BIG Canyons, BIG Rugs, BIG Saguaros, BIG Rocks, BIG Horses

November 8, 2017 to November 14, 2017

We left Anchorage, Alaska on October 14, 2017 and arrived at our furthest point southwest on November 11, 2017: Yuma, Arizona. Veteran’s Day was appropriate because we were meeting a friend of Dan’s from the Air Force.

We arrived in Arizona from southwest Utah.

 

 

The descent down The Grand Staircase from Bryce Canyon to the Grand Canyon was stunning.

 

One minute we were at one elevation. We turned a corner and a vast valley stretched endlessly far, far below us. It was filled with simple rectangular trailer homes and hogans and light trails of smoke. There was a quiet endlessness to the land. It took my breath away.

 

 

 

 

At dusk, we pulled into Cameron Trading Post, a one-stop complex run by the Navajo people. The concept is similar to Ruby’s Inn in Bryce Canyon: lodging, restaurant, beautiful artwork and trinkets for sale in enormous stores, history dating back to the early 1900s. The difference is that Cameron Trading Post felt rich with culture and peace. Maybe it was just that we were there at the right time.

The spacious restaurant was beautiful. The staff engaged in happy conversation with us. We sat near rows of little drawers in the wall. Dan thought they were seed bins back in the day. There was something more real about the place. The large as a horse rugs on the walls were woven by Navajo weavers onsite. I ordered a fry bread taco that they called a Navajo Taco. The fry bread was so heavenly I could eat it every day. A statement to which Dan replied that then I would be as big as a house. Perhaps happily so.

 

 

 

We spoke with local people more at Cameron Trading Post. In the morning, we met Elsie Glander. Before we met her, we saw her sitting in front of an immense metal framed loom, so bent in intense concentration that we didn’t dare approach. Later, we learned that she was using her mind like a computer to count the next row before weaving it. The elaborate pattern was in her mind, not on any paper. What brilliant focus!

We met her after breakfast. I was intrigued by the framed displays of dried plants. Some of the displays indicted the color that the plant would dye the sheep’s wool. Some indicated their medicinal uses. When I was drawn to them the night before, the weaver’s brother introduced himself and answered our questions. Not just anyone could weave or make sand paintings. You were called to it and there was a ceremony. To do otherwise would be taboo and you might become inflicted with blindness or deafness.

To be commissioned to be an artist! For art to be so spiritually important that you could not take it lightly! For your art to require you to use your brain at the level of concentration of a computer! Everything about it was so beautiful.

Elsie Glander said that she had been weaving each day at Cameron Trading Post for the past twenty years. It would take her at least six months to complete one large, wall-sized, weaving. If she started from the beginning, getting her own wool and making her own dyes, it would take a year.

It takes time. There is no rush. There is no need to rush.

Time slowed down, became less. I did not want to leave.

We looked through the Gallery. So many beautiful things. There were weavings that had the whirling log symbol. It represents motion and direction. Its story is about the outcast who was looking for a place of safety and rest. The traveling outcast learned how to cure and how to farm and brought these skills back to his people.

Such richness awakens a longing to be part of a culture with depth and roots and beauty, with taboos and gifts and ceremonies. I feel that I do not have a culture; I am a global person, a tourist, a visitor, always a bit on the outside.

Perhaps there is something I’m meant to learn from the Navajo. I’ve always been drawn to the Four Corners area and maybe this is why. I left feeling that I would be back.

Elsie Glander’s brother said that when the lines go outside the weaving, it is kept open, not closed.

 

We drove Highway 64, also called Desert View Drive, toward the Grand Canyon from the eastern, Desert View Entrance. You could see canyons everywhere.

The Grand Canyon is in a constant state of international tourism. People from every part of the earth are around you wherever you go. The Desert View Entrance was recommended as a great way to first see the canyon and I agree. There were a number of people around, but it was not as extreme as other viewing points.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We drove west toward other viewing points and spontaneously Dan suggested we turn. We hadn’t planned to stop, but I said that if Dan felt led to go there, why not. So we parked and stepped to the rim for a view from another point in the canyon when I man’s voice called out to Dan, “I like your hat.” Dan looked up and was surprised to recognize the man. “Bob? Bob LaDuke?” They embraced like long lost high school sweethearts. Dan knew Bob from King Salmon; he worked for the FAA and would work in King Salmon a few weeks on and a few weeks off while maintaining his home in Anchorage. How in the world was it possible that they would meet at the Grand Canyon?! Bob and his wife also had not planned to stop, but something told them to park and get out.

The weaving of life. A loom too big for us. A mind much more immense remembering counts for more than three dimensions.

 

 

 

We drove to Flagstaff for the night. The next day, we followed winding, twisting red rock roads to Sedona, Arizona. Just before reaching the town, we drove down into an area of looming trees and river called Oak Creek that was beautiful. We ate lunch there. The red rock views surrounding Sedona are stunning, but it is over-touristed. Apparently, there are vortexes, whatever that means. I guess it’s some kind of lining up of energies that has healing power. I’m concerned that perhaps any effect is watered down by the shear number of people desperately looking to feel something. I felt nothing there except tired of peopled places. I did feel a strong force while in the Navajo Reservation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We returned to Flagstaff, which felt better, and found a diner along the old Route 66 that we enjoyed: The Crown Railroad Cafe. There seemed to be a lot of locals in the place. We sat up at the counter and a model train with a light went around over all of our heads.

 

 

We got in touch with a young woman we know from King Salmon who was in her senior year at Northern Arizona University. It was great to see her and to hear about her global travels and love for her Naknek/King Salmon home.

The next day, we began the drive to Yuma, Arizona.

 

 

 

We visited Dan’s air traffic control buddy and his family for two days. It was like being on a farm. Kiva hung out with six other dogs, two cats, and many chickens and ducks. We discovered that Kiva is a little creeped out by sneaky black cats.

 

 

Their three children were friendly and engaging. The oldest loves to work with animals. He takes care of the chickens and he wove me a bracelet made of para cord that he said could also be useful in a survival situation. Good to know. The younger children reminded me of the charming girl and boy in the movie “Signs.” Intriguing and smart. When the girl began filling glasses with water, I felt assured that we were all in good hands should a group of aliens arrive.

 

A short walk away, if it’s not too hot to the take the walk, there are stables with chickens, ducks, turkeys, and horses. Kiva was intimidated by the horses at first. She kept looking at me like “where are you taking me?” Dan’s friend’s wife let us into the stall with her horse Cookie and gave me some carrots to feed her while I petted her neck. Kiva remained big eyed and low to the ground, but calmed down a little.

 

 

 

We walked around the stables. There were so many horses. Kiva stayed near me and low.

I’ve never had the desire to ride a horse, but I have had the desire to feed and care for horses. It’s a strange thing the way you bond with a horse. Not like with any other animals. There was one dark horse with a white lined nose: immediate connection. It’s a sorting hat of sorts. You choose each other in that first instant and go from there. It’s a powerful feeling. None like it.

 

Dan’s friends said that when they first got to Yuma, they didn’t plan to stay long. The first impression is that the place is mercilessly hot and flat. A family oriented place, it has grown on them, and I could begin to see it before we left. Tucked into all that dry expanse are gems: oranges on a tree or The Peanut Farm where I found the best corn nuts I’ve ever tasted; they weren’t even hard on my teeth.

We stopped into busy, sketchy Tucson in time to witness a car collision. No one was hurt, but it shook us up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We walked around the old historic part of the town for a bit the next morning, but soon headed out toward one of my favorite places on earth: the Land of Enchantment.