Navajo Lands II-Monument Valley
This land has the largest collection of wild rocks I’ve ever seen. If the sediments of the old oceans and lakes had stayed still, we would see the bands of different colors all horizontal and orderly in the road cuts, or where the water had worn down through the layers as in the Grand Canyon. That’s how it was in the Badlands in SD too.
Here in Navajo land, there have been sinkings and upheavals and volcanic sputterings and ash falls and every kind of geological excitement you can image. I try to make sense of it when I hit an educational display, I really do. Geologist have a habit of naming layers and types of rock and rock events with a secret code. I suppose that they need to be precise about the names, like the Latin names for plants and animals which are the same no matter what the local folks call them. But it makes it really hard to understand what I am seeing, as though the geologist’s terminology is put up there like a fence to keep out the ignorant tourist like myself. All I really want to know right here is why some of these rocks stay sticking up in impossible shapes while the rest of its rocky friends are just red dust far away.
Monument Valley is the site of the most famous and preposterous of the shapes. And all in red, red red. Big chunky mesas like convoluted loaves of bread. The “mittens”, east and west, that have one single tower of stone to the side. The Three Sisters, the Hen sitting on her nest, the eternal flame, distant Disneyland castles, totem poles, and lone fingers. Although it is almost ridiculously picturesque, and has formed the back drop for so many western movies that it is a living cliché, the place is a little scary. I know that what I am seeing is the result of ages of water and wind erosion, but it looks as though some terrible cataclysm has occurred here. Some of the towers remind me of the wreckage of the World Trade Center after 9/11, or of the charred bones of European cathedrals after the bombings of WWII. And for all it is a cliché, it is riveting to look at, and more so because the whole thing changes so dramatically as you move around them.
Harry Goulding set up a trading post here back in 1924 which became a magnet for any white person visiting here and now it has grown into a town. There is a big motel, the campground, museum trading post (by far the best selection of silver yet !) gas station, large grocery store, even a fire dept and a health clinic. This whole village is tucked up into a canyon across the highway from the actual celebrity rocks. It is the only place to stay and shop unless you drive 25 miles away, and even then there isn’t much.
Like Canyon de Chelly, we are limited in where we can go by ourselves. There is a visitor center and a 17 mile rough dirt loop that you can do in your own car for $10 a head. We chose yet another 4WD tour truck ride which lasted the whole day and included hamburgers cooked on a fire under the red rocks.
The first part of the trip went into what is called the Mystery Valley. We churned our way through sand and over rocks into a number of canyons and arroyos to see ruins of ancient dwellings up under overhangs in the rocks, and some petroglyphs. In this area, an enormous volcanic extrusion sticks up like the Chrysler building in the distance, but we only get glimpses of the strange finger rocks. The other things we drive off to see are natural arches. While these are mildly interesting, for some reason we have to see every single one that can be reached. This obsession with natural bridges or arches is pretty widespread, there is a whole national monument about them, which we will see, and more arches scattered around the area. Utah even has one on its license plateThere are a lot of good and interesting things that these rocks can do, but I am lukewarm about them already.
The second part is out in the strange finger rocks. As we drive, the cast of characters changes, one pointy thing disappearing while another materializes. Since it is partly cloudy, the sun lights one up and then it goes dark, only to hit something else. Cue the western theme music and have them drive the stage coach through.
Our guide here has a loudspeaker to educate us. He spends a lot of time talking about the Navajo people whose homes are scattered through this dramatic valley. What the Hogan is for, who has electricity or running water, who raises goats and so on. His information on the ancient inhabitants of the ruins is not in line with the standard fare that the NPS hands, out, with some of them 7 feet tall and the really early ones having webbed fingers and toes. I just let it go. Actually, even the NPS periodically changes their story.
Next day, we move on. Across Comb Ridge, with teeth and bumps that have been kicked up by some upheaval, and then down into the bottom of a canyon and up again. In the distance to the north we see the Abajo Mountains, with snow on them. The tallest, Abajo (which means below.. ) is 11,360 feet. This is the first real mountain range that we have seen. As we travel north, off to the east we can see the San Juan mountains in CO, old friends from two summers ago. We are dodging some rain and suddenly there is a lot of hail. It is soft and sort of spats on the windshield, we pass some construction that has the road down to one lane and the cars coming at us must have waited in the hail, as they are pretty white. Soon it all clears and melts, and the peaks of Abajo are gleaming. The hail has battered the sagebrush and the air smells strongly of it, pungent, piney, sort of like cooking sage with a bit of fresh rosemary too. A very evocative smell which reminds me of my happy western times.
The rocks begin to get rambunctious again above Monticello and the La Sal mountains rise up to the east, their peaks at over 12,000 feet covered with snow. We drop down into Moab, UT where the Colorado River canyons its way through higher and higher cliffs with red and pale and rumpled and wind carved rocks. At Moab, there is a huge fault, so right next to the Colorado’s canyon, there is a great slippage that creates another one, with the rocks all topsy turvey and swirly. An impossible landscape.
We get into a small space in a crowded campground that is right on the Main Drag. It was recommended, but I think the recommender has different ideas about a perfect campground. I’m thinking he likes the microbrewery that is right across the street. It is a clean and tidy place, but with all the natural glory just outside of town, it seems a little silly to be parked so close that there is no point in opening the shades, all we see is the side of RV’s or the bathhouse. But I can see the La Sals through the trees, and red rocks all around, plus it has WIFI, so no more whining.
We have allowed a week here, because this is a mecca for people who like to do off road 4 wheel driving. Some of the most classic and difficult trails of the US are here and we are going to play on them. And go see some more gorgeous and strange rocks!
Here in Navajo land, there have been sinkings and upheavals and volcanic sputterings and ash falls and every kind of geological excitement you can image. I try to make sense of it when I hit an educational display, I really do. Geologist have a habit of naming layers and types of rock and rock events with a secret code. I suppose that they need to be precise about the names, like the Latin names for plants and animals which are the same no matter what the local folks call them. But it makes it really hard to understand what I am seeing, as though the geologist’s terminology is put up there like a fence to keep out the ignorant tourist like myself. All I really want to know right here is why some of these rocks stay sticking up in impossible shapes while the rest of its rocky friends are just red dust far away.
Monument Valley is the site of the most famous and preposterous of the shapes. And all in red, red red. Big chunky mesas like convoluted loaves of bread. The “mittens”, east and west, that have one single tower of stone to the side. The Three Sisters, the Hen sitting on her nest, the eternal flame, distant Disneyland castles, totem poles, and lone fingers. Although it is almost ridiculously picturesque, and has formed the back drop for so many western movies that it is a living cliché, the place is a little scary. I know that what I am seeing is the result of ages of water and wind erosion, but it looks as though some terrible cataclysm has occurred here. Some of the towers remind me of the wreckage of the World Trade Center after 9/11, or of the charred bones of European cathedrals after the bombings of WWII. And for all it is a cliché, it is riveting to look at, and more so because the whole thing changes so dramatically as you move around them.
Harry Goulding set up a trading post here back in 1924 which became a magnet for any white person visiting here and now it has grown into a town. There is a big motel, the campground, museum trading post (by far the best selection of silver yet !) gas station, large grocery store, even a fire dept and a health clinic. This whole village is tucked up into a canyon across the highway from the actual celebrity rocks. It is the only place to stay and shop unless you drive 25 miles away, and even then there isn’t much.
Like Canyon de Chelly, we are limited in where we can go by ourselves. There is a visitor center and a 17 mile rough dirt loop that you can do in your own car for $10 a head. We chose yet another 4WD tour truck ride which lasted the whole day and included hamburgers cooked on a fire under the red rocks.
The first part of the trip went into what is called the Mystery Valley. We churned our way through sand and over rocks into a number of canyons and arroyos to see ruins of ancient dwellings up under overhangs in the rocks, and some petroglyphs. In this area, an enormous volcanic extrusion sticks up like the Chrysler building in the distance, but we only get glimpses of the strange finger rocks. The other things we drive off to see are natural arches. While these are mildly interesting, for some reason we have to see every single one that can be reached. This obsession with natural bridges or arches is pretty widespread, there is a whole national monument about them, which we will see, and more arches scattered around the area. Utah even has one on its license plateThere are a lot of good and interesting things that these rocks can do, but I am lukewarm about them already.
The second part is out in the strange finger rocks. As we drive, the cast of characters changes, one pointy thing disappearing while another materializes. Since it is partly cloudy, the sun lights one up and then it goes dark, only to hit something else. Cue the western theme music and have them drive the stage coach through.
Our guide here has a loudspeaker to educate us. He spends a lot of time talking about the Navajo people whose homes are scattered through this dramatic valley. What the Hogan is for, who has electricity or running water, who raises goats and so on. His information on the ancient inhabitants of the ruins is not in line with the standard fare that the NPS hands, out, with some of them 7 feet tall and the really early ones having webbed fingers and toes. I just let it go. Actually, even the NPS periodically changes their story.
Next day, we move on. Across Comb Ridge, with teeth and bumps that have been kicked up by some upheaval, and then down into the bottom of a canyon and up again. In the distance to the north we see the Abajo Mountains, with snow on them. The tallest, Abajo (which means below.. ) is 11,360 feet. This is the first real mountain range that we have seen. As we travel north, off to the east we can see the San Juan mountains in CO, old friends from two summers ago. We are dodging some rain and suddenly there is a lot of hail. It is soft and sort of spats on the windshield, we pass some construction that has the road down to one lane and the cars coming at us must have waited in the hail, as they are pretty white. Soon it all clears and melts, and the peaks of Abajo are gleaming. The hail has battered the sagebrush and the air smells strongly of it, pungent, piney, sort of like cooking sage with a bit of fresh rosemary too. A very evocative smell which reminds me of my happy western times.
The rocks begin to get rambunctious again above Monticello and the La Sal mountains rise up to the east, their peaks at over 12,000 feet covered with snow. We drop down into Moab, UT where the Colorado River canyons its way through higher and higher cliffs with red and pale and rumpled and wind carved rocks. At Moab, there is a huge fault, so right next to the Colorado’s canyon, there is a great slippage that creates another one, with the rocks all topsy turvey and swirly. An impossible landscape.
We get into a small space in a crowded campground that is right on the Main Drag. It was recommended, but I think the recommender has different ideas about a perfect campground. I’m thinking he likes the microbrewery that is right across the street. It is a clean and tidy place, but with all the natural glory just outside of town, it seems a little silly to be parked so close that there is no point in opening the shades, all we see is the side of RV’s or the bathhouse. But I can see the La Sals through the trees, and red rocks all around, plus it has WIFI, so no more whining.
We have allowed a week here, because this is a mecca for people who like to do off road 4 wheel driving. Some of the most classic and difficult trails of the US are here and we are going to play on them. And go see some more gorgeous and strange rocks!
posted by Thistledown24 at 6:32 AM
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