Off Piste in Tse Bii’ Ndzisgaii

Off Piste in Tse Bii’ Ndzisgaii

Tse Bii’ Ndzisgaii or “Valley of the Rocks” is the Navajo name for Monument Valley.

It is predawn and I am here on a photo mission. I have hired a Navajo Guide to take me off piste, away from the familiar 17 mile loop drive, and into the desert for in search of a different perspective of this well traveled valley.

At O-Dark-O’Clock we start our foray into the night. The large SUV swaggers on its frame as it descends down the hill road. Water from the recent rains pool in the rutted dirt.

If it were light, I would see that the tops of the eastern buttes are touched with snow. But that perception eludes me before dawn, when all is dark. It is the darkness of nowhere, and it is everywhere.

The headlights shine their narrow beam across the red orange sandstone soil and the scrub brush. The landscape jumps to life in vivid color then recedes back into darkness as we pass. We are a tiny ray of light in a sea of endless night. Our vision is limited to what lies immediately before us.

Yet there is power in the dark. Here in the predawn hours, one’s senses are heightened. It’s a primal awareness where one feels the presence of the earth and the smallness of man. It’s a primordial power of the ages, that speaks to one’s soul a hundred years past and a hundred years hence.

There is also power in the earth. It is too dark to distinguish the rock forms as we pass, but you can feel their energy if you submerge yourself in the stillness.

The Mittens, considered to be the hands of a deity among the Navajo,  offer their blessing and perhaps protection as we pass and are absorbed by the night.

The Navajo consider this valley sacred. In the wee hours before sunrise, it is easy to see why. The rock, the wind and the sky speak in a language lost to the modern world. But words are not needed. It is a magical and primal language, that connects on an entirely different level.

It is not long before we are off piste. This is four wheel drive country. The road roughens and the dark is unrelenting. We bounce along rugged paths, climb rocks and splash through puddles. It is easy to become disoriented.

The tires sink into the mud pools and water splashes against the door. The engine engages and with the skill of my Navajo driver, we pull forward.

Until we stop.

In the dark.

Tully Begay, my Navajo Guide, points to the east. “The sun will rise there. Follow me.”

He takes off at a brisk pace, sure of himself even in the dark.

I pick up my camera gear and follow him into the desert. I have a flashlight but it would seem crass to access it. Besides, I struggle to keep up with the firm stride of my guide, as he heads off into the sand.

I realize that the moon is peaking from behind the clouds and the orange sand is reflecting just enough light to see. I hope I don’t encounter anything I don’t want to encounter on the desert floor.

The moon breaks through the cloud cover, shedding just enough light to follow my Navajo Guide into the desert.

And then we stop.

“Here,” Tully motions.

And we wait.

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It is cold. I set my camera atop the tripod. I’ve come as prepared as possible, with batteries charged and the remote cord already connected. I know that I’ll need the steadiness of the tripod and the stillness of a remote release for the long exposure, predawn pictures I hope to capture. If only the clouds would part…

The sun appears on her own time and the valley comes to light. First slowly, then all at once. But on this morning, there is sun, clouds and mist, all simultaneously, scattered across the land.

The sun illuminates purple clouds at dawn, in the Navajo desert surrounding Monument Valley.

And then the sun rises.

In the light the valley loses none of its magic, but I feel I have lost that voice of eternity that perhaps speaks only in the dark. Another day dawns, this one partly shrouded in cloud and mist.

Low hanging clouds partly obscure Monument Valley

Clouds cradle the Monuments of Monument Valley.

The Monuments fade into the mist.

Listening In the Valley of Rocks

Indians have said this is a sacred valley. And before them the Anasazi found a home here as well. Remnants of that civilization are scattered through the desert if you know where to look.

anasazi, Valley of the Rocks, Monument Valley

An Anasazi grain storage bin nestles in the curve of the rock, high off the desert floor

Knowing where to look will also bring you to the Ear of the Desert. Something about this massive formation makes one stop and, well, listen.

The Ear of the Desert

Does she listen to the wind? To the wild horses that still roam the land?

The air that pours through her portal, what does it whisper? And to whom does she share her secrets?

Like many of the lesser known, but most interesting parts of the Valley, the Ear of the Desert is outside the 17 mile circle and not accessible without a Navajo Guide. With a guide, there are Anasazi ruins to visit and vistas that will take your breath away.

In this giant playground where the wind chases the sand, and the sand carves the delicate curves into the rock, carvings both intricate and crude grace the land.

The desert sand is intensely orange. The soft sandstone formations deposit their soil at their base, and the wind whips it into a rippling expanse.

It’s a land of wonder and awe.

I have a history with Monument Valley. It goes back twenty years or so. It was a stop that was partly by chance and it was by chance that I found the perfect old turquoise bracelet that I’d been seeking but had, so far, remained elusive.

An old Indian woman had approached me with half a dozen stunning stone bracelets. Most were sized for a man. Even so I seriously considered them. The workmanship and stones were things you do not find in a tourist shop. They were old and worn. There were stories that went with each one. I still recall a deep green turquoise bracelet with a richness of color that took my breath away.  But I ended up settling on just one, one perfect one, just for me.

Shopping Monument Valley, Navajo jewelry

An old turquoise bracelet from the Indian woman at Monument Valley

That trip, some decades past, presented a different valley. There were no amenities and the road was just a dust track. Wild horses ranged freely through the land. There was little traffic. It was a more wild and mystical place.

The rock formations have remained the same, but now Monument Valley is a well run business. The relatively new Navajo run hotel, The View, provides on site lodging. Today’s experience, along the 17 mile drive offers a view of the valley, but seems to lack the deep soul of a more primitive time.

My Navajo Guide agrees.

The tourists, he explains, line up bumper to bumper in the summer and drive the loop. But they miss the Valley. You have to go into the land to see it.

I ask him about the names of the rock formations, particularly Elephant Rock. Where would the ancient Navajo’s have seen an elephant, I wondered.

Most of the formations were named by Goulding, he replied.

And Goulding is an integral part of the valley’s history.

Goulding’s, Hollywood, and A Bit Of History On Monument Valley

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Views of Monument Valley (above)

Monument Valley has always been considered a sacred place by the Navajo. Given its remote location, it escaped the Spanish invasion in the 17-18th centuries that disrupted Indian culture in other southwest locales.

While the Navajo in the area avoided Spanish occupation, they would not elude the Americans. In 1862, Col. Kit Carson was tasked with rounding up the tribe and relocating them to a reservation in Bosque Redondo, NM. The Indians fled and in 1868 the government relented, and the land eventually was returned to the Navajo.

But it was Hollywood that put Monument Valley on the map.

Almost against its own will.

Harry Goulding, a Colorado trader and sheep herder, bought 650 acres at Big Rock Door Mesa (Tsay Kissi Mesa) ini 1923 where he and his wife “Mike” would establish Gouldings. Over time the trading post grew and a two story sandstone house was built. Cabins would be added to accommodate the growth in traffic.

Goulding's Trading Post, Monument Valley

The sign on the original Goulding’s Trading Post, now a museum

With the Depression in the 1930’s, the area was hard hit. Harry Goulding had heard that Hollywood was scouting for southwestern locations. So with his last $60, he headed for Hollywood.

Where he was largely ignored.

But perseverance (and perhaps a bit of desperation?) paid off and Harry left with a $5,000 deposit from John Ford.

The first film by John Ford, Stagecoach, put both Monument Valley and a new actor, John Wayne, on the proverbial map. All thanks to Harry Goulding.

Monument Valley

Hosteen Tso Holiday, rumored to be the most powerful medicine man in Monument Valley.

The film industry provided employment for many in the valley and beyond. Among those hired by Ford was Hosteen Tso Holiday, a locally famous medicine man who was tasked by Ford with providing snow in October. And lo and behold, snow appeared, just as directed.

Since that film many more have followed and Goulding’s became something of an institution.

In time, the original sandstone building became a museum, which is well worth a visit. There is a fascinating and charming room called The Movie Room which features all sorts of film memorabilia relating to productions from the site. You can visit John Wayne’s cabin and stay for lunch at the Lodge. Goulding’s isn’t fancy, but it’s an integral part of the history of the Hollywood cowboy genre and the history of Monument Valley.

The Film Industry in Monument Valley

Cowboys and Indians naturally come to mind, as they should. Stagecoach (1939), My Darling Clementine (1946), She Wore A Yellow Ribbon (1949), The Searchers (1956), and  How The West Was Won (1962) are all classics filmed in Monument Valley. But the site has been used in a wide variety of other films including Easy Rider (1968), 2001 A Space Odyssey (1968), The Eiger Sanction (1975), National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983), Back To The Future Part III (1990), Forrest Gump (1994), and The Lone Ranger (2013).

And many more.

John Ford Point is named after the famous filmmaker that helped put Monument Valley on the map:

Tse Bii' Ndzisgaii, valley of the rocks, photo tours, Phillips Photo Tours, photographing Monument Valley

The person in the image provides a sense of scale of John Ford Point in Monument Valley.

The western genre which launched Monument Valley into Hollywood fame actually encompasses literature as well. The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper;  Mark Twain’s classic Roughing It; and Zane Grey’s novels all inspired the evolution of the film industry in the valley.

Trivia question: What was the first film filmed in the valley?

Answer: The Vanishing American (1925).

Tuck that one away for a fun fact!

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Getting To Monument Valley

Trip to Monument Valley, directions to Monument valley

Flying into Las Vegas, NV and driving is probably the easiest way to visit. But I chose to drive.

The drive from Santa Fe to Monument Valley is about 5 and a half hours, give or take. And in this part of the country, March is not quite winter, not quite spring.

Anything can happen.

From Santa Fe, I headed south to NM 550, then north. The drive up 550 through Cuba is rimmed with stunning red rock. The road cuts through Cuba, a small town. I suspect that Cuba, like many small towns along the “major” New Mexican travel routes, makes a substantial part of its living off of speeding tickets. Slow down as you go through these towns. I learned this lesson en route to Madrid.

But today’s route is north. Rain was forecast but when I hit Shiprock, it didn’t rain, it poured.

Hail.

Sheets of hailstones descended in curtains. You could see the frozen squall approach and dump it’s iced balls all over the road. Then a respite. Then another squall. The road was rough, made slick by the weather.

Lightning, hail and rain poured over the land, sometimes all three simultaneously. I felt almost battered, by the wind, the ice and the rough pavement. I stopped twice to be sure I didn’t have a flat tire.

But by the time I got to Shiprock, the worst was behind me.

Shiprock in Northern New Mexico

Past Shiprock, there are two approaches to Monument Valley, either through Kayenta or Bluff.

Take the route through Bluff.

Because you’ll cross the San Juan river, travel through Mexican Hat, and see some spectacular western scenery as you approach Monument Valley from the east. I actually took both roads, coming in through Kayenta and back through Bluff. Bluff is the more scenic of the two routes, and offers access deeper into Utah and the spectacular vistas in that area.

Click Here For The Monument Valley Photo Gallery

Lodging in Monument Valley

If you want to stay near the valley there are two choices: Gouldings and The View.

The View is a relatively recent and pricier addition, located at the entrance to the park. It’s Navajo run (and dry–no alcohol on the premises, and Goulding’s to the north is in Utah. If you crave a beer after a hot day in the valley, it’s strictly BYO). Built in 2008, The View offers free standing cabins and premium and Starview rooms in the main building.The Starview are located on the third (top) floor and offer more of a sky view.

I stayed in a Premium room and the view was terrific:

The morning view of Monument Valley from my room at The View.

“So this is where God put the West.” – John Wayne

Like many places these days, Monument Valley offers a well traveled tourist experience. But that is such a limited dimension to this sacred valley.

If you allow yourself to move with the sun and the wind, the valley opens to you. Leave go the tourist clock; embrace earth time and go off piste.  What you find is up to you.

If you go, consider one of the Navajo Guide services to take you beyond the 17 mile loop. Phillips Photography offers four wheel drive access into this magical land.

I was obviously moved by the power of this valley. Let me leave you with some Navajo words of wisdom:

Walking in Beauty: Closing Prayer from the Navajo Way Blessing Ceremony

(With the refrain in the native Diné)

In beauty I walk
With beauty before me I walk
With beauty behind me I walk
With beauty above me I walk
With beauty around me I walk
It has become beauty again

Hózhóogo naasháa doo
Shitsijí’ hózhóogo naasháa doo
Shikéédéé hózhóogo naasháa doo
Shideigi hózhóogo naasháa doo
T’áá altso shinaagóó hózhóogo naasháa doo
Hózhó náhásdlíí’
Hózhó náhásdlíí’
Hózhó náhásdlíí’
Hózhó náhásdlíí’

Today I will walk out, today everything negative will leave me
I will be as I was before, I will have a cool breeze over my body.
I will have a light body, I will be happy forever, nothing will hinder me.
I walk with beauty before me. I walk with beauty behind me.
I walk with beauty below me. I walk with beauty above me.
I walk with beauty around me. My words will be beautiful.
In beauty all day long may I walk.
Through the returning seasons, may I walk.
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk.
With dew about my feet, may I walk.
With beauty before me may I walk.
With beauty behind me may I walk.
With beauty below me may I walk.
With beauty above me may I walk.
With beauty all around me may I walk.
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk.
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, living again, may I walk.
My words will be beautiful…

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The Matrix: Wendy Wagner Part 2

The Matrix: Wendy Wagner Part 2

The Matrix is the set of daily experiences that experiences that make up our lives.

Can we change our perceptions to change our experience?

If so, what might we choose? 

 

The Matrix: Wendy Wagner, PhD

 

This is the second part of my interview with Wendy Wagner, PhD. The first part is here.

A cancer diagnosis takes many of us on a road trip into our own souls, to discover meaning, perspective and perhaps a new path for our life. My discussion with Wendy ranged over so many topics, that rather than try to segment each one in a short video, I decided to simply share the entire discussion. 

 

Wendy Wagner, PhD: A Road Trip Into The Psyche, Part 2

 

 

 

 

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable.

Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart.

But that’s okay.

The journey changes you; it should change you.

It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness,

on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you.

Hopefully, you leave something good behind.”

Anthony Bourdain

 

 

Life is a journey. 

Cancer is a journey.

Together they are the ultimate road trip.

Where might we go and what might we learn?

travel, matrix
 

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More on The Matrix

What is the Matrix?

I call it the set of daily decisions and experiences that make up our lives.

Can we change our perceptions and change our experience? If so, what would we choose?

Here are some more posts contemplating life, travel and how we construct our matrix to view our world:

The Matrix: A Road Trip Into The Psyche

Healing Travel for a Better Matrix

Gratitude: A Habit For All Times

11 Life Lessons Learned From The Road

Traveling The Timeline of Now

Traveling With Cancer: A One Year Anniversary

Thoughts On The Metaphor of a Road Trip

 

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matrix

 

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Mardi Gras

Mardi Gras

This year, it’s Mardi Gras from afar. I’ll be joining some friends at an Asian bistro to celebrate, and I suspect I’ll be doing without any étouffée.

From étouffée to King Cakes, Mardi Gras is a celebration for the senses. For weeks, parades, street fests, music, food and camaraderie reign.

Many things bind people with this holiday and one of them is the King Cake. The history is a bit foggy (too many hurricanes?) but the origins are decidedly French. The cake is believed to have come from France in 1870. And from there, the rest is history.

The history of the King Cake meanders a bit, rather like the Mississippi itself, and over the years it’s taken a variety of forms. But at heart, it is a rich cake/pastry concoction decorated with the royal colors of purple (Justice), green (Faith) and gold (Power). Buried somewhere in the cake is a small plastic baby. He/she who gets the piece with the baby becomes King for the day and must host then next party and provide the King Cake.

King Cake, Mardi Gras, CancerRoadTrip

A traditional King Cake decorated in green, gold and purple

King Cake, Mardi Gras

Some cakes are more pastry like, like this one.

So it goes, and the good times roll.

Over the years the cakes have gotten more elaborate and creative. But my personal favorite is brioche based. I can still taste the rich brioche from my favorite New Orleans bakery uptown, where butter and bliss meet in cake form.

Beyond King Cake, New Orleans offers all its usual foods. And it’s the incredible combination of foods and food sources, ethnicities and flavors that I find endlessly fascinating.

Consider gumbo. It starts with the careful development of a dark roux (butter/oil and flour cooked to mahogany perfection, and never burned).

After the roux comes a vegetable base with any combination of foods.

Gumbo, NOLA, New Orleans, Mardi Gras

Traditional Creole cajun court bouillon with fish and seafood gumbo

African okra might be cooked into the gumbo to lend its stickiness to thicken the stew. Or Indian file may provide a thickening agent to pull the dish together.

gumbo, Mardi Gras, CancerRoadTrip

Okra lends body and substance to gumbo

Then there may be some Cajun sausage, Spanish peppers, oysters, shrimp and whatever other seafood strikes ones fancy. Crawfish. Chicken. Duck. What’s your pleasure?

And then it’s all served over Chinese white rice, with hot French bread.

It’s a world tour de culinary force in a simple bowl.

The history of food is always fascinating and some of my favorite cuisines are an amalgam of different cultures, times and ingredients. One of the things I admire about New Orleans cooking is how they’ve kept alive the classics, while continuing to evolve the food for more modern tastes. History hasn’t stifled innovation. To the contrary, the melting pot history has encouraged ever new takes on the regional culinary dialect.

New Orleans Foodie Forays

Dinner at Sobu, New Orleans

So on this day, Fat Tuesday, when all of New Orleans, eats, drinks and rocks and rolls, I will (in such typical American fashion) raise my glass and nod to this noble tradition. As I enjoy the pan-Asian flavors (think a combination of Chinese, Thai and whatnot) at Jinja here in Santa Fe.

More Reading on New Orleans

These posts are from the YOLO (You Only Live Once) section of the blog. They are some old excerpts from a not yet finished book (Adventures By Sailplane) and trace the curious set of events that led to my becoming a pilot. And it all started, in its own strange way, in New Orleans.

New Orleans 1988

Dixie Beer

Zoo To Do

Fasnacht Day

And from a more recent visit to New Orleans:

Let The Good Times Roll In New Orleans

New Orleans Photo Gallery (Complete with music!)

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Gumbo in the Big Easy

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What is #CancerRoadTrip and how did it come to be? Read this post to get the backstory! 

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