I’ve been on an adventure …. (Part 3 of 8)

So on we go on this “road-trip” through the Southwest …next stop – Grand Canyon, then to Monument Valley:

…Day 3 – Destination: Blanding, Utah:  Even though we’d seen it years before, we simply couldn’t be this close to the Grand Canyon without another visit.  Setting out early, we made our way from Flagstaff onto the interstate (which we “mostly” avoided on this trip) into Grand Canyon National Park.  Most everyone has seen pictures of this site – beautiful pictures indeed!  But absolutely nothing can compare to seeing it in person.  The Canyon is a living, breathing wonder that comes upon you – almost out of nowhere.  Driving along the twisting mountain roads, ever ascending, you see forests (and many trees destroyed by fire) with new life springing from its now cleared and sunny patches of soil.  Then, like a sensual climax, you approach the top of the incline …and before you is a sight that can only be described as holy.

Its width and breadth and depth are so awesome that it rivets your feet to the lookout point (and hands to the guardrail).  Pictures can’t capture even its merest essence, yet here we all were , tourists from everywhere crowding the Visitors’ Center (I recognized at least 5 languages) snapping pictures at every turn of our heads.  Why?  Perhaps we were all trying to preserve the “feeling,” just as much as the sight.

Leaving down the winding highway leading north, spread before us was the remnants of the canyon, turning into miles and miles of stone formations.  The Painted Desert appeared just ahead:  a panorama of layered rock, showing off the greens, pinks, grays and blacks of her myriad years of evolution and erosion.

We drove from roads with steep grades onto flat level ground, only to find ourselves climbing again at the next turn.  So much rock!  No trees, no foliage – but yet another kind of beauty that knew its own name.  But then came the roadside stalls – dilapidated sheds where the Native Indians clamored to sell their home-made wares.  Jewelry and other trinkets lured tourists to gawk at their goods (and at them).

Nestled in the landscape were run down shacks, and many trailers sitting in places that didn’t seem to even have access roads.  Incredible poverty.  But of course, this was Indian land:  Hopi, Navajo, Apache to name a few.  Hard places that only these people have the grace to appreciate.  Even so, you are aware that the White Man still somehow holds them in oppression, perhaps by what is “withheld” as much as anything:  namely respect ..for their culture, their inherent wisdom of the spirituality of nature, the air we breathe, the earth we take for granted. For miles and miles, the scene was the same.  The landscape changed subtly, but never the circumstances.

Finally we made our way north across the Arizona state line into Utah, and into Monument Valley.  W had been dying to see, with his own eyes, the backdrop of all the John Wayne movies we’ve seen in the past!  Those remote hunks of rock rising out of the plains that must have awed the pioneers who crossed this land before us.  And it was all true …before us lay stone giants, living in their own majesty.  The Celts, like the Native Americans, saw stone and rock as being just as alive as plants and animals …and I believe it completely.  These God-made edifices are teeming with personality – daring you to take your eyes off them!  They change too.  Centuries of erosion smooth their faces and create lines and creases in the facades.  Breath-taking “gods” rising out of the ground.

We stopped at a wide place in road and ate our lunch at their feet.  Great companions that seemed to enjoy basking in the glow of their hundreds of admires along Hwy 163.

…then – on to Colorado!!