Ninety miles of winding two lane coastal highway extends from Carmel to San Simeon, passing through the tiny town of Big Sur. It’s wild; it’s spectacular; and it has its challenges. Narrow lanes, falling rock and soil, and plunging cliffs make for an interesting ride. It’s a drive for second and third gear and your total attention.
CA Route 1 twists and turns through sometimes treacherous passages, amidst relentless seaside beauty.
The twists and turns of Highway1, San Simeon to Big Sur
The northern start of the drive, in Carmel, is highly civilized, with art galleries, restaurants and the famed 17 Mile Drive. But as one heads south, the terrain becomes more rugged and wild.
Rocky, crashing coasts.
Fingers of fog.
Brilliant sun on blue water.
A small A-frame house sits atop a hillside that plunges down to the Pacific alongside Highway 1 in CA
Coastal plants, Big Sur
Should you decide to drive this, check on the road conditions. There is work being done and just last year mud slides closed the highway. Also be sure to fill up your car ahead of time. Gas along the route is $7+ per gallon.
The CA coast, Big Sur
Big Sur has some of the most spectacular coastal views anywhere.
San Simeon
The southern point of the trip is San Simeon, home to Hearst Castle. Built by William Randolph Hurst over a 30 year period, with architect Julia Morgan turned his 250,000 acre ranch into a massive country home with indoor and outdoor pools; tennis courts; and lavish art and furnishings.
Photo Credit: iStock
The indoor pool at Hearst Castle holds 250,000 gallons of water
One of the smaller library rooms at Hearst Castle
Zebras roam the pastures at Hearst Castle in San Simeon
San Simeon beach residents
San Simeon is a small town on the coast at the entry to Hearst Castle. The restaurant here is excellent! Beef from the Hearst Ranch. Fish from the sea. Plus a winery.
While this is a well traveled tourist route, there is a reason to visit. The coast line is beyond spectacular and the touch of history a la William Randolph Hearst makes for a fascinating day’s outing. And then, just south, is the less traveled path through Edna Valley, home to the Pinots and Chardonnays that thrive in this cool coastal climate.
But absolutely no wine on CA Route 1! This route requires your total attention.
If you’re interested in learning more about photography (or cooking or film or any number of topics) check out MasterClass All-Access Pass for on-line excellence:
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What is #CancerRoadTrip and how did it come to be? Read this post to get the backstory!
So much is happening with CancerRoadTrip, ranging from donations to new partners! I thought I’d write a brief post so that everyone is in the know!
As you know, we are giving seven people impacted by cancer an amazing luxury healing retreat. And we’re capturing it on film for education and inspiration for all of us.
Why?
Do you know anyone who’s been through cancer who couldn’t use a healing retreat?
You can help spread the word by simply sharing CancerRoadTrip with your social networks. (The buttons are on the left hand side of the page, in orange. Just click and share!)
Everyone knows someone with cancer.
Let’s do something about this!
Tax Deductible Donations
CancerRoadTrip is now able to take tax deductible donations through the fiscal sponsorship of the New Mexico Film Foundation.
For just $1 a month, you can be part of the film! We have created a special section in the film credits for your words to be heard. Leave an inspirational thought for someone fighting cancer; or leave a thought in memory of a loved one.
I hope you’ll consider supporting this project with a monthly donation.
If you’re interested in learning more about photography (or cooking or film or any number of topics) check out MasterClass All-Access Pass for on-line excellence:
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What is #CancerRoadTrip and how did it come to be? Read this post to get the backstory!
Traveling to heal is a metaphor and an experience. The long days on the road, the twists and turns, the ups and downs all symbolize our path through life and especially life with cancer.
CancerRoadTrip is about more than my journey. It’s about all of us who have had to deal with the impact that cancer has had on our lives. For some of us, it is our own health. But for each of us, there are friends and family and others whose lives are also changed.
This month I am delighted to feature a post by Kristyn Lohoff, author of the blog OurClassCeeLife. Her story is that of a caregiver to her husband.
John died suddenly and unexpectedly, leaving Kristyn in deep grief. But with his death, came an idea.
It was time to travel to heal.
This is her story.
The Lohoff Family: Left to right, Anna, John, Kristyn. In front, Kadrianna, Alicia, and Alena
***
A Cancer Diagnosis
Kristyn and John in their RV
In May 2017, my husband John was diagnosed with stage 4 angiosarcoma, an incurable but treatable aggressive cancer. He had already had cancer 8 years earlier. Testicular cancer. And after three months of chemotherapy he was considered cured. He had already done his “stint” with cancer.
There had to be a mistake. Except there wasn’t.
At first, the chemotherapy treatment went as we expected. But after about a month into treatment, things changed. He developed complications. And then more complications, and still more.
He was hospitalized six different times in four different hospitals, in three different cities in two different states. Most of the time he was hours from our home. I have amazing friends that took my younger girls into their homes and became their short term “mom” so that I could be with John.
One day, as he was nearing discharge, the oncologist came to give us some unexpected news. The chemo had done its job and the lung met had disappeared from the last scan!
She said that John would be discharged in a few days and would take a chemo break for several months. After that, they would repeat the scans and we would determine what the next steps needed to be.
We were so excited! A break! We could make plans to travel!
Ready to travel!
They ordered a routine ultrasound of John’s liver because his bloodwork had been a bit “off” that morning. We smiled, and John seemed to sigh and relax a bit. At one o’clock they took John for his ultrasound, and as always I said, “I love you,” as he was wheeled out of the room. He responded with, “I love you, too,” just as he had always done.
When he arrived at the ultrasound, he was unresponsive. Resuscitation efforts were not successful and he died after 83 days of hospitalization.
I was a widow at the age of 48.
***
It’s Time for a Road Trip
A month after his funeral, I thought about the RV trips we had planned to take. I especially remembered how badly John wanted me to take him to California so that he could see where our oldest daughter lived. He also wanted to see the Pacific Ocean. As teachers, we were able to take extended trips during summer vacations so I began to think. Why not? I should go! I could drive my motorhome to California and bring John’s urn with me… I could take him to those places that he wanted to see!
Time for a road trip!
And then I thought some more. If I was going to travel halfway across the country from my home in Wisconsin, I might as well drive up the coast to Oregon, and see Seattle. We had planned to take a train trip to Seattle the summer he was diagnosed. Of course those plans, like so many others, had been cancelled.
I could take them back!
I could go to the Grand Canyon and take that trip back. We had planned to go there a few years earlier, but as a caregiver for my mother who had Alzheimer’s Disease, I was needed at home so we didn’t go.
Before I knew it, I had created a list of places that I wanted to see, for him, for us, for me. Then I mapped out the trip and did some planning and discovered that I could do the trip, almost completely around the country, in 83 days.
I would take back each of the 83 days that was stolen from him in a hospital bed by doing what we loved most.
83 Days To Heal
My trip was based upon ten places that I deemed were “Must see” stops. Many of them had a connection to food, as both John and I liked to consider ourselves foodies. The trip would become a 13,800 mile adventure which looked like this:
The route for 83 days on a cross country trip
Kansas City to eat the famous burnt ends at Joe’s Bar-B-Que. https://www.joeskc.com
BBQ!
Taylorsville, CA to visit my daughter
The neaby coast
Seattle, WA to eat pho like we had planned.
Seattle for pho
Zion National Park. I had just learned about this park and thought it would be a healing spot.
Zion
The Grand Canyon, where we had planned to go but couldn’t because of my mother’s health.
Overlooking the Grand Canyon
Albuquerque, NM to see the Old Town and eat the local food he had tried while at a conference in that city.
Albuquerque is famous for its balloon fiesta
Philmont Boy Scout Ranch in NM to see where I had been with my father as a young girl (My father died when I was 7).
The route passes by Ghost Ranch
Galveston, TX where we had planned to go for Spring Break before he was diagnosed, but his pain wouldn’t allow him to travel.
To the beach!
Exeter, NH because I had learned that I had relatives that were some of the first families to come from England, and there were historical homes in the town.
The hills of historic New England
Acadia National Park in Maine because we had planned to visit that part as well.
The coast of Maine
John and I loved nature. We loved camping. We loved to travel, and we loved good food.
This trip was planned to take all of that into account and hopefully to also find some healing.
We had lost seven family members in 26 months.
My mother, my father-in-law, a close cousin from cancer, and my husband were four of them. We lived in a forever state of trauma, ready to react to the next event that could come at any moment.
I felt like I had no control over anything in my life anymore, but I COULD control this.
Many people thought I was nuts.
While it’s true that I’ve always been an odd soul, this trip made sense to me.
It would mean that every two to three days I would have to drive several hours and learn to live a completely different lifestyle where my entire life was in a 32 foot motorhome. “What will you do if……..?” People asked me. “Do you have a gun? Bear spray at least? What if you breakdown? What if you get in an accident? What if you get lost?” and on and on.
Time for a road trip!
They worried about me.
The truth was this: the worst possible thing in my life had already happened. I had lost the person I loved the most. The person who was supposed to grow old with me. I lived through the trauma of his diagnosis, his treatment, and his death. I lived through the deaths of six other family members,
I had already lived through the worst possible things. A flat tire didn’t scare me. Besides… I had travel assistance!
Bumps in the Road
The most challenging part of my trip happened very early on. On the first and second day I nearly turned home and gave up any idea of doing the trip. My motorhome wasn’t charging properly, the bikes I had bought weren’t fitting on the bike rake and I had to drive with them inside of the kitchen. Everything seemed too difficult and I thought to myself, who will even know or care if I don’t do this?
And then I thought of John and everything I watched him endure in those 83 days plus in the days at home which were often scary, too. I thought about how he didn’t really have a choice.
Against the backdrop of cancer, the bumps along the road seemed minor.
I started our blog when John was diagnosed. It was supposed to be a way to communicate with family and friends about how he was doing, while also showing how we intended to continue travelling and being in nature whenever possible throughout his treatment.
After he died, I decided to keep the blog and it would become a record of my journey through grief.
I originally planned to write about my 83 day trip as weekly letters to John, telling both the story of that week of his hospitalizations and record what we were doing to take those days back for him. My trip was 12 weeks long, but by the sixth week I found that writing those letters was becoming too emotional for me. I decided to continue posting daily pictures on social media, but stopped writing the letters.
The letters became too difficult to write
Shared Stories Of Angiosarcoma
One of the most amazing parts of my trip was the people I met.
Many of them were connected to the Angiosarcoma Cancer Group I belong to on Facebook.
I made plans to stop and connect with the Physical Therapist John had in the hospital. She had lost her first husband to cancer and we immediately connected when John was receiving treatment.
I met Crystal who lost her infant daughter and has created a program to help others through their grief.
I met with Julie and Jill, both who have angiosarcoma and endure the endless and relentless treatments of the disease.
I met Lori and Dave, both who lost spouses from angiosarcoma and who now are married to each other.
I met Amy, who’s father lost his first and second wife to angiosarcoma, and I met Corrie, a scientist working towards better diagnosis, treatment and outcomes for angiosarcoma, which she is also diagnosed with.
I met dozens of other along the way, who had their own stories of cancer. I told them of my trip and they told me about a sister, or spouse, or parent, or friend who had been lost to cancer or who is going through treatment.
Meeting these people, hearing their stories and sharing my own became surprisingly healing.
When children have cancer, they often have a string of beads that they earn for every procedure they endure. A bead for a blood draw, a different bead for a CT scan, and still a different one for physical therapy or chemo treatment.
A bead for each procedure
The string of beads becomes their visual cancer story, a reminder of everything that they have endured. When John was diagnosed, I started drawing out a string of beads for everything that he endured. The string grew rapidly.
I decided that I would earn beads for getting through difficult times on my trip.
Drive through a mountain pass, earn a bead.
Find a place to fix the camper and replace the batteries, earn a bead.
Drive through Dallas, earn a bead.
Each challenge meant an opportunity to earn another bead
The Healing of Time and Travel
Earning my “beads” helped me to heal. I made it through my 83 day trip without any major difficulties. In fact, the opposite happened. Things “opened up” for me along the way.
Campgrounds that had been full suddenly had an opening when I arrived, restaurants that I wanted to go to were suddenly not crowded at times when they typically would have lines out the door. Tours would only have room for three more – and we were a group of three. And my motorhome “CeeCee” got us around the country without any problems after that second day. I am convinced that John helped make many of these things happen, and the people around me believed it, too!
I began to heal by touching the bones of dinosaurs, visiting my daughter, running on the beaches of the Pacific Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Atlantic Ocean. I saw and touched trees that were thousands of years old.
I saw and touched trees that were a thousand years old
I sat by myself with a cup of coffee and my knitting along the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.
I ate the pho, the chilis, the burnt ends, the Maryland crabs, and the lobster rolls that John and I had talked about having together.
I hiked trails to see waterfalls, hiked through rivers, and hiked to see breathtaking vistas.
There’s something about nature that helps to fill the holes left in our souls, helps to fill the holes made of trauma. One quote that spoke to me while on my trip was this one by John Muir who is considered the father of the National Parks,
“And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.”
It was exactly what I was doing….losing myself in nature in order to find myself. My new self. My widowed self.
I think that it’s important to know that cancer affects families, not just individuals.
Often, we think that when family members continue doing things that they typically do, things like going to a movie, working, participating in girl/boy scouts, when we see them doing normal routine things we think that everything is ok.
In reality, every day is filled with fear.
Things change so quickly and a moment of contentment now could become a trip to the hospital in only a few hours. Families with cancer live on edge, always prepared to react to a crisis at a moment’s notice. People want to help, and they offer meals, they may bring coffee, they may offer to take children for an afternoon to give adults some time alone. All of these things are helpful and much appreciated.
Finding time to get away, to find a quiet spot and to just sit and feel the sun on your face, whether it be 10 minutes from your home or 10,000 miles away, offers a moment of healing. What people also need, I feel, is someone to just let them talk and listen. Not to offer suggestions or answers to problems. Just to sit and listen… and to share their sorrow.
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What is #CancerRoadTrip and how did it come to be? Read this post to get the backstory!
This post was originally written as I was about to take off on CancerRoadTrip. But for some reason, it didn’t come over when we redid the website in late 2018. So I thought I’d share it again. It’s interesting to see my outlook here, in June 2017, as I prepare to leave all I know behind. And then to read the adventure as it unfolds.
What is a travel minimalist? You can only carry so much! And now that I’m in the final stages of packing, the ability to let go is flowing with more ease.
The most remarkable aspect of this is the freedom I am feeling. Here are some of the unintended consequences that are defining the start of this journey.
Travel Minimalist Reason #1: Hasta La Vista
Travel Minimalist Reason #1: Hasta La Vista
“Hasta la vista, baby.”
After a wet winter, cheat grass is everywhere. Dandelions are popping up in lieu of lawn. The kale in my garden is already bolting. The good neighbor fence isn’t looking so good.
I want to leave the house looking good for the new owners, but frankly, this is partly why I’m moving on. I simply don’t want to weed, cut or clip anymore. I don’t want to paint, caulk or fuss. I want to walk the beach, swim with the Galapagos turtles and enjoy the Australian Open. Hasta la vista!
Travel Minimalist Reason #2: Say Goodby to Insurance, Utility and Property Taxes
Travel Minimalist Reason #2: Say Goodby to Insurance, Utility and Property Taxes
“…but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.”
-Benjamin Franklin
Every year my taxes increase with no added benefit; utilities never seem to go down; and insurance never comes through when you need it. Remind me why I signed up for this life? Travel minimalist means less overhead gives me more time and more financial freedom.
Travel Minimalist Reason #3: Tempus Fugit
Travel Minimalist Reason #3: Tempus Fugit
“Seize the day, then let it go.” -Marty Rubin
Living one moment at a time brings richness to life. As I get older, time seems to move ever faster. And as I rush into the unknown, as time counts down, the precious quality of the moment becomes everything.
Travel Minimalist Reason #4: Freedom
Travel Minimalist Reason #4: Freedom
“Freedom is not the absence of commitments, but the ability to choose and commit yourself to what is best for you.”
– Paulo Coelho
Freedom comes in many forms.
There can be freedom from routine. Freedom from possessions. Freedom from dogma.
Freedom from competition was an eye opener for me. I found it fascinating that a part of me rejoiced from not being able to play competitive tennis anymore. I was actually tired of the need to compete and be measured, socially and athletically.
Both David Servan-Screiber, MD PhD and Paul Klanithi, MD commented on the painful freedom that resulted from dropping through the so called real world into cancer land. Both had to leave the social amour and status of their physician-white-coats in the waiting room, and face their diagnosis as a person and a patient, not a doctor. (See #CancerBookClub for more on this.) This unsought freedom offered both men new perspectives on their lives and on medicine.
“…through my illness, I regained a certain freedom. The obligations that had weighed me down…were swept away.” -Paul Klanithi, MD
With cancer, your standards are forced to change. The fluff falls away. What remains is so little, but so meaningful. And in this there is such great freedom.
Travel Minimalist Reason #5: Lightness of Being
Travel Minimalist Reason #5: Lightness of Being
“When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object.”
-Milan Kundera
As the emotional and physical clutter falls away there is an amazing lightness of being. Soulfulness comes from the heart, and a life less cluttered lets your heart shine more.
Travel Minimalist Reason #6: Curiosity
Travel Minimalist Reason #6: Curiosity
“Curiosity is the one thing invincible in Nature.”
– Freya Stark
Unencumbered by to do lists and tasks, my curiosity comes to the forefront, to see the world with the eyes of a beginner. With fresh eyes and an open heart, new paths lead to wonder and discovery.
Moments of emotion and memory trump material goods. I am a collector of maps and various other things. Each material object is tied to an event or an experience. Yet the experience resides in me, not in the object. With my maps and whatnot in storage, it is only the moments that stay with me that truly matter. Do the moments outnumber the things?
We live in a world where the constant barrage of media and ads scream for attention, across multiple devices, 24/7. It’s terrifyingly easy to get caught up in the staccatos of society, to let the madness of crowds sway your path. Stop and listen to your heart, to your soul. What most matters to you? What energy do you choose to collect and carry?
Travel Minimalist Reason #9: Strength Comes In Many Forms
Travel Minimalist Reason #9: Strength Comes In Many Forms
“Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it.”
-Ann Landers
Leaning out my life, I no longer need to carry what does not suit me, practically and psychologically. It’s an iterative process, discovering this, letting go of that. This next phase of my life, I will be traveling lighter, and, I can only hope, perhaps wiser, as I cast the past to the wind.
Travel Minimalist Reason #10: Simplicity
“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” -Clare Boothe Luce
Travel Minimalist Reason #11: Friends
Travel Minimalist Reason #11: Friends
“A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles.” – Tim Cahill
Friends come and friends go. A few stay the course. And a few new ones walk along side, for as long as they do. One of the most interesting facets of cancer, blogging and social media is that I have formed a global network of people who “get it”. I am deeply grateful for these souls in my life. May we stay the course together.
Travel Minimalist Reason #12: Life
Travel Minimalist Reason #12: Life
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, and go to the grave with the song still in them.”-Henry David Thoreau
We’ve all been there. The dullness of routine, of duty, of necessity kills our soul, a day at a time. Habit and expectation guide our lives.
Is this life?
We need to see our worlds differently to choose differently. Our time is limited. What do we choose?
Travel Minimalist Reason #13: Joy
Travel Minimalist Reason #13: Joy
Dance Lightly With Life:
Today is your day to
dance lightly with life,
sing wild songs of adventure,
soar your spirit,
unfurl your joy.
-Jonathan Lockwood Huie
Travel Minimalist Reason #14: Stuff
Travel Minimalist Reason #14: Stuff
“Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change.”
-Michael Michalko
Do I need one more pair of shorts? More than one pair of black slacks? An extra pair of yoga pants when leggings will do? Packing forces one to pare down and reconsider what is really necessary. What brings you joy? The simplicity that results from these choices is incredibly liberating.
Travel Minimalist Reason #15: Organization
Travel Minimalist Reason #15: Organization
“The way to find a needle in a haystack is to sit down.”
-Beryl Markham, West with the Night
I’ve been forced to stop and get very organized. Everything from how my power cords get stored to electronic integration between phones, watches, computers and cameras. There is no room for useless duplication. Everything must have a purpose. And the only way to do this is to slow down, and one by one, do what has to be done.
Travel Minimalist Reason #16: Possessions and Permanency
Travel Minimalist Reason #16: Possessions and Permanency
“If everything I possessed, vanished, suddenly, I’d be sorry.
But I value things unpossessed.
The wind, and trees, and sky and kind thoughts, much more.”
-Dorothy Hartley
When I finished packing my books, I faced an empty bookcase and stacks of cardboard boxes. Are a stack of nondescript cardboard boxes the sum of my reading life? Can a dish pack of carefully collected plates share the stories of the dinners they hosted? And all the handbags and shoes in stacks of boxes. Will they even walk with me again?
It’s interesting that we have greater longevity and reach through our electronic existence than through the physical things we acquire. At some point, the possessions that have defined so much of my life will be scattered like dust in the wind. But the experiences shared in this blog might just live on.
Travel Minimalist Reason #17: Soulful Resonance
ravel Minimalist Reason #17: Soulful Resonance
Find a place inside where there’s joy,
and the joy will burn out the pain.
– Joseph Campbell
Everywhere I go, I share the story of #CancerRoadTrip. And it resonates with people. Every one of us has thought of just chucking it all and walking off. Everyone of us has encountered events that set our lives on a different course. Every one of us wonders about the choices we make and the life that results. And every one of us has been touched by cancer.
Being forced to look at my own mortality; to think about what I want to do with the time I have left; being forced from my home only to find a different path–these are all choices and events that resonate with my soul. I am immensely grateful for this aspect of #CancerRoadTrip.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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?
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.
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
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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