We were woken in the middle of the night by a crazy sandstorm, which had luckily dissipated by the time we emerged from the van for breakfast. Unfortunately for Winty his tent was not pegged down that night so he spent most of the evening shifting his weight around to prevent getting blown away. It turned out that we had been victorious in our first game of roadside roulette; we were in the middle of a massive open expanse which was stunningly framed by layered cliffs and hills in the distance. Our aptly Americanised roadside roulette record now reads 2&0…
After rinsing another McDonald’s for more free wifi and free (re)fills we descended (or ascended) upon Mesa Verde National Park via a long, windy, and horribly unpaved single-lane road (admittedly under construction). Mesa Verde itself was awesome; a site of Ancestral Puebloan cliff dwellings with thirty-foot ladders and near vertical steps to access these near-1000 year old dwellings. There was a slightly cringe-worthy, typically clichéd, and relatively informative tour of one set of dwellings which we took, but regardless of ranger-led commentary, actually seeing these sites and walking amongst them was a most memorable experience.
Post-Mesa Verde we headed towards Four Corners (the four-way state boundary separating Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado), despite having read that it was closed for refurbishment. Quite how it could be closed for refurbishment was beyond us, but when we arrived sure enough it was definitely closed. The access road had a barrier across it, and the entire surrounding area was protected by a barbed-wire topped fence, supposedly patrolled by 24-hour security and monitored via CCTV.
Seeing as we were only going to be here once, we stuck two fingers up at Federal authority and hopped the fence via a cattle grid, taking on a cautious three minute jog up to the monument. It was essentially a worksite, with wet concrete in the process of setting, discarded tools as pervasive as they were infuriating, and the actual point where the four states meet entirely inaccessible. No security in sight, we somewhat hastily snapped a few photographs of us in all the various states, before getting a sharp jog on back out of the site.
Despite the actual monument not being all that great, the actual act of getting there and back made it more than enough for us. Completing the experience, we were greeted by several intrigued fellow tourists back at where we had hopped the fence (too nervous to do the same) who – in what probably constitutes quite a revealing statement as to how Federal authority is perceived within the US – bizarrely asked us with a genuine sincerity: “did they shoot their guns at you?”. Amazing.
We then hit the road once more, this time for Monument Valley, and were blessed with another great American drive, with endless long and straight roads and mad panoramic views that gradually gave way to eroded and layered canyon-esque rock formations and a blinding sunset that seemed to sit permanently on the horizon around a foot off the road. In fairness though, it was a rather aesthetically satisfying sunset (see above photo).
Post-dinner (cooked in a US Postal Service car park, and where we joined by a somewhat sizeable toad) we covered more miles before bedding down in the midst of another game of roadside roulette, having failed to get into Monument Valley which, unsurprisingly, was closed when we arrived around midnight.
Roadside roulette’s record quickly became 3&0 when we woke, unplanned, at sunrise to see the sun creeping between massive monolithic stacks in the distance, revealing a dramatic red land and decidedly unusual landscape. Given our proximity to Monument Valley – a place famed for its use as a filming location for countless Westerns (such as John Wayne’s Stagecoach, and so on) – we saw this setting as a taster for what was to come… and we weren’t to be disappointed.
Once in Monument Valley, we were treated to surreal red-earthen landscape that stretched for miles, broken up only by the presence of mammoth up-to-1000ft high stacks of yet-to-be-eroded rock; quite breathtaking. We ventured down the dusty and bumpy unpaved seventeen mile self-guided tour trail in our van, giving the suspension a robust workout, pausing to view features such as Mitten’s Butte and the Three Sisters, and to take obligatory photographs of this visually special place.
Incidentally, one half of Mitten’s Butte (the one in the photo below), was used for the cover of a live album DVD by Led Zeppelin, which impressed myself and Adam – big fans of Led Zepp – muchly (but also as one of our finest amigos – George Walker – owns this DVD, hence why we recognised it…).
In an embarrassingly and crudely abbreviated nutshell, it is a Navajo land formed when (according to ancient Diné oral tradition) waters containing deities, animals and ancestors of today’s humans welled up from worlds below. Geologists have a slightly different perception of this landscapes evolution, citing solidification of sand and rock, sedimentary layering from water and win, and latterly wind erosion revealing the monuments we see today. [Please excuse my brevity; the official accounts stretch in to considerably more concise detail than I have space for here].
Indeed, the conflict between Navajo and America is more noticeable in recent history, with their refreshing reluctance to embrace full-blown tourism (unpaved roads, minimal facilities) and preference to leave the landscape as it is without trying to make it more than it is. Further, the local natives are believed to have turned down a water processing plant in favour of continuing to walk up to seven miles to get water each day. There are, however, a few signs of a creeping acceptance of tourism, not least the gift shop with John Wayne posters and Stetsons as well as Navajo jewellery available for purchasing. Regardless, Monument Valley with its monuments, buttes, mesas, canyons, and free-standing rock formations (and the fact the Navajo still live here) remains quite one of the most breathtaking places we have seen so far.
After clocking up a few more miles we arrived at Lake Powell and the nearby town of Page later that afternoon where – in 40°C heat – we chilled out until the early evening, swimming in and diving into the lake, reading books, and soaking up a few rays. Lake Powell itself was formed by the construction of the Glen Canyon Dam which backed up water from five significant converging rivers (the Colorado, Green, Dirty Devil, San Juan, and Escalante), thereby enveloping hundreds of years’ worth of history (including ancient petroglyphic writings etc) in several hundred feet of water, forever erasing it from America’s visible landscape.
Now the Dam’s lake also acts as a water resort (in the middle of the desert!) where you and I can go for a swim, and those with money to burn can spend their summer days racing speed boats up and down the lake’s calm waters. The residues from fluctuating water levels bizarrely bleach the golden sandstone rock at the water’s edge – quite a strange sight. Astonishingly, the lake itself – which winds in and around ninety-six side canyons – has a 1,960 mile shoreline, longer than that of the American Pacific coast!
After a delightfully relaxing afternoon we tackled the final three hour drive back towards Las Vegas. We started with the temperature at an altogether more bearable 31°C, which swiftly dropped to a rather brisk 22°C at one point before crazily climbing back up to 38°C at 11.15pm that evening! Absolutely nuts. Sleeping in 30°C heat later on proved tricky, but thoughts of the awaiting pool in Vegas sustained us and made the heat seem somehow bearable. A great few days regardless…
Great. Lovely read. I’m catching up slowly but surely.