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.