Next I’m on to the very cool, and never before visited by me, Canyon de Chelly. See that sign? Now you know you’re on the res. There is one every few miles.
Red Rock Country!
So I decided to get myself up early enough to do a tour if the tour wasn’t going to be too crowded. It worked out great as the guests were me and a retired couple from Mesa Arizona. That’s our transport.
The canyon bottom was all about a foot deep of soft powdery dirt making only four wheel drive vehicles able to pass, and even they were working like crazy, whining and bouncing so aggressively my pedometer registered about 6,000 steps!
I don’t think these horses are wild since you could get quite close. There are about 100 Navajo families who live and farm on the canyon floor.
All the ruins are from the Anasazi (sounds like Anastasi) people who disappeared from here around 1200. The Navajo didn’t come until 1300-1500. The guide said the Navajo people never go into the cliff dwellings because the spirits of the Anastasi are still there.
Flagstaff is pretty nice. It smells good from the 7,000 foot altitude and the pine forests. (Santa Fe is also at 7,000 feet and I like the air there too.) Flagstaff is into a revitalization of the Historic Old Downtown that reminds me of a 1/4 sized Long Beach downtown project when Long Beach was 1/4 done – still a little rough, but optimistic.
Coming out of the canyon you are smacked upside the head by the GaGa-ness of Red Rock country in Sedona. Here’s a little taste of a housing tract in Sedona.
The ‘town’ is one street now totally torn up for road improvements where you will find a collection of low rise buildings tricked out all Western-style like from the movies.
Notice the Greyhound bus station behind the McDonald’s, then the highway above, and what you can’t see is the train tracks that run under the bridge. That McDonald’s had a counter with 10 busy lines, maybe 20 workers behind the lines.
I want to acknowledge my appreciation to Mr and Mrs McDonald’s. Your stores are everywhere, as we all know, meaning an at least decent restroom is always near at hand. Thank you.
Nasty as you might find a McBurger, you don’t have to eat it, you don’t even have to buy it. Just be grateful that you’re not in some skanky old gas station begging for the key.
I took these next two pictures for my sisters. Sisters! Needles! Remember?
I was never more miserable, more unbearably intolerable than during those Augusts when we drove across country in 2 1/2 days in 104 degree heat with no air conditioning, Daddy smoking and not letting us open the window, and with Mom in the front seat making peanut butter and sweet pickle sandwiches and passing out lukewarm koolaid.
Too much in too short a time? Probably, but still I’m glad to have done it.
I did learn a big fat lesson though, and in less than 2 weeks, so that’s good. What I would do much differently is this: I wouldn’t take for granted that I’d figure it out along the way. I should have bought guidebooks. I should have studied up, the same as going to Cambodia or Peru. Study up! It makes for a richer experience.