First dawn, somewhere between Holbrook, AZ and Canyon de Chelly (pronounced Canyon de Shay)
Hubble Trading Post
You can see Canyon de Chelly by jeep or truck, on horseback or with a hiking guide. I hiked.
Whitehouse Ruin.
James Yazzie, my guide. So proud of Canyon de Chelly (his home), he didn't stop talking for five hours.
All kinds of pottery!
A hogon (traditional Navajo dwelling) belonging to one of James' relatives.
Look closely to see the rock art.
Resting in a cave.
The hogon of another of James' relatives, in the shadow of Dog Rock. Photo taken from inside the cave.
James' son built this bird house out of scraps from one of James' work sites. (He's a tour guide in summer and a construction worker for hire in winter.)
Rug weavers have hammered this black walnut tree over the years, for dye.
Sandstone.
Oh, how I wish I had the photography skills to pull off this juxtaposition of fall color and the cliff ruins!!
North of there now, in Bluff, Utah. These kids were waiting for the ATV racers to come down the track, as part of a weekend-long festival to promote alternatives to alcohol and drugs for Navajo youths. The main attraction was paintball.
Omarion Bellison, 2, had one comment when I showed him his picture: "Football."
Billy Yazzie fiddles with his gun while Allen James can be seen in the rearview mirror. Allen James had a son, grandsons, nephews and nieces in the paintball wars. He only speaks Navajo.
Bluff.
Ruins at Hovenweep (national park).
Just the desert.
Trying to get artsy with this cool old tree. Schwepker and Minkler, help!
Mesa Verde, in Colorado. Spruce Tree House (ruins).
You could go under there, into a windowless room clearly made when people were smaller.
Mesa Verde National Park was visited by what must have been a huge and devastating fire. In some places, you drive through stick forests. But then there are scenes like this.
Good morning, in Chaco Culture National Historic Park. I was the first one there, and the only one for hours. My fingers were very cold!
They just don't make windows like they used to.
I wondered if I was channeling ancient songs when I heard myself humming a low, unfamiliar, repetitive tune as I walked around there. I hope so.
Morning, rabbit!
Rarely am I this tall and skinny.
Yeah, Nat Geo!
Rock art.
Older rock art.
The trail goes up there!
Why would people make these?
Coming back down that trail ...
Not much of a finale I guess, but after this I drove out, then back to Flagstaff, then down to Phoenix ... and then flew home.
