Mystical chants echoed from the cliffs

After a few minutes, we began to hear a low rhythmic chant coming from the base of the cliff. Soon the melodious rhythm grew in volume and began to echo from the face of the cliff. The echoes joined to form a ghostly chorus that sent chills up our spines. We slowly realized that Harold was serenading us with traditional Navajo chants. His beautiful voice sang to us for over 30 minutes. I cannot describe the wonderful enchanted feeling of watching the sun set over that spectacular landscape as we sat beneath ancient Indian ruins listening to Navajo chants.
Navajo Hogan

We returned to the home of Harold's parents and were taken to a traditional Navajo Hogan. This round log house, built in the shape of an Eskimo igloo, was plastered over with a red-sand adobe. It had only one small door and a smoke hole at the center of the roof. Harold explained that his father, the medicine man, uses this traditional dwelling for religious ceremonies. It would be our primitive accommodation for the night. We built a small fire in the center of the Hogan and spread our sleeping bags on the soft sandy floor. Harold's mother brought us a hearty meal of Navajo tacos and bid us goodnight.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke to the sound of a distant coyote howl and silently slipped out the door. I marveled at the spectacular display of brilliant stars spread across an inky black desert sky. The wind was swirling smoke-like wisps of sand across the desert floor, and a tumbleweed silently rolled by. It felt like I had been transported back to a time when the Dineh ruled this beautiful land, and we intruders had not yet soiled it.

The next morning, we bid farewell to Harold and his family. We promised to return to the Navajo nation for another visit in the not-too-distant future. The road was beckoning to us, and we had many other wonderful places to visit.

Susie is matriarch to seven generations

We visited the home of Susie, an eighty-three-year-old Navajo woman that is matriarch to a seven-generation clan. Harold led us into her traditional Hogan workshop where she has practiced her art of Navajo rug weaving for many years. He beseeched her softly in her native Navajo tongue, and she graciously demonstrated how she painstakingly converts raw wool into masterpieces of Indian art. Her completed rugs are now considered national art treasures and often sell for thousands of dollars.
On our way out of the valley, we stopped at the roadside stands and bargained for some of the Navajo jewelry. Their hand-worked silver and the native turquoise jewelry were very reasonably priced. We ate lunch in the Stagecoach Restaurant at Goulding's Trading Post across the highway from the Valley entrance.
After lunch, we all piled into Harold's four-wheel-drive Jeep and headed across the desert to Mystery Valley. The road was little more than two ruts across the parched landscape. We bounced and slid across its soft sandy surface. Our little jeep clambered in and out of dry creek beds and crawled up steep rocky inclin

Harold was our Navajo guide

We met our guide, Harold Simpson, at the modern Navajo visitor center near the entry to Monument Valley. Harold, a full-blooded Navajo Indian, is the son of a medicine man and medicine woman. His family has lived in this valley for many generations. He now operates his own tour guide service and proudly presents his spectacular homeland to visitors from everywhere.

We climbed into Harold's van and rode into the magnificent Monument Valley. He showed us all the spectacular sites that are so often portrayed on postcards and calendars. At each feature, Harold added his own interesting and witty commentary. He told us about the Dineh (Navaho) people and the history of the valley. He told us about his ancestors that have lived in this magnificent place for many generations. After visiting all of the usual tourist attractions, Harold took us to the restricted regions of the Valley barred to everyone except Navajo guides. There, he showed us many other wondrous sites: magnificent buttes, spires, arches, ancient ruins, petroglyphs and scenic grandeur that most tourists never see.

Navajo Indian

After visiting the South Rim of the magnificent Grand Canyon, we headed northeast toward the Utah border and the great Monument Valley. This is the land of the Navajo nation, the largest Indian Reservation in the United States. It covers over 27,000 square miles in the states of Arizona, New Mexico and Utah. This high desert country contains some of the strangest and most beautiful geological features in the USA.

Kayenta is near Monument Valley
The road to Kayenta was straight and flat across the land known as The Painted Desert. This landscape was shaded in pastel pinks, reds, browns, whites and grays offset with streaks of brilliant vermilion and black. Oddly shaped mounds of sandstone grew out of the desert floor and multihued cliffs framed the horizon. Along the roadside, we passed many small stands with local Indians selling jewelry, pottery, and hand-woven textiles.
Roadside Jewelry

Kayenta was a pleasant little town in the middle of this enchanted desert country. It offered a nice variety of accommodations, restaurants, and fast food establishments. Strange rocks spires, buttes and pinnacles rising out of the surrounding desert offered a prelude of what was to come.

Monument Valley is situated about 30 miles north of Kayenta where it straddles the Arizona Utah border. As you approach it on Route 163, the surrounding landscape becomes more and more spectacular. Gigantic pink and red sandstone buttes, mesas and spires of rock rise up to 1000 feet from the desert floor.

USA Adventures

The United States of America is a big country that covers a very large area and has an unevenly distributed population, so there are still many wild parts. Even in the northeastern states where the population density is high, you can drive for hours through vast forests and thinly populated farmlands passing only small villages and isolated homes. Some western states like Wyoming cover an area the size of France or Germany and have a population of less than 500,000 people who for the most part live in a few cities and small towns. Only wild animals inhabit most parts of those states.

There are still places in the USA where you can drive for many miles and see no trace of civilization. In the Sierra Nevada Mountains and the Rocky Mountains, you can rent horses and pack mules and ride for days in unspoiled wilderness without seeing another person. Nearly every state offers a wide choice of hiking trails, backpacking areas and campgrounds. Some states offer unique wilderness experiences.

Where Are We Heading

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness. We drink too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We've conquered outer space, but not inner space; we've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul; we've split the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less; we plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait; we have higher incomes, but, lower morals. We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; we've become long on quantity, but short on quality. These are the days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but more broken homes. These are the days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw away morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. Where are we heading...? If we die tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our family an unwise investment indeed. So what is the morale of the story?Don't work too hard... and you know what's the full word of family? FAMILY = (F)ATHER (A)ND (M)OTHER, (I) (L)OVE (Y)OU.