Petrified Forest, next exit. Martha felt she had been driving through the twilight zone for the last two hours, completely straight highway and nothing, nothing at all to see but prairie grass on either side of the road. The sign caught her interest and she needed a pit stop, so she pulled off the highway. There were more signs directing her, turning her and there, but no sign telling her how far this might be. From experience she knew that many parks were miles off the road, even fifty miles. It was then she spotted the sign for the visitor center, yes a good place to stop and surely they had a bathroom.
Physcially relieved and armed with information Martha headed off to the Petrified Forest.
It was eighteen miles off the the highway, but it was a loop road, bringing her back ten miles up the road. Shouldn’t be too much of a variation. The funny thing was, Martha didn’t really care all that much about seeing the Petrified Forest, she just wanted to get another point for using
the eighty dollar unlimited park pass.
Martha was getting sleepy, the drive to Canyon de Chelly was farther than she thought, the detour adding over an hour to her trip. The road was smooth, newly paved and straight. Should she stop for a nap? She was just a little bit worried about finding a camping space, having snatched the last space several times on this trip she should try to arrive early. She opened the window and cranked up the radio, only an hour more to go.
At last Martha reached the town which marked the turn into the park. The speed limit was reduced, buildings appeared by the sides of the highway, four lanes instead of two and a sidewalk. Martha suddenly braked, laughing. A large steer was walking down the sidewalk, up ahead two horses crossed the street, not bothering to look both ways. Apparently here on the Navajo reservation there were a lot of range animals, even in town.
Martha found the perfect campsite, newly blacktopped and near the bathroom. She placed
a few items to mark her spot, there didn’t seem to be a check in system because camping was free here. She set off to see what this place was all about.
Twenty minutes later Martha was amazed. This was one of the most beautiful places she had ever been. The road wound along the upper edge of the canyon, with occasional view points. It was soon apparent that she did need to take on of the canyon tours. As this was Navajo land, you could only enter with a guide. She turned back and drove to the lodge, where she had seen the trips advertised.
While Martha was tucking her wallet into her purse and turning to leave the scowling woman who booked the tours remarked “Don’t forget to come at the right time.”
“Oh. What time is it?” Martha had driven in and out of so many time zones, some states with daylight savings, some not, that she really didn’t know what time it was.
“It’s 4:30. This is the Navajo reservation you know. We do have daylight savings here.”
“Thanks, I did have the wrong time.” Martha smiled as she reset her watch, but the woman continued to ignore her. Sucks to be white, Martha thought to herself. You didn’t seem to unhappy to take my money.
But Martha was wrong in feeling that the Navajo people weren’t friendly. Over the next two days she spoke with many artists and young people selling fry bread and jewelry to the tourists. She met a flute player who was friends with Mary Youngblood, the talented musician from whom Martha had taken a flute lesson herself. One rock carver even discussed local politics, the issue about all the animals running free. There were Navajo animal rights activists who felt that animals should not be caged, but should be allowed freedom, no matter that they would soon be butchered for meat. These animals were causing property destruction and car
accidents, and most people felt they should be fenced. There was also a large feral population of pigs, cattle, horses and sheep which lived in the surrounding areas. Navajo did not build fences, as land ownership was somewhat different here on the nation.
Martha was planning on spending another day here. She was fearful of visiting Chaco Cultural Center, because of the over twenty mile entrance road, gravel and subject to problems in severe weather. But she talked with a couple who had just been there. You must go, it’s wonderful, don’t worry about the road at all, they
insisted.
Packing up her car she set out. She would spend a night in a motel half way there and head there tomorrow.
Roughing it was impressive to her friends, and she was actually really enjoying living out of her car, but a shower, TV and the internet would be nice at this point.
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