This Magic Moment, So Different And So New... 2009

 

This Magic Moment, So Different And So New...

 

In April 2007, I traveled from Los Angeles, California to Moab, Utah. On the night before my arrival in Moab, I stopped at Navajo National Monument. There, they have a free campground that sits high on a west-facing ridge. That evening, the sunset was beautiful. Far from the nearest city, the quiet night soon filled with stars. 

 

Only a week before, I had met Carrie, at her home in Simi Valley, CA. Now I was on the road, heading to Moab, over 800 miles away. Having met her only twice, I knew that she was the woman I had searched for all of my life. This new relationship would last forever, I believed. The only thing I had not yet done was to tell Carrie that I loved her.

 

After reading for a while that night, I felt lonely and alone, far from friends and family. Since I was fifteen miles off U.S. Highway 160, between Tuba City and Kayenta, AZ, I assumed that there would be no cellular telephone service. To my surprise, a strong signal reached my coach, perhaps from Tuba City. From the 7200-foot elevation at Navajo National Monument, there was a sixty-mile sight-line to Tuba City, at 4960-foot elevation.

 

As soon as I saw cellular reception on my mobile telephone, I dialed Carrie. That night, she was staying at the historic Santa Maria Inn in Santa Maria, CA. We talked for over an hour. I told her that I loved her. She told me that she loved me too, but as she did, the cellular connection buzzed in my ear. Not knowing what she had just said, I did not want to ask, “What did you say?”

 

During the conversation, she invited me to fly back to LA for my birthday, on Cinco de Mayo weekend 2007. It was an offer that I gladly accepted. Later, she called me back and asked, “You did hear me when I said, ‘I love you too’, didn’t you?” From that moment on, Sunset Campground at Navajo National Monument became a special place in my life.

 

Two and one half years later, in October 2009, Carrie and I shared our first sunset at that magical place. She and I were traveling from Moab, Utah to Casa Carrie, in Simi Valley, CA. Leaving Moab before noon; we arrived at Sunset Campground about an hour before sundown. That gave us time to prepare a toast to that special place. Our wine that evening was a Kokopelli Vineyards Arizona Cabernet Sauvignon.

 

As sunset fast approached, we took our glasses out to the rim of the campground. There, at sunset in that beautiful place, I proposed a toast. It was, “To our Love”. Since Kokopelli plays such a big part in the energies of that area, we toasted to him, as well.

 

Soon, the sun dipped behind a large cloudbank hovered on the western horizon, many leagues away. Distances in the Four Corners can be deceiving. There is a sight-line from the monument to the San Francisco Peaks, ninety miles away. For that reason, it was impossible to know how far away the clouds really were.

 

Although I had once experienced an overcast sunset at that place, I had not seen the sun set behind the clouds from there. Perhaps because of a false horizon and perhaps for reasons more magical, our sunset lasted for longer than expected.

 

As we looked to the western sky, shades of gold showered from the clouds above. Looking like fiery red creatures, deep red colors shone through many holes in the cloudbank. Above the darkening horizon, in clear sky the color of faded turquoise, we saw splashes of golden light. As we watched, coded swoosh-dot-dash lights hovered above the horizon. The brightness and intensity of these celestial features were unlike any clouds we had seen before.

 

As the sunset slowly faded, the intense display of light remained. For many minutes, features in the cloud-cipher barely changed. Whatever message it had to impart, we had time to marvel at the beauty of nature in that time and place. Turning to Carrie, I said, “It looks like Kokopelli in the sky, coming to greet us and bless us in this sacred place”. Pausing before she replied, “It is a magical place. Thank you for inviting me to share this special place with you.” If it were not for my need to keep taking pictures, I might then have melted into the sandstone of the ridge on which we stood.

 

As the sunset faded in the foreground, an angel or cloud-being came to rest atop Navajo Mountain, over thirty miles away in Southern Utah. At 10,385 feet, the peak stood out against a darkening horizon. Mimicking the shape of the mountain below, the being’s arms rested atop the pillow of air that separated mist from rock.

 

As darkness closed further around us, we turned again to see our sky bound Kokopelli, still shining, low in the western sky. Since all good things must end, we turned to face the final moments of our private sunset. Golden light flowed across the land, cloud beings rested atop nearby peaks and Kokopelli showered sparks of golden light before us. For both of us, it was a magical moment.

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By James McGillis at 10:48 PM | Personal Articles | Comments (0) | Link

Navajo National Monument - Harmony With the Natural World - 2008

The Magic Gate - Part 5

Living in Harmony With the Natural World

 

Navajo National Monument

 

In Northeastern Arizona, fifty miles south of Kayenta, we stopped at the lightly visited Navajo National Monument.  Even today, with the lure of free camping, it rarely draws a crowd.  Leaving Highway 160 during our 1965 visit, we encountered a newly paved road covering the thirteen miles to the monument.  Like most National Park Service (NPS) roads of the era, the engineers designed it for minimum impact on its environment and for speeds of less than forty-five miles per hour.  Upon arrival at the monument, we found a new visitors’ center and a campground with about thirty spaces.  The older, more rustic campground remained unimproved.

 

Navajo National Monument is a misnomer, honoring the fact that early Anglo-American visitors associated its ruins with the Navajo Nation, within which its boundaries lie.  Craig Childs, in his 2007 book, House of Rain, identifies the area’s early occupants as the “Kayenta Anasazi”.  By 1300 CE, after only fifty years of occupation, the Kayenta Anasazi abandoned these, among the last of their alcove dwelling sites.  Thus, the monument’s Betatakin and Keet Seel ruins rank with Mesa Verde and Hovenweep as the last redoubts of a vanished culture.  The spring-fed, relict forests in the monument’s canyons attest to the relatively recent drying of a once abundant environment.

 

In 2008, I again visited Navajo National Monument.  While camped there, I reflected on Edward Abbey’s words about the place, as written in, Desert Solitaire.  At the time, Abbey decried what he identified as the destruction of primitive areas throughout the Southwest.  This he blamed on the U.S. Department of the Interior, which had opened many new areas to automotive visitation.  Here are his words:

 

“Navajo National Monument.  A small, fragile, hidden place containing two of the most beautiful cliff dwellings in the Southwest – Keet Seel and Betatakin.  This park will be difficult to protect under heavy visitation, and for years it was understood that it would be preserved in a primitive way so as to screen out those tourists unwilling to drive their cars over some twenty miles of dirt road.  No longer so: the road has been paved, the campground enlarged and modernized and the old magic destroyed.”

 

Times change, people change, but after his death in 1989 at age 62, Abbey's consciousness on earth evolved no further.  Abbey was both a naturalist and a sometimes naturist.  His gift was an ability to describe for his readers the natural wonders of America’s deserts and the Colorado River.  As a self-proclaimed anarchist, he waxed poetic in his fight with the federal government, which he saw as either disinterested or incapable of conserving those unique and unspoiled natural resources. 

 

Although his only documented anarchistic act was to pull up some road survey stakes at Arches, Edward Abbey often receives credit for inspiring such troglodytic and destructive groups as the Earth Liberation Front.  The counterculture energies of the 1960s coalesced around protest, as exemplified by the movement against the Vietnam War and “tree-spikers” in the Northern California Redwoods.  It was an age of “pushing against”, whose legacy is with us still.  Our “wars” on poverty, terror, drugs and teenage pregnancy are but a few examples of our vain attempts to fight against that which is intangible.

 

That morning, I sat quietly in the campground that Abbey decried as a modern abomination.  There, I opened a channel to Abbey’s non-physical consciousness.  Feeling that angst and anger at the time of his death may have trapped him in the near-earth realms, I asked his spirit to accompany me on a tour of the area.  Although there was no verbal or visual communication between us, I like to think that I allowed his spirit to see Navajo National Monument as I knew and loved it.

 

Bypassing the visitors’ center, we walked along the pathway towards the Betatakin (ledge house) Ruin, about a mile away.  In an attempt to protect these fragile alcove dwellings, the NPS placed its only Betatakin viewpoint on the rim of the canyon opposite the ruins.  If you visit, remember to take your field glasses.  Since Betatakin’s natural amphitheater amplifies sound energy, signs admonish visitors not to make loud noises.  As with the Walls of Jericho, a single loud noise could weaken or destroy this well-preserved pre-Puebloan settlement.

 

Returning on foot to Abbey’s despised campground, we found its thirty spaces artfully sited near the western edge of Sunset Mesa.  From its 7500-foot elevation, the terrain falls away gently for fifty miles, all the way to Lake Powell, Arizona.  The aptly named Sunset Campground provides among the longest views in the Four Corners.

 

Even today, the campsites accommodate rigs no longer than thirty feet, so the larger RVs must go elsewhere.  Tap water is available, but there is no store, public shower or RV sanitary dump.  During his two summers at the old Arches National Monument, Abbey lived in a thirty-foot house trailer.  I smiled in disbelief that his spirit might wish to deny others a brief but similar physical experience in this beautiful place.

 

Later, as I drove away from Navajo National Monument, I reflected on the term “arrested decay”, coined to describe preservation activities at Bodie, a ghost town in California.  By limiting direct access to these sites, the NPS has done what it can to arrest the decay of ruins at Navajo National Monument.  From its visitors’ center to the roads, trails and campground, the NPS seems to have listened to Edward Abbey’s spirit.  After its 1960s improvements, the monument has changed very little over the past forty-five years.

 

As I departed Navajo National Monument, I found myself in agreement with Abbey on one thing.  Despite its supposed ruination in his time, I hoped that this serene and beautiful place would enjoy its current state of arrested decay long into the future.  Thank you, Edward Abbey for the true spirit of your work

 

The Magic Gate

 

In 1965, after two weeks in the Four Corners, my father and I again crossed through the magic gate, represented by the Santa Fe Railroad grade crossing at Flagstaff.  From there, we retraced our route back to Los Angeles.  After returning home, I entered my senior year in high school, then on to college and work life.  For the next forty years, as did our old snapshots, memories of the Four Corners faded from my mind.

 

Each year since 2004, I have made it a point to travel and live for a time somewhere in the Four Corners.  While writing this personal history at my home, near Los Angeles, I could feel the Four Corners calling to me.  Three months from now, I shall pack my belongings and enter again through the magic gate to what some call Indian Country and others call the Four Corners.

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By James McGillis at 01:05 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link

Greetings From The Land of the Ancients - 2007

 

Greetings From The Land of the Ancients - 2007

Friday was a travel day. I departed Moab, UT at Noon, MDT and headed for Navajo National Monument in Arizona. Most of you know that Arizona does not observe Daylight Savings Time, but did you know that the Navajo Indian Reservation in Arizona does observe that silliness, along with most of the rest of the country? Here I sit at almost 11:15 PM on Friday night. If I went almost due south to Phoenix, it would be 10:15 PM. Don’t you love traditions?

 

 

My route of travel took me through Monument Valley, split almost evenly between Utah and Arizona. Tom Hanks, playing Forrest Gump made this road famous. It was here that he “stopped running” and returned home.

 

Arriving here at the Monument just before 5 PM, local time, I was able to hike to the closest Pre-Puebloan “alcove dwelling” before sunset. Although it is hard to discern details in such a small picture, several of the dwellings looked like they were inhabited. Considering that they abandoned the site in 1268, such longevity is a testament to their building prowess. The naturally arched amphitheater roof has assisted in the preservation of the site.

 

The second trail I took wound its way down into the same canyon, but closer to the headwaters. There I found a “relict forest” of Ponderosa Pines, Aspens and other “mountain species” living in the well-watered and shaded canyon. When the last ice age retreated, so too did these species in most of the arid Four Corners region. Marooned far from their cousins, these trees and shrubs mow wait (in vain?) for the next ice age. If one should occur, these species can again spread and travel to new lands.  As always, it was a pleasure to be in the company of the tall pines.

 

Huffing and puffing at the 7300 foot elevation, I made it back to the aptly named Sunset Campground in time to capture the long view towards the setting Sun. If you have a chance to visit this area, a sunset here is a remarkable sight. The unobstructed view to the west includes a drop in elevation of several thousand feet, thus giving this place a "top of the world" point of view.

Tomorrow, I make the long haul to the deserts of California and the 1.4 million acre Mojave Preserve. Internet connections are spotty at best out there, so I will probably report in from Simi Valley, CA, as the new week begins. Until then, have a great weekend.

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From This Valley They Say You Are Leaving... 2007

From This Valley They Say You Are Leaving...

On Friday September 28, 2007 I will depart from Moab, Utah. After leaving Durango on the Autumnal Equinox, I met Carrie late that evening at the airport in Grand Junction, now touted as the center of Colorado’s wine country. From there, we drove the 110 miles to Moab, much of it in a heavy rainstorm. Upon arrival in Moab, the early storm had passed, so we did a quick setup of the coach and turned in for the night.

 

Having lived in my travel trailer for the better part of the past two years, the sound of rain falling overnight was a comfort to me. In the morning, Carrie was amazed that I could sleep through a downpour of such biblical proportions, but sleep I did. As we drove around town the next day, I was confused upon seeing how much red earth had washed across the roads. Until we arrived at the Colorado River, I was skeptical that the overnight downpour could have caused such a shift in the landscape.
As you can see, by the next afternoon, it was a clear and beautiful day.

 

On our way up-river towards Castle Valley, I was amazed to see how much the river had risen and how turbulent and red its fabled waters flowed.

 

At Castle Valley itself, we found a display of light unlike any I had previously seen. Between the clouds, the late afternoon Sun and the geological features there, it was a sight to behold and to remember.  In this area, it is all too easy to take such breathtaking sights as commonplace.   Still, Mother Nature has her ability to stop you in your tracks and make you take notice.

 

After three days together in this most spiritual of lands, Carrie flew back to Burbank, California on Wednesday. I spent one additional day here in Moab. My excuse for doing so was to clean up some computer work and get ready for a three-day trip home to Simi Valley, California. Moab and the  Spanish Valley are now like old friends. Once you know them, you never want to leave them, but leave I must.

 

On Friday, I will stop at Navajo National Monument for one night of dry camping at 7300 ft.  It is the best free camping in the Four Corners area.  Also within the monument are some of the best preserved Pre-Puebloan Indian cliff and alcove dwellings, dating to around 1250 AD.

 

After a long pull, through Flagstaff, Arizona and Needles, California on Interstate 40, I will spend this Saturday night at Mojave National Preserve, a 1.4 million acre unspoiled desert paradise.  although hot in the summer, from late September until early April it is a wonderful place to spend a night or two during your travels on I-40.

 

I was pleased to discover that on her first trip here, Carrie loved Moab as much as I do. We are looking forward to spending time here each year. 

 

On Sunday, I will pull all the way to Simi Valley, California, where Carrie and I will be together again.

 

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