Teddy Draper Sr., Arches National Park (Border to Border, Day Four)

It's Memorial Day and the day my traveling companions return to southern Arizona and I continue on to destinations north. We eat breakfast at the Junction Restaurant, the only one in Chinle, but despite their monopoly, the food is good and the service is excellent. And the Dineh are wonderfully congenial if you make the slightest effort to be likewise. The Dineh couple at the table next to us strike up a conversation, and we learn that most of what our guide told us yesterday is true. Eventually, they finish their meal and leave, just as a "Navajo" Dineh Code Talker walks in to have breakfast. He is evident by his battle and service insignias on his chest, red cap and jacket.

Feeling emotionally overwrought by seeing an actual Code Talker  (one of four living) and my personal  sadness of leaving my family behind on this journey, I asked our congenial waiter to convey my thanks to the man, which he did. Having eaten and gotten my runaway emotions under control, I summoned up the courage to stop by his table as we left. I shook his hand and thanked him. He is hard of hearing from his war experiences, so I repeated my thanks. He smiled broadly and continued shaking my hand. He asked where I was from and said he was from "here," Chinle, and laughed. We talked a few moments longer while he continued to hold my hand. I was torn between letting him get back to his breakfast and sitting down and grilling him, like a good journalist should. In the end, my humanity won out and I let him return to his breakfast. His name is Teddy Draper Sr. and you can search his name on the internet to learn all the struggles he has endured to achieve recognition of his service and his wounds.

I continue to be awed by this experience. With only four of these remarkable gentlemen left, and those well in to their 80s, we might not have much longer to honor them for their service to the United States. It is no overstatement to credit them for the country's success in winning World War II, the atomic bombs notwithstanding. They need financial support in building a memorial. Go to navajocodetalkers.org to learn more.

We, my companions and I, left the restaurant, and I began the  pleasant journey north to Moab. There is little to say about the journey, especially after the emotional waterfall of meeting and talking to a Code Talker. The landscape was typically "Navajo" Nation, that is, gentle rolling grassy hills and mesas dotted with junipers, until Bluff, UT, where Moab area red rock country seemed to start.

 

Red rock hoodoos between Bluff and Moab, UT

Since it was not quite time to check in to the Apache Motel in Moab, I headed to Arches National Park and hiked around for several hours, seeing Double Arch (featured in an Indiana Jones movie), Delicate arch and various other sandstone features.

Canyon de Chelly (Border to Border, Day 3)

Today, we take a 4-wheel drive tour of the Canyon de Chelly floor, into Canyon del Muerto, since we had already visited the White House Ruins the day before. Our guide is a genial native who grew up in the canyon and learned his stories from his great grandfather.

According to our guide, "Navajo" is what the Spanish called the native people of this area, and it was intended to mean "thief." Needless to say, the native people resented this moniker and prefer their own term, Dineh, which means the people. Why then, you might ask, do they continue to use Navajo for such designations as Navajo Nation and Navajo Code Talkers? I think (and what do I know?) that at some point, they decided to capitulate to the white man's designation and perception since it was so entrenched, anyway. They, especially the elders, still refer to themselves as Dineh.

We start out from the motel in a vintage Suburban whose beat up shocks will eventually give us all a headache, but it manages to get us through the treacherous deep silt of the canyon floor. Don't try this in your family Taurus; you will need both a native guide and a high clearance 4-wheel drive vehicle.

As we progress back into Canyon del Muerto, the guide points out various petroglyphs (pecked out images) and pictographs (painted images) on the canyon walls. Some images such as horses are easy to interpret; others need explanation.

On this petroglyph are a kokopelli (Hopi word; Dineh word is different but, to me unpronounceable) and both a positive and negative hand print. Our guide says the belief is that the negative print indicate a woman made the image. Petroglyph below is of an antelope and a snake.

This image, left, is a depiction of a Spanish massacre of the canyon people. The central figure is a padre or missionary of some type (the cross on the dark robe). The two suns above indicate the length of time the subjugation took (two days), and the two figures at the rear of the procession are supposedly Ute trackers in collusion with the Spaniards. According to our guide, the Dineh, the Hopi, and the Utes at one time lived in harmony in the canyon. The photo below is of Antelope House ruins in Canyon del Muerto.

White House Ruins, Spider Rock, Canyon de Chelly (Border to Border - Day Two, part 2)

North on 191, we continue 30 miles or so to Chinle. (By the way, I don't recall any passing lanes on the Navajo Nation roads, but traffic is fairly light, so a steady pace is possible).

Canyon de Chelly is a free national monument, but if you wish to explore the canyon wash, you must hire a native guide for a hike, horse ride, or 4-wheel tour. The monument offers only one unguided hike, albeit a spectacular one, down into the canyon wash to the base of White House Ruins. Before the hike we drove along the south rim road, stopping at vista pull-outs, the last of which is Spider Rock, named for the Spider Woman of Dineh mythology.

Spider Rock

White House Ruins
The hike is only 1.5 miles down but five miles back up. Not really, but it seems that way, as the elevation change is about 600 feet, creating an ascent that will elevate your cardio-vascular rate.

Even if you aren't conditioned for such a hike, though, it is do-able if you take it slowly. Also, remember to wear sturdy shoes (not flip-flops) and carry water. We hiked the trail in the afternoon and were thus in shade most of the way, but sun-screen is always a good idea. A walking stick might not be a bad idea, either. By the way, about three dozen families live in the canyon wash and they request that visitors shoot no photos of them or their houses.

   

White House Ruins

To provide scale and perspective, here is a shot of the ruins from an overview (about 2/3 of the way down the image).

White House Ruins overview

Petrified Forest, Painted Forest, Hubbell Trading Post National Historic Site (Border to Border - Day Two)

On May 25, my companions (my daughter and grandson) and I left Show Low and drove through the tidy communities of Shumway and Snowflake, set in attractive rolling grassy hills dotted with juniper and sage. Snowflake is as idyllic a turn-of-the (19th)-century village as one can imagine, like Willoughby from the Twilight Zone series. Even if you don't remember Twilight Zone, you'll certainly remember Cars, and the town of Holbrook, about 30 north of Snowflake, must be the model for Radiator Springs.

Holbrook, AZ

Holbrook is a good place to gas up, but don't expect a dining destination. From Holbrook, two routes lead to Petrified National Forest: southeast on 180 will take a visitor to the southern end, which features a short hike through the Crystal Forest, where lies the greatest concentration of petrified trees. Driving east on I-40 and north on the park visitor center road will land you in the Painted Desert. My companions and I opted to walk the short trail from Tawa Overview to the Painted Desert Inn. The walk affords spectacular views of the painted desert, and the Inn is a priceless example of the Pueblo Revival style.

Painted Desert, Painted Desert Inn, Pueblo Revival detail

Back on 1-40, we turn north on 191, through scenic red mesa and juniper country of the Navajo nation. At Ganado, we dogleg left on 264 and make a detour to the Hubbell Trading Post National Historical Site, where we spend an enjoyable 30-45 minutes exploring. (By the way, in the photo of the sheep [goat?], the critter has two sets of horns. Never seen anything like it.)

Details from Hubbell Trading Post NHS

Border to border - Day One

Today I start the 1500 mile trip from the southern to the northern borders of the United States. Okay, I am fudging a bit. I will start a few miles north of Nogales, AZ, but it is still going to be rather epic. (Actually, I am publishing this a couple of days late, because of lack of wifi. this Occurred on May 24.)

Instead of the route suggested by Rand-McNally on their mileage calculator -- that is, basically Highway 89, I am detouring to encompass a string of national parks and monuments, Canyon De Chelly, Canyonlands, Arches, Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, and ultimately, Glacier National Park where I am employed for the summer of 2013.

Today's destination is Show Low, a town in the White Mountains of Arizona. Highlights of the drive include Pinal Pass near Globe and the scenic Salt River Canyon, although they aren't really spectacular enough for me to include on this blog. So imagine your favorite scenic spot, instead.

Just kidding. Actually, the Salt River Canyon reminds me of a blend of Zion National Park and the Rio Grande Gorge near Taos. These photos, taken at midday, barely do it justice.

Salt River Canyon

After my previous Desert Rat blog, a reader (if I had any) might wonder why I am driving all the way to, well, frikking Canada for the summer. Partly it's because of the 105-degree summer temperatures in sub-tropical Arizona. and even though that's really enough of a motivation, there's also the splendor of Glacier National Park. Or so I'm told. Never been there, so it's all going to be new to me. This continues a tradition I have of heading north in the summers. In eons past, I worked for the Yellowstone Park Co., which was my introduction to national parks. They are to blame for my addiction, but they were superseded by a series of new concessioners, so the culpability gets kind of fuzzy after time. This year, I'm going to try a new venue. My car is riding low from all the junk I'm taking, I've returned my library books and bought a case of bottled water. It's time to hit the happy trails.

Desert Rat

I am a desert rat.

To my knowledge, the writer/philosopher/naturalist Edward Abbey first used this term in Desert Solitude, although he may have borrowed it, as I do, from someone else. A desert rat is simply a person who prefers the desert to any other environment. If you live in a more forested environment you might not, probably would not, understand the seductive appeal of a desert. After all, it's just sand and tumbleweeds, isn't it?

I enjoy the quiet serenity of a forest as well as anyone, but when I am in a forest, I see trees, trees, and trees. They may be dozens of kinds of conifers and/or deciduous trees, but they are ever present and formidable, standing tall in banks, waves, walls of trees. If you are lucky, they might part and grant you an occasional vista of the earthly structure beneath and beyond all the trees.  Perhaps as a young teen I was too influenced by Conrad Richter, but I think too many trees have a strange effect on people -- witness mountain men and modern-day survivalists. Hang out for awhile in Red Lodge, Montana, and you will understand what I am saying.

As a photographer, I might try to capture the nature of a forest, but my photographs would never be of a wall of trees. My focus would be a minimal containment of the trees, such as one sequoia, which is barely fathomable in its vastness, or a sparkling stream amidst the darkness of the canopy. Or the shot would be from above to show the contour of the earth beneath the carpet of trees, such as the iconic photos of the Great Smokies. A photographer must work to contain images of a forest, be vigilant for for opportunities of framed or sweeping views. And that, in a word, is the difference between forests and deserts - vistas.

Bryce Canyon National Monument

Saguaro National Park (second from top), Arizona skyscapes

Anywhere I turn in a desert, there is a vista grande, a view vast, prodigious, and ablaze with color. And  it's not just sand and tumbleweeds. It's "purple mountains' majesty," russet hills, golden sandstone hoodoos, flows of magma malpais, ancient gashes in the earth striated in vermilion, ochre, umber, violet and crimson. It's acacia, velvet mesquite, ironweed, rabbit brush, burro brush, brittle bush, limber bush, baby bonnets, desert broom, four-wing saltbush, hackberry, mountain mahogany, jojoba, hop bush, seep willow, wolfberry, bursage, sumac, sycamore, cottonwood, Mexican blue oak, velvet ash, junipers, cypress. And, of course, cacti: hedgehog, prickly pear, fishhook, saguaro (found only in the sub-tropics of the Sonoran desert), and cholla (teddybear, staghorn, pencil, chain fruit chollas and the desert Christmas cactus).

Globemallow and palo verde in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument

In spring, especially in the relatively verdant Sonoran desert, the desert is particularly spectacular, each barrel and pincushion cactus adorned with sunburst coronets of delicate, shiny flowers in lemon yellow, saffron, carmine, or magenta. Claret cups crown the hedgehog cacti, and fans of yellow, orange, or salmon flowers soften the edges of prickly pear pads. Wildflowers abound: desert chicory, trailing four o'clocks, penstemon, thistle, monkey flower, silverpuff, paperflower, Mexican gold poppy, caliche globemallow, scorpionweed, vervain, and an occasional lupine or columbine (at the right elevations). And everywhere, flowing like bright jasmine streams through the burgeoning desert life, are flowering palo verde.

Mariposa lily (top) and cactus blossoms

By late May, when the desert sky is as white as the tip of a flame, all but the most hardy of blooms have spent their brief but spectacular lives. Two notable exceptions are the saguaro flower and the night-blooming cereus. The strongly scented cereus blooms only at night, producing large flowers usually described as "'white" but because of the lack of daylight appear as an unearthly pale violet color. Saguaros produce a multitude of large, waxy white flowers, each lasting only one day.

Saguaro blooms

Truly, the sparse rains of the desert sustain a remarkable and luxuriant range of plant life.* Not incidentally, those rains also release the evocative earthy-sweet scent of rain on creosote and sage, like nothing else in one's experience or imagining. In part, the effect is caused by rain on dust, which has its own pleasant, musty odor. In part, also, the rain releases essential oils that give the plants their characteristic aromas.  If I had to move to any other part of the United States, I would take a sprig of creosote or artemisia in a little bag to open when I became homesick and breathe in the delicate loveliness and vast solitude of the desert.

*(If you are interested in a thorough index of native plants, visit the native plant society websites for Arizona or New Mexico; you will be astounded.)