a bit to get up the ridge as the sun was extremely intense and it probably would have been a good idea to have started earlier.   After drinking electrolytes and downing a protein bar, I sat in the shade on the ridge overlooking the canyon, glad I had made the effort.  

Hanging out at the Devil’s Bridge Trail

We stopped by Exposures Gallery on the way back so I could ogle the artwork that was way out of my budget range when I spotted a Worrell;  they are one of the main galleries  representing his work and usually have an entire room filled with his creations – all found was a single wall; he died recently and there had been a run on his work… I found one of his smaller wall sculptures relinquished by his daughter that was available for sale at a reasonable price!  

The sculpture is a bronze called “Greet the Sun”. The etching on the back affected me deeply in the same way the sculpture did.  Knowing how fleeting life is, and having endured so much, I told myself “I can do this, I can afford this.”  This piece spoke to me so strongly it was as if Worrell’s spirit itself said “this is meant for you.”  I never had a piece of art give me such a high; it literally brought tears to my eyes.

James, one of the Gallery employees, passionately explained to me every detail of the piece and how a remote cave painting provided the inspiration for his work: The shield depicting protection, the staff for defense, the patina animal skin symbol of a shaman, and the symbols of journey etched into his tunic.  

This piece, though small, will remind me of the expanse of the spiritual journey I am currently on.  

We spent the rest of the afternoon doing laundry which was fine; an aggressive storm cell came through; thunder, lightning-wrath-of-god type stuff that drove us indoors.  After it dissipated we motored through the drenched streets, the sweet smell of the after-storm and cooling temperatures was downright intoxicating.  We dined at the El Rincon Restaurante in the lovely Tlaquepaque Village. I had a Navajo Pizza which is like having a green chili enchilada spread over some seriously deep fried Fry Bread.  That and a flavorful margarita closed out our epic experience in Sedona. We spent a somewhat restless night being battered by more storms, thundering overhead as we huddled in the wake of the unrelenting tempests.  

As many who have visited know, Sedona is a New Age center due to the theory of vortexes that promote well-being.   I cannot speak to that, but the atmosphere in this rarified space is like no other; the scenery, the intensity of alpine skies – you feel like you are floating on the very thunderheads that form in the distance, highlighting the rustic red buttes, encircled by the blue-green vegas that are embedded into the fabric of Sedona itself.  Even the seemingly apocalyptic storms that pass through enhance the experience, insisting that balance must be maintained. The contrasting landscapes of Sedona tell the tales that while we populate this land, we cannot fully claim it; Mother Nature reminds us of her presence when she mercilessly washes all who stand in her way down the unforgiving arroyos and onto oblivion.  

August 29 – September 7 The Navajo Nation by way of Texas

We hadn’t really intended to do much in the way of sightseeing in Texas:  We have to pass through Texas to get to New Mexico and it was still hot and sticky. We stopped to stay at the KOA in Brookeland, and then at Lake Medina just outside of San Antonio – tragically the lake had dried up. Otherwise we had long days of driving in between a few free days that were primarily consumed with working on our Visa documentation, reading and doing swimming aerobics. 

The Visa process has required plenty of documentation including medical insurance, national background checks, letters from our bankers including French translations.  We are hoping we are ahead of the game before our appointment on September 26.

At Lake Medina we at least had a campground with a lovely smell of pine and curious herds of whitetail deer.  They are everywhere and while sometimes we peaked their curiosity, they mostly were “meh” at our wanderings around the camp. 

A campground full of deer

We headed out through the flat landscape to San Angelo where we were met by a monsoon and flooding.  We stopped at the Roadhouse Steakhouse for Tex Mex in as a last hoorah and waited out the worst of the storm.  I had a six ounce steak and Bob had a half slab of ribs which were humungous!  We’re in Texas after all!

We navigated streets that were thankfully, only partially flooded. We were getting alerts on our phones about the flash floods and it was really coming down in torrents – though we were thankful for no hail.  We spent the rest of the day huddled in the RV watching 80’s movies and reading.  The rain dissapated later in the evening and cooled things down.  

We left the next morning excited to get back to the high desert of New Mexico and out of the unrelenting humidity that had plagued us for the last month.  We stopped in Carlsbad and walked along the Pecos River though the sun was pretty intense so we headed out to the Coyote Flats RV park on the outside of town – it was primarily a parking lot outside of Carlsbad, but we were close to the laundry and showers.  

We were heading to Fort Sumner to check out the history of Billy the Kid and get a feel for the Navajo Long walk. But since Roswell was on the way we of course had to stop off and take another look; we had been there during our Southwest trip in the spring but didn’t spend much time there. We had some coffee and picked up some more alien kitsch while in the shops. It’s always worth a couple of hours. Grogu was excited; it was his second time here and there was a huge baby Yoda display in one of the shops….it was such an inclusive environment👽

We arrived at Fort Sumner early in the afternoon after passing through endless plains with some cattle.  The elevation increased and the humidity dropped dramatically.  It was a Sunday so the Basque Redondo museum was closed, but the Billy the Kid Museum was open and had excellent artifacts and even a movie that the proprietors insisted was the most accurate history of “The Kid.”   We spent a fair amount of time poking around the museum and the drove to Lake Sumner State Park where we had partial hookups. 

As it was Labor Day weekend the park was pretty busy, but not packed.  It’s pretty remote with Albuquerque several hours away.  Folks had their jet skis and boats out on the lake and there was a pervasive smell of  camp fires and barbecues – the former smelling like Pinyon incense.  We couldn’t believe our luck; we got a spot with a view of the lake so we set up the chairs in the shade of the rig and took in the evening, surrounded by mesquite, juniper, prickly pear and cholla.  

I realized we were in a “dark sky” region, so committed to getting up later in the evening to see what the cosmos was offering up.  The half moon faded and around 2:00 a.m. we were able to look at a blanket of stars and galaxies.  Many of the RVs were still lit up detracting from the darkness, but I committed to another evening of stargazing the following night.  

Dark Skies in New Mexico

We decided to take the nature hike around the lake the next morning before it got too hot and we definitely finished well before noon.  It was Labor Day and everyone in the park started to make a mass exodus home, something we are all too familiar with and now, for us, it’s just another day.  By late afternoon we were the only RV left in this particular campground (Pecos) situated not far from the camp host.  It became deathly quiet, almost eerie as the wind gusted and the lake grew silent.  

We spent most of the day working on our Visa’s related activities, huddled in the air conditioning – to escape the intense midday heat.  By late afternoon we spilled outside to the sound of the wind and the occasional incursion of human traffic heading out.  Otherwise there was a beautiful balance of a temperate climate and solitude that we have rarely experienced since leaving Western Canada.

This park was pretty large and was surprisingly now empty.  You won’t hear us complaining!  

As I contemplated my solitude, I tried to imagine what it was like for the Navajo as they were forced to walk hundreds of miles to a part of New Mexico that could not support their way of life.  Hundreds died – all part of the “Manifest Destiny” of white man staking the claim to these new lands at the expense of the Native Americans. 

Soon, the quarter moon rose over the horizon, a faint sentinel that transitioned into a blazing lantern, a prelude to the impending harvest full moon of September 10.  Even with its halfling presence, you can see where you are walking; the desert becomes a lunar scape as the stars emerge.  

At around 4:00 a.m. I rose around and went outside after the moon had sunk below the horizon.  I stood in the cooling breeze, gazing at billions of unhindered stars, trails of dust and galaxies, feeling somewhat dizzy and displaced as I tried to reconcile my place in the cosmos; my mind just can’t seem to grasp the context of such infinite surroundings.  I cherished this moment of undisputed solitude; we were off the beaten track, slumbering in the slipstream of New Mexico stardust – steeped in the magic that makes this land so enchanting. 

I later awoke to a blinding sunrise that sent shocks of orange light through the rig. 

Sunrise at Sumner Lake

We had a long drive so set out at a reasonable time, heading for Gallup. After a few hours we stopped in Albuquerque to get propane and check out the Old Town area.  It’s a charming tourist site with plenty of shops and restaurants set in traditional adobe style like those found in Sedona and Santa Fe. 

As we approached Gallup, the late afternoon sun lit up nearby rock formations and decided to pull off and poke around the park.  This area is close to Monument Valley and peppered with the rounded haystacks common to the CanyonLands. 

The Boys in New Mexico

After amusing ourselves, we finished our day at the Holiday Inn next on the famous Route 66. 

The following day we went to Window Rock to visit the heart of the Navajo Nation.  We stopped at the museum that had an incredible display depicting the Treaty of 1968 and other artifacts related to the tragic Navajo Long Walk.  Then we wandered into the photographic display of – ironically – a Japanese American named Kenji Kawano who had been photographing the Navajo Code Talkers for decades.  Many of the pictures had a synopsis of their service in the Pacific, fighting in the same Pacific theater as my father.  It is an astounding display and how prophetic to think there was someone interested enough in their history to cover such a legacy over such a long span of time.   

Navajo Code Talkers Exhibit

We visited their museum’s accompanying zoo and botanical garden to learn more about the animals and plants that were part of the Navajo Dine culture.  

We then stopped by the Navajo Arts and Crafts Enterprise to browse through authentic Indian items; I picked up a gorgeously crafted bracelet and pendant;  they will always remind me of this beautiful people and landscape and I take comfort knowing that the money will get back to the artist.  

Finally, something that has been on my bucket list for years – the Window Rock Tribal Park and Veterans Memorial – the epicenter of the Navajo Nation. This is memorial is adjacent to the Navajo Nation Tribal Council and surrounding government entities. It was hot and quiet as we arrived around noon, but I ignored the sweat rolling down my face; considering what the Code Talkers and others, such as my father, went through in WWII. Window Rock itself is a sacred site, fenced off from those who decide they want to disrespect the sacred Indian rules and climb it – much the same as Shiprock. It’s a place everyone needs to visit – only 30 minutes from Gallup; to pay your respects and expand your horizons beyond the gob-smacking landscapes.

Navajo Code Talker Memorial

We had a farewell meal at the El Rancho Restaurant located in the historic hotel of the same name – my experience would not complete without some Hatch Green Chilis!!! The hotel sports celebrities such as John Wayne and Errol Flynn and a cast of thousands whom had filmed in the surrounding area and had been guests back in the hey day of Hollywood westerns – they really ham it up! But otherwise the hotel is steeped in local Indian and cinema history.

The Historic El Rancho Hotel

The next morning the sky blazed magenta as we gathered our things from the hotel and bugged out; we had our last 400 mile stint of the trip to get to Zion – meaning we wouldn’t be doing much more than 200 miles any given day until we were back in Portland. We had driven over 20,000 miles since the last time we had entered New Mexico in late March! Instead of snow and freezing winds 😅 the wildflowers were now in full bloom and the passing rains had stirred up the distinct scent of desert sagebrush.

We took the Arizona Indian 56 to the 160: These turned out to be spectacular backroads that lead us through Navajo ranches; we passed one gentleman herding his sheep – a tradition that dates back centuries. I felt as though I had been transported to a different time, something untouchable suddenly became tangible…the moment was surreal. We soon found ourselves back on the main road and onto Page, where we passed over Lake Powell bidding a fond farewell to the Navajo Nation as passed into Utah.

April 1 Sedona, AZ

We drove down 89A from Holbrook; I had been to Sedona a few times over thirty years ago when I lived in Scottsdale, but never came down through Flagstaff route. We had beautiful weather as we meandered through the stunning red rocks that make you feel as though you down in the Grand Canyon, but lush with blue-green junipers, pine, brush and unspoiled alpine air.  The red rocks enhance the springtime flora; the lantana and cactus were blooming giving the land a deep sense of renewal.  It was so nice to be warm, but not hot.

We arrived at the Rancho Sedona RV Park that sits on Oak Creek with views of the surrounding buttes.  The park was emaculate with large sycamore trees that gave our surroundings an ethereal feel.  A heron flew by adding to my increasing sense of euphoria; they were nesting in a nearby tree.

The best RV park ever!

We were walking distance to the galleries and also to trailheads that sent us a bit off the beaten track.  It was quiet as we were pushed out just enough from the main hub with the creek displacing any road noise.

Sedona certainly is not the laid back town I remember, but like so much “progress,” they too are being hammered with tourists; the traffic was thick and I was glad we didn’t have to park anywhere to visit the galleries. 

We lucked out at the Creekside Restaurant with a seat outside and a lovely view of the surrounding buttes.

Lucky lunch spot – we couldn’t have scored a better seat!

The town has kept it’s beauty and you actually sense they fight for it – there aren’t really any big box stores here with most of the popular lines being curated by the local mom and pop shops – I love that.  The gas stations and grocery stores etc. are on the main drag out of town so as not do disrupt the center. 

Tlaquepaque Arts and Shopping Village was especially lovely with the rustic southwestern-style shops built around the giant sycamores and skirting Oak Creek.  The weather was in the 70’s – it was simply bucolic.  Despite the surge of humanity it felt well-kept and restrained.  

We saw the new age proprietors around town but they weren’t as pronounced as the galleries and boutiques.  I suppose I can understand the new age thing as the ether of this place has a very meditative quality to it; but simply embracing it is enough for me – I don’t need a psychic reading to appreciate my surroundings and life is a mystery to explore anyway.  

We had the added pleasure of catching up with the several Leisure Travel Van owners that had congregated creating our own vortex!  We bonded, drank wine, swapped stories, experiences and suggestions.  It was great to meet fellow nomads who just maybe will also visit us in France😍.

We curated art from some of the galleries, glad to find pieces within our budget as some of the art was well out of our range – it will be fun to unpack these gems in France and find them a permanent home.  

Wish we could have afforded this – I couldn’t stop drooling

Goodbye Sedona, you masterpiece on so many different levels. We are up early to Indian Cove Campground in Joshua Tree National Park – 350 some odd miles!   

Mar 30 Petrified Forest and Painted Desert

This is actually a two for one since the petrified wood is scattered all over the Painted Desert. The area is a vast and diverse geological pocket located in dinosaur territory – hence the large scale models of dino’s at the tourist stops along Route 66.  

It’s mind boggling to think this forest dates back 217 million years; dinosaurs roamed these woods and became part of the archeological landscape in the same manner as the trees.  Now desert, you see broken and shattered fragments all over the park in what was once a dense forest teaming with gargantuan wildlife.  

Even more intriguing is the beauty of the buttes and hills where the tree fragments are now on display.  Mother Nature, I guess, decided that she needed a more dramatic backdrop as part of her “preservation diorama.” 

We parked up by the TeePee mountains and discovered a trail that wasn’t marked on the map – and what a lucky find that was!   It was unspoiled with only a few other adventurous souls on their way back to the parking lot. 

The sun was at our back while the storm boiled in front of us with the wind kicking up – all of this making the hike more intense.  As we walked along the top of these hills, varying landscapes revealed themselves at every turn. 

We meandered through layers of oranges and blues that looked like they had been deposited by machines in some quarry, with eruptions of occasional hoodoos balanced by smooth clamshell-like formations.

The storms looming on the horizon added to the drama; we were really hoping we wouldn’t get drenched on our hike since hail had been part of the earlier downpours.

We left unscathed by the weather and stopped by the ancient ruins of long-abandoned villages and explored the many petroglyphs dotted throughout the park. 

Newspaper Rock

When we reached Blue Mesa the wind kicked up and we started getting pelted by hail.  It was so intense I had real difficulty getting the passenger door to close and the inside of BigB was getting drenched.  Though we didn’t really get to hike the Blue Mesa, which is lovingly paved by the National Park Service, we certainly got a dose of it on our earlier hike.  I felt bad for the people that were on the trail getting blasted with high winds and hail – it stung the bare skin.  

The squall eventually dissipated as we left to explore the rest of the park and BigB got a good wash and dry in the process!  Days of bug scum melted off the windshield.  

We ended the day picking up a piece of polished petrified wood to use as a bookend. This is a reminder of where we fit in the grand scheme of things; touching the smooth surface of an artifact that is over two hundred million years old. It’s hard to wrap your mind around it as we go through our daily lives. 

Mar 18 Canyon de Chelly

We arrived at the Cottonwood Campground outside of Canyon de Chelly – it was seriously windy when we left Farmington – gusts up to 55 miles per hour and then came the dust storms.  This we endured for about two hours and when we turned south in Arizona the winds died down and we entered a landscape much like Monument Valley meets the Canyonlands.  We stopped in Rock Point, still in Navajo territory, to get something to drink. As we drove through we were amazed at the formations in this otherwise nondescript area.  I suppose because it was still the Navajo Nation and they respectfully and quietly walk in beauty in their surroundings not wanting invaders to disrupt the balance.  Many of the homes are built in the traditional hogan shape – octagonal, some with modern doors on them – in honor of their traditions while flexing to modernization. There are no McMansions here, mostly converted double wides, some with corrals and livestock. 

We entered Chinle as the wind picked up again and stopped at Basha Dine’ – the Navajo version of Safeway – there are no grocery chain stores here – just the usual fast food joints.  

We arrived at the nearly deserted campground and found a sunny site.  After so many days of getting up early and hiking to catch the sunrises it was nice that we were going to be stationary for a few days.  

It’s still considered winter here and the trees are bare and I’m sure it’s prettier in the spring and summer as we are surrounded by cottonwoods.  The campground has flush toilets and sinks which is very convenient for a campground.   

As the day went on the campground started to fill up – another Leisure Travel Unity arrived and we had a nice chat!  The first one we’ve encountered at a site.  

The next day we had a leisurely day walking up to the Visitor Center and talking to the local ranger who gave us tour of the hogan they have on site.  It was great to be in one that was made out of traditional materials with its east facing entrance.  

Traditional Navajo Hogan

We booked a Jeep tour of the canyon (tsegi in Navajo) with Bobbie VanWinkle who was born in Spider Rock since you can only go into the canyon proper with a guide.  

Despite the Dutch name, Bobbie is Navajo and explained there are many mixed race families who live there, but you have to be married within a clan to reside in the valley. The ride was definitely four wheel drive terrain; through washes and up muddy inclines.  The towering rock faces did not disappoint – they looked as though they had been cut out by a carving knife; they were so sheer and flat with reds and maroon veins washing down the sides.  The floor is peppered with cottonwoods though they are not indigenous and the canyon should be populated by pinion and juniper much like the canyonlands.  

We quickly came across the petroglyph and paintings that were done in some cases a thousand years ago by the Pueblo tribes.  They are now Hopi and what the Navajo refer to as the Anasazi – the Ancient Ones.  

Kiva recessed in the cliffs

We stood witness to these ancient impressions that had survived the elements for centuries.  Then the ruins surfaced on the cliff sides – the kivas and food storage with more rock paintings protected by the sheer mesa cliffs. These dwellings are scattered throughout the canyon, most inaccessible except for the archeologists who frequent the area.  The canyon itself has worn away leaving the dwellings out of climbing distance.  The most accessible are the White House and Antelope ruins that are closer to the valley floor and fenced off to keep the usual miscreants from vandalizing the sites.  The White House ruins are named due to the white plaster that reflects the sun.  We noticed graffiti carved into the face of the ruins and upon closer inspection, one of the carvings was dated 1873!  So it was the earlier settlers defacing the ruins….

As we meandered our way through the mesa, I pondered the generations of seedlings now germinating, the shifting landscape providing glimpses into lifestyles still farmed by the Navajo in the same manner they have been doing for hundreds of years; wool still spun from weathered hands that tend the sheep.  The tribes could exist now as they had a millennia ago – clinging to the lost art of the land.  

The canyon remains a pristine outback not easily disabused by modernization – the vendor at the Antelope Ruins has no cell service and works on faith that you will Venmo her the money for the pottery you just bought. 

Stubborn to evolve or worried they could lose the thread of culture and place they have fought so hard to preserve?

A perfect day mingling with the ancients – under the same blue skies and mesas they embraced so long ago.  

Mar 9-12 Monument Valley

The weather system that continued to blow through the Southwest followed us to Monument Valley and we found ourselves snowed in the first day with the visitor center closed; it was basically a white out and we were stuck indoors with limited wi fi.  It’s rare thing to see Monument Valley in the snow; we had been here before nearly ten years ago, though seeing it again after so long brought the grandeur of the place back into the mind’s eye. 

By late morning, the buttes were hugged by cloud cover that dissipated as the day went on, releasing blue sky that encouraged the melt.  As soon as the roads became passable we decided to visit the Goulding Trading Post and the flurries picked up again as we made our way back to the RV park.  We extended our stay an extra day as we had a horseback ride booked but that wasn’t going to happen so we rescheduled. 

Based on weather forecasts during our planning phase, we hadn’t planned to be in such frigid temps.  We had picked up antifreeze in Page as a backup plan and were certainly were glad we did.  We poured antifreeze in the tanks and set a warming lamp by the fresh water and water pump but despite our efforts, including running faucets in the middle of the night, our pipes feeding the freshwater froze; the temperatures plunged into the teens. In the morning we turned the rig around to get the now blazing sun against the water intake side to heat things up.  

We eventually ventured to the MV Visitor Center which was virtually deserted and poked around the shop and picked up a Navajo medicine man carving, our standard magnet, and a book on the Dine’ as I am forever fascinated by the culture.  

When we got back to BigB we coaxed the water through the pipes and were relieved when they started flowing again.  

We decided to drive up to Mexican Hat and encountered the site immortalized by Forrest Gump – the scene where he’s running through Monument Valley and decided he didn’t want to run anymore; people were standing in the road trying to get selfies, even though you’re not supposed to stop in the road they of course slowed down traffic.  It was the wrong time of day to get a photograph anyway.  

We decided to lunch in Mexican Hat at the same restaurant we ate at nearly ten years before.  Another Navajo Taco..

We got back for our scheduled horseback ride.  It had gotten up into the low forties and was sunny.  The KOA (a chain of RV parks) we were staying at had a horse stable attached to it.  We met Guy who was the older Navajo gentleman in charge along with Priscilla and Harrison.  Harrison was set to be our guide for the day.  He was 26 years old and his family owned a large chunk of land in the valley.  He was a mechanic who also specialized in training horses.  

We set out to ride along the mesa that skirted the buttes.  

It was great having a conversation with Harrison – I was more interested in what he had to say than the ride as the day was getting increasingly cold and was starting to chill my bones.  

The struggle with the younger Navajo generation as they want to see progress but the elders are concerned that they will go the “white man” way. Meaning they would lose their balance, and when this happens they suffer afflications that need to be healed by their medicine men and ceremonies.  I had noticed the large branches stacked up like tee pees and suspect those were the sweat lodges they used for purification and healing.  

There is also a conundrum of availability of basic staples closer to them instead of having to drive all the way to Page to get their shopping done at reasonable prices.  If they shop at Goulding they are paying exhorbinant prices for basic goods.  

Navajo country is such a spiritual and profound place and it could easily be overrun with opportunistic developers destroying what is dearly sacred (they have already experienced this creep with the Uranium mining). We rode through the ancient mesas, their recesses still covered in spits of snow.  

We finished the day feeding the horses carrots and I was glad to stretch my aching knees and looking forward to a glass of wine. Fortunately BigB wasn’t far away, set in the backdrop of the valley.  

I’m obviously feeling the bite from the cold

As I watched the day fade, the pink hues of twilight softened the deep magenta sandstone, the brushstokes of evening blended with the landscape growing deeper as the stars began to rise.  

It’s fascinating to think that this place used to be oceanic and these buttes were part of a watery underworld.  With the way things are going it might once again reclaim that heritage.  

This landscape is not a national park, it is part of the Navajo Nation. The massive red buttes stand guard in a sacred bond; a testimony to the endurance and beauty of the the Dine’. 

Mar 9 – Slot Canyons, Antelope Valley

The warm and welcoming curvatures of Antelope Valley’s Slot Canyons inspire you with a sensuality molded through centuries of monsoonal heat and floods.  The Navajo refer to the formations in the region as Navajo Sandstone; the reddish-orange volcanic sand mixed with water and baked by the sun is what they Navajo also use to build their tradition homes known as hogans.  

While part of the Navajo Nation, these canyons were never inhabited by the tribe due to the violent flash floods; species such as snakes and scorpions are some of the unfortunate victims that get swept into the slots.  Local guides collect them as they clear the canyons of the debris; diamond backs that have been stranded in the upper reaches have been known known to drop onto the canyon floor.  

One of the more striking formations is the “Lady in the Wind.”  She is nature’s version of Michaelangelo’s Slaves; figures emerging from the marble that are housed at the entrance of the Academia in Florence where his famous statue of David resides. But the Lady in the Wind is not part of any human construct; she is force of nature, forged from elemental earth and water: The Lady becomes one with the storm.  

The Lady in the Wind

The fluctuating light plays with the sloping crescents and arches throwing shades of red, yellow, orange while refracting hints of bluish black on some of the sharper edges.  

The Navajo insist on wearing masks; the tribe took a terrible hit during the pandemic so no smiling faces in the photo which is a minor sacrifice in respect for the Dine’.