Hiking into Canyon de Chelly

It’s early Friday morning. Well, maybe not that early. There were only a couple of cars in the parking lot when we drove in. R has dropped me off here at White House Ruin View Point which is on the south side of Canyon de Chelly. The only trail that you can walk down into the canyon without a Navajo guide is a hike that drops about 800 feet during its mile and half length. Actually, the last half mile or so follows the creek bed to the ruins.

As I am hiking along the trail, I hear only the wind blowing past my ears, the sweet song of a canyon wren, and the crunch of my shoes on the gravel that is this part of the trail. A large portion of the path is on solid rock, some smooth as a baby’s bottom and some rippled as if grooved by a giant rake. As I descend the canyon, the beauty of the canyon gives me show at every turn and I forget everything else except to walk and look.

I hear a noise behind me and notice a young Navajo man coming down the trail behind me. In a few minutes, he passes me saying hello as he passes. I notice that he has no jacket and is carrying no pack and wonder about that. My pack is loaded with a light jacket, binoculars, some carrots, pretzels, and, of course, water. Pretty soon the young man is out of sight and I no longer wonder about him.

Coming out through the second tunnel, I am presented with a most idyllic scene, right out of a calendar, a silent Hogan, budding trees, and a sheer sandstone wall for a backdrop. Wow. I am the bottom of Canyon de Chelly.

I turn and head north toward the White House walking along the west side of the creek. There’s a bridge that crosses the creek and as I cross it I, again, encounter the young Navajo. Now he is carrying a small backpack. He says Hi to me again and states that he has just come from his grandmother’s place which is just up the canyon. We walk together and chat as we approach the ruin. The young man drops his pack and starts unpacking items for sale on a towel on the ground. I continue to walk past him and the other Navajos who have their crafts displayed for sale. I am drawn toward the pueblo. It is beautiful.

Part of the White House ruin is up in a natural alcove and part of it is on the ground level. There are many levels of rooms and I can make out several round kivas. With my binoculars, I examine the buildings carefully. I pay attention to the straight walls and wooden vigas that are still in place after all this time. My eye spots the pictures on the walls near the pueblo and I notice that they are pictographs not petroglyphs. They have been painted on the rock by the early Puebloan peoples long ago. I experimented with putting my camera up to the binocular to get a telephoto effect. See what you think.

After a time, I return to the young man and examine his wares. I get his OK and sit on a tree stump with him for a while. I have gotten here before the Jeep tours arrive. After a few minutes, I hear a noise over the blowing wind and several four wheel drive vehicles appear over a rise and park in an area across the river. Two or three passengers get out of each vehicle and walk pass us toward the building. (I hesitate calling the site a ruin because the Hopis and Zunis feel that the sites throughout the southwest were not abandoned, just “closed”.) After they have taken their pictures, they will return to stroll past the tables and ogle and perhaps purchase a treasure.

There are several other craft tables to examine and a nice Navajo pot to purchase and then I proceeded back up the trail. I am in no hurry because my wife is not scheduled to pick me up for over an hour so I had plenty of time to make my ascent. Even with the climb, it is a pleasure. The blowing wind that bothered us in the bottom of the canyon is not a factor once I have reached the wall of the canyon and begun the ascent. After many twists and turns, and traveling back through the two tunnels, I again am walking on top. The wind is whipping around me, welcoming me back to the upper world. I smile. My wife is in the truck waiting for my return. Life is good.

Acoma

How do I describe Acoma Pueblo? ( pronounced AK oma ) I had never even heard of it until a month ago when R & I attended the Crownpoint Rug Auction. In addition to the great rugs that were brought to the sale, there were several vendors who set up tables in the hallway of the elementary school where the sale is held. These tables were filled with various items but the pottery caught my eye. Various sizes, various shapes, but all hand decorated and absolutely amazing. We spent many pleasurable minutes at each tables while the artists described their pots and designs on them for each brush stroke ( or stroke of the yucca leaf) has a meaning. How to decide which one to purchase. In talking to each artist we discovered that each one was from Acoma. We decided on two pots which came from a couple named G & Y. In talking to them, they told me that they live at Acoma Pueblo and showed me pictures of the mesa. Acoma Pueblo lies atop a 400 ft high sandstone mesa in a valley about 25 miles south of I-40 in New Mexico.

http://sccc.acomaskycity.org/

G & Y related to me that there is no electricity and running water up on the mesa. There are two natural cisterns that store rain water, otherwise it must be hauled up from the valley floor. This mesa has been occupied since the 1500's but the only access until 1950's was a foot trail. A movie company wanted to make a movie so part of the deal included construction of a road. Another movie in the 60's paved the road.

There are about 100 homes on top of the mesa, but only 20 or so are occupied in the winter, no doubt because of the cold harsh wind that whips through in winter and spring. The day we went up to the mesa, the temperature was about 35, and the wind was blowing about 25 making it brutally cold. The homes are mostly built of stone, adobe, and mortar with walls a foot thick so they are well insulated, but with heating done only by wood it takes a special person to live there. And these folks are artists. Their pots show it.

We arrived at the visitor center in time to register for the 3:oo o'clock tour, the last one of the day. We rode with our young female guide up the road to the summit in a small bus-type vehicle. For about an hour she led us around the village, telling us about the history of the

Acoma people and the village we were visiting. Every so often we would come to a home that had a table outside with pottery sitting on it. The artist, would come out as we walked up and would tell us about his or her wares. So many beautiful items, so little money. How does one decide? I hope you get the opportunity to be exposed to this place. If you get the chance, to visit Acoma Pueblo.

Part of the tour price was a permit allowing me to take pictures of the pueblo. However, I do not feel comfortable putting them on the blog. I will attach a couple pics of the area and you can click on the link. It includes a picture of the pueblo sitting up on the mesa. It is an awesome valley.