Every time we do a new drive I swear it is the prettiest drive I have ever done. I said that climbing up the cliff-hanging 20 mile switch-back road to Mesa Verde (a real nail-biter); then I said it again going up the magnificent road into Arches National Park; a day later I revised my decision and decided that the road into Canyonlands topped them all. Now, having driven from Bluff, Utah, through Valley of the Gods and on to Monument Valley, I have changed my mind again.

The thing about traveling in this part of the world is that every time you turn a corner you are in slightly different terrain. The rocks are redder (more iron) or browner, sometimes even white; they might have some feeble vegetation clinging to them, or they may be completely bare; the rock could be cut lengthwise or vertically, in huge chunks or little boulders; it is ever-changing, even from one side of the road to the other. I have to confess that the immense sandstone mountains are things of beauty, but they scare me as well. You are so small and insignificant next to them and driving through them, especially on the rim roads, you feel like a flea that can so easily be flicked off into oblivion. Then the flatter desert land opens up and I feel myself breathe easier, as if I am being embraced, not threatened, by the landscape.

I overheard a man at the Peace Tree Café in Monticello (pronounced sselo, not chello as we would in Quebec) say that in a whole life-time, maybe only 5 days could be counted as truly special, where you see magical things and the weather is great and you feel 100% happy. (He was one of a group of 4 dirt-bikers.) I hope there are more than five, but when you think about it, maybe he was right. We all have fleeting moments of happiness, but whole magical days are rare. Our three exploring Mesa Verde, Arches and then Canyonlands were magical indeed. The beauty of these places could not have made them otherwise.

The cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde were built 1400 years ago and inhabited until around 1200 when, for reasons unknown, the native people left the mesa and migrated to various areas of the southwest, including here to Taos Pueblo. Their dwellings, literally carved into the sandstone, are extremely well-preserved. There are 4500 archaeological sites in the park, 600 of them cliff dwellings. Standing around the ancient structures, peeking into the rooms and kivas, one really feels connected to history. It is a beautiful area, impossible to do justice to in this blog. The structures at Arches National Park rise out of the ground like magnificent red sculptures. You can literally spend an entire day driving and hiking between them, getting really close, climbing them and touching them in a way that makes you feel part of a very ancient piece of nature. Finally, the deep and mysterious canyons at Canyonlands National Park are spectacular shades of blue and purple, especially in the early morning light. We saw the site where a meteor crashed to earth 60 million years ago, at Upheaval Dome, charring the earth gray. The gray still stands all these years later. This landscape reminds one again and again of just how much history the earth holds and how small our own little lives are in comparison.

The roads here can be a trip in themselves. You sail through flat land then suddenly drop on a 10% grade out of nowhere, tumbling through blasted rock, and realize that you were up on a mesa top all along. People drive very fast, even around wicked curves that have me holding my breath or pressing the brakes. On a short stretch of the 191 north of Bluff, we saw 6 dead deer by the roadside, but still people were blasting through. Only I was watching the side of the road, breath held, waiting for a deer to dart out. I did not want to kill one and I also did not want to be killed by one. In Navajo Nation, mostly in Arizona, horses roam free, literally munching the grass at the roadside, as though it would be an insult to the majestic beasts to lock them behind fences. We drove through a dust funnel that whipped debris against our windows and shook our little rental car.

Our final two days were spent in Navajo land, driving the mystical Valley of the Gods off of highway 163 and then down to Monument Valley. Valley of the Gods is a smaller version of the latter, but it was my favourite of the two. There is no entrance fee, no visitor centre, no gift shop, just a stunning valley littered with oddly-shaped buttes and a rather precarious dirt road that our little car had some trouble navigating. There was only one other car there, spewing up dust way ahead of us, so we were aware that if our car bit the dust we might have little help, but the drive was magical nonetheless. Then the drive down to Monument Valley is so pretty you become mesmerized by it. The buttes are visible forever and the road dips and turns, pulling you forward, promising the reward of the most famous cowboy movie landscape. However, the road around the valley is so BAD, we could not do it all. There are deep deep ruts and high belly-scraping rocks. Your car lurches and pitches and scrapes around steep turns. We joked about how this might be Navajo revenge for the Long Walk. Many people opt for the jeep tours which are very expensive. Whole bus loads of people go in long trolleys. (My favourite were the French ladies in their fancy high-heeled sandals.) It is all a bit too touristy, but hey, I am sure it brings the people much-needed money. The ever present native jewelry and art is in abundance here, as everywhere in this area, but beware. It is not all authentic. Much is made in China. The authentic work, however, is beautiful, albeit pricey. My favourite “place to shop” was at roadside stands where mothers and daughters spread out blankets and sell their own work. They share a bit of history and the children are bubbly and excited to show you which beads they threaded.

Our final excursion was to Canyon de Chelly (pronounded Shay) which is rich in Navajo history. Ancestral Pueblo Indian homes, resembling those at Mesa Verde, line the canyon and one cannot fathom how they were built, the rock is so steep. The Navajo lived and farmed in the area for many centuries and used the canyon to hide from Spanish invaders. In 1864 the US, led by Kit Carson, entered the canyon and killed most of the Navajo. The rest were forced to march over 300 miles to Fort Sumner, NM. In 1868 those that survived were allowed to return. Today, the Navajo Nation, which is huge, seems to be thriving and quite well-developed with their own schools, laws, etc.

In all, we drove 1300 miles in 7 days and saw some incredible things that neither of us will ever forget. Here we are, back in Taos, and the house really is feeling like home. Taos is bubbling with tourists still, and there is yet another arts festival in town, this time related to wool. Twenty or so stalls are set up and artisans are selling their homespun yarns, made of alpaca, llama, sheep, rabbit, etc. It is pretty stuff, but pricey. This is a schizophrenic town that way. In the grocery store parking lot, a down and out native man was trying to pawn necklaces for food. Then at Kit Carson (yes, he of the Long Walk) Park, skeins of yarn are selling for $30-$50. There are both extremes here: poverty and wealth, and, as a gallery owner told us, not much of a middle class. Perhaps that is the way of America today, although I feel it must be more true of this particular town than many.

Farewell once again from the Colorado Plateau.