Canyon de Chelly

A very different feel here, compared with the other National Parks and Monuments we’ve been to so far. The scenery is every bit as breathtaking, but here it is woven inextricably with the evidence of how difficult it is to eek out a living in this harsh area. Immediately upon parking at the visitors center, we were accosted by locals hawking Navajo artwork; “$6 for this rock painting so I can get something to eat?” We felt uncomfortable, had no inclination to buy anything, but gave them some oranges because we suddenly felt obscenely wealthy…

We arrived in the afternoon with just enough time to do the one hike in the canyon that doesn’t require a permit and a hired guide, a 3 mile round trip to the White House Ruins. We found locals selling their wares at the bottom of the canyon also, but the atmosphere was entirely different: no one approached or pressured us, and as a consequence, we stayed and chatted with (mostly listened to!) a Navajo named Miles for quite a while, watching as he etched a stone slab with symbols, explaining each as he went, and carrying on a wide ranging discussion, about his several dogs, his relatives who still live in the canyon, and his college plans, among other things. We bought a small slate etched with a hunting story, and we also each bought a different necklace from various of his relatives, and it was a pleasant exchange.

We decided to check out the private campground just outside the park, before going to the free campground back at the entrance, and since it was so reasonably priced, and not at all crowded, and the owner seemed so pleasant, and it came with two dogs who immediately befriended Sam & Robin, AND it even offered wifi (!) we went no farther.

After getting Carroll and the boys tucked into bed, I took the owner up on his offer of bringing my laptop into the camp office to check email, and tidy up the blog a bit.

I truly felt as though I was in a foreign country; the camp office had a dirt floor, a woodstove giving off a very pleasant warmth, and the air was thick with a smoky smell I couldn’t quite identify… some type of herb, perhaps.

The wifi seemed thoroughly incongruous: the whole place was off the grid, powered by solar panels and a small windmill, and a backup generator that I could hear humming somewhere in the distance. It was a peaceful place, where the lack of material wealth didn’t seem to weigh so heavily. When the old Navajo who ran the campground wished us a good journey as we left, I had the feeling he was not referring to our roadtrip.