RETIREMENT TRIP #6

     ON THE RESERVATION

                      September 2015                     

Today lives in infamy, but I wonder how many people in this part of the country feel impacted by events of 14 years ago.

Shadows spread across the Little Painted Desert in the early
morning light of September 11th.

As we drive across the wide grasslands of northern Arizona in the Navajo Indian Reservation, the constructed towers of New York City seem years and worlds away.  Here all we see as far as the horizon stretches is flat plains of sage brush.
“It’s not even grass for animals,” said Andy, turning into the Indian reservation’s disintegrating asphalt road for Little Painted Desert.  Useless sage grew abundantly.

Everywhere yellow flowers dot the
landscape, setting off the canyon rim.

With accents of yellow from the flowering plants like snakeweed along the rim, the Little Painted Desert was a canvas of color in the mid-morning light.  My watch read only 9 a.m., and temperatures hovered in the pleasant low 80’s. But in the Navajo Reservation it was actually 10 a.m. because of Daylight Savings Time.  A cloudless sky and bright sun promised another hot day in Arizona.

We stepped out of the car at three different points along the short stretch of broken road that followed the rim.   Beer bottles and cans gave evidence that many had enjoyed the view.

“This view is perfect for morning pictures,” said Andy, “and it would be so easy to clean up the area and keep it that way.”

But our East Coast perspective--and perhaps our age--colors our attitude.

In the distance Castle Butte rises as a
local landmark.

Castle Butte at 6,491 feet above sea level presented an imposing landmark along Route #87 as we headed north.  “It’s pretty rugged all of a sudden,” said Andy.

The landscape was markedly green for Arizona desert and Navajo Reservation, evidence of recent rain.

I spotted a coyote spring for a breakfast catch in the grasslands near a collection of houses called Teas Toh.  He looked a lot healthier than the Connecticut variety.

Wagons of the past remain outside
Hubbell Trading Post as a memory
of days gone by.



Inside, Hubbell Trading Post looks
much like it did years ago.

As we drove across the Hopi-Navajo Reservation, we noticed patches of corn stalks.  It was something we had never seen here before.  “I’m guessing it’s grown for use as corn meal,” said Andy.  Readings about ancient peoples had already taught us that the Anasazi people of 800 years ago had four varieties of corn, presumably used for different purposes.

Hubbell Trading Post has welcomed
visitors for 110 years.

J.L. Hubbell opened the Hubbell Trading Post in 1876.  Today it is the oldest continuously operated trading post in Navajo Territory.  Hubbell used tin currency in this trade with the Native Americans, because most of them didn’t have gold, silver or copper coins.  At first they were suspicious, but the jingle of tin soon caught on, and Hubbell established a thriving business.  Known for his honesty in business dealings and for his hospitality to travelers, Hubbell provided wise counsel to his friends the Navajos.  Born John Lorenzo Hubbell in 1853, in Pajarito, New Mexico, he was the son of a Connecticut Yankee who had gone west as a soldier and married into a family of Spanish descent.
"Don Lorenzo" to the whites, he was called "Old Mexican" or "Double Glasses" by the Navajos.  He consistently promoted excellence in craftsmanship and was the foremost Navajo trader of his time beyond question.
The trading post was a place of social life, as well as one of business.  Here Navajos came to meet friends and relatives as well as sell their hand-woven rugs and turquoise and silver jewelry.  The store was a center for news, gossip and endless talk.

The Hogan and shelter at Canyon de Chelly Visitor Center provided a feel for Native American life in early Navajo times.

Junction Overlook of Canyon de Chelly
offers panoramic views of the valley floor.

The South Rim pullouts at Canyon de Chelly are best with an afternoon sun.  There Native American girls sold handcrafted jewelry and pottery at Tunnel Overlook and Junction Overlook.  At Tunnel we bought three stone paintings by Anthony.  His sister sold them to us and said the family lived in the valley about ten miles down the road.  Her brother had been painting since age eleven.

Tsegi Overlook was closed off with a large gathering of Native Americans.  We wondered what was attracting all the attention, but we weren’t invited.

Andy poses for a moment in the
bright sun of White House Overlook.

The ancient White House across the valley floor holds
secrets of the Anasazi past.
 

The ruins at White House Overlook seemed so small from the rim, but the river was dry.

“Do you remember our last visit here?” asked Andy.

How could I forget! Drew was a babe in arms, probably under a year old.  Andy carried him in the backpack and sunk up to his ankles in the river.  We crossed then though and viewed the White House ruins all by ourselves.  We couldn’t go in, but we forded the flowing Chinle Wash for views as close as we could get.

Hidden in the shadows of afternoon sun, Sliding House ruins
holds its secrets from ages past.

Sliding House ruins were in the shadows when we walked out to the overlook at 3:30 p.m., and here too the Chinle Wash was completely dry.

“Chinle Wash comes and goes in the sand,” explained an elderly man from Phoenix.  “There’s water in it up at Spider Rock.”

At Face Rock Overlook we bought two more stone paintings from Christine.  They had been done by her son Tyson.  He had autographed the backs with his name and Dine, the word for Navajo.  Christine explained that Tyson was saving for a computer game.  She showed us a picture of him when he was five years old.

At Spider Rock Overlook, the double monolith rises
more than 800 feet from the valley floor.

The interpretive sign at Spider Rock Overlook explained that the Spider Rock woman was very important in Navajo mythology, because she taught the Navajo people how to weave.  A lady from Toronto at the overlook raved about the jeep tour into the canyon and told us how the driver actually lived in the canyon.  He told stories about his life—how five or six vehicles had gotten caught in the quick sand of the Chinle Wash and disappeared forever.  Then I remembered hearing about that before Andy tried to cross the unpredictable wash in 1975.

Stories of being left at the top of Spider
Rock far below scared young
Navajo children into behaving.

As Sue and Andy pose in the afternoon sun, tomorrow's
challenges of climbing down into Canyon de Chelly await.

Turkey vultures dipped and circled overhead.  “I wonder if they are looking for quick sand victims,” I mused.  One circled so low we could see his yellow beak and naked red head.

On the return pass we stopped at Tsegi Overlook, which had been blocked earlier in the afternoon.  A couple farms lined the Chinle Wash down below, and the canyon looked lush.

“I wonder why it was closed and so many Native Americans had gathered here before,” pondered Andy out loud. “Maybe someone got stuck down below in the mud and sand.”

Whatever it was, it certainly attracted attention.

The overlook was calm and peaceful at 5 p.m.  Apparently everyone headed into town for Friday night.