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.